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The topics in this report are not ones completely unfamiliar to me. Like many other kids in my middle Tennessee county, I would spend my summer days at the nearby lake, Percy Priest, swimming in its unnaturally green waters, catching guppies with Styrofoam cups and nets from Dollar Tree. If I got lucky, parents of my friends brought me to the middle of the lake on their boat. Though I would never participate, I would watch others float freeform, knowing their feet wouldn’t be able to touch the ground. We all heard the rumors and stories of what lay at the bottom of the lake- rusting cars, gravestones, old houses- abandoned at the lake’s creation in the 60’s, although I never heard more of it other than whispers from the adults who grew up during that time. 

            For poor southern families, the lakes were a sort of sanctuary, a place where endless fun could be had for almost no cost. Poverty is something of which I am more familiar (I never thought of my family as especially poor until I qualified for free lunches in high school, and I especially did not realize the realities of my childhood until I got to Harvard). During my genealogy phase, I spent hours on Ancestry.Com gathering as much information as I could before my free trial expired. I learned that, though my ancestors lived in middle Tennessee for about 150 years, they migrated to the area from North Carolina in the 18th and 19th century, much like the ancestors of those in the Appalachian region of Tennessee. Much like those Appalachian dwellers, they too were poor, sustenance farmers, often whose existence is seen today from census records alone. So although my roots don’t harken back specifically to this region of the state, I have come to appreciate and empathize with these people- a group who are severely misunderstood, both in today’s world, and the world one hundred years ago.

            It is important to understand the difference in what poverty looks like in America today and how it existed America during the early 20th century. It is no secret that southerners today struggle in many ways due to high poverty rates compared to other areas of the country (8 of the 10 poorest states are in the south, 9 if one includes Oklahoma as a southern state) (1). Looking at Tennessee specifically, the divisions of poverty deepen when comparing Appalachian counties to counties in other regions. For example, my home county of Rutherford in middle Tennessee has an average income of $62,000 while the average income of Carter and Johnson county (where Butler, TN was located) has an average of below $35,000 (2). During the era of the Great Depression, farmers were hit especially hard, and over time, those living on farms decreased (35% of the population in 1910 versus 15% by the 50s) (3). Exemplifying the poverty status of these farmers, only 10 percent of those living on farms in 1930 had electricity compared to 81 percent of those living in cities (4). It’s easy to see this poverty in the documents and photos collected for the project. The TVA workers describes the house of the Randolphs as in “…very bad condition, air coming through large cracks in the walls and holes in the floor.” Another worker when describing one of the Ray babies stated many signs of malnourishment, low energy, sunken eyes, and a distended abdomen. This isn’t to say that people in America today don’t experience such a life, rather during this time, these experiences were much more normal and standard.

            Another aspect of this project that was unfortunate to see was the way TVA workers wrote about the people that they visited. It is unclear how they treated these people in person, but the words they write show workers who are judgmental and cold to people who often can’t help their situation. For example, the TVA worker when describing Mr. and Mrs. Ray says “[They] appeared to be as intelligent as the average poor person in this county.” When observing the Randolph family, the worker states that their children seem happy but doesn’t understand for what reason they could be. Though not included in the project, another document discussing the Randolph family makes note of how their clothes don’t fit right and are too tight and dirty. Repeatedly, the workers make note of the damaging emotional effects that the relocation causes, but it doesn’t seem as though they understand why these people react in this way. It is easy to understand why the natives of the land did not always appreciate or welcome these TVA workers, especially if they treated them the same manner in which they wrote.

            More than anything else, this project is just another example of the way Appalachian folk have been misunderstood and misinterpreted throughout time, although I was not aware that this happened as far back as the 1930. Just this year, a movie adaption of the book “Hillbilly Elegy” was released, bringing the controversy of whether or not the book accurately conveyed the people it talked about. It has been criticized for stereotyping mountain folk, blaming them for the poverty in which they live, instead of discussing and bringing to light the good of the region and people (5). Though not specific to Appalachia, I see this to a degree at Harvard, my classmates expressing disdain and disgust of the southern region. One post on the Harvard Confessions Facebook page asked, “Why do we need Southern States?... They are a drain on our resources.” Another post said, “No one is denying the premise that the south is a shitty place.” One of my first days at the college, I met a girl from Georgia with a strong southern accent who said she was planning to meet with a speech coach in order to get rid of her accent, as she felt embarrassed by it. At least in my personal life, I still see a pattern of lack of empathy of others when discussing and talking about the south.

            Unfortunately, I did come across various limitations with this project, many my own fault. I originally intended to discuss not two towns, but rather five, including the town that inspired the project- Fontana, North Carolina. I greatly overestimated the time it would take to gather sources and build a website. Another limitation was the amount of source materials that exist. I encountered this when researching my own family history, but photographs and other primary sources of relatively “unimportant” people often don’t exist unless there becomes a reason, such as creating a dam. Because of this, my data is biased in a way: all my information comes from the words of TVA workers, outside photographers, newspaper writers, rather than from the people of the area themselves. We can only understand and learn about these people, not through their eyes, but through the eyes of others. 

            I hope you enjoy perusing through my website as much as I enjoyed creating it, and I hope you understand and feel the pain these Appalachian folks endured as much as I felt while gathering photographs and quotes. This paragraph from Wilson’s book concludes these ideas and sentiments the best (6):