Saving Laurel Springs (5 page)

Carter gave him a sly glance. “I have a better convertible for us to ride around in now.”

Billy laughed. “Well, that's a fact!”

“And I'm working on Rhea.” Carter realized regretfully that his voice dropped and softened as he admitted it.

He saw Billy watching his face. “You still got feelings there, Carter?” His voice dropped to a softer tone. “You don't have to say nothin' if you don't want to.”

Carter looked at the face of his old friend. “I never stopped having feelings there,” he replied honestly.

Billy's eyebrows lifted in question. “Is that so?”

“Yes, but that's a complicated subject and a story for another day.” He sent Billy a telling look. “And nothing to talk about, you hear?”

“Don't worry. I can keep a confidence.” He grinned again. “Even from Jeannie when I have to.”

Carter clapped him on the arm. “I remembered that fact or I wouldn't have said anything at all.”

He started down the steps and then turned back to reach his hand out to grasp Billy's in a firm handshake. “It's good to be back, Billy—good to see you, and great to be doing business with you.”

“Back at you,” Billy said, his grip firm in return.

Billy held his hand a moment longer as a thought came to him. “I hate to put a damper on things, but there's one worry I ought to share with you if your folks haven't.”

Carter propped a foot on one step. “What's the worry?”

Billy ran a hand over his head. “Well, there's been some trouble around the place for a couple of months.”

“What kind of trouble?” Carter's interest pricked.

“Little break-ins around the property. Vandalism—but with strange happenings with it. Spots dug up around old buildings, like someone's looking for something. Doors and windows broken out in some of the old cabins.” He paused, thinking. “A few times folks have said they saw someone but we didn't get much of a description.”

“That seems odd for Laurel Springs. Has anyone been hurt or threatened?”

“It is odd. And it's hard to imagine anyone could be looking to find anything around here. Most folks know Laurel has fallen on hard times. There's nothing of much value around the property except in the rental cabins—and they haven't been targeted. Just the old buildings.” He frowned as he considered this. “No one's been hurt or threatened, but there's been a sighting or two of someone dressed in dark clothes with something like a ski mask on skulking around. That ain't normal.”

Carter didn't like the sound of this. “Has the sheriff been called?”

“Yeah, Lillian called Ursell Wheeler over after the old Tritt cabin was broken into. There's all that spinning stuff there and the quilting frame and it worried Nana when some of that was pushed around in the break-in.” He paused. “You remember Ursell?”

Carter grinned, remembering the sturdy, reliable, no-nonsense sheriff. “Yeah, he policed a few of our events around the high school, if I remember right.”

Billy laughed. “Let us off for a few minor mishaps we could have gotten ourselves in some trouble for at home.”

Moving his thoughts back to the problem at Laurel, Carter asked, “Did Ursell find anything? Figure out what was going on—or what motive might be involved?”

“Nah, it's a mystery, I guess.” Billy shrugged. “Ursell figured it was just some kids goofing around. I hope that's all, but it strikes me as peculiar, and that's a fact. I haven't had a good feeling about it. This has always been a safe place. We've never had problems here.”

“It's something to keep an eye on—especially if there are more incidents. Thanks for telling me about this.” He scanned the yard to locate Taylor. “You let me know if you hear of any more problems, okay? We might decide to do some stakeouts or something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Billy followed Carter out to his car. “It's probably nothing. But I thought you ought to know, with our boys running free around the property. I've told Beau to keep a watch out.”

“I'll talk to Taylor, too.”

CHAPTER 5

R
hea sat on one of the picnic tables at the old Laurel Springs meeting grounds, waiting for the last of the tourists to arrive for the Saturday morning tour. It had been a tradition at Laurel Springs since the earliest of times to tour the grounds. In earlier years, a matched set of horses pulled visitors around the property in a long wagon with slat seats down either side. Now they used an old tram for the tours—bought used from an area amusement park and repainted.

Sam Dean, an outgoing, gregarious man and Rhea's father, always gave the tours with verve and pleasure until his heart attack. Now Rhea gave them. She lacked her father's hearty humor but found she possessed a good gift for storytelling. Rhea smiled to herself, remembering how scared she'd been the first time she led the tours at seventeen. Now she could do them in her sleep.

Checking her watch, Rhea stood up to greet the people who'd arrived. There were three couples from the cabins—the Brileys, the Reeveses, and the McMahans—and a group of six college-age kids from the East Camp Road. An even dozen today.

“Good morning,” she said, putting on her tour-guide smile. “I'm glad you came to take our tour of Laurel Springs Camp Assembly Grounds today. I hope you'll enjoy learning a little about the colorful history of the campground and about the surrounding area.”

She made introductions, had everyone put on name tags, and then gestured toward a wide field in front of them, starting the tour. “This is the old meeting ground where revivals and camp meetings were held in the 1800s. The Great Revival, with its outdoor brush arbor meetings, swept many parts of the United States in that era, and this mountainous region enjoyed its share of itinerant preachers passing through for fervent meetings and long days of preaching. The earliest ministers to travel this Appalachian section were Methodist circuit riders. Two famous ones who rode this section of the Great Smoky Mountains were Francis Asbury and William McKendree.”

