3523 Timberlake - Johnson
Submitted by Kristine Johnson, September 14, 2009
Music and a constellation of coincidences brought me and my sister Linnea to the Timberlake neighborhood in 2008. During a year-long recovery from disabling accident in 2002, I decided to take up the flute again. I brought my vintage high school flute to Ruth Barber, who grew up in Timberlake, majored in flute performance at UT, and now lives with her husband Keith Watson in Pittman Center. I knew Keith from forestry classes we took together at UT, and his father was one of my co-workers at Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Keith and Ruth live in her family's summer home, and I learned that a number of Timberlake residents were also neighbors at their second homes in Emerts Cove. Keith and Ruth live next door to Andrea Wilson, a local artist, who grew up at (3722) Timberlake Road.
Ruth recommended taking flute lessons from David Witherspoon, as did the instrument repairman at Rush's Music store. David lives just down the road from Keith and Ruth, and his house is next door to the Hook's summer home. Addison and Nancy Hook were great friends with David's parents, Jack and Mary Elizabeth Witherspoon. They lived across the street from each other on Timberlake Road.
I began taking flute lessons from David Witherspoon in 2004; we soon discovered we had much in common and have been together ever since. When David had to stop teaching after a stroke in 2006, he introduced me to Ann Stierli. Ann bought the Hook's house in Timberlake when Nancy moved to Arbor Terrace; Ann, David and Mary Hook are all good friends and Ann is also an excellent flute teacher. On the day of my first lesson with Ann, I followed her from Rush's Music Store to 3523 Timberlake and said, "I love this house!" I always looked forward to my flute lessons at Ann's. When she wanted to encourage a full sound, Ann would point out the picture window, say, "Play to Gregory Bald!" When Ann retired to Brevard, NC, I bought the house and now she comes over every month to teach my flute lessons.
I knew several other people in Timberlake from graduate school at UT: Dr. John Rennie taught forest measurements and served on my thesis committee, keeping my statistical methods solid (and making sure I understood them!). Murray Evans taught an excellent advanced taxonomy class and we still see each other along with other colleagues at the annual Wildflower Pilgrimage in the Smokies. Another pillar of the UT Botany Department was Dr. Lex Hesler, who lived next door to the Witherspoons. He had already retired when I was at UT, but the department valued its emeritus professors, and he many kept office hours well into retirement. Dr. Hesler was one of the founders of Highlands (NC) Biological Station and he is revered there as well as at UT as mentor to many mycologists and an authority on taxonomy of fungi. In the lineage of academics, I would be a sort of great-grand-student, since I was the student of his student’s student – but we do keep track of such details. He was David Witherspoon's godfather and his wife (Miss Lily) was Mary Elizabeth Witherspoon good friend who helped in Miss Lily’s last days and wrote of this in her diary:
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October 6, 1982 Waynesville, North Carolina We are resting, almost never having needed rest so badly. About three weeks ago it became evident that Miss Lily couldn't live alone much longer. She dreaded Shannondale, and I dreaded it for her. I took her to the doctor (after raising the question with her of moving in with us) and he said she didn't need nursing, she just needed rest and someone the look after her. He liked the idea of her moving in with us. We moved her in on Saturday, September 18. But she grew weaker every day and shorter of breath. In fact her strength failed so rapidly I could hardly keep up with her condition. (I suspect the doctor made a mistake in giving her a flu shot, but I've told nobody this but Jack.) By the fourth day, I was giving her a bed bath, helping her dress, etc., and had called the doctor. He put her in the hospital the next day, and she died exactly a week later. She had no living relatives except a grand-niece and nephew and their children. I called the grand-niece, but she took no responsibility. Because we had taken Miss Lily into our home, responsibility fell on us and on the Sharps, who had begun to take responsibility when Lex died. Jack Sharp was out of town when we made the hospital move, and Evelyn doesn't drive. All decisions seemed to fall on me. Jack helped to make arrangements for the funeral, and the grand-niece, who came for 24 hours, stayed with us. The experience was rewarding and instructive, brought me closer to my neighbors, made new friends for me, but the stress was terrific. Then, the day after the grand-niece left, we learned that Addison has cancer. It is cancer of the prostate, and if it hasn't spread beyond that, maybe it can be checked. We should know about that when we get home (today, October 7, Thursday). |
Other UT faculty friends of the Witherspoon’s among the Timberlake neighbors were (3612 Timberlake) Dr. Homer Johnson in chemical engineering and (3605) Dr. Alvin Nielsen in physics. The Witherspoons retired to northern Florida (see "My Favorite Christmas" by Mary Elizabeth Witherspoon) and then bought and moved back to 3722 Timberlake Road.
I also knew Murray Evans and Dee Montie through the Smoky Mountain Hiking Club, which is where Nancy and Addison Hook first met. The house at 3523 Timberlake was designed by Barber and McMurry Architects and built in October 1951, soon after they married. Ray Payne, one of the older club members, recently gave me a collection of the annual hiking club handbooks dating back to the 1940’s which includes the names and addresses of all members as well as write-ups on all weekly hikes. There are other addresses of members along Timberlake throughout the years, (like Herrick Brown and Myrtle who lived across from the Macons, then moved to run LeConte Lodge for 16 years) and I felt a kinship with those friends and neighbors who lived in Timberlake and loved the Smokies as I do.
