Excerpt from Satirical History of TENNESSEE
NEW “ALL-TOO-TRUE-BLUE” (ALTERNATIVE) STATE HISTORIES
TIME IMMEMORIAL – Mastodonna Discovered
Some while back, a Mastodon was discovered in Tennessee (well, you know, a dead one). Nobody knows how it got there from Jurassic Park. At first, some thought it was a hoax, made of papier-mâché, perhaps a practical joke perpetrated by some slack-jawed miscreant or reprobate.
However, scientists soon verified the authenticity of the find. Well, except for one particular: Although the specimen was first identified as a Mastodon, it turned out the old fossil was a she, not a he (they figured this out because it lied about its age).
Thus, it was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was not a Mastodon, but a Mastodonna.
She is the third one from the left (the one looking at the camera and asking if her winter coat makes her look fat):
Ritchie Valens later wrote a song about her. You can listen to it here:
1540 – Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto
Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto really got around. In 1540, he made it into Tennessee, as he was tired of wearing his blazing hot metal helmet, and wanted to trade it in for a lighter and in-both-senses-of-the-word cooler coonskin cap.
Here he is on the lookout for one, asking directions from some friendly neighborhood Indians on how to get to Davy Crockett's place:
1775 – Boone Blazes the Wilderness Trail to Tennessee
In 1775, Daniel Boone blazed a trail through the wilderness imaginatively named The Wilderness Trail, which stretched from Virginia to Tennessee.
To “blaze a trail” means one of two things: either you ride a horse named Blaze, and let it find its own way, or you start a forest fire and then you can see better without all the trees in the way.
Boone didn't have a horse named Blaze.
This is what the area looked like after the trees had grown back:
1784 – State of Franklin Formed
In 1784, some rabble rousers in East Tennessee formed a State from their holdings and named it Franklin. It was named for Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
This lasted only until 1789, though, when that region was moved by a convoy of helicopters to Wawa, Pennsylvania, and turned into a mint.
Some people were of the opinion that the State should not have been named Franklin in the first place, but rather Eleanor. Here are some who held that opinion:
These women refused to boil any more eggs or shirts until the name of the State was changed from “Franklin” to “Eleanor.” Soon thereafter the whirlybirds appeared.
1812 – New Madrid Earthquake (Reelfoot Lake Formed)
In 1812, the New Madrid earthquake formed Reelfoot Lake in Tennessee. After two centuries, it’s still there.
The scatter graph below, made by a 3rd-grader using an Etch-0-Sketch, shows the areas affected by the earthquake. Each red marker indicates a spot where somebody got real scared (not just a little bit scared) when the earthquake occurred.
As you can tell, Tennesseans, stalwart though they be, volunteered to be scared in a large section of the state, ranging from the Kentucky border in the north down to Memphis, which is near Egypt:
1819 – Tennessee Man Discovers Yosemite
A Tennessee mountain man named Joe Walker discovered Yosemite in 1819. No, it wasn't John Muir, nor was it Teddy Roosevelt; it was Joe Walker.
Walker lived up to his name by hoofing it all the way to the Pacific. True, he did not really discover Yosemite, as deer and bear and Indians had seen it before him, but since they couldn't vote, they didn't count.
This is what Walker saw when he walked up to the edge of the mountaintop:
1836 – Crockett at the Alamo
Being a country boy, Davy Crockett had a lot of hound dogs. Busy as he was, being a Tennessee Congressman, Crockett got to the point where he didn't have time to be out shooting game for his hounds all the time, so he started buying his dog chow wholesale from the source, to save a little money (they paid Congressmen less back then).
So, in 1836, Davy Crockett went to the Alamo to buy several wagon loads of dog chow. Happy to have such a famous person endorse their product, the Alamo people appointed Davy their unofficial spokesman (with a “consideration” paid him under the table and, of course, free dog chow for life).
The Alamo has been famous ever since. It was a win-win proposition.
Here's old Davy (in the tan duds) reacting when some other dog lovers claimed that Purina produced a better brand of dog chow (this was after the aforementioned deal was struck, of course):
1838 and 1839 – Trail of Tears
In 1838 and 1839, several native Tennesseans hit the jackpot, so to speak, when they were given free tickets to Indian Territory.
Almost seventeen thousand Cherokee gladly departed East Tennessee for the Indian Territory (which they called “The Promised Land”) during this period of time.
You can deduce from the map below that the Cherokee left Tennessee by land, by sea (water), and apparently by hovercraft (called “other” in the map, but there were no airplanes then, so it had to be by hovercraft, based on process of elimination):
1864 – Fort Pillow Massacre
In 1864, near the town of Henning – while others were engaged in the Civil War – the mother of all pillow fights took place.
Going down in the Guinness book of world records as the most hilarious hijinks ever engaged in by grown men, hundreds of them chose sides and began whacking each other with and throwing pillows around willy-nilly until the air was completely choked with eider down.
You couldn't see a foot in front of you, there were so many feathers falling and floating through the atmosphere.
Berated for their childish play, the local “wise guy” drew this depiction of the pillow fight as an actual battle, thus calming the nerves of a disturbed nation:
1918 – Alvin York’s WW1 Antics
It is believed that Mark Twain, although born in Florida (Florida, Missouri, that is), was conceived in Pall Mall, Tennessee.
