A misty view of
Chattanooga, Tennessee,
from the top of Lookout Mountain,
which is part of the Appalachian
mountain range.
This past spring, I moved
from Hamilton, Montana to Chattanooga, Tennessee to get better access to family
members, and for a badly needed change of scene. Of all the eastern cities I’d
lived in, I preferred Chattanooga because it supported the arts in many
significant ways, and because it felt upbeat with a sense of humor.
The move has been a visual
rebirth. Chattanooga is teaching me how to see it. Briefly, my mental image of
the city is urban, sprawling, and hazy, with blur, accented with pockets of beauty,
sharp focus, interest, and color.
Winter weather comes in
extremes: driving rain; dense fog; some days temperatures hover at zero; other
days, like spring, in the 50’s, sunny and balmy.
I can feel its history
almost as if were recent. Over a century ago floods destroyed the City. An
entirely new Chattanooga was built on top of the old. I’m trying to gain access
to the old city buildings down there to photograph them, but haven’t succeeded possibly
because of liability insurance issues. I’ve heard going down there is illegal.
Built in 1940, the Chickamauga
Dam eliminated flooding forever. It’s one of the most majestic,
awe-inspiring monuments to progress I’ve ever come across. Under FDR’s New Deal, the Tennessee Valley Authority
was established to improve navigation, control flooding, and provide
electricity - of which the Chickamauga Dam was a part. Completed in 1940, the
hydroelectric Chickamauga Dam rejuvenated Chattanooga’s depression-era economy,
and stopped the floods that had destroyed Chattanooga in the late 19th and
early 20th centuries.
Chattanooga family histories go way back, including mine. My
father Jesse M. Trotter was born in Chattanooga and raised on Lookout Mountain.
I’d arrived so late in the pursuit of family history and genealogy that I had
to hire a local forensic genealogist/licensed private investigator to find my
father’s childhood home for me, along with many records of interest. My
paternal grandfather John McLane Trotter, a child during the Civil War, watched
Sherman’s Union soldiers burn his family’s home to the ground and shoot his
uncle to death.
