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Today's column conveys another Taylor Family account to my fervent yesteryear readers. It took place in Aug. 1900 at the delightful home of General James P. Taylor, near the community of Clarkson, TN. Not being familiar with that location, I learned that it was a community in Washington County that eventually became defunct.

The Delightful Tranquil Setting of General James P. Taylor, a Relative of Bob and Alf Taylor

It seems that Gov. Robert L. “Our Bob” Taylor and his family were pleasantly spending the summer months there. Although the residence was yet unnamed, it would soon acquire one after the governor christened it, “Rattlesnake Lodge.” The name evolved after he and members of the family experienced a frightening encounter with a specimen of the poisonous timber rattler, “Crotalus horridus.” It showed at the front door of the elegant dwelling.

The governor's son, David, was the “Columbus” of the incident, being the first to spot the dreaded snake and make its presence known. He quickly elevated a yell of consternation, which quickly smote the crowd of loungers, supplanting their relaxation under the sprawling trees in the yard. Above the collective uproar of excited human voices could clearly be heard the death song of the fearful rattler.

The governor, who had been deeply pondering his new lecture, “Sentiment,” arose from his sylvan retreat and added his familiar voice to the rapidly augmenting commotion. He shouted, “Run for your lives,” and, at the same time, made several rapid retreating strides toward the horizon himself. Meantime, the venomous minstrel of the rocky foothills slowly slid into the grass near the path and merrily jingled his little tambourine as if to entertain his unsettled guests.

When the governor saw that his son had reached a place of comparative safety in the orchard some distance away and he himself had attained a strategic position on the nearby porch, he began to formulate designs for the demise of the unwelcome intruder. He doffed his hat and made a backward sweep with his hand as if to brush down imaginary hairs. Then, without hesitation, he shouted, “Kill it!”

The approval of this sudden declaration of war was at once attested to by a half a dozen female voices screaming their endorsement, “Yes, kill it.” The governor's secretary, who had previously served as a snake editor for a newspaper, told the crowd that “the best way to kill a snake is to run it to death.”

This would have been a most effective method of resolution had his “snakeship” been induced to follow the lead of that quick-thinking person and keep his pace for a few seconds. However, that did not occur.

Gen. Taylor's son, Robert, abruptly ran from the barn carrying a pitchfork in his hand and provided the spectators with a beautiful demonstration of a true politician at work. After the snake's life was snuffed out, its body was found to measure 42 inches in length and had six rattles.

This spine-chilling episode momentarily halted the crystallization of “Sentiment” but resulted in the naming of the home, “Rattlesnake Lodge.” The owner, who came up breathing heavily after the experience, found his household enjoying the dizzy whirl of the “serpentine dance,” a variation of the skirt dance involving movement and light.

It was noted that the governor and his family would be home in Knoxville early in September. Bob promised his public that if the timber rattlesnakes would stay away from him, he would finish “Sentiment,” in quick order.

For those readers interested in reading “Sentiment,” it can be found on pages 304-17 of Bob and Alf Taylor, Their Lives and Lectures. The Story of Senator Robert Love Taylor and Governor Alfred Alexander Taylor. Paul Deresco Augsburg, Morristown Book Company, Inc., 1925, Printed by Trobaugh Printing Company, Morristown, Tennessee. It is definitely worth a read. I read it hoping to find the mention of a snake but none was found.

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Andrew Johnson Stover was a grandson of Andrew Johnson, the 17th president of the United States. As a child, he frolicked about the White House and lawn and became a favorite of the political brass of his day. His lifestyle later changed dramatically when he left the nation's capital to became a hunter and a trapper, dwelling in a rudimentary log house insulated with clay in the Holston Mountains of East Tennessee.

To look at Stover as an adult, one would think that he had always dwelled in the environment that he later occupied. Even though he dressed like and mingled with other mountaineers on occasion, he preferred to be alone.

The grandson had been eyewitness to some stirring events in American history, happenings in which the central figure was his grandfather. Although some individuals had made the transition from a log cabin to the White House, few had abandoned White House living to return to a wilderness mountain abode.

Yet, such was the history of Andrew Johnson Stover, whose grandfather succeeded the great Abraham Lincoln and whose biography was itself eccentric and interesting. Not many men occupied the White House whose life story was as romantic as that of Andrew Johnson. And few have spent their boyhood in the White House and their manhood as a frugal mountain hermit in a log hut like the president's grandson.

In the little town of Greeneville, Tennessee, stood a rude structure, gray with age, over the door on which was a weathered stained sign upon containing the letters, “A. Johnson, Taylor.”