Alvin York was born in Pall Mall a little over half a century later, in 1887.
In 1918, a year after the Ewe-Knighted States got directly involved in World War 1 (called “The Great War” at the time), Alvin formed a doo-wop vocal group called The Chipmunks and served as their lead singer and front man.
Unable to break into the top 10, Alvin thought of a gimmick to draw attention to the band. This was his plan: He set out to break the world record for eating peppermint patties.
At first, the thought of doing this bothered his conscience, because he considered it gluttony to eat that many mint patties, especially all in one sitting.
After discussing it with his band mates, though, they talked him into “gluttonizing for glory,” as they put it, in spite of his misgivings.
So it was that Alvin York ate 132 peppermint patties, assuring lasting fame for himself and his band mates.
Similar to the pillow fighters near Henning, the band's manager considered this feat somewhat tame, and so paid an artist to paint a picture of York in battle with Germans rather than him besting the other peppermint patty eating contestants:
1925 – Scopes Trial
In 1925, the famous Scopes Trial took place. This was when a high school teacher was summoned to court by a class action suit filed by several of his pupils, who claimed he had really bad breath (so revolting that some referred to it as “monkey breath”).
That was one thing, but what got both their ire and their dander up, was that he refused to even attempt to do anything to alleviate the localized (classroom) air pollution.
The kids won, and the teacher was thereafter required to gargle with Scope three times a day (while school kept).
Depicted below is the inconsiderate teacher on the day of the big court decision. The teacher, Mr. Purdue, is on the left, with his lawyer on the right. You can see the lawyer is deliberately keeping his distance and fouling the air with a cigarette to camouflage the halitosis cloud drifting his way:
1925 – Grand Olé Opry Begins Broadcasting
The Grand Olé Opry began broadcasting in 1925. Contrary to popular opinion, “to broadcast” is not to hurl women around. “To broadcast” means to disseminate seeds.
In this case, the Grand Olé Opry, AKA Ryman Auditorium, disseminates the seeds of appreciation for Spanish culture.
Spanish culture consists of bullfighting, red wine, and bullfighting.
The Grand Olé Opry is where Spanish bullfight opera music is both taught and performed.
Spanish bullfight opera music is the last thing pierced bulls in the bullfighting arena hear. It is also the last thing pierced bullfighters in the bullfighting arena hear.
By the way, the Grand Olé Opry is Herb Alpert’s alma mater.
1933 – TVA Created
The TVA was created in 1933. The TVA, for those who are not “in the know,” is the Tennessee Volunteer Authority.
The TVA tells every Tennessee Volunteer what to do. They are the authority. And they make everybody volunteer, so what's a fella to do?
As an example of their arbitrariness and bossiness, here's a man who had been content to work in his turnip patch, but they volunteered him to poke a hole in the top of a mountain with a jillhammer (“Jillhammer” is the politically correct version of a jackhammer).
Since every action causes an equal and opposite reaction, as he is poking a hole in the top of the mountain in the foreground, the mountain in the far distance is responding by blowing out a puff of toxic dust.
1942 to 1946 – Manhattan Project in Oak Ridge
From 1942 to 1946, the Manhattan Project practiced their songs in Oak Ridge. Jazz musicians such as Wayne Taller, Morgan Stanley, Stan Laurel, and Stan Lee spent over forty years perfecting their eponymously titled album.
Wanting privacy, the Manhattan Project chose this location in the backwoods of Tennessee where nobody would expect to find them, and therefore nobody would look for them.
While their fans were searching all over Manhattan for them (both the one in New York and the more famous one in Kansas), there they were, holed up in an obscure ridge in mountainous Tennessee, sharpening their axes, working on their chops, and honing their skills.
1968 – Martin Luther in Memphis
In 1968, excommunicated German cleric Martin Luther was arrested in Memphis for vagrancy.
Although it was assumed that the pope had something to do with this, it was never proven.
It is true, though, that the pope had a “burr in his saddle,” so to speak, over Luther advising the portly old buzzard to go on a diet of worms.
Luther told the pope that if he would just eat ninety-five worms a day, he would soon be down to a svelte (for him) two hundred pounds.
Enraged, the pope had demanded of Luther, “Are you calling me fat?!?”
Luther calmly replied, “I can do no other than advise you as I see fit. And I think you should get fit. So which will it be – fit, or fat?”
The pope had Luther's sword confiscated, broken in half, and thrown over the wall. Luther was rebuked and dismissed, and he had to trudge on home, swordless.
Here's Martin Luther, front and center, with some of his pals, and a sign in the back reading “Hey, Pope! Eat Worms Now!”
His advisor (to the right in the picture, but on Luther's left), is trying to soften the suggestion painted on the sign by telling him, “Tell the pope he can make it gummy worms if he can't stand real (squiggly) worms.”
. . .
Each Saturday and Tuesday an excerpt of one State’s (satirized) history will be posted here, in alphabetical order (from Alabama to Wyoming).
For “the rest of the story,” the (32-page) complete book “The New All-too-True-Blue History of Tennessee” is available here.
The regions of the U.S. have been combined into volumes, too; Tennessee is included in the volume The New All-too-True-Blue History of the American Southeast
You can listen to this excerpt here.
Blackbird Crow Raven is also the author of the book “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle”