I’m so grateful to be here with you all. I’ve been taking Ed Fields’ Cherokee classes online—I’m working on it! Not fluent yet, but I’m trying. I have so many thank yous to give, but I especially want to thank Jack for inviting me. I also have some special guests I’ll introduce at the end, who have been doing important work. Some of you may have met them in the hallway and heard about their research.
What we’re looking at on the screen is a map pieced together from separate reservation surveys. When combined, they tell a powerful story—one of Cherokee people coming together against all odds and fighting back.
It’s now been a century since the Indian Citizenship Act of 1924. While that milestone deserves acknowledgment, it’s also vital to recognize that Cherokee people made their mark on American citizenship a full century earlier. That’s part of what I’ll be discussing today.
Through the Treaties of 1817 and 1819, individual Cherokee heads of households could claim reservations of 640 acres each—one square mile—within the ceded territory. This was a means of holding onto their homeland while also gaining U.S. citizenship. But their disenfranchisement and dispossession became a turning point, a precursor to the forced removal of 1838.
Although smaller in scale, this earlier removal was no less violent. My interest in this topic began during my dissertation research on the origins of the Eastern Band. So where are my Eastern Band friends? Good to see y’all here today!
Today, I’m focusing on a local case study: Battle Creek, just about a 25–30 minute drive from here, east of Chattanooga. I knew very little about it until I moved to Sewanee in August last year and began teaching at the University of the South.
Floyd S.—many of you knew him—was my first contact in unpacking this history in our region, just 20 minutes from campus.
This was a landscape of Cherokee resistance and community, centered around the Lowry family, several of whom claimed reservations under the Treaty of 1819. Their resistance to white encroachment was fierce and prolonged.
One key figure was George Lowry. Many of you recognize his name. His 1819 reservation was on Battle Creek. Along with his brother John, George was a key leader in the area. They connected with other prominent families like the Benge, Ross, Shy, and M’more families.
When the Scottish officer John Norton visited in 1809, he stayed with George Lowry and observed that, while some had Highland features, they were regarded as full Cherokees. Norton’s journal offers a unique perspective on the integration of mixed ancestry among Cherokee leaders.
In 1813, tensions boiled over. A white man crossed into Cherokee territory and was attacked, leading to demands for retribution. Despite the Cherokee light horse policing the issue and offering restitution, white citizens were unsatisfied. A militia of 55 men arrived at John Lowry’s door, demanding suspects. Lowry refused, citing Cherokee jurisdiction.
They retaliated by attacking two Cherokee men—Dick Benge and The Jacket—killing The Jacket and wounding Benge. White newspapers sensationalized the event, and threats of war followed.
George Lowry responded with a letter emphasizing peace, shared values, and mutual respect. He later served as Lieutenant Colonel in Gideon Morgan’s regiment during the Creek War. His brother, John, became a major. Their service emboldened them to request equal footing with white comrades from President Madison.
By 1816, the U.S. pressured Cherokee leaders to cede the land. Around 40 families refused. In the Treaty of 1819, over 300 Cherokee individuals—including at least 40 women—claimed land.
Notable among them was Susanna Lowry, who requested her land include the toll bridge over Battle Creek. She asked that it adjoin Robert M’more’s land, emphasizing familial and community cohesion.
Other women—Elizabeth Lowry, Peggy Shy, and Elizabeth Pack—also claimed land. Eight Killer, a veteran, not only claimed land but requested U.S. citizenship.
Despite these legal claims, white settlers flooded in, often violently displacing Cherokee families. Homes were burned. Property stolen. People attacked.
Jury Jones recounted repeated night raids. His family was driven out. Peggy Shy’s home was nearly blown up with gunpowder. The Pigeon was threatened and forced off his land by his own white tenants.
Despite brief interventions by the Cherokee light horse and U.S. forces, the violence continued. In many cases, attackers faced little to no consequence.
Some Cherokee families took legal action. Betsy Pack attempted to bring her case to court, only to be denied a fair trial due to racial prejudice in Marion County. Her former attorney even abducted one of her enslaved workers in an act of retaliation.
By the mid-1820s, the Lowry family and others were driven to Wills Valley, Alabama. Despite displacement, they rebuilt community ties and tried to preserve their legacy.
What happened in Battle Creek is not just a local story—it’s emblematic of a broader betrayal. The U.S. government encouraged Cherokee assimilation and investment, only to rob them of land and rights. Even white attorneys later observed the injustice.
George Lowry continued to serve his people—he was a delegate to the Cherokee Constitution, elected Assistant Chief, and later president of the Eastern Cherokees in 1839.
Since coming to Sewanee, I’ve worked to involve students in this history. We’ve been developing educational materials for local schools, maps, and a new project tracing the Bell Route of the Trail of Tears, which crosses our campus.
I want to thank my students, colleagues, and family—especially my mom who flew in from North Carolina—for supporting this work.
Thank you for your time. I’d be happy to take questions about this presentation or our Bell Route project.
Introduction I’m so grateful to be here with you all. I’ve been taking Ed Fields’ Cherokee classes online—I’m working on it! Not fluent yet, but I’m trying. I have so many thank yous to give, but I especially want to thank Jack for inviting me. I also have some special