In the ancient structure of his early youth, Andrew Johnson piled the needle and handled the goose; he made the long-tail coats and fancy trousers for Greeneville dudes of that era. Likewise, he cut and sewed the more sober garments for deacons and judges in the village.

So, with Andy Johnson, cross-legged on the tailor's bench, the little shop became a sort of political forum for the community. While men were measured for a new Sunday outfit, they were surprised to see what a wonderful grasp of public awareness their tailor possessed.

And while the future president's needle was busy basting suits for the Greeneville beaux, the loom of fate was busy weaving another fabric, which Andrew Johnson was to sew into one of the most spectacular careers in American history.

Step by step, he rose in life until he became Vice-President of the United States and when the great Abraham Lincoln was silenced by the bullet of John Wilkes Booth, the Greeneville tailor succeeded to the chief magistracy of the nation.

A fate uniquely awaited him as an occupant of the White House. In his horizon was an impeachment trial with which he would have to grapple.

What was Mr. Stover doing while the throng of hostile critics took unpleasant aim at his grandfather? All this occurred while the world was looking curiously on to see what sort of political pathology would be applied to the ghastly wounds in the American Union. Stover continued playing in the White House and on White House grounds.

Those were not the most brilliant days, socially, the White House ever knew. The country was just catching its breath after a prolonged and ghastly war in which the Union had seemed at times to be in danger of being forever split. It was a time when countless homes had been saddened and desolated and thousands of brave men had been killed or wounded on many bloody battlefields.

Nevertheless, there was a certain relief and joy in all hearts that the war was over and this feeling found expression in the society affairs of the time. There was a cheerfulness and exuberance about them unknown for some years past.

At any rate, Stover saw the most splendid society of that era at its brightest. He had total freedom in the White House as he observed foreign representatives in their gold-laced uniforms and breast bedecked with royal orders. He saw the loveliest women of this time flaunting in gauze and crinoline in dreamy waltz. He watched with uncomprehending childish eyes the great events that succeeded each other with such startling rapidity.

Perhaps he comprehended more than any one guessed. Maybe he saw the hollow emptiness of glory and grandeur. Possibly, in those childish days at the capital, a sort of infantile philosophy taught him the misery that goes hand-in-hand with political distinction, the heavy cares, the responsibilities, the heart aches and the weary burdens. Perhaps he determined then, in his boyish heart, to turn his back on all of that and seek happiness in the simple life close to God's creation.

At any rate, the White House child soon became a log cabin man. The magnificence of the executive mansion was succeeded by the rustic walls of a cabin set in a mountain of wilderness.

The formal White House gardens were succeeded by the rugged wilderness of the mountain slope, decked in tangled green, save in mid-spring, when the dogwood and other mountain flowers were in the glory of full blossom.

Andrew Johnson's Grave, Andrew Johnson Stover, Taylor Shop in Downtown Greeneville, TN

Instead of sitting on his knees in the councils of this and other nations, Andrew Johnson Stover had for his companions his guns, his dogs, his traps, the sunlight, the shadow, the pine tree, the raccoon and the hoot-owl. Beside a mountain brook, clear and sweet, bubbling and splashing downward to the valley, he had no vain regrets of giving up his previous days. The free wild mountains and the blue, overarching sky, were more pleasant to him than the stately gardens at the nation's capital.

Andrew Johnson was likely chosen for the vice-presidential nomination because he was a Tennesseean. He was well-known. His name was conspicuous among the politicians of the war period, not only because of personal abilities, but because he was a Union Southerner. His geographical location made him a valuable running mate for Lincoln.

Andrew Johnson Stover Plays the Banjo. A View of His Final Resting Place

Andrew Johnson Stover was excited neither by recollections of his childhood in the White House nor the work of the landscape gardener in the country around his grandfather's grave. His gun and his cabin in the mountains were all that he asked for in life. But to the ardent student of human nature, both Andrew Johnson, the president, and Andrew Johnson Stover, the hermit, are well worth studying. The unique journey will be rewarding. 

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Today's column is part 2 of my Johnson City Press History/Heritage page reader response. I will forward any comments you send me to the appropriate contributor.

H. Kay Godbey

It is so nice to see your series on this interesting and important Lady of the Fountain. Every fountain has a story, but most fountains never have their purpose and history documented. During PhD studies, I was fortunate to have made a “Study Tour” to Paris in 2007. My research focus was on the fountains of Paris, and the resulting paper was the most fun writing I've done. I came to realize that no matter what the origins, once a fountain is established, it represents the spirit of the community, and it belongs to the people who visit it. Your work here on the Lady of the Fountain is a great gift for Johnson City. Thank you.

