Scott Co, TN FNB Chronicles (2024)

This page was created 06 Sep 2008

[EDITOR’S NOTE – The following article of the early history of theBlevins family of Scott County is reprinted by permission of the Scott CountyNews, in which the article appeared on July 18, 2002. The article was written bythe late C. W. Hume, editor of the McCreary County Record, and was firstpublished in the August 4, 1931 edition. It was subsequently picked up andpublished in the Scott County News in 1968, 1980 and again in 2002].

Come my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready.
Have you your pistols? Have you your sharp-edged axes?
Pioneers! O Pioneers!

— WALT WHITMAN

This little stanza perhaps expresses the very command of the pioneer fatheras he started with his family on the hard, tedious, dangerous journey across theAppalachian Mountains on his way to the great free country on the western slopesin what is now Kentucky and Tennessee.

The great westward movement, that started in Virginia about 1762, with theexplorations of Daniel Boone, Dr. Thomas Walker, and Colonel Richard Henderson(president of the powerful Transylvania Land Company, which purchased the wholeof Kentucky and Tennessee from the Cherokee Indians at the treaty of SycamoreShoals for $50,000) brought many a sturdy pioneer to these two states, and manyof their descendants are yet living in the most remote mountainous sectionstoday.

Flintrock rifles and axes were very necessary equipment of the pioneer. Theforests were infested with savage beasts, and hostile tribes of Cherokee,Wyandottes, and bands of the Iroquois roamed beneath the primeval trees.

These, the pioneers met and conquered after a strenuous struggle that lastedhalf a century. The struggle cost many gallant lives, brought untold sufferingto most every family that started on the, westward quest, but won everlastingglory and a mighty empire to the present United States.

The sufferings and hardships endured by the pioneer families in the earlydays made it possible to successfully colonize west of the mountains. After thisinitial battle was won, the pioneer’s next, and most urgent problem was thatof establishing his home and providing a livelihood for himself and his family.

Thousands who came across the mountains pushed further west, but many of themwere content to settle in the numerous valleys nestled among the hills, maketheir homes there, and bring up their families. What we owe to the spirit of thegallant pioneer is inestimable.

The descendant of one of these brave men is the subject of this article.Thirty-one years ago, the writer met for the first time "Uncle Jake"Blevins and his splendid wife, Viannah. It was his first trip to the mountainsof Kentucky and Tennessee, and the experience of meeting this fine old coupleleft an unforgettable memory.

"Uncle Jake" was working in his gun shop, boring out the barrel ofan old-fashioned hog rifle. Think of finding a gun shop here in the heart of themountains! On closer investigation, I noticed his trousers and coat were ofhome-spun linsey and jeans. His shoes were homemade from leather, which he hadtanned himself, as I was later informed. His gun shop, or blacksmith shop. forhe did all kinds of work for himself and his neighbors, was a small, squarebuilding made of hewn-out logs.

"Uncle Jake" very proudly showed me his tools and a small bellowsthat heated. his forge and related how he had mad~ each by the labor of his ownhands. He also showed me the tools with which he made hog rifles, all handmade,the most unique part being the spiral and wry that was used to rifle thebarrels.

While yet filled with amazement, "Uncle Jake" led me to his house,a low rambling structure built of logs with a porch across the front facing theeast. Here, I met his remarkable family, consisting of his wife, five boys, fourgirls, and two maiden sisters.

All were wearing clothes of homespun, and homemade shoes. It soon dawned onme that I had chanced to come to a real pioneer home, the type prevalent ahundred years ago, here at the beginning of the twentieth century.

Their courteous treatment to me, a stranger, bespoke the spirit of earlyEnglish culture. On the wide projecting porch, I was shown a huge handmade loom,where on was made the linsey and jeans used in making clothes for the family.Nearby, stood a spinning wheel.

Sheep and goats that furnished wool for the spinning and weaving could beheard bleating to each other on the mountainside. In another room I was shownthe wooden models, from a baby size to that of a full-grown man, on which thefamily shoes were made.

In the fall of the year a beef was killed, the meat being stored in thesmokehouse for use during the long winter months, and the hide was tanned formaking shoes. Usually, a large chestnut log was hollowed out, the hide wasplaced in it and covered with water and chestnut bark. After a short period, itwas removed, scraped, dried, and was then ready to be made up.

