Tag Archives: Tazewell

American writers on the road in Appalachia

Atlas Obscura has a really neat feature up that’s well worth your perusal.  It’s an interactive map of famous American literary road trips from the late 1800s to today.  The map traces the journeys of twelve author-travelers across the U.S., with pinpoints for the locations identified in their books.  Click on a point, and you’ll get the writer’s description of that place.

I decided to see what these folks had to say about my own neck of the woods.  William Least Heat-Moon, author of Blue Highways, almost spent the night in my hometown on his way east from Oak Ridge:

I should have stopped at Tazewell before the light went entirely, but no. It was as if the mountains had me.

On his way to Clinch Mountain he would’ve driven right past the Frostee Freeze, a venerable drive-in that’s been serving burgers and milkshakes for almost sixty years.

Least Heat-Moon’s description of Morristown sounds less like the town I know and more like the setting for Dickens’s Hard Times:

Across the Holston River, wide and black as the Styx, and into the besooted factory city of Morristown, where, they say, the smoke runs up to the sky.

He took in some regional history while visiting Tennessee’s oldest town:

The fourteenth state in the Union, the first formed after the original thirteen, was Franklin and its capital Jonesboro. The state had a governor, legislature, courts, and militia. In 1784, after North Carolina ceded to the federal government its land in the west, thereby leaving the area without an administrative body, citizens held a constitutional convention to form a sovereign state. But history is a fickle thing, and now Jonesboro, two centuries old, is only the seat of Washington County, which also was once something else—the entire state of Tennessee. It’s all for the best. Chattanooga, Franklin, just doesn’t come off the tongue right.

And speaking of eighteenth-century history, Blue Highways also has an account of Least Heat-Moon’s tour of Ninety Six, site of a Rev War siege in the South Carolina backcountry.  No passages from that visit on the Atlas Obscura map, though.

Peter Jenkins on the Volunteer State and those of us who live here:

We were grateful to be in green, clean Tennessee. A lot of the natives were shaped just like their state, long and lean.

Thanks, I guess?

Bill Bryson, of whom I’ve never been a big fan, on southwestern Virginia:

I drove through a landscape of gumdrop hills, rolling roads, neat farms. The sky was full of those big fluffy clouds you always see in nautical paintings, adn [sic] the towns had curious and interesting names: Snowflake, Fancy Gap, Horse Pasture, Meadows of Dan, Charity. Virginia went on and on. It never seemed to end.

John Steinbeck and his dog passed through Abingdon, where William Campbell’s Virginians mustered before heading to Sycamore Shoals and the march that led to King’s Mountain.  By that point, Steinbeck was evidently ready to get home:

My own journey started long before I left, and was over before I returned. I know exactly where and when it was over. Near Abingdon, in the dog-leg of Virginia , at four o’clock of a windy afternoon, without warning or good-by or kiss my foot, my journey went away and left me stranded far from home. I tried to call it back, to catch it up—a foolish and hopeless matter, because it was definitely and permanently over and finished.


Filed under Appalachian History, Tennessee History

Heads up

Eastern Kentucky University just acquired a 4.5-billion-year-old meteorite. This isn’t the sort of thing I’d normally bring to your attention, but this meteorite has an interesting provenance. It’s probably from the same bunch of space debris that turned up in my hometown of Tazewell, TN in 1853.

Other than the nineteenth-century angle, this doesn’t have much to do with American history, but look—I find something in the national news about a meteorite in my hometown, it’s going on the blog.

As long as we’re on the tangential subject of meteorites in my immediate vicinity, the town of Middlesboro, KY is actually inside a meteorite crater, and it’s about fifteen miles from Tazewell, just on the other side of Cumberland Gap.  (Here’s an article from the Planetary Science Institute.)  That’s two separate instances of big honking things hurtling down from space and smacking into the ground near where I’m sitting as I type this.  Tomorrow I’m buying a hard hat.

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Filed under Appalachian History, Tennessee History

Close to home

I got a real shock when I read a new post  over at the fantastic Posterity Project blog today.  The Tennessee Preservation Trust has released its list of the state’s most endangered sites, and one of them is the Graham-Kivette House in Tazewell.  This ca. 1810 home is by far the oldest house in the area, and it’s just a stone’s throw from the house where I grew up.

In fact, I have some vivid personal memories of the place.  I think its last owner was John Kivette, who was Claiborne County’s historian and a good friend of my dad’s.  When I was a kid I used to sit in one of the house’s downstairs rooms, underneath one of those massive fireplace mantels, while the two of them pored over archival material and chatted about local history and the Civil War.  I’ve driven past the house thousands of times since then.  I’ll probably be doing so again tonight.

Whenever these “most threatened” lists come out I always read them with a sort of vague, general concern.  When it’s a place you know firsthand, it’s more like a punch to the stomach.  I knew the house was a significant local landmark, but I had no idea I’d ever see it on a statewide list, or that it was in such precarious shape.

I’ve always said that all history is “local history” for somebody.  It turns out “somebody” includes me, too.

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Filed under Historic Preservation, Museums and Historic Sites, Tennessee History