Ralph B. Mowery

I read your weekly column on a regular basis and thoroughly enjoy it. You touch on many familiar things in your column. My family moved to Johnson City from Illinois in December of 1947. My family had Dr. Ray W. Mettetal as a family doctor until he retired and were friends with his family. I can remember meeting his father, on perhaps a couple of occasions when I was young.

  

Young People Visit the Freedom Train During a Stop in Johnson City in 1948

My question to you is, do you know about or have any information on the Freedom Train that visited Johnson City in 1948 or 1949. It carried many artifact pertaining to the founding of the U.S., such as copies of the Declaration of Independence and had them on display for visitors to the train. I remember waiting with my parents in a long line to go onboard. I was seven or eight years old when it came to Johnson City. Thank you. (I am currently working on a column about it.)

Terry Oliver

I am sending this on behalf of my niece. She was wondering if you or someone you know have information on W.A. Payne who managed the Dixie Motel in 1953, the year that was listed in your article. What was his real name? Did he have any son's, brothers or kin by the name of Ernest Payne? Where he is W.A. Payne buried? If you don't know, we hope that you might direct us to someone who does. We really enjoy reading your articles in the Press. We like reading them because of the time period those old building were still standing in the 1950s-60. Thanks for your time and any info you might provide. Keep those articles coming.

Ben Hicks

I have been working on discovering my family history in the area and have ran across several of your articles during my search. I thoroughly enjoyed reading them. I was wondering if you may be able to point me in the right direction to find some specific information I am seeking. I would like to find a list of former mayors of Elizabethton TN, specifically from the late 1800's and early 1900's. I have been told that my great grandfather, James Burrow, served as mayor at some point during that time period. Any guidance you could offer would be greatly appreciated, and thank you for your time.

Gary L. Love

I am originally from Johnson City and have property on E Watauga Ave that was left to me by my grandparents, Guy Martin and Hazel Young. I was looking at an article that you wrote concerning children’s letters to St. Nick in 1909. In it was a Christmas wish from one young man named Guy Marten (Martin?) Young, whom I believe could have been my grandfather. Could you please tell me the source of this information? I am very much interested because that side of my family had a significant role in our country’s history and Washington County in particular. My great, great, great, great grandfather, many times over, was Robert Young who was responsible for killing a British officer (named Major Patrick Ferguson) at the Battle of Kings Mountain.

The cemetery he is buried in is near Brush Creek behind the old armory off of the Old Jonesboro Highway. His cabin now rests at Winged Deer Park. I first discovered the Young Cemetery after looking through some TVA files concerning a cultural survey of that area. When I investigated the area, I found the cemetery in ruins from a storm that had toppled trees over the headstones. I contacted the City of Johnson City and they came out and did a good job repaired the fencing and cleared the fallen trees. Any information on any of this would be greatly appreciated.

If you can assist any of these individuals, drop me a note and I will see that they receive it. 

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In 1987, former Press Lifestyles Editor, Anne M. Newton, interviewed Jack Q. Williams, who worked for the Southern Railway, about his participation in the 1926 Johnson City Kindergarten Orchestra. 

Williams' most blatant memory about the musical experience had to do with his thumb and an automobile. Charlotte Brown, director of the Orchestra, provided transportation for those students needing a ride.

“I remember her driving a two-seated touring car,” said Jack. “She picked us up and drove us to orchestra practice and afterward took us home.” He lifted his right hand and said, “See that thumb. occasionally, that bruise mark on it starts growing and splits the nail.”

“I got it mashed in her car. She drove a vintage car with doors that opened backwards (known as suicide doors because they were hinged from the rear rather than the front. Once, as I was getting in the car, someone closed the door on my thumb. It was in there from the time we left for school until the moment we got home. I never said a word.”

Jack said it was the most painful 10-minute ride he'd ever taken. He admitted that he showed no emotion, being too bashful to say anything.

Johnson City Kindergarten Orchestra Classmates, Columbus Powell School, 1926

In May 1926, when Williams was only 5 years old, a photographer came to Columbus Powell and took several pictures of the melodious group. Jack marveled that Ms. Range, their teacher, somehow worked magic to keep everyone tranquil and in their designated position. “Knowing those boys,” he said, “I don’t know how we posed so well for the picture. Maybe she used a black snake to keep us in line. That would have certainly worked for me.”

