Black Powder, White Smoke

This past weekend the Sgt. Alvin C. York Historic Park held its 21st. annual black powder shoot. Fans of the 1941 film starring Gary Cooper will remember Sgt. York entering a shooting match to win "a beef critter," which he could then parlay into the money he needs to buy a piece of land. This annual shoot memorializes that contest.

The weather was what we've been having of late; damp, overcast, and threatening rain. The thermometer told us it was 50 degrees F, but it obviously was lying. The contestants were shooting "over the log," in a prone position on the ground and using wooden blocks to raise and steady their rifles. Although they each had a ground cloth, enough cold had to seep through to be a distraction.

One interesting aspect of the shoot was the apparent absence of spectators. Everyone seemed to be either a participant or a worker. There were no signs to lead us there, we had to stop at the park's museum store to ask directions. Once there we found a crowd milling around, again with no signage and no loud speakers to announce rounds or give results. The participants and workers seemed to all be going about their own business.

The black-powder rifles are muzzle loaders, so participants were busy adding powder and balls into the muzzles of their rifles and tamping them down.

This fellow may have been a novice, since he seemed to be getting lots of attention from the workers. His first shot misfired, and one of the range officers handed him another cap for his rifle. This time it fired.

Then without apparent announcement or directions, shooters came forward and filled all of the positions. No one seemed to be in a hurry, each shooter taking all the time needed to feel comfortable with their shot. When each had finished, a range officer declared the range closed and safe, and the participants all walked across the range to claim their targets.

After watching for half an hour and getting a few photos it was apparent why there were few spectators. The excitement certainly belongs to the participants. Unlike some other esoteric competitive events, there was no way of knowing how contestants were doing or who was ahead in points. Golf has its leader board and sheepdog trials usually have a similar board. One of the participants I spoke with had two of his grandchildren with him, and they ran out to check targets each time the range opened. Otherwise, spectators are pretty much limited to enjoying the noise and puffs of white smoke.

British Car Show Retrospective

Hurricane Isaac put a bit of a damper on last Saturday's British Car and Motorcycle Show in Rugby. Long since downgraded to a tropical depression and at the far western end of the state, Isaac still managed to give us clouds and scattered showers, and that was enough to keep the turnout small. No motorcycles came to be displayed and the number of cars was far below what was expected. Spectators also were few. But we still managed to get some really nice cars, such as the 1951 MG-TD racer above.

There were a couple of minis,

and a nice selection of 70s-era MG Midgets.

One, lone Austin Healey Sprite was entered, a 1958 "bug-eyed" model.

There was a fine 1967 Austin Healey 3000,

and an equally fine 1958 MGA.

We had a sampling of MGBs,

and an equal sampling of MG-TDs.

But my favorite was this 1973 Reliant Scimitar. I spotted it as it drove in and immediately said "I want it!"

It was parked next to a Lotus that I hardly noticed, but which would have gotten my attention if it hadn't been parked next to this beauty.

This Rolls arrived just as the skies opened and everyone's enthusiasm waned about as quickly as tops were put up. There's always next year.

British Car Show

This coming Saturday Historic Rugby will hold their second annual British Car Show, 10-3 throughout the village. Here's one car you can see there, our friend Eric's 1952 MG-TD. This year there also will be motorcycles. If we're lucky, maybe there will be a Vincent Black Lightning 1952.

Allardt

Just 12 miles from Rugby is the small town of Allardt. It's a community of about 650 people, but it has essential services lacking in Rugby, most notably a grocery store, a gas station, a hair cutter, and a medical clinic. It even has the tree farm where we cut our own Christmas tree last year. And each fall it swells to some 12,000 people when they have their annual Pumpkin Festival.

Allardt was founded about the same time as Rugby, but the two communities had entirely different trajectories. While Rugby flourished for a while and then faded to almost nothing, Allardt enjoyed continuous activity, even though overshadowed by Jamestown only five miles away. The circumstances of the two communities founding made all the difference.

Allardt was begun as a German community by a group from Michigan. The principal players were M. H. Allardt, for whom the town is named, and Bruno Gernt. Gernt had immigrated from Germany to Michigan and Allardt had been employed by the state of Michigan to recruit immigrants in Germany. When the railroad opened the Cumberland Plateau to settlement, they decided to found a German community there. Allardt died before he could move to Tennessee, but Gernt carried on, building the house shown above. His home is still owned by the Bruno Gernt Estate, Inc. and is on the National Register of Historic places.

Gernt purchased some 300,000 acres on behalf of his investors, and sold land for farms to immigrants at the small office shown above, which also is on the National Register. A large amount of that land is still owned by the Bruno Gernt Estate and controlled by his descendents, who have built a modern office building nearby to manage their interests.

Another building on the National Register is the ca. 1910 Old Allardt Schoolhouse, which is now operated as a Bed & Breakfast and is owned by the town's Postmaster, also a Gernt. The two doors on the front of what had been a one-room school was to provide separate entrances for boys and girls.