“I've seen Asbury's grave in Baltimore,” Jim Briley said.

Rhea walked over to a rough covered stage near the field's edge. “The platforms where clergy preached looked much like this hand-built stage. Rough benches were also constructed to seat the outdoor congregation along with a mourner's or sinner's bench up front. A Methodist preacher often rode a five hundred–mile radius holding camp meetings that usually lasted three to four days. Meetings were held on the lands of area farmers, where there was ample land for camping and a good supply of water. It is easy to see why this site became popular for camp meetings—with its broad, flat field near both a mountain stream and a spring-fed lake.”

“It certainly is beautiful here,” Mrs. Reeves put in. “And I love the little white church.”

Turning to point toward the church across the field, Rhea continued. “Churches, like the Laurel Springs Church here, often grew up on the grounds where the revivals and camp meetings were held. The original log church at Laurel Springs burned, and this framed white structure was later built to replace it in the 1900s.”

Rhea started walking her group toward the church. “There is still a nondenominational service held here in the Laurel Springs Church every Sunday. Reverend Preston Layman conducts the service and the Gabes Mountain Band, a local gospel and bluegrass band, leads the church music and performs special numbers.”

One of the college boys, named Pete, waved a hand. “We came to service Sunday and that group was great. They've won some awards in bluegrass and gospel, too.”

“Yes. They're well-known and we're lucky to have them.” Rhea smiled. “Several members of the Gabes Mountain Band are related to the Layman family, who co-own the assembly here, and many in the group were raised in the Laurel Springs Church. The band also uses the church to practice in.”

The tourists toured the square white church with its broad double doors and handmade, stained-glass windows and then craned their necks to read the faded Scripture paraphrased from Hebrews above the church door:
Don't forsake assembling together
.

Rhea frowned. The letters needed repainting badly—as did the entire church. And one of the stained-glass windows was still broken.

She focused her mind back on the tour.

“There is a small cemetery behind the church.” Rhea walked them toward the small fenced area. “In the past, community members made the caskets when a death occurred and dug the graves. You'll notice all the graves face east toward the rising sun and the Second Coming.”

Rhea pointed toward a trail weaving into the woods behind the cemetery. “Within walking distance from either side of the Laurel Springs property are two other cemetery grounds, the Tritt and the Gilliland cemeteries. Both are about a three-mile hike in either direction. Maps to both places are available in the store or the administration building. Rough dirt roads drive in to both, too, if you're not a hiker.” She grinned. “But expect a slow, bumpy ride on either, and be aware that you have to drive through the creek on the Gilliland Road.”

She led them away from the church toward the large two-storied administrative building nearby. “The Laurel Springs Administrative Assembly Building was created in 1918—the year when Samuel Kolton Dean and John Carter Layman bought this property from several landowners eager to sell and move to the western frontier. The land the assembly grounds stand on was originally owned by Tritts, Costners, Suttons, and Gillilands—all familiar family names in Cosby and Newport heritage. You will see old cabins and evidence of their earlier way of life as we tour the grounds today.”

Rhea piloted the tour group into the administrative building to see the hand-hewn, rock fireplace in the main entry room and the many framed photographs of the original Dean and Layman families in the library behind the entry room. The two-storied white building also contained six workshop and conference rooms of various sizes and held the campground's administrative offices.

Visitors always seemed to enjoy the display of historical photos in the library, and Rhea loved talking about the history of Laurel Springs. She walked over to a black-and-white photo of loggers in front of a stand of giant trees. “In the early 1900s, rich tourists and industrialists came into this Appalachian area. Many came with the logging industry that began to develop here; others came driving the new motorcars becoming popular in America. Tourists were drawn to the mountains for the sweet, clean air and healing springs. Many resorts and assembly grounds developed in this region, such as Carson Springs near Newport and Kinzel Springs near Townsend, Tennessee. A Methodist assembly grounds developed on seventy-five acres behind Gatlinburg where Mynatt Park is today—but later moved to Junaluska, North Carolina, in the 1930s when more property was needed.”

She pointed to a large photo of two couples on the wall. “Here is an early photo of the Deans and the Laymans. In the background is the Grove Park Inn in Asheville. Samuel Dean, his wife, Rhea Ansley Dean, John Layman, and his wife, Marguerite Dodd Layman, were mutual friends and wealthy New Yorkers. They came to vacation in this mountain region in the early 1900s and fell in love with the Smokies.”

Rhea smiled. “Women's roles were limited then, and their dress restrictive, as you can see, but wealth gave much privilege.” She pointed to another photo. “Here are Rhea Ansley Dean and Marguerite Layman in riding and hiking clothes. Both couples loved exploring the mountains and that is how they discovered this old assembly grounds near Cosby. A tour guide brought the four of them here to camp and hike. They were captivated by the spring-fed lake and the mountains rising up majestically behind it, and they decided to buy the land, if possible, to develop a resort for wealthy family and friends from the northern industrial states.”