Although the students in the photo are not individually identified, the 1926 Johnson City Kindergarten Orchestra consisted of Jimmie Joe Biddle, director; Maurie Wody, S.T. Williams, Florence Greenway, Margaret Norris, Francis David MaGill, Emma Good, Jack Q. Williams, Kenneth Shell, Marie Truman, Mildred Truman, Charlotte Brown, Billy Payne, Perry White, Isabelle Robinson, Anne Jennings, Lester Hyder, Betty Hargen, Jean McCormick, Pauline Bowery, Betty Preas, Charles Dubbs, Roland Johnson, Virginia Rumley, John Wallin, James Coleman, Jane Jones, Guy Blackwell, Melba Loudy and Thomas MaGill.

The Knoxville Sentinel included a story about the Kindergarten Orchestra in their June 12, 1926 issue. According to the paper, the orchestra performed numerous times for local audiences and state bodies meeting in convention in Johnson City over several months.

The group, made up of 30 young musicians, ranged in ages of from 4-6. The newspaper noted that it was, perhaps, one of the very few, if not the only organization of its kind in the United States. Song-o-phones, similar to those in a regular brass band, were used by the children in the orchestra.

Jimmie Joe Biddle, seen up front wearing a black suit and bow tie, was the orchestra’s 5-year-old director, “who wielded his baton with the dignity and grace of a professional.” The paper also described a young “wee miss” who read notes from the piano score as she skillfully played the xylophone.

Their repertoire included the “Blue Danube Waltz,” “La Paloma,” “Stars and Stripes Forever” and other patriotic melodies. Williams barely remembers what they played, just that they had so much fun.

“At that time, I don’t know what songs we knew,” he said. It didn’t really matter because I always had fun, I’ve had fun all my life.”

Williams went through the 3rd grade at Columbus Powell, then left for Boone, NC in 1929. His family returned to Johnson City six years later and he enrolled in Junior High and Science Hill High School, reuniting with many of the same people he knew in the Kindergarten Orchestra.

If any of my readers has additional information about this unique orchestra, please share it with me.

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Today's column deals with response from four Johnson City Press History/Heritage page readers. I routinely receive requests for help pertaining to local history matters. I try to assist if possible, but sometimes I am unable to do so. Attached are four slightly paraphrased notes that I received from readers. They need your help.

Roger Garland

Concerning your article about Billy, the mascot goat at ETSC, I think I can solve your question as to what happened to him. My aunt and uncle James and Mary Lowery were caretakers of the college's farm located off Southwest Avenue, where the current married student housing is located. My Uncle Jim was also employed by the college at the physical plant. The goat you're speaking of was kept at the large barn located on that farm. I remember him and his successor Captain Kidd.

Billy, as I always knew him, was not at the barn one day. When I asked my Uncle where he was, he told me he had died and they had buried him. Later I found out that Billy was injured by the rough handling by some football players and later died of his injuries. He was then replaced by Captain Kidd, which was the meanest, most ornery goat I ever met. You had to outsmart him with diversion just to get in the barn. I hope this clarifies the mystery as to what happened to Billy the Kidd.

Diana Chesser

I enjoyed your newspaper article about the Okolona area, train stop, etc. You mentioned the Anderson family in your article. I wanted to mention that an old Anderson cabin is still standing on Anderson Road, the first road past Okolona Road on the old Erwin Highway. I have taken several photos of the old cabin. You can see if from the Old Erwin Highway. There is also an Anderson cemetery somewhere in that same vicinity.

Old Anderson Cabin in Okolona Located in the South Section of Town

Also, I wanted to mention that on Okolona Road is an area called Cave Springs. A relative of mine, Charles Burton Jones, was a teacher at Cave Springs School. I have been unable to find a photo of the school, but I do have one of Charles' children standing on the porch of the school. A couple of years ago, I contributed to the “Find A Grave” website, submitting those buried at the Cave Springs Cemetery. There are a few Haynes family members also buried there. You also mentioned this same family in your article. Again, I enjoyed your article very much.

Janice Loudy Spillman

Hi Bobby. I graduated from SHHS with you. Larry Johnson sent me your Feb. 9 column about Columbus Powell's 1952 third grade class valentines. I attended the 3rd grade at Columbus Powell but was in Miss O'Dell's class. I remember Jean Ann Senter, Bonnie Fisher, Brenda Spain, and Phyllis Arnett. Jimmy McMackin also went to Columbus Powell; I wonder if he might be the Jimmy you listed in your article. Jimmy was also in our 1961 SHHS class. Larry has shared a couple of your columns with me, the most recent one being about Cecile Mettetal's grandfather. I always enjoy them. Thank you for all the pleasant memories.

