Ruralite Cafe: Published 07/04/02

By Lisa Majors-Duff - News Editor

Contemplating Elkmont's uncertain future

I've been drawn to the mystique that is Elkmont for years, since I first laid eyes on the beautiful old Wonderland Hotel and happened upon the cabins in the woods. Though I cannot say exactly when it was I made this discovery, it had to have been after I visited the lodge at Yellowstone and wondered out loud to my parents why the Smokies did not offer such grandiose accommodations. That's when Dad told me about Elkmont.

While the park has many removal stories to tell - from Cades Cove to Cataloochee - to me Elkmont's is the most interesting for two reasons.

First, the 80 or so summer homes and the hotel, all built and occupied by East Tennessee's social elite in the early 1900s, are still standing almost 100 years later. No longer considered private property, the homes, their small green lawns and a grouping of rusting mailboxes are all available for public inspection, causing dreamers like me to wonder what the area and the people must have been like at its height. For instance, I wonder what amusements would this crowd be planning for the Fourth of July, 1922?

Secondly, after learning a little more about Elkmont's removal story and discovering that as late as last year a few of the homeowners continued to fight the National Park Service's insistence that they vacate, I witnessed a scene on the front porch of one of these homes I'll never forget. With the car packed after spending a spring weekend alone in the campground - one of my favorite pastimes in my late teens and early 20s - I decided to drive through the cottages for one last look before heading home. I soon found myself behind another car, whose driver and passenger, I assumed, had the same thing in mind.

I found out otherwise when the car in front of me stopped in the middle of the single-lane road and its occupants got out. I watched as a grandmotherly-looking woman in the passenger's seat opened the car's back door and pulled out two flowering plants in hanging baskets. Her husband, a nice-looking older gentleman, went around to the trunk and retrieved a flat of potted flowers, the kind you replant each spring to line your walkway.

The two of them, dressed as if they were later scheduled to have lunch at the country club, proceeded up the path to a cottage, which looked as if it was being taken care of, more so than the others, most of which exhibited tell-tale signs of neglect - sagging roofs, broken windows, torn screens, rotten porch planks. But this couple's cottage had a fresh appearance, as if its pale yellow paint and bright blue trim had just recently been applied.

What this cottage had in common with the others, though, was "Keep Out" signs and "No Trespassing by Order of the National Park Service."

After carefully placing the baskets on hooks on the porch, this most dignified-looking woman walked to her front door and inserted a key. Before entering, she reached up and forcefully ripped the signs off her summer home, tore them in half and let them fall to the porch floor. With the flowers unloaded, her husband moved the car so I and the two cars now lined up behind me could proceed.

As residents of the North Carolina side of the park, most of you are probably not as familiar with Elkmont's removal story as you are Smokmont's or even the new home of the real elk, Cataloochee Valley. But Elkmont and its residents, prominent Tennesseans who learned what is meant by "be careful what you wish for," are the reason we are blessed to have such an amazing example of nature out our back door.

As I learned while researching the park's history for last year's Sesquicentennial Issue, Elkmont, which began as a logging town under the direction of the Little River Lumber Co., gradually evolved into a haven for the socially prominent and wealthy members of East Tennessee who traveled on the weekends to the area to engage in some of the best hunting and fishing around. Trout, bear, deer and smaller game animals were abundant.

In 1910, the Little River Lumber Co. deeded a tract of 50 acres to the existing Appalachian Club on which the group erected a clubhouse. Founded in 1907, the Appalachian Club was a hunting and fishing club of which many of the Tennessee weekenders were members. A few months later, the lumber company accorded a 10-year lease of exclusive hunting and fishing privileges to the Appalachian Club covering some 40,000 acres on the headwaters on the Little River above Elkmont.

Originally established as a sportsmen's club, the Appalachian Club soon grew more social in its activities. The men's womenfolk heard stories of fun in the forests of Elkmont and soon joined their husbands on their weekend trips. As is the case with similar organizations even today, the Appalachian Club became rather exclusive, denying access to its facilities and social functions to outsiders.

In its heyday in the 1920s, Elkmont was the second largest town in Tennessee's Sevier County. Among the many homes and cottages existed a general store, post office, boarding house, church and theater. Besides the Appalachian Club and the area's many homes, Elkmont had in its vicinity a glorious hotel - The Wonderland.

In 1914, the hotel and the land it occupied were sold to a group of Knoxvillians who had been denied access to the Appalachian Club. They formed their own club and the Wonderland Hotel was born. A white, two-story, clapboard structure, the hotel was surrounded on the front and one side by a large porch complete with rocking chairs and swings.

Realizing a permanent solution was needed if the area was to be preserved, residents had at least two thoughts on the subject - one side wished for a national park, while the other wanted the area to be preserved as a national forest. Col. David C. Chapman was the driving force behind the national park; he wanted roads and facilities erected so all Americans could enjoy the area. He also believed the visitors would bring in money for local businesses.

James Wright, a Knoxville lawyer and owner of an Elkmont cottage, led the opposition. A dedicated conservationist, Wright believed the area would be contaminated by hordes of people. He thought the area would be best protected if classified as a national forest.

In the end, the national park idea won out and the residents of Elkmont and all other communities within the 800,000 square miles that now make up the Smokies were asked to leave. (Remember: "Be careful what you ask for.") Logging operations were stopped and the government began to buy homeowners' property. Opposition arose from Elkmont's wealthy summer residents and Appalachian Club members, who hired James Wright to defend their rights in court.

Wright, who must have been a fine attorney, negotiated lifetime leases for his clients, who later exchanged them for limited leases so the National Park Service would allow electricity to be installed in their homes. These leases were set to expire in 1972, but a 20-year extension was negotiated, this time by the Elkmont Preservation Committee. All but three homeowners, including the concessionaire who ran the Wonderland Hotel, were gone by the end of 1992.

Preparing for what would happen when all the leases expired, the National Park Service approved a management plan in 1982 that called for the removal of Elkmont's structures; however, in late 1993, 67 of the 86 buildings were placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Any action affecting them would now require review and approval by the Tennessee State Historic Preservation Office, which so far has nixed both Park Service proposals - to totally remove the buildings and a plan to preserve 17 of the structures, including the hotel.

Which brings us to this summer's meetings - two in April and two more scheduled for August - during which the National Park Service is taking comments from those interested in the future of Elkmont's grand hotel and its summer homes. The final plan outlining what is to be done with these structures should be ready for review next summer and must satisfy the requirements of both the NPS and Tennessee's preservation office before it is carried out.

While the disrepair of the buildings, especially the Wonderland Hotel, which now stands forlornly behind a 10-foot-high chain-link fence, provide the perfect backdrop for campfire ghost stories, the kind that scare the pants off 8-year-old girls, my hope is that Elkmont can eventually be restored. The exclusive Appalachian Club is part of the area's history, and bringing it back to life in a national park setting would make it once and for all inclusive.

Back to Archive: 07/04/02.