Families remember ancestors buried in national park.

by Danny Bernstein
Published in New Southerner, Spring 2007

Little Cataloochee Baptist Church sits on a ridge top in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina, a small white structure, built in 1889, with a steeple and cobblestone steps. The inside is plain, painted white, just like the outside, without even a cross or picture on the wall.

People gather inside the small sanctuary for Decoration Days, an event celebrated at cemeteries located in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The park's 500,000 acres span North Carolina and Tennessee. Cataloochee is among visitors' favorite spots, according to the park's Web site.

We fill the church pews. Harold Hannah leads the service. "We'll go around and one person from your group should introduce the others. Explain how you're related to Little Cataloochee."

I listen attentively, trying to understand the intricate family relationships around me.

There are children, grandchildren, cousins, friends of former residents and, occasionally, someone who was raised here - on the North Carolina side of the Smokies.

As they make introductions, I notice names being repeated. There are many Hannahs, some as last names, some as middle names - women who perhaps have married into other families - and even as first names, for granddaughters of former residents. There are plenty of Woodys, Bennetts and Messers, names mentioned in the park's brochures and oral histories.

When my turn comes, I thank them for their hospitality. "I'm just a hiker - no relations here. But there's a little connection," I say, smiling. "My granddaughter's name is Hannah." A teenage Hannah shouts out, "We're all kin here!" I feel welcomed.

A preacher with a guitar strapped around his neck reads the names of those who died in the year since the last reunion. As each name is called out, Harold rings the chapel bell. Once the casual service is over, it's time to eat.

"We used to have a proper service with a guest pastor," Harold recalls. "But people decided they didn't want a regular preaching service. They would rather talk to people they hadn't seen all year. For that one day, they could skip church."

Harold, the son of Mark Hannah, the first ranger in Cataloochee, grew up in the park and went to Beech Grove School, a one-room schoolhouse that still stands.

He explains that former residents and their descendants have been returning here to decorate graves since moving out of their homes to make way for the national park in the 1930s. After a while, someone made the suggestion, "Well, if we are all bringing a lunch, why don't we have it the same time?"

A Community Event

Those who moved left not only their homes, schools, churches and post offices, but also cemeteries - over 200 of them in the park, according to Tom Robbins, an interpretive ranger. Some cemeteries have been forgotten by descendants no longer living in the area. But in Little Cataloochee, Decoration Days attract more than 250 people.

Decoration Days, also called reunions or visitations, differ in size and details. But rather than family visits, most are recognized as community affairs, partly because of tradition, partly because of logistics. Since Little Cataloochee Baptist Church is a two-mile walk from the road, the rangers open the gates once a year to allow people to drive on the Little Cataloochee Trail and bring in picnic coolers.

Today, descendants, families, friends and sometimes hikers like me gather to decorate the graves with silk flowers, renew friendships and eat.

I walk around the cemetery, down the hill from the church. "Here are some flowers," a woman tells her three granddaughters. "Now if a grave doesn't have a flower on it, put one on. Some graves don't have anybody taking care of them anymore. So we have to do it."

On the "Road to Nowhere"

On the southwestern side of the park, outside Bryson City, I visit the Woody and Hoyle cemeteries in the North Shore Road area, which Fontana Lakewas not part of the original park. I'm in the heart of the "Road to Nowhere" controversy.

Until the 1940s, several communities lived in and north of the current Fontana Lake. When World War II was declared, the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam on the Little Tennessee River to create electricity for the war effort, flooding NC 288, the only access road. Residents left the area and the land was amalgamated into the park.

The federal government promised a new road in 1943, but so far less than seven miles have been built. Congressman Charles Taylor, of Western North Carolina, tried to revive the issue. The park held many meetings to get the public's reaction to a road.

Only a couple hundred descendants of those who moved out want the National Park Service to build the 35-mile road through the heart of this wilderness. The road would cause an environmental disaster. Environmentalists and many Swain County locals favor a financial settlement instead. Since Taylor lost the election, the road probably will never be built. For those who want to visit cemeteries, the park service provides free boat transportation across Fontana Lake and a car shuttle as close as vehicles can get to the cemeteries.

I spoke vehemently against the road, but I was curious about the cemetery visits on the North Shore. Verna Kirkland, a road supporter, invited me to come. "You don't need to know anyone," she emphasized. "The park service will take anyone across Fontana Lake."

Crossing the Divide

I cross the lake on the ferry along with a dozen other people, including a park ranger. We dock at Woody Branch of Fontana Lake, where an SUV transports some of the visitors and picnic coolers. The rest of us walk on a well-maintained, unmarked jeep trail up a hill to the Woody cemetery.

As a hiker, I know the maintained trails in the Smokies but have always wondered where these unsigned trails go. This section of the park is quiet, attracting only hikers and anglers. The Smokies may be the most visited national park in the United States, but most tourists drive through on Newfound Gap Road and stop only at Sugarlands Visitor Center. I see few people once I'm a couple of miles from the trailhead.

At the Woody cemetery, James Calhoun, one of the regular visitors to the cemeteries on the North Shore Road, gives a testament, a prayer for the dead. We walk around making sure that each grave has a flower. Many are marked only by a rock stump. The North Shore Cemetery Association has been raising money to place monuments on all graves, many of which have been forgotten since descendants moved away.

We walk down to a picnic area prepared for the Woody cemetery visit. The park maintenance guys have hauled over Port-o-Johns and hung a yellow tarp over the picnic tables. Decoration Day here is more subdued than in Cataloochee. There are 15 Decoration Days for the 27 cemeteries in the area. Some North Shore Road supporters, like Verna Kirkland, make a point of going to all of them so the regulars see each other often. The food, however, is the same proverbial groaning board of chicken, vegetable side dishes and too many desserts.

The Perks of Park Cemeteries

Although you can't drive to the Smokies' cemeteries anytime you want to, you can always walk. The cemeteries are maintained and preserved by the National Park Service. It's easy for a family to come here and say, "This is where your grandparents are buried." They might be doing a better job than a conventional family in keeping the family tree. In the park, no one is going to sell grandpa's house or forget where grandma grew up. The National Park will keep the family namesalive in historic pamphlets. Being part of a park guarantees that the creek and the house site will not be paved over for a parking lot or housing development. These reunions might go on forever.