Dr. Clinton Holloway

 I graduated from Milligan College in 1995. I have read many of your articles with interest. At the school's request, I just completed a new book of about 30,000 words and 200 pictures that is slated for fall publication for the start of Milligan's 150th anniversary. In the course of our research, we found a postcard which shows opening exercises of Milligan's Student Army Training Corps (SATC) for WWI dated October 1, 1918. As the armistice was only six weeks later, that was a short lived program, but it resulted in a fire at Milligan, which is of significance to the school. The postcard was donated by Mary Hardin McCown and shows her cousin, George W. Hardin, who was named after her famous father.

The postcard shows a man on a small platform outside the administration building giving a speech. Although I cannot locate who that person is because the picture is not detailed enough, I assumed he was a politician of some sort, not wearing a military uniform. I understand State opened a SATC the same day.

Would you have any knowledge of who would have given speeches for the opening of the SATC at Milligan and ETSC on October 1, 1918? If I can be of any assistance in Milligan related research, please feel free to contact me. Kind regards.

If you can assist any of these four individuals, drop me a note and I will see that they receive it. Continuation of this column will occur in a few weeks.

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Today's feature is a continuation of my mid-march Daniel Boone tree column, which contained paraphrased news briefs taken from a variety of newspapers. Today's feature is a continuation of that theme spanning 1897-16. 

09-11-1897

News from Bristol, TN indicated that a farmer found an old battered brass kettle, which was removed from the ground on a farm near Bluff City. On the side of the kettle near the rim were the letters,: “D. Boon, 1760.” The kettle was allegedly used by the noted pioneer-hunter.

07-04-1901

Daniel Boone Beech Tree That Once Resided in Boones Creek with Inscription and Grafitti

The Washington County Historical Society met at the famous Boone tree for the purpose of organizing a historical society there. A platform was erected at the foot of the famous Boone tree, where Judge S.J. Kirkpatrick, president of the Society, presided. The exercises were opened with singing and prayer. After that, the chairman stated that the meeting was to organize the new society, which was to act in connection with the county society in locating and marking the site of Bean's cabin. An effort was also made to have a nice marble slab placed to mark the spot where Bean's cabin stood.

Judge Newton Hacker was introduced and delivered a speech tingling with patriotism. It was scholarly, instructive and well-received by the vast audience present. At 1:30 p.m., an old fashioned East Tennessee dinner was served on the grounds, perhaps on the very spot where Boone dined on some of his “bar” meat many years prior.

In the afternoon, there were additional speeches from historians, all of which were said to be well-timed and replete with patriotic utterances and historic information, much of which could not be found in books. All this was captured and treasured by the historical society before it was lost to the ages.

Several months before the gathering, a largo limb was blown from the Boone tree, which was promptly retrieved and made into pleasant looking pipes by the owner of the land, a Mr. Maupin. He sold about a 100 of the prized relics for 10 cents each. 

The road from Jonesboro to the Boone tree was the same one that Old Hickory, Andrew Jackson, used to travel more than 60 years ago. Along the way, many of the farm houses were decorated in honor of that Thursday. One large brick house, the home of William Deakins, had streamers and national colors displayed in great profusion. The word “Liberty” in large letters was suspended between two trees.

The name of “Washington” was on the front door step. Under the mail box was a picture of the Honorable Walter P. Brownlow, surrounded by a wreath of flowers, while on the other side of the gate was a magnificent portrait of President McKinley, enclosed by a wreath comprised of the national colors.

Afterward, the meeting was dismissed and the participants went merrily on their way.

10-11-1907

In olden times, our brave pioneer ancestors wore buckskin clothes trimmed with long fringe or fur. They carried long rifles with barrels made of imported horseshoe nails, wooden stock trimmed with brass and ornamented with eagles, raccoon, deer and other objects cut from shells and set into the wood. These hearty souls also carried long hunting knives and buckskin or leather bullet pouches, often beautifully decorated with patterns of colored porcupine quills and glass beads or made of some expensive fur. Their powder was carried in cow-horn powder flasks scraped smooth with pieces of broken glass and with the surface engraved in rude designs of suns, moons, stars and figures of big game.

In their leather belt, which encircled the waists and belted in the wamus (a warm work jacket made usually in a belted cardigan style and of sturdy knitted or woven fabric), they carried trusty tomahawks. Many of the picturesque old fellows were expert in the use of little camp-axes as weapons.

Daniel Boone carried an ax of this kind and the trees he blazed with his tomahawk to mark the boundaries of land became known as “Boone trees.” In later years, lawsuits were decided by the identification of blazed boundaries that came from the unmistakable stroke of Boone's tomahawk. 

