In Marquette, Michigan, stands the old Holy Family Orphanage. Built in the early 1900s, the orphanage quickly built a reputation not as a safe haven as it was intended, but as a dark and dangerous place for children. Here, author Jennifer Billock tells the story of Holy Family, as featured in her book Ghosts of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
Looking back, it seems like Holy Family Orphanage in Marquette didn’t have the best of reputations from the start. Frederick Eis, a bishop with the Marquette Catholic Diocese, petitioned for the building’s construction in the early 1900s, when the two other orphanages in the Upper Peninsula had reached capacity. The cost to build it—reaching up toward $120,000—was astronomical for typical expenses when it was erected in 1915. But it soon saw a return on that investment, becoming the region’s biggest orphanage and housing up to two hundred children at once.
That’s where the bad reputation comes in. Originally, Holy Family was meant just to serve white children who either lost their parents or were abandoned by them. That sounds bad enough on its own, but the first residents actually came as overflow from the orphanage in Assinins, which had a sordid past all on its own. Eight nuns arrived in Marquette with control of sixty Native American children, all of whom had been ripped from the arms of their parents in Assinins as babies in the continuing effort to assimilate native culture into white mainstream society. Locals today still tell stories of how their parents were stolen from their native families, placed in the orphanage and then adopted out to white families, never learning of their original heritage or customs until late adulthood.
And then came the allegations of abuse. When the orphanage was fully up and running, stories would leak out of children suffering at the hands of the nuns. It was a tough life, sure, with days filled by church, class and chores. But underneath the workaday existence was something much more sinister. Former children of the orphanage, once grown and moved out, often refused to speak of their time there, save to say that the nuns were cruel and inflicted unsettling punishments on the children. They heard of other children in the orphanage being beaten to death or left out in the cold Michigan winters.
One story that has been passed around but has only been somewhat proven is of a small girl who went out to play during a snowstorm. The weather quickly took a turn for the worse, and the girl became lost. One of the nuns had to rescue her, but by the time she got to her, the girl had developed pneumonia. She died a few days later. The nuns were still angry about her excursion out during winter and decided to make an example of her. They left the body on display in the lobby. Every child was forced to view the girl to be reminded about what could happen to them were they to disobey and go out in bad weather. Former residents confirmed that the death did indeed take place. The nuns held a funeral for the girl in the basement. None, however, would say whether the body was actually put on display.
Other reports tell of a young boy who suffered a mysterious fate. The general consensus is that he either drowned or was beaten to death, and the nuns tried to cover it up. They reported his death as accidental and stored his body in the basement.
Holy Family’s checkered past means it’s a magnet for ghost hunters and fans of the paranormal. Students from the nearby college would often head out there at night to try and experience something–and they usually did. One woman mentioned sneaking in with friends only to see an empty baby carriage mysteriously roll across the floor with no explanation. Others hear the sounds of children crying from the lobby where the little girl was left for everyone to see. And in the basement, where the boy’s body was hidden, many have reported a glowing green orb encompassing a medical-style table. Locals frequently see lights flitting around inside the building after dark with no terrestrial explanation. In response to one paranormal team’s research findings, a local resident claims to have gone with a medium. They were overcome with a freezing blast of air and a deathly smell that made the medium vomit.
The final orphans left the building in 1967, a group of Cuban refugee children fleeing from Fidel Castro’s regime. In the 1980s, the building was completely abandoned, soon falling victim to a bankrupt owner who lived out of state and didn’t want to sell. But as of late 2017, the orphanage has been purchased and remodeled and is now Grandview Apartments, a modernized building with fifty-six apartments and views of Lake Superior from the top floor. No word yet, though, on if the ghosts of the orphanage are enjoying the new digs too.
Sandra Lord has been giving guided tours of Houston for so long she is almost a historic landmark herself. Her expertise on Houston’s famed Downtown tunnels have earned her the title “Tunnel Lady.” Her first book “Ghosts of Houston’s Market Square Park” was published last month.
How did you get started giving tours?
