If you don’t know history, then you don’t know anything. You are a leaf that doesn’t know it is part of a tree. ~ Michael Crichton
This is a brief bio of a man who established a life and a family in a previously uninhabited area. His story is but one of thousands of the intrepid settlers of Appalachia whose visibility is too often reduced to a headstone. We walk through cemeteries and note the parentheses (Born 1838 – Died 1919), but we have no knowledge of the deceased’s desires or skillsets or motivations. I won’t say they deserve more, as that word deserve is bandied about more than necessary. I will say, though, that we who are on this side of the grass would be wise to become more educated and more appreciative of the accomplishments of those who have gone before. Here we go.
Because of my volunteer activities at Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (GSMNP), I am fortunate to know incredibly knowledgeable people who are generous with their time and talents. One individual who is always willing to share GSMNP history and culture is Ken Voorhis, who took me on a mini-tour of Tremont (previously known as Walker Valley) a few weeks ago. This was squarely in his wheelhouse, as he was Executive Director of Great Smoky Mountain Institute at Tremont for almost three decades. So, I kind of listen when he talks.
My tutorial began at the cemetery, where, as I previously mentioned, we don’t always walk away with more than we knew walking in. That said, cemeteries always provide the opportunity to peek into the culture of a society. There is much to learn from those who are no longer with us, and this site did not disappoint. As an aside, I had no idea there were people living in the Tremont area prior to the national park development. Perhaps I should have, but my focus has been elsewhere in the Park for a few years and I had not lifted my head to look around. It was time.
Many of the very old headstones do not have legible engravings, as is the norm. Stones dating beyond a century ago are often fieldstone, and while that material is fairly durable, nothing lasts forever. That, and the markings may not have been deep, since engravers weren’t always readily available. Of those we can read, though, there are many Moores and Stinnetts, and a number of those at rest were related to William Marion Walker.
Mr. Walker, known as Will or Big Bill, was raised in Tuckaleechee Cove, but as a young man planned to live close to Fodderstack Mountain. That’s where he and his bride (nee Nancy Carlor) decided to settle and raise their family in 1859. And what a family it was – but more on that in a bit. Will was larger than life, somewhat of a Paul Bunyan. But real. He and his wife brought everything with them for a DIY project that was literally DIY. No TV crew, no project manager, no Home Depot. Here’s what they did have:
Goods
Skills
- Seeds
- Broadax
- Adze
- Froe
- Wooden club
- Farm sled
- Chickens
- Milking cow
- Hewing round logs into lumber
- Forging a rifle (his was 6′ long)
- Making barrels & buckets
- Cooking on an open fire
- Managing livestock
- Raising crops
- Preserving food without refrigeration
- Spinning yarn
Oh, yeah. Something else. Work ethic and the desire to create a home for themselves and the children who would follow. Through land grants Will initially accumulated more than 5,200 acres and ultimately gained more. He was not only a hard worker, but this mountain man also knew how the world works. His little piece of heaven had to yield almost everything necessary to sustain life, since running to the local Publix or Ace Hardware would not have been an option.
To that end, Will created his own millstones for three water-powered grist mills. Now, if you had mentioned this to me two years ago, it wouldn’t have meant much, but now I know that each millstone weighs about 2000 lbs. And he MADE them with a hammer and chisel. Milling was necessary to process the ubiquitous corn yields in this area and thus supplement the protein provided by wildlife and fish. This family also maintained copious numbers of beehives to guarantee a honey supply. In addition to taking care of crops, corn mills, beehives and livestock, Will generated cash by selling pelts and renting pasture land to other farmers. Tired yet? Just wait.
Will did not join the fight in the Civil War, but rather served the area by participating in the Home Guard to protect families against Confederate raids. He also was known to handle manly chores, such as cutting firewood, for the women whose husbands did go to war. Will developed very close relationships with some of the women whose husbands died and never returned from the battlefield. Over time, he had three common law wives.* Before you jump to conclusions, know that his one legal wife was good with the arrangement. He didn’t begin supporting the second woman (Mary Ann Moore) until Nancy was beyond childbearing, and didn’t take the third (Moll Stinnett) until Mary Ann was at that stage of life. The last was Susan Turner, and less is certain about that relationship. In any case, Will cared for all his children, even those who didn’t carry his name. He built all of them separate cabins, all close to his original cabin–close enough that he could sing them a song from his chair on the porch in the evenings. All told, he fathered 27 children. So the story goes. *Tennessee didn’t recognize common law wives, but that’s how their arrangement was best described.
Pretty incredible so far, huh? But the most surprising thing I’ve read about Will Walker was his drive to make sure his children were educated. He’s the man that lobbied Blount County in an attempt to get a school started in his community. These efforts eventually led to funding from another source. Because of Will, the children in Walker Valley had access to school, at least for short school terms. They had to travel to Maryville for higher learning as they got older, but the basics were covered.
Now, I don’t know about you, but if, in casual conversation, someone had mentioned a character called Big Bill, I would have had a certain image in my head. Not sure what, but more swagger than substance. I certainly would not have expected a history this rich with industry and talent and high expectations for his offspring. It occurs to me that I can’t fully appreciate the ‘now’ without knowing more about the ‘then.’ I will miss a lot of learning opportunities if I don’t listen to people who can no longer speak.
You?