Today Allardt is a crossroads town with churches, homes, and a few small businesses. The fives miles into Jamestown are lined with more homes, churches, and businesses, making it difficult to know just where one town leaves off and the other begins. But come the first weekend in October, it becomes the largest town in Fentress County as pumpkins weighing well in excess of 1,000 pounds vie for the title of biggest pumpkin.

One step closer

The Manhattan Project-era Army Guest House, also known as the Alexander Inn, came one step closer to being saved this week. The U.S. Department of Energy has made a half-million-dollar grant to a local historic preservation group in Oak Ridge to buy and stabilize the now-derelict structure. The grant will buy time from the wrecking ball to determine the ultimate future of the building, which housed some of the nation's top military and scientific minds during the war. Also receiving funds was the K-25 gaseous diffusion plant, which still will be demolished but will be represented by an interpretive center. Both structures are slated to be part of a proposed Manhattan Project National Park, pending legislation now working its way through Congress.

The Smallest Library

Back Valley, in Morgan County, Tennessee, remains rural today. But it also has paved roads and electricity, which wasn't true in 1945 when Dot Owens Byrd moved there as a new bride. She brought with her a love of reading, but reading materials were scarce. Mary McGlothan, a local teacher, collected used books and circulated them among community members, the collection being housed in Dot Byrd's home from 1955. Eventually some building materials were collected, and Back Valley soon had its own public library.

The building measures 6 feet x 5 feet, has one window and one door, and initially housed 75 books. Dot's daughter worked for John Rice Irwin, founder of the Museum of Appalachia, but then Superintendent of Schools in the adjacent county. He had written a couple of books and came to Back Valley for a book signing. Irwin mentioned this visit to a television reporter in Knoxville, who followed up with a story. The library was dubbed "smallest in the United States" and soon was featured in a national publication, followed by invitations to Dot Byrd to appear on nationally-televised talk shows.

Dot Byrd finally accepted an invitation to appear on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, for which she received an all-expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles for the taping and a check for $200. She promptly deposited the check into a fund to build a new library.

The new library was built in nearby Coalfield, a small unincorporated community, and dedicated in 1994. It has 2,600 square feet and a collection in excess of 10,000 books, as well as DVDs, CDs, and recorded books. It also provides free computer access to the community.

The tiny library was moved to the grounds of the new library in 1996, on the occasion of its 50th anniversary. It still has the sign announcing it is never locked and inviting visitors in. The books inside are available for circulation, strictly on an honor system; if you take one you are expected to bring one back.

The shelving occupies the back wall and is filled with books.

Included are the initial 54-volume Great Books series by Encyclopedia Britannica, quite a few Readers' Digest Condensed Books, and an eclectic collection of library gifts and donated books.

Stacks of "coffee-table" books rest on the floor under the window.

It's fitting this tiny building has been moved to its present location. The modern, well-equipped library beside it might never have been built had it not been for the vision and dedication of two women, a teacher and a reader. The tiny structure stands as a monument to the power of books.

Newbury House

The 1880 Newbury House was built as a boarding house and continued in that role well into the 1920s. Today it is operated as a B&B by Historic Rugby, Inc., and has served as the overnight lodging for numerous visitors who have gone on to buy property in Rugby. We stayed there several times in the 1990s. A decade later it was showing signs of needing some serious TLC. We are proud to say that has been accomplished, and the Newbury House is once again an inviting spot to relax and enjoy a week or a weekend.

My favorite spot is the sun porch on the back, overlooking Newbury Pond. It's been freshly redone and is about as inviting as any spot can be.

Or spend a winter evening in the spacious parlor. It's a most Victorian spot to read or enjoy a glass of wine with friends.

All of the guest rooms are decorated with period furniture. The Thomas Hughes suite is spacious and comfortable.

Or choose one of the single rooms, such as this one named for the author's mother, Margaret Hughes,

or this smaller one named for his niece, Emily. And now you can check rates, availability, and make reservations on the Historic Rugby web page.

Welcome to Historic Rugby

Like most people, my wife and I found Rugby strictly by accident. We stumbled onto it in 1971 while out cruising the mountain roads in our then MGB. It's in a very rural part of east Tennessee, as evidenced by the hay bales in the field behind the welcome sign. We began coming here regularly a decade later after tiring of the crowds in and around the Smoky Mountains. Here we found peace, quiet, and friendly folks, and a large National Park under development with (then) almost no one in it. It became our preferred place to hike.

Our mountains aren't quite as high as the Smokies/Blue Ridge, but we still love them. So when we were able, we moved here. Unfortunately, we don't have oil beneath our land like some of our neighbors have. In this photo you can see an oil well pump jack and separator tanks. One of the local farmers told me that when he bought his land the seller had offered it without the mineral rights. Those would be $5,000 extra. He decided to go ahead and buy the mineral rights. He said it was the best investment he ever made. The oil they later found paid off the farm and sent all of his children to college.