The Witherspoons, Hooks and Barber families were also friends with Harvey Broome, a well-known advocate for wilderness (and one of my personal heroes). Harvey Broome's summer home was near that of the Hook’s, on what is now the Foothills Parkway right-of-way. When the National Park Service purchased the properties in the mid-sixties, all the houses were torn down and the Hooks built a new cabin near the river, where the Witherspoons soon joined them. David Witherspoon walks along the route several times a week, and always greets Harvey’s spirit there.
Here is an excerpt from Harvey Broome’s memoir “ Out Under the Sky of the Great Smokies”, from Nov. 4, 1965:
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“Life has never been sweeter –nor the out-world more enchanting. We were at Emert’s Cove last weekend for the ‘spook night’ party of the Hiking Club. …we walked from one cottage to another. There were wood fires in each. A kettle of stew brewed at Bob Maher’s. At West Barber’s we enjoyed the pleasures of full-throated singing. At Addison Hook’s, we faced the warmth of a great backlog which had awaited 24 years for the occasion of its lighting. …thrust into the back of our minds for the weekend was the prospect that a parkway might rip through these tranquil woods, erasing this retreat and many others. What had existed so long surely could not come to that end! We forgot the unrest in the tier of states to the south and the bewildering antics on the campuses of our colleges. We forgot momentarily Vietnam; the great unrest over all the world; the cramped congestion and hopelessness in our cities. Out there was uncertainty –violence, unreason-desperation. Around us, in Emerts cove where the woods were clean and fresh, were calm, warmth, friendship, harmony.”
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Harvey Broome would be glad to know that those woods are still there, and the children of his Timberlake friends are still enjoying it as he did.
Submitted by Linnea Johnson, September 21, 2009
I am a relative newcomer to Timberlake, arriving sad and broken more than a year ago. My sister, Kris Johnson, offered shelter in the house where she plans to eventually retire.
For me, Timberlake is a place of peace and healing where heritage runs deep. I can never express how thankful I am to have landed in this lovely, peaceful refuge. It seems silly now, but I was so afraid of moving here from my rural home in Alabama to what I perceived as cold, urban Knoxville with all the associated noise, congestion and crime.
It’s been a pleasant surprise to find out I was wrong, at least until I leave the neighborhood and pull out onto Alcoa Highway.
I’m sure a lot of residents have wondered exactly what is going on at 3523 Timberlake Road. They watched a jungle of privet, vines and weeds — at least green and luscious in their own way — give way to scarred red dirt from brush clearing and gray, dead cut vines hanging from the trees, just in time for the Dogwood Festival! I was so embarrassed to have the ugliest yard on the block during my first spring here.
Still, I knew better days were coming. With help from a designer, Kris and I are working toward a woodland landscape featuring native plants that will be a credit to the neighborhood.
I’ve been told the first owner of our house, Addison Hook, used to bushhog the front hill down to the road. His two daughters and other neighborhood children used it for sledding in the old days, before the vines took over after Addison died.
Cautionary tale: please research what you put in your yard. The lovely vine you plant today might turn into someone else’s nightmare later. Seeds travel a long way, carried by the birds and wind. My sister and I have spent many, many hours stooping over to pull bittersweet, wisteria and English ivy vines up by the roots, cutting or spraying them with herbicide when all else fails. If only we could drive a stake in their insidious hearts!
True story: One night after fighting the Timberlake jungle all day, I dreamed English ivy consumed my house, covering the doors and trapping me inside!
From my perch on one of the highest points in the neighborhood, I have a bird’s eye view of life along our stretch of Timberlake Road. I enjoy seeing Mrs. Dempster venturing out to retrieve her newspaper in the morning or taking her trash can out to the curb. Her daughter, Mary Ann Kline, gave me an antique rocking chair from her childhood home, plus all the wildflowers I cared to dig from her yard on Ginn Road. In winter, as the leaves fall, my panoramic view of Gregory’s Bald in the Smokies and the river below expands.
This sturdy craftsman style house constantly reminds me of the practical folk who lived here before me. I love all the built-in cabinets, attention to detail and general solid construction. Also, I’m one of the few people on earth who can say I have a bomb shelter under my garage!
I planted a garden in a fruitful spot carved from the hillside by the previous homeowner, Anne Stierli – a woman with a pioneer spirit if ever there was one. This land, on what I understand used to be a hog farm, continues to sustain me with delicious fresh vegetables and herbs in every season including winter, thanks to a cold frame made of an old front door with glass windows.
On a whim, I planted a butterfly garden across from the vegetable patch. When the weather is good, I sit perched on a bench crafted from the trunk of a diseased hickory tree we cut down, nourishing my spirit as I watch the occasional jogger or walker on the road below while the butterflies, bees and hummingbirds feed nearby. The birds seem so trusting, I think generations of their families must have been raised here. I don’t take their trust lightly.
