This image of Harris was published in a 1903 edition of the Memphis News-Scimitar.
The month of October means different things to different people, but in 1878, it was known for the cold spell that finally ended one of the worst yellow fever epidemics in the history of North America.
Most Memphians are aware of the yellow fever epidemic of 1878, which almost wiped our city off the map. The disease, carried by something as tiny as a mosquito, decimated entire neighborhoods, forcing men, women, and children to flee — most of them never to return.
A few brave souls stayed behind, in a desperate (and often futile, if not fatal) attempt to treat the sick, such as the priests and sisters of St. Mary's Cathedral. Most businesses closed, even such vitally important establishments as hospitals, druggists, and grocers.
Even banks locked their vaults and closed their doors, as employees either died or moved to places farther north, as far away from the fever as they could get.
First National Bank, as it looked just before the epidemic.
One bank that remained open during this time, however, was First National Bank, later called First Tennessee and known today as First Horizon. The bank had always faced challenges. It opened during the Civil War, founded by a banker from Ohio who sensed that good times lay ahead, once the war ended. And he was right — until the yellow fever struck.
Most bank officials left the city, along with other business leaders. Two First National employees stayed behind, however: cashier W.W. Thatcher and bookkeeper Charles Q. Harris. The bank stayed open only a few hours each day, mainly so it could handle cash donations sent to Memphis from relief organizations in other cities.
"We know that our businessmen are impatient to get home and renew business. We say to them there is no business being transacted here. ... Memphis is dealing in death."
Thatcher quickly succumbed to the fever, but Harris stayed at his post. The young man was just 23 years old. Even though health officials urged everyone to remain indoors as much as possible, Harris made daily trips from the bank offices on Madison to the Express Offices in Court Square, one time to collect and distribute a $75,000 donation sent from a national charity.
The daily newspaper, which somehow managed to keep operating during the epidemic, warned visitors to stay away, and reported that few business transactions were taking place in the stricken city: "We know that our businessmen are impatient to get home and renew business. We say to them there is no business being transacted here. ... Memphis is now dealing in death, and not in the goods which go to make up the business of the commercial season."
This was the situation Charles Q. Harris somehow endured, as the fever swarmed over the city in July, August, and into September. No one dreamed that the disease was carried by an insect; all anyone knew — based on past, less deadly epidemics — was that it inexplicably faded away as soon as the scorching summer weather came to an end.
So eventually a cold spell did come in mid-October of that year, killing off the mosquitoes, and ending the epidemic.
First National Bank officials returned to Memphis to find Harris still at his post, somehow keeping the bank open all this time. For his bravery, it was reported that he was handed a substantial bonus (I would certainly hope so!). When he finally retired in 1918, the longtime bookkeeper was given the title of Honorary Vice President. He passed away in 1928.
In 2010, Jim Blasingame, manager of bank operations for First Tennessee, was the recipient of the Charles Q. Harris Award. Photo courtesy First Tennessee.
As reported in The First 150: The First Tennessee Story, "Admiration for his loyalty lives on. Today, the bank annually honors its top leader with the Charles Q. Harris Leadership Award."
