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| The mineral springs found in certain localities in the South played an enormous part in the lives of our forebears. The curative values of mineral waters have been known since time began. In our country the Indians recognized them as health restoratives and held the healing waters in superstitious reverence. The fine sulphur springs and salt licks in many Tennessee counties drew great herds of animals before our wildlife was decimated and the founts ruined by generations of careless white men. Since people who frequented the springs for health purposes often remained for long periods of time, accommodations for their comfort naturally developed. Before long the hotels and cabins drew guests for social pleasures as well as those needing the waters for curative purposes. The long porches, festive dining rooms, tennis courts, and summer dances offered a conviviality sorely needed by people who lived on outlying farms and were starved for social contacts. The resorts were heaven-sent for anxious parents with a daughter on the verge of a marriage they considered a mesalliance, as well as to those with girls of marriageable age or just past. The opportunities for matchmaking at the spas were limitless and acceptable bachelors were watched by many a fond mother's appraising eye from behind palmetto fans. The accommodations varied according to what the guests wished to pay. Many came in carriages or on the train with nursemaids and servants, expecting choice rooms and |
expensive service. Others brought their families in wagons, carrying their own provisions even to the cow tied to the tailgate. For all it was one trip that was looked forward to from one summer to the next. A large acreage around Smith Springs in the southcentral part of Williamson County was bought from Samuel Smith by John B. McEwen after the war and was developed by him into a first-rate resort. Desiring a more lyrical name, Mr. McEwen permitted the young ladies of his acquaintance to submit suggestions for that purpose. The beautiful ferns growing in the damp crevices and along the mossy banks of the springs caught the eye of Miss Fannie Graham, the daughter of Mrs. McEwen's brother, Samuel Lowery Graham of Pinewood. Her idea of honoring these exquisite plants caught everyone's fancy and resulted in the name Fernvale. Miss Fannie was at that time just blooming into lovely young womanhood. She died shortly afterward in 1880 while visiting in the home of Major Dent at Cave Spring, Georgia. There were three fine sulphur springs at Fernvale, two of which Mr. McEwen opened while the other had been in constant use for over seventy-five years. Whitewashed latticed houses over these springs gave them a cool inviting look; they were reached by a little bridge arching over the road from the hotel. In the old spring a "tile gum" that held twenty-five gallons was inserted. The other two bubbled up through round, white china basins. The water from the oldest spring was highly valued for its stronger and more powerful medicinal qualities. |
Freestone and chalybeate springs were also nearby and flowed in abundant streams from shady bluffs and deeply recessed hollows. The black sulphur water was drawn and allowed to set until a scum formed. This was skimmed away and the clear cold water was held by many to be unsurpassed. Femvale flourished from about 1880 until well after the turn of the century. Throngs from Memphis and other miasmal regions spent every summer there, while crowds went regularly from Franklin and surrounding counties. A number of circumstances brought about Fernvale's demise as a resort. Some of its facilities were lost by fire, better roads and automobiles drew people's attention elsewhere, advanced medical knowledge decreased the need of the water, and the depression sounded the final knell. The region still abounds in excellent springs so potent only the strong-stomached care to approach them. Efforts have been made to preserve some of the more famous spots; these are marked with informative signs. It is doubtful the watering spas will ever come into their own again. Seen in retrospect the very things that became boring to people just beginning to dash about in the twentiesóthe row of rocking chairs on the hotel porch and the murmur of their occupants quietly conversing, the odor of chicken frying and ham baking, and the redolent springs trickling close by now have a certain serene charm we long for and can no longer find. |
