Windrush by George Masa,1929
In June, Tracy Foor, president of the Highlands Historical Society, gave a CLE lecture on “Homes in the Sky: Satulah Mountain.” Tracy provided a fascinating, heartfelt summary of our town’s founding 150 years ago, and the residents of Satulah–some of whom were influenced in their amateur versifying by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Intriguing, and all new to me.
Now I want to take you via the service entrance. Growing up in the 1970s and ‘80s, I did yardwork, and many of my employers lived along Satulah Road. This will be the first in an occasional series about them–starting at the bottom, as one comes from town, with Chestnut Lodge. According to Ran Shaffner’s “Heart of the Blue Ridge,” it was the first house on the mountain, dates from 1892 and was built in the Queen Anne style for Dr. Theodore Lamb of Augusta, Ga. Inside of course, was clear chestnut paneling. The first time I came to mow her lawn, Mrs. Wotten appeared on the porch steps in a floppy hat, carrying an ancient tennis racquet in one hand and a large butterfly net in the other.
“We’re going bat hunting!” she promised; one was believed to be up the chimney. I was skinny then and perhaps Mrs. Wotton thought I could crawl inside the fireplace. For all I know, its descendants are still in residence, as I never caught that flying mouse. The interior of Chestnut Lodge had “old Highlands charm” in spades, and bats would only add to it.
Next up was the bark-shingled, delightful, “Windrush” (covered in the CLE lecture) at the junction of Satulah and Worley roads. Here the year-round residents were the recently retired Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, the Most Rev. John Elbridge Hines and his wife, Helen. (Their friendly son, Steve, was priest here at both the parishes of the Incarnation and the Good Shepherd.) Mr. Hines, formerly bishop of Texas but born in Seneca, S.C., sternly let me know that if his back weren’t out, he’d be the one doing the yard work. It was a wonderful place, with a stream garden and a magnificent outlook over Highlands toward Whiteside Mountain. Mrs. Hines proudly presided herself—over her view of “the village.” She told me that “people get their backs up when I refer to Highlands as a ‘village,’ but you know it is!” I hope she’s still right.
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