How much longer can "The Peaceful Side of the Smokies" avoid go-cart tracks and bungee jumps?

by Brian Skoloff

It's about 7 p.m. on a clear, cool Monday in December. The streets of Townsend are practically empty, save a few stragglers here and there. The moon is near new with a tiny sliver casting a soft white glow on the surrounding ridgetops. The town seems deserted, ghostly, eerily quiet yet peaceful when compared to what's stirring less than 20 miles across the mountain in Pigeon Forge. There, sparkling billboards and flashy fast food signs illuminate the night sky. Hordes of people pack amusement parks, arcades, restaurants and glitzy country music theaters. The constant hum of go-carts rounding tracks and candy-coated carnival music lingers in the air.

Back on "The Peaceful Side of the Smokies," cars fill the parking lot of Townsend Elementary School—old Ramblers, a Mercedes or two, Chevrolets, Ford trucks, a BMW, an eclectic mix as varied as the crowd that packs the school library.

The meeting is called to order by a clean-cut, dark-haired, thirtysomething man wearing the traditional corporate garb: blue shirt, necktie, gray slacks, spit-shined shoes. For a while he addresses the crowd as if leading a self-renewal seminar, talking about vision, planning, quality of life, nature, the future. Handouts are distributed. The wall behind him displays 11 pieces of white posterboard, each with a statement written on it. The words "Vision Statements" are scrawled at the top of one of the handouts, followed by 11 statements matching the ones on the wall. Number one reads, "Preserve, protect, and maintain the natural features of the cove, such as the Little River, vegetation, open spaces, views, vistas, and ridgetops;" number four reads, "Protect the rights of individual property owners;" number five reads, "Avoid the uncontrolled growth and commercialism that has plagued Pigeon Forge;" and so on. Next, the man passes out four quarter-sized red stickers to each person in the room and instructs the crowd to place them on the most important statements on the wall behind him.

"The whole idea is to get these folks to realize that in order to get something, they're going to have to give some other things up," says Rick Russell of the Knoxville consulting firm, Barge, Waggoner, Sumner, and Cannon. The firm has been hired by a local group of volunteers to help the community devise a plan for the future of the Tuckaleechee Cove and Townsend in preparation for a perceived residential and commercial boom.

Residents are responding to an invisible threat, but one that could become tangible too soon for folks to sit around on their hands. Earlier this year, the Tennessee Department of Transportation put plans into motion that have been collecting dust for nearly 15 years. It announced that Highway 321, a two-lane road running through the center of Townsend, would be widened to a four or five-lane highway. There's even been talk among city and county officials of bringing sewer service to the valley along with the new road.

Many Townsend residents realize what these two prospects could bring to their peaceful cove: streams of traffic and an onslaught of the tacky, two-bit commercialization dominating Pigeon Forge. A go-cart track and a bumper boats attraction have already found their way into Townsend, prompting some to fear that bungee jumps, T-shirt shops, and fast food restaurants aren't far behind. So now the citizens are meeting, talking, and inviting an array of experts to show them how to retain their centuries-old mountain heritage. But how much progress can they really stop?

Townsend has remained relatively undeveloped since 1898, when W.B. Townsend, a late l9th century entrepreneur, accumulated over 100,000 acres throughout the Tuckaleechee Cove. His Little River Railroad opened up the dense forest, hauling lumber from his Little River Lumber Co. deep in what is now Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The entire complexion of the cove changed. It became an industrial center.

But before W.B. Townsend made his mark on the cove, rugged frontiersmen beat back the forest, carving their livelihoods from the wilderness. And before the white man invaded the valley, Cherokee Indians ruled the land. They called it Tuckaleechee, meaning peaceful valley.

The cove is still called Tuckaleechee, and the town's motto, "The Peaceful Side of the Smokies", is reflected in the local lifestyle and the small town atmosphere. And according to a telephone survey conducted in spring 1997 by the University of Tennessee School of Planning, most residents want to keep it that way. The telephone survey was done to validate a mail-back survey distributed to all 3,000 residents in the cove, including Townsend, during the summer of 1996.

In both surveys, over 90 percent agreed with the following statement: "I know that change is going to occur, but I like the Tuckaleechee Cove just like it is. I hope it doesn't change too much in the future." An overwhelming 96 percent agree the quiet, peaceful, and rural character of the cove should be protected. And only 20 percent "hope to be as successful making money from tourists as the people are in Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge."