I already had experience designing public tours for the University of Pittsburgh Library in 1967 and The Franklin Mint in 1970. I have always loved walking in all its forms. When I lived in Europe in the early 1960s and, again, when I lived in Montana and San Francisco in the 1980s, I had no car and walked or took a bike or public transportation everywhere. I learned a lot about each city, had fun, and was in great physical shape. The minute I purchased a car, I stopped walking. So here in Houston, I decided to research the city’s history, architecture, and trivia, create guided and self-guided walking tours, and then have folks join me on walks. While some people purchased self-guided tours and walked on their own, most preferred to have me lead them. To them, it was entertainment, education, and networking, all in one. So I became a tour guide.
I started out with a series of walking tours offered through Leisure Learning Unlimited. I picked areas that were of interest to me, researched them, designed a comfortable route, picked a fun restaurant to start and end the event, then took people on a walk. A senior citizens organization located downtown asked me to create a weekly walking tour for its members so that they would be more comfortable taking the bus or driving into downtown. Because Houston’s weather is so unpredictable, we ended up using the Downtown Houston Tunnel System as much as the street. I soon realized that the Tunnel was Houston’s most unusual — and unknown — attraction, began to research it and other tunnel systems around the world, and, before I knew it, I was the “Tunnel Lady.”
I began offering daily guided walking tours for the public through my first company, Discover Houston Tours, which 30 years later is still in operation thanks to its current owner, Phil Stewart. I joined the Urban Adventures international family of local tours in 2011 and designed two Houston Urban Adventures: a tunnel tour and a pub crawl, both still available thanks to my former tour guide and current owner, Michael Schmidt, who became the new owner in 2015.
How has the historic preservation community changed since you began?
Positive: There is now a relatively strong preservation ordinance in effect through the city’s planning department and our volunteer citizens on the Houston Archaeological and Historical Commission. Harris County’s Historical Commission, as well as its Archives, and Historical Documents departments, and the four Commissioners’ Senior Bus Tour programs have raised awareness of the importance of preservation, saved valuable documents, and helped our economy by growing the tourism industry.
Before I began offering walking tours in the late 1980s, I attended guided walking tours by the Houston Chapter of the American Institute of Architects and the Greater Houston Preservation Alliance (Preservation Houston). There was only one of each offered on a Sunday afternoon each month. The tours were often sold out and had waiting lists. Today, those two organizations have greatly enhanced their public programs and have been joined by the Houston History Association and Houston History Magazine; the Professional Tour Guide Association of Houston whose members conduct bus, walking, and bike tours all over the greater Houston area; Buffalo Bayou Partnership, which offers walking, biking, and boat tours; Facebook, and Instagram in association with The Heritage Society; and enough other activities to fill a monthly calendar. In fact, the Houstorian recently published the Houstorian Calendar and the Houstorian Dictionary.
There were very few books on Houston history available when I arrived in Houston in 1984; David McComb’s Rice University dissertation turned book published in 1981, Houston — A History, was about it for popular consumption. Eight years later, thanks to the Republican Party holding its national convention in Houston in 1992, publishers saw a niche opportunity and rewarded us with Houston: The Unknown City and Houston’s Forgotten Heritage, which sent a loud message about the city’s interest in history at that point.
I would not have had a clue about many aspects of Houston’s history without the Houston Business Journal’s weekly articles about “Houston Heritage.” Now, the internet and social media play a huge part in the “younger” generations’ embrace of the past and the importance of preservation. They make up a large portion of the Houstonians who take advantage of all these new opportunities to explore and preserve Houston’s history.
Negative: The ordinance could be a lot stronger but Houston is still a developers’ city and the emphasis is on the future, not the past. Public awareness of the importance of preservation could be more widespread.
Are there any specific preservation projects that excite you?
Yes, what is happening now around Market Square Park is very positive, as are Lovett Development’s reimagining of the downtown post office, and several aspects of what will emerge when the Gulf Freeway is repositioned. I have, however, several concerns about the future.
