1 Boring Old Man

This weekend, I went on a fifteen hundred mile road trip to meet with a group of people who share an interest in, of all things, old trees. We call them Indian Trail Trees, though their origin remains scientifically unproven. We had a grand time, sharing pictures and thoughts about the trees, clomping around in the Arkansas Wilderness looking at examples. I didn’t think much about the Libby Trial, though my old friend who accompanied me on this trek and I did talk politics a bit on the long drive. Old Liberals don’t talk politics frequently, or for very long. There’s not that much to say anymore.

 

There is a story about the people who left us these trees, probable relics from the Cherokee Nation that once covered North Georgia:

…Many Cherokee continued to battle the invasion of their land by white settlers until 1794 when they were definitively defeated. In 1803, they were persuaded to allow the building of a Federal Post Road through their territory, finally built between 1812 and 1820. Two of the way stations along that road were at the Carmel Mission in what became Talking Rock, and the Harnage Inn, located where the Tate House now stands. Somewhat unified and confined to North Georgia and the surrounding mountains, they formed the Cherokee Nation with its capital at New Echota, and developed an assimilated culture with its own Legislature and Supreme Court. But with the discovery of gold in Georgia in 1829, there were again increasing intrusions from white settlers. When John Ross, the elected chief, marched on white squatters in 1831, the State of Georgia reacted by declaring the Cherokee Nation to be "Cherokee County, Georgia" and convened a State Court at the Harnage Inn. Outraged, the Cherokee sued the State of Georgia, but the Supreme Court refused to hear their case, ruling that the Cherokee Nation had no standing to sue a State. Justice John Marshall who penned this ruling was no friend of the expansionist President Andrew Jackson, and advised the Cherokee’s lawyer how to pursue their cause. Georgia had arrested Stephen Worchester, a missionary at the Carmel Mission in Talking Rock and supporter of the Cherokee, for being on Cherokee Land without a permit. In the resulting Supreme Court case, the justices ruled in 1832 that the Cherokee Nation was sovereign, and not subject to Georgia law. The ruling was never enforced by President Andrew Jackson, who coveted the Cherokee property. Georgia ignored the ruling, and set up a public lottery system to distribute the land in their Cherokee County.

In 1830, the United States Congress had passed the "Indian Removal Act," allowing the removal of Native Americans to lands in the west. The Worchester ruling essentially nullified this act. Thus, the only way the Cherokee could be removed would be through consent by treaty. Within the Cherokee Nation, there was also some dissent. Chief John Ross and the majority of his nation vowed to fight removal and the Georgia lottery. But a splinter group representing only few percent of the Cherokee, favored relocation and signed such an agreement, the Treaty of New Echota. This gave Jackson the document he needed. In the debate in congress, Daniel Webster and Henry Clay argued against the ratification of this Treaty, but it passed by a single vote. On May 17, 1838, General Winfield Scott marched into Georgia with a force of seven thousand men and began the forced relocation of the Cherokee to Oklahoma. The Cherokee were first housed in Fort Newnan in Talking Rock and Fort Buffington near Canton. On this march, now known as the "Trail of Tears," one in four of the 17,000 Cherokee died from hunger, exposure, or disease. Once in Oklahoma, most of the signers of the Treaty of New Echota were killed.

So, we have a President, hungry for land, looking for gold, ignoring our Courts and our credo – "all men are created equal" – pushing something through Congress, etc. etc. I won’t make the obvious numerous analogies with our current war in Iraq almost 200 years later. The analogies are as plain as day. The Native Americans never made it back to Georgia. They were marched up that Federal Post Road they allowed our government to build, and never returned. All that’s left are a few museums, the names of our towns and rivers, these aging trees – probably "road signs" marking ancient trails in the forest, and a very sad story.