An Aside: North to Cherokee Country, Part Two (New Echota)

Above is a picture of a printing press similar to the one once used by the Cherokee Phoenix, the newspaper edited by Elias Boudinot and published at New Echota. Like the Cherokees themselves, the newspaper straddled worlds; half the page was in Sequoyah's Cherokee Syllabary, the other half an English translation. The press now sits in a reconstruction of the original printing shop, on the grounds of New Echota State Historic Site.

Our New Echota visit began with a tour of the home and outbuildings belonging to a Cherokee farm (worked by a "moderately wealthy" family) -- original buildings that had been brought to New Echota to evoke the buildings that had once been there. The students wandered among the various outbuildings, including a smokehouse, corn crib, and barns, which offered windows into how the Cherokees would have lived and farmed about 180 years ago....

Then the tour guide, an experienced storyteller with a rich lore to share and a revisionist slant to his outlook, led us into the Cherokee homestead attached to the farm. For maybe half an hour, he shared stories about everyday life on a Cherokee farmstead, and demonstrated a host of unusual tools, from a device for cutting shingles to a 19th century butter churn. When not taking photographs, I sat and listened and daydreamed of living back then, in the days before the Trail....

He opened the cabin door at last and let in the welcome sunshine of an early Spring day. Then we followed him on a tour of the grounds of New Echota. Most all of the buildings are reconstructions, and only the most significant structures were rebuilt, so the effect is one of walking onto an enormous chess board rather late in the game. Most of the "town" is comprised of open field interspersed with stately trees and interrupted here an there by a 19th century Cherokee building that emerges mushroom-like from the rural landscape. I cannot imagine the community as bustling; it is difficult, indeed, not to imagine the Cherokees living in a sort of bucolic utopia, in a city with almost no buildings except the most important ones. We wandered into each of them in turn, beginning with the Cherokee Supreme Court. The building was clearly IMPORTANT, as indicated by the interpretive signs setting it apart from the surrounding landscape of oak and close-trimmed turf. Once inside, our storyteller regaled us with more tales of Cherokee culture, particularly the way the justice system worked. Then we continued on, visiting the Cherokee Council Hall (a building with an exterior quite reminiscent of the Supreme Court building, but with different-colored shutters), then passing another cabin and outbuilding collection (also brought in from other places), and then down a trail through the woods. Our guide proudly showed off the stretch of open woodland that used to be choked with privet, all cleared out recently by convict labor. At last, we arrived at the former home of Moravian missionary Samuel Worcester. We paused at the door to listen to more stories, about how Worcester was dragged off to prison for refusing to obey an unjust law requiring all whites working with the Cherokee to get a license. I took a photo as evidence of the students listening well (or, at least, leaning against one).
We explored the various rooms (and looms) of the house.
I paused on a stairway to take the photograph below. It struck me as a powerful visual statement of what "voluntary simplicity" is all about. I could have stood there and gazed for hours, or better yet, sat at the table with the light streaming in, rapt in thought....We walked back down the trail to another relocated building, this time the Vann tavern. It was built by James Vann in 1805, and is a marvelously rambling structure. It once stood near Gainesville, along the Federal Road that ran across Cherokee land. Students were particularly entranced by the "drive-thru" window in the back, which enabled those who were not allowed to set foot in the tavern (such as slaves) to buy alcohol and other items. From the inn, we continued to the reconstructed printing office for the Cherokee Phoenix, then wandered over to one of the few structures not rebuilt: the foundation stones outlining the home of Elias Boudinot, where the Treaty of New Echota was signed by Boudinot, Major Ridge, and John Ridge (among others) on December 29, 1835. Soon after the Trail of Tears, all three were murdered in one day of violence and retribution, as had befallen William McIntosh. But the Treaty Party that signed the document did not receive the perks that McIntosh did, and it is far more difficult to see their deaths as justifiable. They saw the only alternative to the treaty being violent (and ultimately futile) conflict, and came to terms with it. The three strike me as tragic figures, acting out a destiny largely beyond their control. As Major Ridge declared afterwards, "I have signed my death warrant."

Our guide gathered us together once more, out on the green grass of the once-village, to regale us with a few more bits of information and answer our questions. Then it was time to take the journey back south, across the Chattahoochee River, into the former homeland of the Muscogee Creeks.