The Past. When I moved to Houston in 1984, one of preservationists’ hopes was for developers to create sympathetic infill in areas where historic buildings were able to survive. While the infill around Market Square Park is not “sympathetic” historically, the new architecture seems to blend well with the remaining buildings. And the luxury apartments have turned Market Square Park into a kind of Notting Hill neighborhood. Some, like Hugh Grant’s and Julia Roberts’ characters, who can afford to live in those apartments want to keep the area attractive. Others, like the throngs pictured shopping and walking in Notting Hill in the movie, who can’t afford to live there love to come to Market Square to see and be seen in the neighborhood. Unlike the 70s, the businesses and activities planned in the Market Square Park area are sustainable. The park, celebrating its tenth anniversary, is truly a treasure.
The Present. The historic buildings that have survived have a good chance of remaining on the four blocks surrounding Market Square Park. That’s why I decided to promote them in our book. As the area has become more viable economically, rents have gone up and tenants like Treebeards have chosen to leave. The choice of new tenants for the Baker-Meyer Building will be a signal about what we can expect around the park in the future. Ownership of the remaining historic buildings by sympathetic Houstonians is essential. I am concerned about what will happen if and when there is turnover in ownership within the next ten years.
What building would you like to bring back from the past?
Easy. The 1884 Prince Building at 420 Main Street, which became the Lumberman’s National Bank, and, in 1923, the Second National Bank. It was remodeled again in 1934 as Byrd’s Department Store, and again in 2006 as Byrd’s Lofts. Its bones are still present: the mezzanine, the corner entrance, the basement. Plus, there are great stories connected with the building (and the block) throughout its entire history.
Who, from Houston’s past, would you like to meet?
Robert “Honest Bob” Wilson (1793-1856) (or any of his living relatives), Robert Boyce (1814-1885), and Pamelia Mann (????-1840). If you don’t know who they are, the two Roberts are featured in our book and more will be coming at www.HoustonWalks.us about Pamelia in 2021.
Have you communicated with any Market Square Ghosts?
In a way. In the early 2000s, I designed what I hoped would be a blockbuster itinerary that would be repeated every year. Like many of my “great ideas,” it fizzled after just one tour: Ghost Walks Live. Thanks to some wonderful and creative paid volunteers, the tour started at the Doubletree (now CB) Hotel and stopped first at the site of the Episcopal and Masonic cemeteries in today’s Sam Houston Park. The participants that night all dressed in Halloween costumes.
As I was telling the story about a couple who were separated when only one of them (the husband) was relocated to Glenwood Cemetery and could only “see” each other again on Halloween when spirits rose from their graves, a female participant, dressed in late Victorian style, cried out the husband’s name; her companion, wearing a tall Victorian hat, cried out the wife’s name, and they embraced and told the rest of the group what had happened to them. We then moved on to other locations, including the “Hanging Oak” at 315 Capitol Street.
While I was telling the story of the Harris County Jail that used to be on that site and how prisoners were able to order whatever they wanted for dinner the night before they were hanged (inside the jail, not from the tree), a woman crossed Bagby Street and walked toward the group. She was dressed for the 1920s complete with apron, potholders, and casserole dish. As she reached our astonished group, she told the rest of her story (she was the “sheriff’s wife”) and then walked the rest of the way with us. When we arrived at Market Square Park, I stood on the south side of Congress Avenue, faced the now much smaller group standing in front of the mosaic-tile bench so they could look across at La Carafe.
I told the story of the “Lady in White” who could be seen in the portrait of “Gladys” inside the bar, of how she was from Quality Hill and was not allowed to marry the handsome butcher who worked at the city market. She died of a broken heart and, I said, “sometimes her ghost will appear on the balcony of La Carafe, looking for her lost love, and then exit the building and disappear.” As I started to speak, everyone in the group began pointing at La Carafe’s balcony.
There she was, the ghost of a lady covered from head to foot in white lace (purchased at High Fashion in Midtown). She looked at Market Square Park, turned back inside the building, then emerged through the front door and “floated” down Congress and “disappeared” around Milam. After that, there were people who swore that the portrait of Gladys was really the lady in white. Why didn’t I repeat such a fabulous tour with great “ghosts”? Because it was a cold and drizzly night and people dropped off at local bars to stay warm and dry.
I realized I couldn’t afford to pay “ghosts” on nights when the weather was bad. Several years later, one of the participants who stuck through to the end, called to say she had guests and wanted to take the tour. Sadly, I had to tell her it had been “one night only.”
