"Knoxville, Summer 1915"

"On the rough wet grass of the back yard my father and mother have spread quilts. We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and I too am lying there... They are not talking much, and the talk is quiet, of nothing in particular, of nothing at all in particular, of nothing at all. The stars are wide and alive, they seem each like a smile of great sweetness, and they are very near. All my people are larger bodies than mine,... with voices gentle and meaningless like the voices of sleeping birds. One is an artist, he is living at home. One is a musician, she is living at home. One is my mother who is good to me. One is my father who is good to me. By some chance, here they are, all on this earth; and who shall ever tell the sorrow of being on this earth, lying, on quilts, on the grass, in the summer evening, among the sounds of the night. May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father, oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble; and in the hour of their taking away.
After a little I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep, soft smiling, draws me unto her: and those receive me, who quietly treat me, as one familiar and well-beloved in that home: but will not, no will not, not now, not ever; but will not ever tell me who I am."

In 1996, I managed to get tickets for my wife and I and a couple of friends to the sold out R.E.M. concert here at Thompson-Boling Arena. To this day, R.E.M. remains one of the best live bands I've seen, and we were all really stoked for the show. About halfway through an incredible first set, the lead singer, Michael Stipe, walked to the front of the stage with a book in his hand and proceeded to tell the audience how fortunate we all were to live here, as one of the most beautiful pieces of American literature ever put to paper was written about Knoxville. He then proceeded to read James Agee's passage "Knoxville Summer 1915" to the suddenly very sober audience. When a few overzealous fans yelled out as he began to read, he simply told them to be quiet and then started over. I was stunned.

I'd always loved "Knoxville Summer 1915", the prologue to Agee's posthumously published "A Death in the Family". The short passage had actually been later cobbled in by the publisher as an introduction to Agee's tragic autobiographical novel about the sudden loss of his father, but it always did seem to me to mesh with the novel perfectly. Having grown up in Knoxville, and being intimately familiar with the Fort Sanders neighborhood where Agee lived as a child, I always felt he captured the texture of the subject matter perfectly. And now, here was the lead singer of what was, at the time, arguably the best rock band in the world, quietly reading the passage to a crowd of thousands just a mile or two from where Agee was raised. It was truly an incredible thing.

Today I work just across the viaduct from Agee's old neighborhood, and one of my favorite things to do on a bright spring day is to walk up through the old Fort Sanders community to grab lunch at the Falafel Hut. Knoxville developers, ever consistent in their drive to destroy the significant in favor of the mundane, tore down Agee's home several years ago to build a parking lot; and the recent addition of several huge student housing projects have greatly diminished the charm of the old neighborhood. However, it's still a poignant feeling as I cross the viaduct and ascend the hill into Fort Sanders; walking along the same sidewalks traversed by a young boy and the father he so admired on their last night together- nearly 100 years ago.

"Old Red"

I realize that this website seems to feature more than its fair share of articles featuring local cemeteries. I suppose the best explanation I can give for this is that cemeteries, most notably grave sites and markers, are often the last tangible remnants of the lives of those who came before us. Sometimes even the graves themselves have a story to tell...

In 1995, following up on some brief notes made several generations ago by a diligent member of our family, I sought out and eventually located the grave of my fourth great grandfather, Sanford Simpson. Sanford had migrated to Knox County with his family in the early 19th century, and had served in the Virginia militia during the War of 1812. The only other information I had was that Sanford had "drowned in the Tennessee River, May of 1868".

Sanford's brother, Jesse Simpson, Jr. was a prominent community leader and owned a marble quarry and ferry about a mile east of Knoxville on the south banks of the Tennessee River. (Present-day Simpson Road marks the original location of the ferry; the quarry was located adjacent to the old Cunningham-Flenniken cemetery.) Jesse was also an elder and charter member at Island Home Baptist Church, and his headstone, made from pink marble removed from his own quarry, is one of the most notable in the church cemetery.