But is this realistic given the circumstances?

Residents are hopeful and full of ideas, but with limited power to restrict development and enforce regulations, what they hope for may not necessarily be what they get.

Pigeon Forge has done schlock better than anyone else," says Perry Childress of the East Tennessee Community Design Center in Knoxville. There's no reason to even try and compete with what Childress calls "the outlet center of the world," he says. The Community Design Center is a nonprofit organization working with Townsend on what they call a "Futurescapes" project, advocating "sustainable economic development" through public input and sound planning practices.

Townsend was chosen as the center's third future-scapes project after working with the tiny mountain community of Pittman Center in Sevier County and with Loudon County, also facing commercial pressure along Highway 321. "With the road project coming through and sewer a possibility, the timing was just right for us to become intensely involved," says Tim Ledford, the center's executive director.

Most residents want log structures, Childress says, hanging and covered bridges, historical museums, a sort of Appalachian village atmosphere reflecting the region's pioneer spirit.

"They don't want to prevent development. We couldn't stop it if we wanted to. We just want to encourage a type of development that fits" in with the overall heritage theme, he says.

And there seems to be growing support for that concept in Townsend, "even from the most seemingly unscrupulous developers," Childress says.

"Everyone understands that Townsend is the jewel of the county," says Blount County Planner John Lamb. "It's the gateway to the Smokies and Cades Cove...That's one reason why we're looking to preserve the heritage of the cove."

Lamb serves on the Tuckaleechee Cove Advisory Board (TCAB), a volunteer group whose members are appointed by county officials to work on a plan covering the entire cove, including things like zoning, transportation and water quality issues, architectural and development restrictions, and sign ordinances.

"The entire cove is beginning to show signs of commercial and residential development pressure on both sides of the Little River," he says. More and more people are moving into the area and building homes, and the rental cabin business is beginning to boom, Lamb says.

"Requests for subdivision plots have tripled," he says. The problem is that outside city limits, there's no zoning in Blount County.

County government can only regulate lot size in regards to development. A minimum lot size for any type of development out in the county is 23,000 square feet. But if sewer is brought in, minimum lot size will shrink to 7,500 square feet. There are no sign ordinances and no guidelines on architectural style or building size.

At the moment, Blount County officials are discussing the option of instituting zoning countywide, but Lamb says there's such strong opposition from landowners, it's unlikely it will ever happen.

And the city of Townsend, with a population of less than 200 and an incorporated radius of only a few square miles, makes up only a fraction of the entire 32-square mile Tuckaleechee Cove with as many as 3,000 residents. Strictly enforced city codes and ordinances fall short of protecting the whole valley.

Ron Beckman, chair of the Townsend Planning Commission, says the city is looking into the idea of annexing further out into the cove to extend its zoning regulations, but opposition abounds.

"We need to expand our city if we're going to protect a larger area," he says. "But zoning has become a four letter word out there." Beckman says the first thing the city wants to do is annex just the main corridor along the highway, east several miles to Kinzel Springs and west all the way to the Park boundary. Townsend city limits now end about two miles from the Park.

This way, Beckman says, the city can strictly enforce codes and ordinances along the entire stretch of the newly expanded roadway.

Beckman hopes to have a referendum on the annexation issue within the next year to 18 months. "If we can get 51 percent in favor, we'll annex," he says.

Most people have come to the cove interested in maintaining the area's uniqueness," says Townsend Mayor Ben Haddox. "But there' s also a lot of people who've bought land along the strip," waiting patiently for its value to skyrocket. "And who knows what their plans are," he says.

The concept of sewer service for the valley is a double-edged sword. The current sewage system—septic tanks—has served as a natural barrier to unwanted development, but the ground can only absorb so much before effluent bleeds into the creeks and streams that snake the valley floor. Without sewer, Haddox says, it' s only a matter of time before the area's natural resources begin to suffer.

But once sewer service is brought in, he says, the cove could be inundated. "We can't restrict the types of businesses that settle in Townsend, but we can restrict how they settle," Haddox says. "It's just self-selecting in a sense that the developers who come here will hopefully share the same ideas that we do."