Houston is such a forward-looking city, how do you frame its history with that in mind?
Planning to move into the future is great but people love stories and, I feel, some of the best stories are of real people doing amazing things — good and bad. You can see a play or go to a symphony or restaurant or nightclub in any city in the world but what makes you want to go and want to go back? The stories. Would Rick’s Bar be special if it weren’t for the story of Casablanca? The same is true of our fair city, Houston.
What role, if any, does nostalgia play in your work and love of Houston history?
I never thought of what I do as nostalgic, but I suppose it is. Mary Gibbs Jones used to say that her husband, the great Jesse H. Jones, loved all his buildings and sometimes patted them. I do the same, literally and figuratively. One night, not long after I moved here, I was waiting for a bus downtown. That was in the days when there was “nobody” downtown. There was a man, a “nobody,” who suddenly ran out into the empty street, turned around with his arms flung wide and yelled, “This is Houston, man! Texas, man!” The rest of us “nobodies” laughed and clapped. That’s why I’m still here, still telling stories.
Do you gravitate more towards the architectural significance of structures or the societal histories they can recall?
Both. Wherever there’s a good story.
Any follow-up book ideas?
I’m working on a self-guided cell phone tour coming soon to www.HoustonWalks.us featuring “If These Blocks Could Talk: Ghost Walk 2020” in the Market Square Park area.
Wide eyes, sweaty palms, and a racing heart. Are these the tell-tale marks of a love story or a haunted tale? If the story is set in Florida, there’s a good chance it’s both.
One of the state’s best love stories centers on the love of a parent — and the death of her loved ones. The setting is the Key West Lighthouse, which kept the area safe for more than one hundred years. But the same guiding light that brought ships safely into harbor may have been a magnet for a different set — a crowd of restless spirits still remaining on the island.
The Mabrity Family
Like many ghost stories in Florida, this one may have started with the Spanish.
On arriving in what is now Key West, they unearthed burial mounds and ignored the holy site in favor of an outpost. When Florida switched hands to the United States years later, they wanted to use it as a naval base and needed a lighthouse to support it. Almost as soon as it was commissioned, there were mysteries. The first man sent to look after the construction in 1824 left Boston with men and materials and was never seen again.
Barbara Mabrity came with her children to the lighthouse for its opening in 1826, when her husband was named its first keeper. Michael Mabrity was dutiful in his mission, but six years later he died of yellow fever.
Barbara took over. Every description of this woman paints her as tough and strong-minded, and she managed the grounds at the same time she managed her children. Barbara held the role for decades. But in 1846, the horrible Havana Hurricane destroyed the lighthouse, which was holding not just the family but also more than a dozen people seeking shelter.
Mabrity was able to save only one of her children, with everyone else perishing inside.
The Hauntings
The grounds of the lighthouse, said to be haunted by a number of ghosts. Image sourced from Haunted Florida Love Stories
Over the years, the Key West lighthouse was rebuilt and updated, switching from whale oil to electric lights. It was decomissioned in 1969.
There was one constant: the ghost of Barbara Mabrity kept coming to work. It’s hardly the only example of a haunted light house. But in Florida, for more than one hundred years now people have talked of seeing a female figure climbing the stairs to the top of the tower and then disappearing.
Paranormal experts call this kind of haunting a residual haunting — someone repeating the same action for years after a person is no longer there.
Others have reported her in the courtyard at the base of the tower. There are even sightings of a woman said to be Barbara on the edge of the water, still waiting for the next storm.
That’s not all. There are said to be more ghosts on the grounds, including a phantom couple that disappears, a man who looks disoriented and vanishes when approached, various men in military uniform, and most of all groups of small children. Is the couple Barbara and Michael Mabrity? Are the children their children — the ones who died during the Havana Hurricane? Or are they children from the Native American communities who were disturbed by the Spanish?
Want to learn more about ghostly tales from Florida? Check out Haunted Florida Love Stories and other similar titles at arcadiapublishing.com!
