How one Atlanta building has kept its purpose—while changing with the times.
How one Atlanta building has kept its purpose—while changing with the times.
The first thing built here wasn’t a desk or a wall. It was a buggy.
In 1900, a man named William R. Ware opened the Atlanta Spring and Bed Company at 512 Means Street. It was the kind of gritty, hopeful enterprise that defined the era—equal parts ingenuity and elbow grease. Soon after, the Atlanta Buggy Company moved in next door, producing horse-drawn carriages on the very same footprint where teams now hold planning meetings and pitch decks.
These buildings were made to work. Tall ceilings, thick brick, solid timber. Built for function. And for people.
A Building That Refused to Sit Still
Over time, the businesses changed—but the purpose stayed. In the 1920s, the Block Candy Company brought new life and new smells to the space. On any given day, you might’ve caught a hint of peppermint or peanut brittle drifting out the door. The production line pulsed with energy, filling crates destined for neighborhoods across the Southeast.
Later came hardware. Then textiles. By the mid-century, the Mouchet Corporation was sorting and salvaging cotton inside the same buildings where carriages once rolled out. Through each era, Carriage Works adapted—never idle, never finished.
That instinct to evolve became part of its DNA.
But Carriage Works wasn’t done.
In 1992, Carriage Works began its next chapter. The brick and timber stayed. So did the practical elegance of the space. But the tools changed. Machines gave way to whiteboards. Factory floors opened into flexible suites. The site gained new tenants with new ideas—and a built-in sense of perspective.
You can still see the past in every corner. But what you notice first is the rhythm of today.
A Legacy You Can Work In
Today, Carriage Works stands not as a monument, but as a continuum.
Every beam and window is original. So is the intention. This place was always meant to hold makers. The definition has just grown.
To work here is to join something larger than a lease. Your office might sit above a space that once packed candy for Georgia’s first sweet tooths. Your team meetings might happen where cotton salvage deals were struck. You’re not just bringing your ideas to life—you’re adding to a layered, living history.
Walk into any suite here, and you’re surrounded by history. Not behind glass, not tucked away. It’s in the grain of the wood. In the light through the old-pane windows. In the fact that someone, 50 years ago, probably stood in the same spot and figured something out.
That’s the energy this place holds. And it’s still being added to—one team, one idea, one project at a time.