06-07-1916

Portrait of Daniel Boone Taken in 1819 Just Prior to the Pioneers Passing at Age 86

Misfortune struck during a severe windstorm that visited the Boone's Creek and surrounding areas on a Saturday afternoon. The famous historical Boone Tree was blown to the ground, causing it to separate at a most unfortunate section – the part of the tree containing the famous inscription. The disheartening discovery of the fallen tree was made the following day, bringing a sizable procession of mourners to witness the unfortunate incident. Most who saw it spread the news that it needed to be immediately removed from the land and sent to some qualified society for preservation.

The John Sevier Chapter of the DAR took instant action, seeking first to purchase from Lafayette Isley, identified as the owner of the land where the tree stood, the part of the tree containing the carved words. The chapter was convinced that the section could be preserved as a historical relic. They further believed that time was of essence to accomplish this noble effort. The DAR was making plans to preserve the tree at the time the tree lost its footing. Their well-meaning campaign was not yet in place when the windstorm felled it.

06-26-1916

A few weeks later, another newspaper commented on the demise of the popular Boone tree. It noted that the site that had linked the history of 156 years ago with the present time was no more. Admittedly, the letters on the tree were dimmed with age but could still be identified. The DAR acquired the lettered section and had it sent off for preservation. My information does not reveal what happened to the relic. The tree had stood as proof that Boone penetrated through the eastern chain of mountains from his log cabin on the Yadkin River in North Carolina in 1760, although contemporaneous historians place his entrance into the wilderness, as the western country was then called, several years later.

Historian J.G.M. Ramsey, who wrote “The Annals of Tennessee,” published in 1853, was the first to document the inscription and he credits his information to a person named N. Gammon. Other historians, notably Theodore Roosevelt, in his “The Winning of the West,” followed Mr. Ramsey in not questioning the authenticity of the inscription. 

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In March 1987, Tom Hodge greeted George Devault to his office to view a priceless deed. The Devault Bridge and the Norton Arney Farm had been front and center in the news that year. The bridge was being widened with two additional lanes to accommodate the new four-lane Bristol-to-Johnson City highway. Furthermore, the Arney Farm had been acquired by the city with plans for it to be made into a park.

Hodge was covering the Tennessee General Assembly in Nashville when W.W. Faw, then Washington County's representative, got a resolution passed which named the bridge after the Devault family.

George had a copy of the original Sept. 30, 1797 handwritten deed to the property lying on both sides of the Watauga River. The property was conveyed from John Bean of Washington County to Henry Devault of York County and State of Pennsylvania for 950 pounds of Virginia money. The tract totaled 537 acres.

The deed identified the land as adjoining Benjamin Cobb's property, along with that of Robert Alison and the Massengills. William Bean was noted for being the first permanent white settler in the area. He built a cabin on Boones Creek near its junction with the Watauga River. According to Devault, the cabin was moved to a spot behind the Devault home and was used both for storage and as a smokehouse.

The old structure was still in decent shape, except for a spot where meat had been on a table next to a wall, causing damage to a couple of logs. George extended an invitation to Tom to visit the cabin.

The Cobb, Alison and Massengill names are quite recognizable to that area. Some years back, a furor occurred over a parcel of land known as Alison Woods, considered one of the finest strands of hardwoods in the Eastern United States.

The subject next turned to the Massengill Monument, which was then located at the intersection of the Bristol and Kingsport highways. Tom commented that it was surprising how many people passed by the memorial every day without taking time to stop and read the text on it.

The deed refers to the Watauga River, although the river through that area became part of the Boone Lake impoundment.

Vintage Norton Arney Motor Co. Ad When the Business Resided on Wilson Avenue

Devault addressed the question, “How did the Arney Farm come into being?” It seems that a descendant who owned that portion of the Devault farm sold the property because it was not adequate for farming. Norton Arney, a long-time automobile dealer in Johnson City acquired it. According to George, some of the original land covered in the 190-year-old deed resided in the Devault family.

Tom noted that one of the more interesting aspects of old deeds like this one was that boundaries to the property were often marked by such objects as trees. For example, a description might start out as “beginning at a hickory tree on the bank of the river and ending at a double walnut tree some 100 yards to the north.”

Tom surmised that in the 190 years that had passed at that time, the trees were likely long gone, having fallen victim to old age or a woodsman's ax.

Hodge concluded by saying, “Anyway, the deed allows us to slip back in time, a long way back when Tennessee had just been a state two years. And if you crossed the Watauga River, you did it by fording because there was no Devault Bridge there.”

Tom doubted that Henry Devault, in his wildest imagination, could foresee a time when some of his property would be used for soccer, softball and other recreational sport.