In 1934, a colossal claim reached the American news media: There had been a plot to overthrow President Franklin D. Roosevelt, in favor of a fascist government. Supposedly in the works since 1933, the claims of the conspiracy came from a very conspicuous and reliable source: Major General Smedley Butler, one of the most decorated war heroes of his time. Even more unbelievable were his claims of who was involved in the plot – respected names like Robert Sterling Clark, Grayson M.P. Murphy, and Prescott Bush. While news media at the time mocked Butler’s story, recently discovered archives have revealed the truth behind Major General Butler’s claims.
Who Was Smedley Butler?
Major General Smedley Butler. Image sourced from Philadelphia’s Organized Crime of the 1920 and 1930s. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
Born in 1881, Major General Smedley Butler was the eldest son of a Quaker family from West Chester, Pennsylvania. Butler came from a line of civil-serviceman: his father, Thomas Butler, was a representative for the state of Pennsylvania in Congress, and his maternal grandfather, Smedley Darlington, was also a Republican congressman.
Butler served in several major world conflicts, including the Spanish-American War, the Philippine-American War, the Boxer Rebellion, and World War I. During his time in service, Butler became known for his bravery and relentless leadership in battle, and he was rewarded with several distinctions, including multiple Medals of Honor, an Army Distinguished Service Medal, the Marine Corps Brevet Medal, and a Navy Distinguished Service Medal.
In total, Butler served for 34 years in the Marine Corps and earned 16 medals for his time in service. He is currently the most decorated Marine veteran of all time. He died in 1940 at the age of 58.
The Business Plot
After leaving the service, Butler held many roles but became best-known for his activism. Butler’s various accolades made him a household name following World War I, and he was well-known among veteran circles as a champion of veterans’ rights. This included supporting the so-called Bonus Army, a large group of veterans and veteran supporters who lobbied Congress for payments of bonds issued to veterans prior to the war.
This positive public image, and demonstrated ability to rally people under his leadership, were perhaps the reason why Butler was approached by Gerald C. MacGuire and Bob Doyle in 1933. MacGuire, a bond salesman, and Doyle were members of the American Legion, an organization meant to support veteran rights and opportunities.
During their first meeting with Butler, MacGuire and Doyle asked the Major General to speak at a Legion convention in Chicago, claiming they wanted to point out the various problems with the Legion’s leadership. Butler was at first open to this idea, knowing that the Legion had several administrative issues that ultimately compromised veteran benefits.
Prescott Bush, one of the men implicated in the Business Plot. Public Domain image via Wikimedia Commons.
However, over subsequent meetings with the two men, Butler quickly began to suspect that something was amiss – during their second meeting, MacGuire showed Butler bank statements amounting to over $100,000 USD (valued at nearly $2 million today), which he hoped Butler would use to bring veteran supporters to the convention. The Major General was stunned: there was very little chance that a group of veterans had been able to gather such a vast amount of funds. Even worse was the speech that MacGuire asked Butler to deliver – a speech which had little to do with veteran affairs, and instead was more critical of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s recent move away from the gold standard.
The abandonment of the gold standard was a major sticking point for many high-ranking officials and bankers in the country during 1933. Although there were several recognized issues with money backed by gold (such as dependency on gold production, and short-term price instabilities), many bankers were fearful that their gold-backed loans would not be paid back in full by the President’s new policies.
The departure from the gold standard just added to other concerns about FDR’s policies, particularly his plans to provide subsidizations and jobs for the poor, which businessmen and conservative politicians alike took as an indication of Roosevelt’s socialist leanings, or (even worse) a communist. Butler could sense this disgruntlement when he asked to meet with MacGuire’s superior and found himself speaking with Robert Sterling Clark, an heir to the Singer Sewing fortune. Clark was much more upfront than MacGuire, telling Butler that his real interest was in preserving the gold standard, even claiming that he “had $30 million, and was willing to spend half of the $30 million to save the other half.”
Butler, true to his patriotic form, flatly refused the offer to deliver the speech at the convention in Chicago. After parting ways with MacGuire and Clark, he heard little from the men until MacGuire began traveling through Europe on a trip funded by Clark. MacGuire began sending postcards to Butler from various European locations, including Italy, Germany, and France.
A portrait of Robert Sterling Clark. Public Domain image via Wikimedia Commons.