Sanford is also interred at the Island Home cemetery, although it took me a while to locate his grave. The following is a description I made in my notes at the time:

Sanford’s tombstone is small and plain; so succinct that no birth or death information is even provided, and it is utterly isolated from all the other interments in the cemetery. The grave is located at the very edge of the church property and may have even originally stood outside of the cemetery proper. Sanford’s white stone marker, offering only his first and last name and that he was once a soldier in our country’s early struggle for independence, is located at the far north end of the cemetery, so remote from the remainder of the graves that even the most casual observer could not help but notice its isolation. I often wonder why this grave is so far removed from the others. Was it something as simple as a large family plot that never held but one grave? (It appears that Sanford’s wife, Hopey, was never interred at this location; though his son, Jesse Poston Simpson, was later buried at the southeast end of the yard.) Was it possible that Sanford was not a churchgoer? (A sure ticket to the outer reaches of any good Baptist cemetery.) Or was it something darker? Could Sanford’s drowning have been something other than an accident? Could he possibly have taken his own life?

I thought about this from time to time over the years and then, not long ago, I finally received my answer. A family researcher I was corresponding with had sent me a copy of the following article, taken from the Knoxville Daily Press & Herald, May 24, 1868 ~

Sanford Simpson, popularly known as Old Red, who has been missing for the past week, was found just below the dam on Saturday morning on the South Side of the river. The deceased was last seen about one week ago. He was in town, greatly under the influence of liquor, late in the evening he was set across the river in a skiff by John Dobson. It was supposed that in the insensible condition that he was in, he fell in the river and was drowned. A coroner's inquest was held over the deceased and the verdict was rendered in accordance with the above facts.

It's apparent that Sanford likely lived a life that fell far below the standards of the community of faith alongside of which he will now forever reside. I often wonder about him; the dubious reputation he probably garnered in the small South Knoxville community; what legacy he left to his wife and to his children; the strained relationship he likely maintained with his pious and prominent brother.
Recently, the girls and I visited the cemetery, and I noticed there were now some newer interments closer to Sanford's grave. I was glad to see it. Regardless of whatever vices Sanford may have wrestled with in life, it doesn't seem right to ask him to atone for them by being eternally marginalized in death.

Directions to the cemetery:
Driving south on Henley Street/Chapman Highway, turn left at Baptist Hospital, just over the Henley Street Bridge. You will be driving parallel to the river, and the road will quickly run into Island Home Avenue. Turn right from Island Home Avenue onto Island Home Pike. The church will be on your left, about one and a half miles up the road.

The Window

I know this blog is technically supposed to be about Knoxville, or at least our family, but I felt compelled to post the picture to the left. The photo was taken during a recent business trip to Grapevine, Texas.

On a whim, a few of us decided to drive into Dallas one day and visit the "Kennedy Museum" (the concierge's description) at the old Book Depository downtown. I don't know what I was expecting from that visit, but what I walked into that afternoon was one of the most profoundly affecting experiences I've had in a long time.

The JFK assassination occurred a couple of years before I was born, so, unlike my colleagues, I didn't hold any special memories regarding the occasion. My first knowledge of the event came from reading (and re-reading) my parents' old Life magazines that were published just after Kennedy's death. I remember one of the issues in particular, as it actually published the final segment of the Zapruder film over several pages. I was nine or ten at the time and I remember studying each frame of the film with a grisly fascination. It was inconceivable to my young mind that something like that could actually happen to the President of the United States. Obviously, at the time of the event, the rest of the world felt pretty much the same way.

I guess I never realized just how close Dealy Plaza actually is to the old book warehouse, but as we parked and walked toward the museum, the sunlit intersection slowly revealed itself to us from behind a row of trees. I felt an odd familarity creeping in as we continued on beyond the museum and then, suddenly, we found ourselves...there.

Dealy Plaza still looks amazingly identical to the way it did in November 1963, and on this similarly bright beautiful day, the scene was particularly poignant. I walked on the grassy knoll. I stood and shot video footage from the exact vantage point Mr. Zapruder had occupied that day nearly forty five years ago. I listened to several conspiracy theorists give their presentations (and accept donations).

And I took the photo above. The angle is from the grassy median between Main and Elm streets, facing back up toward the Book Depository and the window from which Lee Harvey Oswald shot and killed an American President. The faded "X" visible on Elm just adjacent to the passing car marks the location of the presidential limo when the second, fatal shot hit President Kennedy. The window itself, now left "open" for posterity, is on the far right of the building, second row from the top.

