By Betsy Margaret Carloftis, Livingston
The year was 1955, and Americans were traveling highways and byways that brought them into the middle of rural communities. Camping trailers captured the hearts of many, and the tourists hungered for adventure. It was a new age, a time when families loved the idea of being able to glide down the road in search of interesting stopovers and inexpensive entertainment.
Crude, handmade wooden signs cropped up on roadsides, enticing the adventurous travelers to stop and rest a while after long, grueling hours of pulling their compact-sized “houses” behind. Diners and small family-owned motels were abundant and dotted the highways, along with shops teeming with souvenirs often spread out and displayed right to the road’s edge. It seemed a perfect time and opportunity to open a small replica of an authentic American Indian village in an ideal location with natural settings, complete with Cherokee natives from North Carolina, who waved to those who passed by and aroused their curiosity.
It soon became more than a dream. My mama and daddy were young, with three small children and a new baby not quite six weeks old. They had traveled back and forth to St. Augustine, Florida, and to the mountains of Cherokee, North Carolina, seeking a place to live and to raise their children.
Carlo and Lucille Bowling Carloftis made many journeys only to discover that the perfect place to start a tourist business and to raise their growing family was not far from their own roots. The same spot where they began evolved into a 60-year journey on the Rockcastle River in Rockcastle County.
Daddy grew up around the Hub Grill Restaurant, a fine dining establishment in the hills of Pineville run by his family. At one time, he dated Marilyn Monroe’s sister Berniece, taking her to the “walk-in picture show,” and they later climbed upon the chained rock at nearby Pine Mountain.
Mama, who was from Clay County, had never cooked a full meal until she married. She left a beautiful stately home in Pineville to spend summers on the river with only meager necessities. With my father, she began living in a new world, where there were no cooks to serve lavish dinners in the main dining room, no bell at hand to call the maid. There were no closets filled with freshly laundered, hand-tailored shirts for Daddy. There were no caretakers for the lawn and no carefree strolls down the street to the Hub Grill for dining. Trips to Middlesboro, London and Knoxville for merely a good piece of pie had come to an end. The tradeoff was life on the Rockcastle River.
This brave, happy couple, filled with curiosity and a zest for living, were brimming with energy. They shared a dream to open a tourist attraction.
Upon setting up shop, the family had no electricity nor running water for the first several weeks. There was no telephone for the first 18 years. Mama washed clothes in the little creek beside the shop to make do between trips to the laundromat. I lived in Manchester, Clay County, with Great-Granny, Granny and “Unca” Chester (Mama’s grandmother, her mother and her uncle) until I was six months old. My diapers were starched by hand, as my mother’s family deemed the Rockcastle River life not suitable for a new baby.
Mama and Daddy drove an hour each way to Manchester over am old curvy road several evenings a week, after working hard building the shop and village during the daytime. They brought my siblings Carcille, Buzzy and Koula to visit. How hard it must have been for a new mother and father, even with their strong determination for making Fort Sequoyah a reality. Despite many odds, Mama and Daddy moved to Rockcastle County along the river and quickly stole everyone’s heart.
Buildings began to crop up, along with small summer cottages beside the river. These were intended only to be three- or four-month homes to live in and work nearby. The small wooden shop structure above the many-windowed house would soon become Fort Sequoyah, named for the great Cherokee native who invented his tribe’s alphabet. For all of us, a new way of life was born.
The first day of business for Fort Sequoyah on a hot summer day in July 1955 was disappointing. There were not many customers and even less in sales. My parents opened their doors with scant stock, the walls mostly bare.
John Lair, well-known entrepreneur and the founder of Renfro Valley, was so taken with this young couple that he most kindly loaned them some items and relics from the walls of his own home to help fill in the gaps until more souvenirs arrived.
Fort Sequoyah didn’t take long to catch on. Our doors were open from early morning until late at night, seven days a week. Nestled along the river, Fort Sequoyah became a destination as well as a stopover for travelers who returned time and again on their way to vacations. There was a snack bar, a souvenier shop and a replica of an Indian village. The Cherokee women made pottery and baskets, and the men put on a show in the Council House. The attraction was called Fort Sequoyah until 1972, when the name was changed to Rockcastle Riverboat Town. Then in 1998, it was changed again to RockCastle River Trading Company and Riverside Gardens.
Many wonderful friends were made inside that little rustic shop, as well as outside on the long covered porch, including among the Cherokees and the many customers from all walks of life. The visitors made our lives all the more rich by walking through our doors.
For more information on Fort Sequoyah, visit betsycarloftis.com or email Betsy Carloftis at bcarloftis@icloud.com.