Upon returning to the States, MacGuire called another meeting with Butler, where he was much more transparent about his plans: Admitting that the money he had gathered came mostly from captains of industry, MacGuire told Butler that he had traveled Europe to see how veterans operated within foreign governments. After discounting the governments of Germany and Italy, he described a facet of the French government, which was run quite well by veterans.
These various observations led MacGuire to believe that the only way to save the country from FDR’s “ill-fated” policies was to create a military state run by former servicemen, with Roosevelt serving as a figurehead, rather than a true leader. Butler asked what MacGuire wanted from him, and was told he would be the ideal leader of these veterans, promising him an army of 500,000 men and financial backing from an assortment of rich businessmen, so long as he would be willing to lead a peaceful march on the White House to displace Roosevelt.
The McCormack-Dickstein Committee Investigation
Astonished by MacGuire’s plans, Butler knew he would need someone to corroborate his story if he was going to stop the intended coup. Having previously worked as the police captain of Philadelphia, Butler reached out to Philadelphia Record writer Paul Comly French, who agreed to meet with MacGuire as well. During this meeting, MacGuire told French that he believed a fascist state was the only answer for America, and that Smedley was the “ideal leader” because he “could organize one million men overnight.”
Armed with French’s mutual testimony, Butler appeared before the McCormack-Dickstein congressional committee, also known as the Special Committee on Un-American Activities, to reveal what he knew about the plot to seize the presidency in November 1934. The committee at first discounted a large part of Butler’s testimony (even writing in their initial report that they saw no reason to subpoena men like John W. Davis, a former presidential hopeful, or Thomas W. Lamont, a partner with J.P. Morgan & Company).
However, with the testimony of French, and the erratic testimony of MacGuire, the committee began to further investigate the plot. The final reports of the committee sang a different tune, finding that all of Butler’s claims could be corroborated as factual. However, they also stressed that the plot was far from being enacted, and it was not clear if the plans would have ever truly come to fruition.
Quickly becoming known as the “White House Coup” and “Wall Street Putsch,” many major news sources derided Butler’s claims, as the committee’s final report was not made available publicly. Those implicated, ranging from the DuPont family to Prescott Bush, the grandfather of future President George W. Bush, laughed off Butler’s claims. Evidence of the validity of Butler’s testimony was not released until the 21st century when the committee’s papers were published in the Public Domain. No one was ever prosecuted in connection to the plot.
Butler, for his part, went on to continue advocating for veterans. He also became a staunch opponent of capitalism, which he felt fed war efforts. His views were published in his well-known short book War is a Racket, which was published in 1935. There’s no telling how far the plot to overthrow the President may have gone without Butler’s intervention, but one thing is certain: its failure was the work of one patriotic Major General, and his life-long love of democracy.
Want to learn more about American scandals? Check out the books below!
Typically, historians have keen researching instincts, insatiable curiosity, and shrewd detective skills in their skill set. Now, add scuba diving to that list. As it turns out, Georgia is home to dozens of historic sites, all underwater! In the twentieth century, rural communities sought ways to join the electrified world. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Tennessee Valley Authority, and Georgia Power brought hydroelectric dams to rivers, lighting up the entire region, but at a price. Dozens of communities were sacrificed so that others might prosper. Georgia’s new lakes hid the mark of their original sin under the waves. And curiously, North Georgia never had lakes before they were created from this very modern act of intentional flooding.
“[The Tennessee Valley Authority seeks] to improve the navigability and to provide for the flood control of the Tennessee River; to provide for reforestation and the proper use of marginallands in the Tennessee Valley; to provide for the agricultural and industrial development of said valley; to provide for the national defense by the creation of a corporation for the operation of Government properties at and near Muscle Shoals in the State of Alabama, and for other purposes.” — Tennessee Valley Authority Act, 1933
Etowah
Allatoona Lake in Bartow County hides the former town of Etowah, Georgia, a once-thriving industrial town with an iron works at center of Georgia industry. Before the Civil War, thus center of Georgia industry had two thousand people contained a rolling mill, a flour mill, a carpenter shop, a foundry, spike and nail mills, a hotel and workers’ homes. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers began working on the Allatoona Dam project in 1941, and was completed in 1949, the dam was complete, and the waters began pouring into Etowah. The town was not salvaged, but Etowah had its graveyard was relocated out of respect. A single monument on the grounds of old Etowah is Cooper’s Furnace along the Etowah River behind Allatoona Dam mark the ghost town.
