On the Road to Brown’s Ferry – Jim Ogden

Speaker:

Yeah, and I want to talk specifically about some of the work we’ve done with the historic place known as Brown’s Ferry.

I first really became aware of Brown’s Ferry while reading about the Civil War—the siege and battles for Chattanooga. The federal seizure of Brown’s Ferry in a pre-dawn amphibious assault in October 1863, to open the “Cracker Line,” was probably the first time I recognized its significance. Some of you in this room may remember those depictions in the old Golden Book of the Civil War or the American Heritage Picture History of the Civil War, featuring David Greenspan’s vivid illustrations of the battles.

As I began to study and train to become a historian of the Civil War era—through what was frankly an adversarial relationship with my college history department—I crafted my own path, focusing on the mid-19th century. I gradually learned how critical Brown’s Ferry was to the military actions in the Chattanooga area.

When I began working at Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park in 1982, I gained an even deeper appreciation for the site. Just seeing the sign for Brown’s Ferry Road on the interstate started to mean something more.

But as I explored further, I quickly discovered another layer to Brown’s Ferry—the Cherokee history of the area. One early clue was the presence of what’s long been called “Brown’s Ferry Tavern.” But for a place-based historian like myself—someone who focuses on where things happened, on the ground—it was difficult to fully appreciate the site because much of it wasn’t accessible. The actual ferry site wasn’t something you could easily visit. The tavern could be seen from the road, but it’s not located at the original ferry site. The ferry site itself was on private property—particularly the west side of the river—and while there was some public land on the Moccasin Bend side, most of that was occupied by the Chattanooga wastewater treatment plant (or as it’s now branded, the “Environmental Campus”).

Eventually, I developed more than just a professional relationship with the sewer plant manager, and that allowed me limited—if often smelly—access to the site on the Moccasin Bend side. There are people in this room who’ve toured Civil War sites with me in the Chattanooga area and were probably puzzled when we suddenly turned into the sewer plant.

While I could study maps and documents like this one from the 1890s, created by Civil War veterans who helped establish the National Military Park, I still lacked the power of place—that on-the-ground experience—because access was so limited.

Fortunately, the revival of preservation efforts for Moccasin Bend in the 1980s helped change that. Some of you heard a bit about this on Monday night at the Aquarium Plaza. That effort, spurred in part by Mickey Robbins and his wife—whose wedding incorporated the cause—along with the advent of the Trail of Tears National Historic Trail and the National Trail of Tears Association, brought new research and renewed focus to the story of Brown’s Ferry. That research continues to this very day.

Over the past two decades, that work has led to real conservation efforts. Actual ground has been preserved. Increased access to the site has encouraged even more research—into Cherokee history, early U.S. history, Civil War history, and especially, for this conference, the story of the Whitley, Drain, and Bell detachments during the 1838 removal.

There’s still much to understand and appreciate about this place. But today, I want to focus on one specific research project we’ve undertaken in recent years: recovering one of the historic roads to Brown’s Ferry.

In truth, several people should be up here helping me present this—Dwayne King, Mike Runn (who I suppose I can’t blame for choosing a European anniversary trip), Dr. Major C.R. McCulla, Lawrence Alexander, Bob Hunter, Mickey Robbins, Jay Mills, Jack Baker, Max Snyder, Dave Hopkins—the list goes on. This project is not one person’s accomplishment. It’s taken a team, and it will take many more people still. I’m standing here today on the shoulders of that team—and in many ways, on the shoulders of all of you who’ve committed yourselves to telling the Cherokee removal story through the National Historic Trail.

Now, in that 1980s and 1990s revival of the “Save the Bend” effort—back when I had to sneak out of the office, change clothes in my truck, and attend secret meetings because my employer wasn’t exactly friendly to the idea—a parcel of land on the bend was identified as having historic significance. It was owned by a manufacturing company and had been used for various purposes throughout the 20th century, but there was reason to believe it contained the remains of the historic road to Brown’s Ferry.

More importantly, it was part of John Brown’s 1819 Cherokee reservation. That land was strategically located right at the narrow neck of Moccasin Bend—where the river crossing occurred. Even if modern use had destroyed most of the historic evidence, that tract could still provide valuable access to the river and to the story.

As the Moccasin Bend National Archaeological District came into being, the Trust for Public Land acquired the parcel and later transferred it to the National Park Service after the district was established in 2003.

But where—on 98 acres overgrown with tires and Chinese privet—was the actual historic road?

Historic maps offered clues. The 1890s map I mentioned earlier shows the road clearly. Another invaluable resource was a U.S. Coast Survey map from late 1863, made during the Civil War actions around Chattanooga. It shows the pontoon bridge crossing at Brown’s Ferry and the road’s alignment—something we could georeferenced with surprising accuracy.

We also had the metes and bounds description from John Brown’s 1819 reservation, and modern maps that show the reservation boundaries still in use today. For example, if you stand on Moxon Bend Road, you’ll see a line of utility poles supporting a golf course net—that’s the southern boundary of the Brown reservation. Fence lines, roadways, and even vacant lots still reflect those historic lines.

Aerial photos from 1947 showed the road’s approximate location. Overlaying those with the historic maps helped us narrow things down. But it was lidar—scanning technology that allows us to digitally strip away vegetation—that provided the breakthrough. Lidar showed faint traces of old farm roads and service paths, and most importantly, a subtle diagonal ridge across the land that matched the road’s known alignment.

We marked the suspected roadbed with GPS and pink ribbons—yes, many tied to Chinese privet—and began trudging through the underbrush to flag the historic alignment.

Eventually, we hired two brave souls to clear a path through the privet. Once cleared, we began archaeological testing under the direction of Lawrence Alexander’s firm. We worked with responsible, experienced metal detectorists under close supervision and found transportation-related artifacts—horseshoes, mule shoes, wagon parts—supporting our hypothesis.

Then we dug a backhoe trench across the roadbed and cleaned the trench wall. What we found confirmed everything: two semicircular depressions in the soil where punchins—split logs—once lay. Above those was a carefully laid surface of gravel, sand, and clay. We had found not just a historic roadbed, but layers showing its evolution over time—from a log corduroy road to a graveled Civil War supply route.

Was that plank-and-punchin road the original road from the time of Cherokee removal? Maybe. Earlier layers could’ve been destroyed during improvements made in the 1860s. We may never know for sure. But what we do know is this: between the maps, lidar, archaeology, and artifacts, we have strong, tangible evidence of the historic road alignment.

So, we used that research to create the Brown’s Ferry Road Trail on the 98-acre property. With a small trailhead along Brown’s Ferry Road, you can now walk 6/10 of a mile along the original road corridor—through the area where we confirmed the road survives most intact—down to the banks of the Tennessee River, directly across from historic Brown’s Ferry.

Interpretive signs have been installed, and the work continues. The American Battlefield Trust has protected 15 acres on the other side of the river, now transferred to National Park Partners. They’ve even secured the next 30-acre tract downstream and will be launching a campaign next year to preserve it.

All of this helps us appreciate Brown’s Ferry in a way we couldn’t before. But there’s still work to be done. We still need to fully understand John Brown—not just the historical figure, but the businessman—and his importance in Cherokee history.

But thanks to preservation, research, and all of you, we can now walk on the original road alignment. We can stand on the same ground. And we can begin to tell the story the right way.

Thank you.