When John Rennie takes his dog Guy for walks, they stop to visit if I’m down near the road. John and Nancy shared wildflowers from their yard last spring and were considerate enough to think of me on a trip to Glacier National Park out west, snapping pictures of the pretty linnaea borealis flowers that share my name.
I feel safer knowing Wendy Warren, Alex and their fierce watchdog, Tiny, are next door.
Finally, I can never say enough about the generosity of my neighbors across the street, David and Ann Hake. Not long after I arrived, they helped me get acclimated by inviting me to their house for dinner with friends, taking me along to some of their philanthropic meetings and even treating me to an evening at the symphony. When they went out of town for three weeks, I fed their cat Niger and checked on the house. The spirit of Timberlake continues even as change inevitably comes to the neighborhood. May we all live long and prosper.
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(Linnea moved back to Alabama in October, 2009. – ed.)
I am a relative newcomer to Timberlake, arriving sad and broken more than a year ago. My sister, Kris Johnson, offered shelter in the house where she plans to eventually retire.
For me, Timberlake is a place of peace and healing where heritage runs deep. I can never express how thankful I am to have landed in this lovely, peaceful refuge. It seems silly now, but I was so afraid of moving here from my rural home in Alabama to what I perceived as cold, urban Knoxville with all the associated noise, congestion and crime.
It’s been a pleasant surprise to find out I was wrong, at least until I leave the neighborhood and pull out onto Alcoa Highway.
I’m sure a lot of residents have wondered exactly what is going on at 3523 Timberlake Road. They watched a jungle of privet, vines and weeds — at least green and luscious in their own way — give way to scarred red dirt from brush clearing and gray, dead cut vines hanging from the trees, just in time for the Dogwood Festival! I was so embarrassed to have the ugliest yard on the block during my first spring here.
Still, I knew better days were coming. With help from a designer, Kris and I are working toward a woodland landscape featuring native plants that will be a credit to the neighborhood.
I’ve been told the first owner of our house, Addison Hook, used to bushhog the front hill down to the road. His two daughters and other neighborhood children used it for sledding in the old days, before the vines took over after Addison died.
Cautionary tale: please research what you put in your yard. The lovely vine you plant today might turn into someone else’s nightmare later. Seeds travel a long way, carried by the birds and wind. My sister and I have spent many, many hours stooping over to pull bittersweet, wisteria and English ivy vines up by the roots, cutting or spraying them with herbicide when all else fails. If only we could drive a stake in their insidious hearts!
True story: One night after fighting the Timberlake jungle all day, I dreamed English ivy consumed my house, covering the doors and trapping me inside!
From my perch on one of the highest points in the neighborhood, I have a bird’s eye view of life along our stretch of Timberlake Road. I enjoy seeing Mrs. Dempster venturing out to retrieve her newspaper in the morning or taking her trash can out to the curb. Her daughter, Mary Ann Kline, gave me an antique rocking chair from her childhood home, plus all the wildflowers I cared to dig from her yard on Ginn Road. In winter, as the leaves fall, my panoramic view of Gregory’s Bald in the Smokies and the river below expands.
This sturdy craftsman style house constantly reminds me of the practical folk who lived here before me. I love all the built-in cabinets, attention to detail and general solid construction. Also, I’m one of the few people on earth who can say I have a bomb shelter under my garage!
I planted a garden in a fruitful spot carved from the hillside by the previous homeowner, Anne Stierli – a woman with a pioneer spirit if ever there was one. This land, on what I understand used to be a hog farm, continues to sustain me with delicious fresh vegetables and herbs in every season including winter, thanks to a cold frame made of an old front door with glass windows.
On a whim, I planted a butterfly garden across from the vegetable patch. When the weather is good, I sit perched on a bench crafted from the trunk of a diseased hickory tree we cut down, nourishing my spirit as I watch the occasional jogger or walker on the road below while the butterflies, bees and hummingbirds feed nearby. The birds seem so trusting, I think generations of their families must have been raised here. I don’t take their trust lightly.
When John Rennie takes his dog Guy for walks, they stop to visit if I’m down near the road. John and Nancy shared wildflowers from their yard last spring and were considerate enough to think of me on a trip to Glacier National Park out west, snapping pictures of the pretty linnaea borealis flowers that share my name.
I feel safer knowing Wendy Warren, Alex and their fierce watchdog, Tiny, are next door.
Finally, I can never say enough about the generosity of my neighbors across the street, David and Ann Hake. Not long after I arrived, they helped me get acclimated by inviting me to their house for dinner with friends, taking me along to some of their philanthropic meetings and even treating me to an evening at the symphony. When they went out of town for three weeks, I fed their cat Niger and checked on the house. The spirit of Timberlake continues even as change inevitably comes to the neighborhood. May we all live long and prosper.
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(Linnea moved back to Alabama in October, 2009. – ed.)