Carters Lake Reregulation was once the Creek capitol, Kusa. Author’s collection. Image sourced from Underwater Ghost Towns of North Georgia.
Dubbed the “Niagara Falls of Georgia,” this marvel of nature along the Tallulah River boasted a series of four main cascades and several smaller rapids, dropping 350 feet over a mile’s distance. Despite its robust tourism industry in the early years of the twentieth century, the lure of that much surging water power was irresistible to electric companies feeding a booming Atlanta. Tallulah Falls Lake became a 63-acre reservoir with 3.6 miles of shoreline, and connected the Tallulah River with Lake Burton followed by Lake Seed, Lake Rabun, Tallulah Falls Lake, Lake Tugalo and Lake Yonah.
There was some strategy to drowning a town. Whenever possible, engineers and politicians chose communities that were dying or already dead. Take Petersburg, which had prospered in the late eighteenth century until commerce changed. Once Georgia’s third-largest city, Petersburg, along the Savannah River, had paved streets, several schools, a newspaper and a prosperous population. When its tobacco industry moved away by the 1850s, the town was doomed. 100 years later, J. Strom Thurmond Lake lay on top of it.
During the drought of 2008, the Memorial Bridge resurfaced. Alan Cutts, tigerpregramshow.blogspot.com. Image sourced from Underwater Ghost Towns of North Georgia.
The Coosawattee Valley
The Coosawattee Valley was once home to the Cherokee Nation capitol, and the area remained remote and natural until the early 1970s when an ambitious project arrived. The US Army Corps of Engineers set its sights on the Coosawattee River and began the impoundment by building Carters Dam, creating Georgia’s deepest reservoir at the brand new Carters Lake. Electricity was not the only by-product of this project — flood control was also on the menu. The Coosawattee once carried runoff from 376 square miles of watershed into the flatlands of northeast Calhoun or “The Great Valley.”
People often think of political scandals as modern-day occurrences, but nothing could be further from the truth. A chief executive who pardons his closest associates? How about a governor who pardons his own flesh and blood — because that’s exactly what happened in scandal-plagued state of Kentucky, all the way back in the 1820s.
A Bad Governor
Joseph Desha served as Kentucky’s ninth governor from 1824 to 1828. He was a farmer, a soldier, a local legislator, and finally a Kentucky congressman from 1807 to 1819. In 1824, he was elected governor, and Desha served four turbulent years. It is difficult to rank more than fifty governors who’ve presided over two centuries of statehood, but the case can be made that Desha has been the worst.
There were multiple controversies during Desha’s term, but one in particular stands out. It involved his family. In 1825, there was a high-profile trial for the murder of Francis Baker — high profile because the accused was Isaac Desha, the governor’s son. While visiting from Mississippi, Baker was robbed and murdered.
According to author Berry Craig, Baker’s body was “bloody, beaten, stabbed, and stripped.” The weapons were reportedly a leaded horsewhip and a knife.
The trial took place in the governor’s home county of Harrison. The judge was a friend of the governor’s, George “Peg Leg” Shannon. Isaac Desha’s attorneys included more powerful family friends. And yet the jury still found Isaac guilty of murder and robbery, with the penalty being death by hanging.
Judge Shannon proclaimed the evidence “tainted” and ordered a new trial. This outcome caused widespread anger. A new trial did occur — and again, the jury found Isaac guilty and recommended the death penalty.
In the aftermath, Isaac tried to kill himself by slashing his throat. Doctors managed to save him by reconnecting his severed windpipe, but he still seemed likely to die. His father decided to pardon him.
Executives often make controversial pardons, but in this case, Isaac’s guilt had been clearly proven in two separate trials. Nobody thought he would survive his attempted suicide, but he did, which meant Isaac was a free man. It became Kentucky’s first political family scandal, and the criticisms followed the governor until he left office in 1828.
As Craig put it, “After the trial, a lot of people got the idea that in Kentucky if you were well connected you could get away with murder — literally.”
