I just spoke with a guest of the Inn who described himself as an "industrial anthropologist," someone who studies the birth, evolution and demise of industries, or something along these lines. He was fascinated by the story of our gristmill - its inception, history and current function. I later waxed nostalgically, and then a little sadly, about our mill, when I realized that a part of its story is one of industrial emasculation. ~
Edgar Evins built the mill in 1939 - four floors of water powered machinery, grinders, cogs, gears, shafts, wheels, conveyor belts and more - all working in unison to generate tangible products - in this case corn and flour. From the few accounts I've gathered, it was an impressive operation - and one that only ran for about five years. Though modern by earlier milling standards, other emerging technologies apparently rendered this form of milling dated, if not obsolete. So the mill faced an inexorable extinction, though its ultimate fate was arrested until recently - at first by Edgar's son, U.S. Congressman Joe L. Evins, who revivified operations in the 1960s.
~
The Congressman wasn't pursuing profit but was simply attempting to keep a slice of Tennessee history alive. He disassembled some of the machinery on the first floor to make space for a quaint country store, a noticeable declension from its earlier and grander purpose. The next industrial declension, and one of a more rigorous nature, occurred in 1991, when my father Bill Cochran, Sr. converted the upper two floors into the conference center it is today. Most of what remained of the original mill was on its first floor, where two flour grinders and a corn grinder forlornly stood. Only the corn grinder functioned.
~
For the next fifteen or so years, our family and later our business would run the mill and grind some corn, not for profit or even in a spirit of preservation, but for kicks, either for our own or those of our guests. The penultimate step on the mill's road to industrial perdition was the conversion in 2006 of its first floor from what little still remained there to a game hall with billiards, table tennis and dart boards. While the flour grinders were moved to the front entrance for its adornment, the corn grinder was sequestered in the dark and dank basement and hooked up as a life-line to the main shaft so it could still grind a little corn now and then.
~
It was like an unwanted hand-me-down piece of furniture, banished to make room for more current and trendier styles. Though the corn grinder remained viable for two more years, its operation there was punctuated by neglect and chronic mechanical failure. When the foundation for the main water wheel cracked in 2008, the grinder ground its last bit of grist, as milling operations, such as they were, halted until a future repair. That task will likely be postponed for years due to its cost and uncertain economic conditions. So a building born in an industrial era and once pulsating with powerful machinery, has been wholly neutered and transformed - to a place of more leisurely pursuits.
Edgar Evins built the mill in 1939 - four floors of water powered machinery, grinders, cogs, gears, shafts, wheels, conveyor belts and more - all working in unison to generate tangible products - in this case corn and flour. From the few accounts I've gathered, it was an impressive operation - and one that only ran for about five years. Though modern by earlier milling standards, other emerging technologies apparently rendered this form of milling dated, if not obsolete. So the mill faced an inexorable extinction, though its ultimate fate was arrested until recently - at first by Edgar's son, U.S. Congressman Joe L. Evins, who revivified operations in the 1960s.
~
The Congressman wasn't pursuing profit but was simply attempting to keep a slice of Tennessee history alive. He disassembled some of the machinery on the first floor to make space for a quaint country store, a noticeable declension from its earlier and grander purpose. The next industrial declension, and one of a more rigorous nature, occurred in 1991, when my father Bill Cochran, Sr. converted the upper two floors into the conference center it is today. Most of what remained of the original mill was on its first floor, where two flour grinders and a corn grinder forlornly stood. Only the corn grinder functioned.
~
For the next fifteen or so years, our family and later our business would run the mill and grind some corn, not for profit or even in a spirit of preservation, but for kicks, either for our own or those of our guests. The penultimate step on the mill's road to industrial perdition was the conversion in 2006 of its first floor from what little still remained there to a game hall with billiards, table tennis and dart boards. While the flour grinders were moved to the front entrance for its adornment, the corn grinder was sequestered in the dark and dank basement and hooked up as a life-line to the main shaft so it could still grind a little corn now and then.
~
It was like an unwanted hand-me-down piece of furniture, banished to make room for more current and trendier styles. Though the corn grinder remained viable for two more years, its operation there was punctuated by neglect and chronic mechanical failure. When the foundation for the main water wheel cracked in 2008, the grinder ground its last bit of grist, as milling operations, such as they were, halted until a future repair. That task will likely be postponed for years due to its cost and uncertain economic conditions. So a building born in an industrial era and once pulsating with powerful machinery, has been wholly neutered and transformed - to a place of more leisurely pursuits.
No comments:
Post a Comment