This final shot has nothing to do with this post, except I liked the patch of butterfly weed that was growing near the welcome sign.

Y'all come! It's peaceful here!

Y-12

The Y-12 Electromagnetic Separations Plant was one of three installations for the Manhattan Project sited in east Tennessee in 1943. Its mission was to enrich uranium in the fissionable isotope using large electromagnets to accelerate streams of uranium atoms, bending their paths in such a way as to allow atoms of slightly different weights to scatter such that they could be collected separately. (Yes, that is a gross simplification, but I'm an ecologist, not a physicist. For those with chemical backgrounds, they are actually large mass spectrometers.)

The machines that accomplished this separation were called calutrons, and were invented at the University of California by E.O. Lawrence, who received the Noble Prize in Physics in 1939. The chemical element 103 was named lawrencium in his honor, as well. Lawrence's calutrons at Y-12 were arranged into oval assemblages that were nicknamed racetracks, because of their shapes.

Because of the high demand for copper during the war, the electromagnets were instead wound with silver wire, borrowed from the U.S. Treasury. Readers may recall that in 1943 the U.S. was still on the silver standard and our currency was backed by silver reserves held by the treasury. A paper note was imprinted with the words "Silver Certificate," and a person could exchange one for the equivalent amount of silver on demand. So during WWII, our currency was backed by the calutrons at Y-12, at least in part. After the war the silver was reclaimed and returned to the treasury. Congress repealed the silver standard in 1963, and by 1968 currency could no longer be redeemed for silver.

Young women were trained to operate the calutron racetracks, but never told what their jobs actually were. They simply sat in front of panels of dials and controls and made adjustments to keep the readings within an allowable range. They were never allowed to look behind the curtain, and didn't learn what their job was about until after the first bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.

 After the war all uranium enrichment was done by gaseous diffusion, at K-25 and its sister plants. Y-12 continued to operate with other defense missions. Now known as the Y-12 National Security Complex, it is operated by the U.S. Department of Energy through its National Nuclear Security Administration. You can learn more about Y-12 by visiting their web site here. Look at the articles written by Ray Smith, Y-12 historian. They're excellent.

All photographs used are U.S. Government photographs and are in the public domain.

The Fraterville Mine Disaster

Tomorrow marks the 110th anniversary of the worst mine disaster in Tennessee history. At about 7:30 am on May 19, 1902, an explosion ripped through the Fraterville Mine of the Coal Creek Mining Company. Apparently fueled by methane gas that had seeped into the mine from an adjacent unventilated shaft,  the blast and its aftermath took the lives of 216 miners, some of them children. Among the youngest was 12-year-old Henry Whitton.

Whitton and many of the dead were buried in the Leach Cemetery, just south of present-day Lake City, Tennesse. Eighty-nine graves form concentric rings around a central obelisk erected as a memorial to all of the miners killed. (The extreme lean of gravestones near the margins of the photograph is due to distortion by the wide-angle lens used for the shot. Not all stones remain plumb, by any means, but none is as extreme as the photo suggests.)

The monument counts 184 miners killed. The others include miners whose names were unknown, itinerants who had no family in the area.

Names of the 184 men and boys are engraved on the base of the obelisk. One striking aspect of the names is the number of members of a single family killed. Four, five, and six identical surnames are common as one walks around the monument. One family supposedly lost eight members. It is said that only three adult male residents remained in Fraterville after the explosion, amongst a population of widows and orphans.

Indicative of the times, the names of African-American miners were listed separately on the monument. I did not verify, but I suspect that none is buried at this site, certainly not within the rings around the monument.

This seventeen-year-old was just one of many young adults killed. Next to his grave are the graves of 21 and 22-year-olds. By this age, they most likely were experienced, seasoned miners, having joined their fathers in the mines young to help support a large family. The Coal Creek Mining Company was recognized as a good employer in the area. They paid in cash, instead of script, and they never used convicts. The Fraterville Mine was considered to be one of the safest.

Not all who died were killed, or even injured, by the initial explosion. Those deeper in the mine survived, possibly up to seven hours or more before succumbing to lack of oxygen or toxic gases. Many wrote letters to loved ones seeking to comfort them in their Christian faith. J. L. Powell wrote to his wife, Ellen, on behalf of himself and the small son who was in the mine with him. He implored her to "put your trust in the Lord to help you raise my little children." On behalf of "Little Elbert" who sat beside him he added a request "for you all to meet us in heaven, all the children meet us both in heaven."

Rescue efforts were quickly organized, but in those days before modern mine-rescue technology, the rescuers were driven back by toxic fumes. The operator of the mine ventilation system and the mine superintendent were both charged with negligence and then acquitted following hearings.

At the base of the central monument is this small, ceramic Santa holding two children. Who left it? Perhaps a child remembering the children buried there generations ago, who had missed out on the joys of childhood Christmases?