A few casual glances during my visit caused me to notice the oldsplit-bottomed chairs and rockers, spool beds and trundle beds, and marvelouslywide poplar boards that formed the floor and ceiling, which "UncleJake" had made with his own rip-saw. Another marvel I was shown on thisvisit was a pair of scales or balances, which "Uncle Jake" had made,that would weigh up to eight pounds.

As a remembrance of my trip, I carried away two pairs of woolen stockings,the wool being sheared from his flock, carded and homespun on the spinningwheel, and knitted by the eldest daughter.

In one corner of the yard stood the smokehouse. It was filled with hams,shoulders, and sides of pork and sacks of sausage, cured with salt and smokedwith green, hickory wood. Perhaps there were one or more hind quarters of beefand of mutton, also hanging down from the beams.

A great iron lard kettle was leaning against one side of the wall. In anothercorner of the yard I was shown the old spring house, sheltered by a magnificentweeping willow tree. A hollowed out gourd hung over the door to dip up theclear, sparkling water that gushed out from beneath the mountainside.

In the bottom of the spring house sat several wooden vessels filled with milkand containing a batch of freshly-made butter. The shelves above were loaded tothe breaking point with canned fruit and preserves, and wild honey taken fromthe trees in the forest.

Alas, it seemed the Master had emptied his horn of plenty in this secludedvalley among the hills. A short walk up the creek took us to the old water mill,where their corn crop was converted into meal to furnish their bread supply.

All this we saw, and learned that Jake – the farmer, miller, blacksmith,gunsmith, shoemaker, and father – served his family and neighbors for manymiles around by making them the things they needed in their homes.

He had built his home in the early eighties about 18 miles west of Oneida,Tenn., locating it at the junction of three branches, which form the mainStation Camp Creek. It is referred to in the "Annals of Tennessee" asthe "Turkey Track."

Nestled among the high cliffs of the Cumberland Range, it is in a wild andpicturesque setting. A short distance above the house is a large rockhouse, oroverhanging cliff, where during the Civil War, Negroes escaping to the"North were concealed by the mountain people. At one time, it must have been thecamping place for the Indians, as large pieces of broken flint, arrowheads,etc., can be found nearby at this time.

It was in 1884 that "Uncle Jake" married Miss Viannah West andbrought her to this home shortly afterwards. It was extremely interesting tohear him tell of his first days here — when bear, deer, and turkey wereplentiful — and how he managed to make his living from the forest and by doingshop work for his neighbors. Even today, the terrifying scream of a wildcat isnot an uncommon sound at night.

For forty years they have lived in this same house and brought up theirfamily, educating them in the stern school of experience, for neither of theparents enjoyed much formal schooling beyond a few rudimentary lessons in thethree R’s.

His splendid wife has been a true helpmate throughout their many trying timestogether, and they have raised a splendid law-abiding and respected family."Uncle Jake" and "Aunt Viannah" have given four of theirboys to the army.

Although the family is scattered now throughout Kentucky and Tennessee, theymake frequent visits to the old home on Station Camp Creek, "UncleJake" and "Aunt Viannah" have been staunch, lifelong members ofthe local Baptist church and often travel six or eight miles to attend servicesconducted by some mountain preacher. "Uncle Jake" has been a deaconfor many years.

The lumbermen and oil drillers are now only a few miles away, and it will beonly a short time until this setting of a real pioneer home will be a thing ofthe past. A home where everything pertaining to its comforts of life wereproduced by hand on its immediate surroundings.

It is still a golden storehouse, connecting the past and present. It is arare privilege today to sit and listen to "Uncle Jake" tell of thebuilding of his home, when his rifle often kept the wolf from this door, thelog-rollings, house-raisings, and the times when dancing"skip-to-my-Lou" afforded most of the pleasures of the pioneers.

The time is not far distant when the pioneer shall pass from the scene. Hiscontributions to us and examples of courage and industry furnish to us a guidinglight. It is not without sincere regret we see him go, but the "old ordermust yield to the new" and the new must press on toward greater things.

Peace to his ashes. May his future life be spent in undisturbed rest aseverlasting as the mighty rocks that sheltered his little mountain home.

FNB Chronicle, Vol. 15, No. 1 – Fall 2003
First National Bank
P.O. Box 4699
Oneida, TN 37841
(p1,4-5, 11)

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