LYNCHBURG

 

The Caboose Restaurant

Saturday, I ate in a restaurant for the first time in a year. Barbecue seemed to be the ideal meal for a person who lives in Tennessee six months of each year and who has been isolated for a long spell (cautious about Covid). Although I had to hobble through a small town due to a torn meniscus in my right knee, I masked and found my place in a famous tourist haunt called “The Caboose Restaurant” in Lynchburg, Tennessee, home of Jack Daniels whiskey. 

I’d been through the Jack Daniels factory on a previous jaunt and again felt the irony of the famous whisky manufacturer being located in a dry county. Still, I’m not a whiskey sipper and haven’t investigated the reason for banning bourbon. I assume it’s a religious ban. I remembered that the distillery had been listed as the oldest registered distillery in the U.S. The tour guide at Jack Daniels also touted the bourbon as being made with iron-free cave water.

During the 19th century, 15 distilleries operated in Lynchburg, but Jack Daniels emerged as the second most productive manufacturer and eventually gained fame worldwide as a quality bourbon. Nowadays, tourists are offered samples, but when we toured the facility a few years ago, we weren’t offered a taste of this famous whiskey.

Lynchburg is one of those Tennessee “burgs,” and the winding scenic route from Sewanee to its city limits is worth a Saturday drive. I saw numerous farms with healthy-looking cattle grazing and homes in several prosperous-looking neighborhoods that I surmised had been built by livestock profits (horses and cattle).

I could hear an auctioneer bellowing as soon as we approached this small town of about 5700 residents and was shocked at the large crowd gathered in the square, many of whom were bikers showing off their body tattoos.

Lynchburg boasts of one traffic light, and amazingly, we found a parking space near the chosen restaurant. The Caboose’s hostess had once visited Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and when we paid for the hefty barbecue plate, she asked me to write out “let the good times roll” in my limited French. As we exited the restaurant, she continued to repeat the phrase to herself to impress the customers who followed us, many of whom were Texans.

The numerous shops surrounding the square reminded me of Bell Buckle, another historic Tennessee town that could be called a “burg.” That town, one in hilly horse country, was made famous by Webb School, a small institution my godfather attended as a boy and that produced numerous Rhodes Scholars. (Godfather became head of the English/Foreign Language Department at Virginia Polytechnic Institute.) 

I wondered about the derivation of the name “Lynchburg.” The town’s name seems to be related only to a Judge Lynch who headed up a vigilante committee that met after the War of 1812 (according to an article published in the spring 1972 article of the Tennessee Quarterly). 

Lynchburg may be a burg, but it’s listed on the National Register of Historic Places. I don’t know if the designation is attributable to the Jack Daniels factory, but many of the wood buildings on the town square appear to be several centuries old. And, of course, the town historians honor Little Richard, an American rock and roll musician who once resided in this “burg.”

Following a doctor’s counsel, I bought a cane to navigate the small town of Lynchburg. It now stands in the corner of my living room, but the next opportunity that arises, I’m back on the road again, even if the town turns out to be a Tennessee “burg.”

Photography by Victoria I. Sullivan

 

 

 

LOOKOUT TOWERS

We left Big Bear Lake, California just a week before wildfires began to spark during this hot, dry summer season. I assume that the fires were spotted by some lookout with the Forest Service who mans one of those tall fire towers prevalent in the National Forests of the West. While at Big Bear, I thought about a vacation I've always wanted to take—not in a cabin but in a fire tower hideaway built by the CCC's during the early 1900's.

During the 1940's, 4,000 lookout towers were built in National Forests, but today there are only 900 left (over 500 active and abandoned ones in California), and if you have the camping bug and don't want to invest in tents and camping equipment, you can rent one of these towers for $30-$50 a night. The space is small—12 to 15 sq. feet—but most of them have heat, table, chair, and a bed but no water or electricity. However, the panoramic views from these eagle perches are said to be unforgettable, especially from the Little Guard Lookout in northern Idaho that touts sweeping views of the Bitterroot Mountains.

The Forest Service still uses many lookout towers, using mapping tools to determine the location of fires, and both men and women man them. According to the National Forest Foundation, in 1913, Hallie Daggett became the first female lookout in the Forest Service and spent fifteen years working in the Eddie Gulch fire tower in Klamath National Forest in northern California. My deceased brother Paul drove us through part of this forest near the border of Oregon back in the 90's, and the firs and incense cedars there were breathtaking.

When I returned from California a week ago, with visions of fire towers dancing in my head, I picked up The Messenger, our Sewanee, Tennessee newspaper, and voila! Right on the front page was a story about the Sewanee Fire Lookout Tower, a site that has been added to the National Register of Historic Places by the Tennessee Historical Commission. The site will be listed under the Tennessee Division of Forestry Fire Lookout Towers, 1933-75.

The Sewanee Lookout Tower is described as an Aeromotor MC 39 steel structure built from 1933-34 by the Civilian Conservation Corps and is in a complex that has several other buildings constructed in 1934: a crew cabin, a vehicle service platform, and the lookout operator's cabin. In 1940, a new crew building was built, and in 1950, a radio tower was added.

Although I have no intention of asking for a room at this local fire tower, we drove out to the site located on Fire Tower Road and took a look at the historic place this afternoon. It isn't quite high enough to provide the panoramic view that I imagine as part of fire tower charm, but I could envision it as a writer's retreat in a rustic setting. As I'm spooked by lightning, I don't think I'd like any of the western towers because of their susceptibility to lightning strikes. Towers in the West, located high on mountain tops, are natural conductors of lightning and have to be grounded with copper wires. The wires attract lightning strikes and cause the electrical charge to go deep into the ground where it is dispersed. However, I'd still hyperventilate if lightning hit any tower in which I was having a private retreat!

If you're interested in lookout towers in a National Forest, check out the recreation.gov site. Or if you're a Sewaneean, drive out to Fire Tower Road and take a look at a cultural resource that has been deemed worthy of preservation, but I don't think it's available for rental.

Photographs by Victoria I. Sullivan