She led her tour group to another group of pictures. “After buying the needed land, the Deans and Laymans divided the property equitably and built personal homes. Then they hired an architect to draw the resort and campground plans.” Rhea pointed to a frayed, yellowed map framed on one wall. “After plans were approved, a building crew erected the assembly store and entry buildings on the highway and constructed paved roads into the grounds. They created the administrative building here beside the original assembly grounds field—which also once served as a dining hall. They built the covered bridge over the creek, improved the old campsite roads, and built bathhouses. Their architect also designed two dozen charming summer homes, which were built on roads excavated along Little Cascades Creek.”

Mrs. Reeves spoke up again. “All those little cottages along the creek roads are so colorful and cute. They look like the summer homes on the Chautauqua grounds near my home in New York.”

Rhea smiled. “Do you mean the Chautauqua near Jamestown in Western New York?”

“Yes, that's the one.” Mrs. Reeves nodded. “It's on the National Register of Historic Places and is still in operation. I read that over ten thousand people still come to it in the summers.”

Rhea was pleased that Mrs. Reeves had introduced the topic of chautauquas. Few people even knew what they were—or knew how popular they once were as summer resorts in America. “Actually, the concept of Laurel Springs was patterned after the chautauquas that developed in the eastern United States in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Like the New York Chautauqua, built on an old Methodist assembly grounds on Chautauqua Lake in New York, Laurel Springs was built on a Methodist assembly grounds, too.”

Rhea warmed to her subject. “Laurel Springs once hosted lectures, devotional services, concerts, and offered many outdoor activities. The early chautauquas, almost like educational summer camps, were widely copied. Their widespread growth actually spawned the Chautauqua Movement to encourage learning through educational events and entertainment in outdoor settings.”

She pointed to several pictures of ladies and gentlemen playing outdoor games. “The early owners of Laurel Springs erected croquet and badminton courts for leisure, created a sand beach by the lake for bathing, and built a charming gazebo. Because the spring-fed lake is so large, they offered canoe rentals and provided bicycles for leisurely rides on the circular road around Laurel Springs Lake.”

“It certainly looked beautiful then.” Mrs. Reeves sighed as she studied the gracious women in long dresses and the men in their elegant suits and hats.

“Yes, it was.” Rhea felt a clutch around her heart as she looked at the old photos. “Laurel Springs quickly developed a reputation as a charming summer resort and many famous people stayed here.” Rhea pointed to pictures of several well-known Americans who had visited.

“It seemed likely in the 1920s and early 1930s that this area of the Smokies would grow and flourish like Asheville and Gatlinburg. Logging had brought a mix of prosperity and devastation to the area, but plans were underway to create a national park. The Deans and Laymans thought tourism would inevitably spread into the Cosby area because of its proximity to both Asheville and Gatlinburg. Although there had been extensive logging in areas near Cosby, this area had largely escaped being raped of its forestland and still maintained its natural beauty.”

She escorted her group out of the administrative building. “The Weeks Act of 1911 led to the establishment of national forests in the eastern United States, and then in the 1920s the Great Smoky Mountains Park Commission began buying land for a national park. The families were optimistic that the Cosby area would soon be bustling with opportunity.”

“What happened?” a young man named Kent asked.

Jim Briley, the banker from Ohio, answered quickly. “The stock market crashed in 1929 and the Great Depression began. That hit this part of the world hard—where many people already experienced subsistence living back in the hills.”

“That's exactly what happened, Mr. Briley.” Rhea turned to smile at him. “It proved a struggle for many to simply survive in those times. Sadly, many mountain families had just sold their lands to the government for the national park and put their land money in the banks before they crashed. They lost everything they had. Other families, who still owned land, had to find innovative ways to make do and survive through the hard Depression years.”

“Some made moonshine around here.” One of the college boys made a swigging motion with his hand and then laughed.

“Yes,” Rhea agreed. “Or hunted ginseng or raised bees to sell honey or made crafts to sell to tourists in Gatlinburg. They did what they had to. Hunted, fished, raised their own food. Their natural self-sufficiency helped them in a difficult time. So did new jobs that opened up—work with the CCC after 1933—building park roads when the national park was created—and later, in the 1940s, new jobs helping to build nearby Douglas Dam.”

One of the college-aged girls, named Cecily, looked wistfully around as they came out of the administrative building. “I guess the Deans' and Laymans' big dream of growing this place into a major resort dimmed during that time.”

“They had some struggles.” Rhea saw no point in stressing just how difficult some of those struggles had been. “However, rich Northerners still wanted to come to the mountains, especially as the national park became more established. And by the forties and fifties, more middle-class families began to travel here for vacation weeks. They liked that the assembly was near the park—and yet quiet and scenic. Many of these families come back year after year to Laurel Springs.”

Ralph McMahan, who had been quiet, suddenly perked up at that comment. “Our family has been coming here for vacations for over fifteen years. We've stayed in different cottages over that time, but our favorite is Two Gables on West Camp Road.”