Taken and Delivered - Southern Water, Southern Power - page 138

before 1970, as well as additional meetings after 1974. 67 But apparently only a “few locals”
from North Carolina, South Carolina, or Georgia attended. Furthermore, the Forest Service
had solicited comments from the newspaper-reading public before 1971 and received more
than 1,000 responses supporting the designation, with only three outright dissents. 68 While
Gates may have exaggerated the lack of local participation, he adequately described the
conflict that emerged after designation as a result of a “clash of classes,” or a clash between
the local folks who preferred the ease of recreating on the banks and the growing number
of visitors intent on traveling the whole corridor's length on the river's back. 69
As Georgians and South Carolinians moved through the Chattooga Wild and Scenic
River designation process in 1974, they took part in a much larger regional discussion about
public land management. For example, at the time the Forest Service was revising national
policy in the late 1960s and early 1970s. That topic is beyond this topic's scope, but it is
sufficient to say that the Forest Service was in the midst of reshaping national forest man-
agement policy in an effort to balance even-aged timber management—also referred to as
clear-cutting—with recreation, wildlife, and biological diversity. 70 Nobody liked clear-cut-
ting, according to Max Gates, and some local forest users chastised Forest Service offi-
cials for cutting hardwood trees that produced nuts. Game hunters and anglers in particu-
lar thought clear-cutting was bad for squirrel populations and fish. Indeed, Forest Service
public relations specialists published regular columns in local newspapers in an attempt to
convince Rabun County residents that forest management and clear-cutting improved con-
ditions for wildlife. The Forest Service also provided locals with access to free firewood
for personal consumption. 71 But in the end, and in Gates's opinion, local people resisted
anything that disrupted the “way of life” in what they considered their forest community,
despite the fact that many of the river's recreational spots had historically rested on Georgia
Power's private property or public land. 72 Or more plausibly, as historian Kathryn Newfont
has observed in other southern Appalachian communities, rural and mountain residents un-
derstood the forests and rivers as places “to live rather than to visit.” For people who lived
close to the Chattooga River, the valley was a space for baptisms, picnics, and relaxation;
it was undoubtedly “a part of the fabric of everyday life rather than a retreat from the or-
dinary.” 73
In the larger federal policy context, the southern Appalachians also became a battle-
ground in the 1960s and 1970s as repeated intrusion by external interests threatened the
composition of mountain communities. Not only did outsiders move in, buy second homes,
and erect “No Trespassing” signs, but federal policy also imposed restrictions on public
and private land use. New policies included declarations of eminent domain to acquire Ap-
palachian Trail lands (National Trails System Act [1968]); the creation of eastern wilder-
ness areas (Roadless Area Review and Evaluation I [1972] and the Eastern Wilderness Act
[1975]); and a proposed extension of the Blue Ridge Parkway along Georgia's ridgelines. 74