Saturday, November 7, 1953 was Otha Emert Day in Sevier County.
A phone call from one of our daughter’s Wearwood classmates a couple of Sundays ago has caused me to look at the woods near my home through different eyes — the eyes of a Morel mushroom picker!
We’ve had a home in Gatlinburg for 41 years and have seen many bears. But the one we saw this week was the biggest by far.
In 1865, the same year the Civil War ended, Archimedes M. “Art” Chambers built a mill and log mill dam on the east prong of the Little Pigeon River about 500 feet upstream from the confluence of the east and west prongs of the river.
Some moms wish they saw more of their adult children. Other moms ask their adult children if they’re done working on payroll.
It’s always easy to think the youngest generation consists of lazy, spoiled brats who are going to drag us all into the nether regions.
I have agreed with people who have said my long-ago experience of teaching speech, English and drama while being an athletic coach was an odd combination.
We all remember our first love.
Tennessee statehood was seven years in the future when a small group led by Revolutionary War veteran Spencer Clack and Preacher Richard Wood gathered to form a place to worship in a struggling pioneer community.
The Department of Health is responsible for regulation of food service establishments in Tennessee.
“We tried, but trying isn’t what gets you wins. You got to go out there and give it your all. And you have to score to win. You don’t just ‘try’ to do it. You do it.”
Even for a little town like Sevierville, the dusty, unpaved streets were exceptionally quiet on Friday morning, October 13, 1899. There were no horses, buggies or pedestrians traversing Main Street. The stillness was not peaceful, a surreal silence prevailed.
Classic Peanuts character Charlie Brown said, “Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, ‘Where have I gone wrong?’ Then a voice says to me, ‘This is going to take more than one night.’”
I heard the line so many times: “I don’t like country music, but I like you.”
The 1960 Sevier County Baptist Association minutes includes the following paragraph describing the closing of Smoky Mountain Academy and expressing appreciation to those who made the school possible:
My wife Jean really likes to read or view “good news stories,” and quite frequently shares them with me – like she did this morning.
Until Sevier County High School opened in 1920, there were no public secondary schools in Sevier County. Since 1890 Murphy College had been operating as a “subscription school” in Sevierville and Harrison-Chilhowee Baptist Academy was established in Seymour about 1880.
March seems like the longest month of the year for me. Always has and probably always will.
The NCAA Basketball Tournament – or March Madness – is a time for college teams to “survive and advance.” It is a time for participants, supporters and fans to go along for a long, enjoyable ride – or get off early. And, it is a time that reminds me of Vincent van Gogh.
Several hundred small cemeteries dot the landscape throughout Sevier County. Some are picturesque and enhance the surrounding natural beauty while others have been neglected, becoming nothing more than an overgrown eyesore.
Legendary humorist-philosopher Will Rogers (1879-1935) delighted his audience when he said, “This country has come to feel the same when Congress is in session as when the baby gets hold of a hammer.”
Sometime in the mid-1850s, James Isaac McMahan, who owned a big farm near Sevierville, traveled to Charleston, S.C., for the purpose of purchasing slaves to bring back home to work on his farm and the brickyard which he owned.
This will be my last column as a member of The Mountain Press staff. I am leaving the paper and the state to return to my hometown to take a communications and marketing position at a two-year college there.
A hunter was walking through the jungle when he saw a pygmy standing beside a huge dead rhinoceros. The hunter asked, “Did you kill this?” The pygmy replied, “Yes. It was charging.” Amazed, the hunter asked, “How in the world could a little guy like you kill such a huge beast?” The pygmy said, “With my club.” Flabbergasted, the hunter responded, “How big is your club?” The pygmy replied matter-of-factly, “There’s about sixty of us.”
One day in May 1975, Park Ranger Glenn Cardwell was called to the front desk of Sugarlands Visitor Center in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