As I crossed Elm and again ascended the small hill toward Mr. Zapruder's location, I felt a slight chill- even in the warm sunlight of that beautiful afternoon. As I turned and moved my eyes slowly down Elm Street one last time, I could easily imagine a ghostly motorcade drifting by, over and over and over.

For those wanting to visit the site, here is the web address of the Sixth Floor Museum, an excellent tribute to the life, presidency and tragic death of John F. Kennedy.

http://www.jfk.org/

But if you go, don't forget to walk the few steps beyond the museum to stand in Dealy Plaza. It's an experience you won't soon forget.

Elizabeth Moore Carrick

To the left is the marriage bond of nineteen year old Samuel Czar Carrick to his first wife, Elizabeth Moore. The bond, dated September 21, 1779, was signed in Rockbridge County, Virginia. Elizabeth is listed as the daughter of Robert Moore, whose signature appears on the document. Elizabeth's brother, James Moore, is also noted and appears to be the primary individual with whom young Samuel is securing the bond. Also signing the bond "in testament" is Elizabeth's mother, Margaret.

Samuel was, at the time of his marriage to Elizabeth, involved in theological studies at an academy in Rockbridge County. In 1781 he was ordained as a minister and became active in the Virginia Presbytery, where he served for a number of years before ultimately relocating with his little family to the vicinity of James White's Fort (Knoxville) in 1791. Reverend Carrick would deliver what may well have been the first sermon preached in present day Knox County. The message was delivered from atop an Indian mound adjacent to Mr. Deverreaux Gilliam's trading station, located in the forks of the French Broad and Holston Rivers. A Presbyterian church, Lebanon In the Fork, was soon dedicated adjacent to Gilliam's Station, and Reverend Carrick was appointed as the church's first pastor. Early attendees of the church included prominent local citizenry, such as the Whites and the Ramsey family.

In September of 1793 Elizabeth, already suffering from chronic health complications, became gravely ill just prior to the proposed attack on Knoxville by the Creek/Cherokee coalition under John Watts. Following the massacre at Cavett's Station on September 25, the men of White's Fort and the surrounding community, including Rev. Carrick, marched out to fortify some of the outlying settlements. While the men were gone from the fort, young Elizabeth passed away.

The following is an excerpt from Dr. J. G. M. Ramsey's 1875 history of the church-

Among the first Christian interments here was that of Mrs. Carrick. It occurred on the day of the contemplated attack upon the infant Knoxville by the Indians, Sept., 1793. All the inhabitants who would bear arms had gone to its defense, and relations and remains of Mrs. Carrick were brought down in a canoe on the Holston River and deposited in the church yard, attended and buried by women only. Her grave is easily pointed out -- a tombstone erected long since by the faithful care and piety of her grandson, the late Samuel Carrick White of Knoxville. This is the oldest graveyard in the county and has become historical from its early date and respectability and worth of those who were buried in it.

Elizabeth's grave is still visible and well-maintained to this day. It sits in the northeast corner of the little cemetery belonging to the church her husband helped establish over two hundred years ago.

Rev. Carrick would eventually remarry and rise to local prominence as a minister, a civic leader and as the founder of Blount College in Knoxville (later the University of Tennessee).

Elizabeth's brother, James Caswell Moore, also left Rockbridge County and settled with his wife, Jane Boyd Moore, on 201 acres of land in the Neubert Springs section of South Knoxville. James C. Moore was my third great grandfather, and his original land grant on Neubert Springs Road would remain in our family for nearly two hundred years.

Directions to Lebanon Church Cemetery:

The cemetery is located off Governor John Sevier Highway near the Forks of the River Industrial Park. Coming from the north (Asheville Highway), turn right onto Thorngrove Pike and follow it for a mile or so until you come to Asbury Road on your left. Turn left onto Asbury and drive approximately two miles until you see a railroad trestle passing over the road. The cemetery is on the left, just before you pass under the trestle. The church was destroyed by fire in the early 20th century, but the pillars from the church (actually the second church building) were spared and used as part of a monument on the original site.

Directly across the street is a large white farmhouse that resides directly atop what was originally the site of Gilliam’s Station. (The house is currently owned by friends of our family, the Carrolls). The fork of the Holston and French Broad Rivers, which marks the official inception of the Tennessee River, is visible just to the south of the farmhouse.