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According to the late T.C. Karns, University of Tennessee professor and a turn of the century writer of Tennessee history, had this to say about Catherine Sherrill (1755-1836) in 1904. “She, a daughter of one of the first settlers on the Watauga, was tall and slender with dark eyes and hair, clear skin and a neck that was said to be like that of a swan. She was strikingly beautiful as well as being one of the greatest and bravest girls in the settlement.”

The patriotic woman faithfully provided horses, wagons, provisions, and supplies for the army. According to a DAR linage book, she was born in North Carolina and died in Russellville, Alabama.

The wild ways of this new country seemed to suit her because she enjoyed the open life of the forest, even with its ever-present spice of danger from Indians and wild animals. Proof of her athletic abilities was that she could run like a deer and easily spring over a six-rail high fence by thrusting herself off the top one.

In 1776 when Catherine was about 20 years old, a party of Cherokee Indians attacked Fort Watauga in Carter County. Prior to this, Nancy Ward sent scouts to inform her friends that the Indians were coming. This prompted almost all of the settlers to gather inside the fort for safety.

However, early one morning, several women boldly left the security of the fort to milk some cows. Among them was Catherine Sherrill. All at once, the war whoop sounded and the women ran with all their might toward the fort. Catherine happened to be the furthest away and, although she darted forward with the speed of the wind, she noticed that the Indians had gotten precariously between her and the gate. 

Catherine Sherrill's Escape from the Indians with Aid from Future Husband, John Sevier

John Sevier was in the fort and, seeing Catherine in great peril, rushed out of the gate with several other men to attempt to beat the Indians back and rescue their ladies. Knowing that Sevier could do nothing against 300 savages, his friends urged him back and began firing at the Indians from atop the fort wall.

It was a race for life and Catherine, seeing no other chance to make good her escape, turned and made her way to the other side of the fort. The wooden wall of the stockade was eight feet high, but with one mighty spring, Catherine reached the top and fell over into the arms of John Sevier. The other women also returned safely. The Indians, not prone to accept defeat, prolonged their attack for 20 additional days.

The settlers were safe behind their strong walls, but numerous of the Indians perished in the melee. Bullets rattled against the fort like hailstones but did no harm. Finally the Indians departed and returned to their homes on the Tellico River.

Four years later in 1780 and after Sevier's first wife had died, Catherine Sherrill became his second wife. The wedding took place at Sevier's new home on the Nolichucky River.

Throughout a long life, she was his faithful companion and helpmeet. But she and John never forgot the thrilling moment when she fell into his arms from the top of the fort and he called her for the first time his “Bonnie Kate.”

Mrs. Sevier often boasted that the first work she did after marriage was to spin, weave and make suits of clothes, which her husband and his three sons wore in the memorable battle of King's Mountain. She became the mother of eight children, three sons and five daughters.

John Sevier, hero of the American Revolution, whose life was one of romance, later died in Alabama. His remains were buried there for 73 years without a memorial stone to mark the place of his repose or an enclosure to guard against unhallowed intrusion. 

In 1888, Sevier's body was removed by the State of Tennessee and laid to rest beneath the sod of the state he had loved and served so faithfully. He was buried in Knoxville, along with a stately monument as a memorial of the state's everlasting though tardy gratitude to her honored son. Later, Catherine's remains were appropriately displaced next to her husband.

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Listed below are five Daniel Boone tree paraphrased news briefs taken from a variety of newspapers between 1874-97. The famous tree was popular with area history buffs throughout the years. It all started when the rugged pioneer paused at a beech tree in Boon's (Boones) Creek, likely rested his rifle against a tree and carved in it indelible characters documenting the highlight of his day's work: “D. Boon cilled a bar on the tree in year 1760.”

Painting of Daniel Boone Tree / One of the Gavels Taken from the Fallen Tree 

Gavel Courtesy of Alan Bridwell

10-31-1874

The famous Boone tree, containing the earliest record of civilization in Tennessee, stood on the northwestern slope of a hill near the Blountville and Jonesboro stage road. The hill was thickly populated with beech, maple and oak trees. The land surrounding it was also ramified with gnarled roots, which covered the surface like an inextricable mat. The dense woods, the call of the little creek as it leaped in cascades over the tilted limestone and the deep gloominess of the forest provided wildness to the surrounding area.

At that point in time, the brave pioneer was 26 years of age and probable more than 100 miles from human habitation, relying upon his brave heart, strong arm and trusty rifle for existence. The tree was just two feet in diameter and leaned about three degrees (other sources suggest otherwise) from perpendicularity. It had been greatly defaced by visitors who inscribed their names for a distance of about 10 feet above the ground.

