Cataloochee Homecoming Reunion

 In 1837 the first settlers of European descent began to settle in Cataloochee Valley.  They were mostly of Scots/Welsh/English descent.  They were homesteading farmers with a population that at its peak was well over a thousand.

Almost 100 years later, 1934 to be exact, Cataloochee Valley became part of the new Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  By that year, all those residents had been bought out and only a few with lifetime tenancy remained there.

In 1937, one hundred years after first settlement, Jonathan Woody, himself born in the Valley of a long-time family there, led the organization of the first Cataloochee Reunion gathering both people born in the Valley and their descendants.  Except for WWII and COVID, the Reunion has been held every year on the second Sunday in August.  As usual, Trish and I were in attendance as I have ancestors who came out of this Valley.

To get to Cataloochee, you have to drive across the Cataloochee Divide from Waynesville on an unpaved road.  Trish and I arrived fairly early and there were already nearly a hundred cars and a swarm of people gathered.  At 11:00 the Palmer Chapel bell rang and the sanctuary filled.  Only a little more than a hundred can fit into the church, so others gather outside, some by the open windows, as the service begins.

From the 1937 start, Jonathan Woody presided at the gatherings for  nearly thirty years.  Since that time, his son, Steven (in the white shirt and tie) has been in charge for another sixty years. At the pulpit we see Charlie Sellars, Acting National Park Superintendent, giving the annual report from the National Park.

The sermon was delivered by my old friend, David Reeves, minister of the Crabtree United Methodist Church, where many of those gathered are members. (I have been very privileged to preach at this event on three occasions.)

One important part of the service is the roll call of families with someone present.  It usually begins with a call for anyone born in the Valley to stand.  Last year Harley Caldwell was present.  Since then, Harley has died, and there are no people left who were actually born in Cataloochee.

Then there is a roll call of all family members and descendants who have died since last year.  After each name, the church bell rings for them.  This year there were eleven.

It’s not far from the church to the food and a season of eating is underway!

After the meal, many families visit old home places, old family cemeteries, and some even

fill up jugs with water from the springs that supplied their ancestors.

It is amazing that, with all the original settlers gone, hundreds of their descendants still gather in sacred memory.  Now that Cataloochee is part of a National Park, it forever belongs to everyone.

(By the way, the name “Cataloochee,” is a Cherokee word that means “land with fringed edges.”

Look up at the top of the ridges surrounding the Valley and you will see that the ridge top trees, many of which are conifers, indeed look like the edge against the sky is fringed.)