But some residents say the massive road improvements aren't needed and are beginning to question the motives of TDOT. Its overall plans are to widen Highway 321 from Kinzel Springs to Wears Valley Road through Townsend to a four or five-lane thoroughfare; three-lane State Highway 73 from Wears Valley Road to the Park boundary just outside of Townsend city limits; and eventually extend Pellissippi Parkway from Knoxville to link up with Highway 321 about eight miles southeast of Maryville, transforming the once isolated Townsend into a quick stop off the interstate.

"We don't need any of this except for one month out of the year and a couple weekends," says Mike Clemmer, owner of Wood-N-Strings, a local music shop. "Why would I want cars going 50 mph past my business? It's just overkill. All we need is a center turning lane and some pull-offs for picture takers.

"Who's behind this?" Clemmer wonders. "I haven't found out where the money trail leads yet."

TDOT spokeswoman Louanne Grandinetti says the road expansion project in and around Townsend has been part of the department's overall transportation plan for the past 15 years. With the streets of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge practically filled to capacity on almost a daily basis, "there needs to be more backdoor access" to the Park, she says. She insists there is nobody pulling strings.

But according to the county property assessor, it's pretty much common knowledge who some of the major landholders are throughout the cove: the late State Senator Carl Koella—who owned 17 various-sized parcels of land in Townsend; former governor Lamar Alexander—who owns two large parcels of land in neighboring West Miler' s Cove; and prominent Sevier County developer Pete Maples, part owner of the Lee Greenwood Theater, LG's Restaurant, the Wingate Hotel, and Maplewood Farms on the billboard-cluttered Highway 66 in Sevierville—who owns 25 parcels of land in Townsend.

Maples also owns Apple Valley Farms, the Best Western hotel, the Days Inn, and a number of rental cabins throughout the Tuckaleechee Cove.

"I'd like to see Townsend stay the way it is," Maples says. "My development down there will all blend in...But it can't all go that way because some hotels and restaurants that may move into the cove have a certain corporate look. But if it starts out with nice things, it should stay that way. Look at Highway 66 (in Sevierville). That's a fine example of when you start development out right.

"But my tastes are different from other people's. There's people out there that think what I do is not tastefully done." he says. "But what's the name of this country? It's called America. And if I buy property and I pay for it, then it's mine. Unless I'm doing something against the law, I should be able to do whatever I want. We just can't dictate what anyone does down there, but hopefully, they'll do it tastefully."

The neighboring Great Smoky Mountains National Park also has a vested interest in Townsend as a gateway community to the Park.

"We want to help preserve a good visitor experience for people even before they get into the Park," says Park spokesman Bob Miller. That's why the National Park Service allocated $40,000 to TCAB to help develop a long-range plan. The state appropriated another $100,000 to TCAB, which the organization is using to fund an overall land-use plan being devised by Barge, Waggoner, Sumner, and Cannon.

TDOT plans to have a public hearing in the spring concerning the design of the road and has a February 1999 date set to begin work.

"Widening the road won't solve traffic problems," says Randy Brown, executive director of the Maryville-based Foothills Land Conservancy. "Building a bigger road has never solved traffic problems. It only means more cars, more pollution, and more congestion...If they put four lanes through there, there's no doubt it's gonna become another Pigeon Forge."

But others are more optimistic about the plan TDOT says "is going to happen," no matter what.

"The first step is to formalize a plan for the cove" before the new road is laid, says Jim Hind, a resident bed and breakfast owner and member of the Townsend Advisory Board, an entity created by the Smoky Mountain Visitors Bureau to work on a corridor management plan within Townsend.

"With the widening of [Highway] 321, we want to see to it that we can have pedestrian overpasses or underpasses so we don't become solely auto-dependent. We want split rail fences, wildflowers, and overall beautification within the state right-of-way of the road," Hind says.

"We're trying to sell the idea to property owners that we have to be unique and keep our character," he says. "But we have no regulatory power. It's just a matter of persuasion. We're not trying to shove anything down anyone's throat, but it's the commercial sense of ugliness that we don't want. It's just a vision right now, but we're beginning to develop it into practical terms."

Many residents like Hind are optimistic that the power of persuasion will be enough to maintain the cove's character. But developers may be more easily persuaded by dollar signs than by simply being good neighbors.

"I'd like for the valley to remain the way it is now," Hind says, "but I know it won't. Things just evolve and sometimes they don't always evolve perfectly."