The large number of mounds with corresponding depressions that stretched from around the tree and several hundred yards to the southwest, were believed by some folks to have been an Indian mining camp. Others were convinced that they were the result of uprooted trees whose decaying roots left cherty (silica) beds high above the surrounding surface.

11-07-1879

The Tennessee Historical Society held a meeting in Nashville on that date. One agenda item was an 1800 display by W.S. Mathes of Jonesboro, containing a speech by General Jackson and two different views from S.W. Keen, also of Jonesboro. It dealt with the celebrated Daniel Boone tree on the waters of Boones Creek, which is about eight miles south of Jonesboro. A third Jonesboro resident, Prof. H. Presnell, was represented in one of the pictures. The tree was prominently mentioned in J.G.M Ramsey's noted book, The Annals of Tennessee.

01-09-1893

A large bear was spotted in Boones Creek near the Daniel Boone tree where the backwoodsman brought down a bear. When word traveled throughout the community, several sportsmen grabbed their hunting rifles and were anxious to locate and turn the usually omnivorous mammal into meat. It was believed that the deep snow in the mountains drove the bruin down in quest of a meal. The critter met with success when he feasted on chickens from the nearby farms of Jackson and Boyd. Many waited with eager anticipation when the animal would be taken down, permitting local residents to feast on bear steak for several weeks. No mention was made of the creature's demise.

04-21-1897

A worrisome report circulated the community that some nameless individual or group was making plans to cut the Boone tree down and send it to the Tennessee Centennial Exposition in Nashville. The statement created a great deal of talk spiced with a heavy dose of indignation for anyone guilty of attempting such a dastardly deed. After local resident, Captain Deaderick protested against the action, he received a telegram from Exposition officers stating that they had nothing to do with the rumor and would not accept the famed relic even if it were sent to them. 

06-01-1897

The state agent of the Tennessee Centennial Exposition, recently went to Boones Creek to further investigate the threat of someone removing the tree. After examining the tree site, he firmly stated that this should not be done, expressing his belief that the tree was strong enough to stand a century longer by being still in a fair state of preservation, including the inscription cut in its bark by Daniel Boone almost a century and a half earlier.

Look for six additional Daniel Boone tree news items in a future heritage page feature story that includes the date the famed tree fell.

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A few weeks ago, Joe Avento, a Press Staff Writer, produced an interesting article for the newspaper titled, “From a goat to a parrot: ETSU's choices of nicknames, mascots quite the colorful tale.” In the piece, he noted the various mascot names the school has adopted over the years, such as Bucky, Pepper, Captain Kidd I and Captain Kidd II. Joe further explained that Captain Kidd I came on board in 1950 and disembarked in 1957, allowing Captain Kidd II to take over the helm.

Joe's article reminded me that the 1953 ETSU annual in my library featured a live goat named Billy the Kid (not Kidd). The book showed a sketch of the domesticated animal on the cover, plus an additional 34 photos and caricatures throughout the pages that depicted the friendly critter.

The yearbook officers that year were Charlene Wright, editor; Don Lockmiller, business manager; Drury Cargill, sponsor; and Louie Kinch, photographer.

A perusal of the contents of the book revealed an account of the class of 1953's college days with the ever-present “assistance” of the school mascot. The opening title, spread over eight pages, defined the noble goal of the annual: “Billy the Kid makes tracks, taking us back over the trail, bringing back memories of a year's events as the class of 1953 presents The Buccaneer.”

Slightly enhanced captions for 17 of the pictures of Billy are listed below (top to bottom, left to right:

 

 

01. “I am a good second baseman, coach.”

02. “Don't kid me, Kid.”

03. “Cream and sugar, please. Here's my nickel.”

04. “I love water sports.”

05. “Remember that every little “butt” helps.”

06. “A mixed reaction to a goat in class.”

07. “At last, it's graduation day.”

08. “Coach Brooks certainly knows basketball.”

09. “Oh goody, a letter from Aunt Nanny.”

10. “Sir, my aim is to become a 4-star general.”

11. “We need to patronize sponsors of our yearbook.”

12 “Billy the Kid makes his presence “felt” on campus.”

Indeed, that was all. Billy the Kid must have leaped, bucked, skipped, galloped, and trotted on his hooves into the sunset after that one year concluded because he was not the mascot in the 1954 annual. According to a reference in the 1952 annual, Captain Kidd 1 was the mascot that year. No mention of a mascot is noted in the 1954 edition, but we know it was Captain Kidd 1. Maybe a former student or other knowledgeable reader can shed clarifying light on why Billy the Kid only served one year in 1953. Also, does anyone recall any stories about this popular goat?

 

 

 

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