23 TALES OF WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA LORE & LEGENDS

One of the best parts of our job is that we get to introduce people to the area and share the stories behind our vibrant, one-of-a-kind communities. In this issue, we conclude our showcase of 23 Tales of Western North Carolina. We hope you have enjoyed this story-telling series and that everyone now feels like a local!

Spearfinger

We kick off this issue with Spearfinger, the ancient Witch of Nantahala Forest. According to Cherokee lore, she was a particularly vicious necromancer spawned from the Devil’s Courthouse. Her skin was made of yellow stone armor, her stench attracted swarms of flies and her right hand bore a long and pointed finger that she weaponized as a spear.

When her tummy rumbled with hunger, it’s said she dipped into the hollows of Nantahala Gorge and shapeshifted into the figure of an amiable, caring grandmother. She lured in passersby, disarmed by her appearance, then struck them fatally with her finger-spear and feasted upon them. In autumn, she targeted Cherokee children gathering chestnuts.

Desperate to rid themselves from her torment, the Cherokee trapped Spearfinger in a pitfall – a hole dug in the soil and camouflaged by leaves. When their arrowheads failed to pierce her stony skin, it was a “tsi-kilili,” or chickadee bird, that led them to victory. The bird descended on the palm of her right hand - where her heart was hidden - and signaled warriors to fire. The piercing blows to her single point of weakness proved fatal, and the bottom of the pit became her burial chamber.

Take heed, though, for in late autumn it is still considered bad luck to see a fly buzzing around rocks in the Nantahala Forest. Passersby are encouraged to steer clear just in case the spirit of the Witch awaits in the rocky terrain.

“The Soul of an Innocent Man Don’t Rest”

On November 9, 1880, raucous Rutherfordton townsfolk gathered for the trial of Daniel Keith who stood accused of brutally murdering a young girl. In this bygone era of the Tar Heel State, capital punishment was carried out in public… and the town sentiment oft superseded “beyond a reasonable doubt.”

According to many, it was Big Dan’s physical size and prowess that made him suspect number one. During his short-lived trial, the jury egregiously brushed aside conflicting evidence and hastily sentenced Daniel Keith to be hanged. Big Dan maintained his innocence and vowed “those who say I kilt anybody are liars. And each of you will be hainted every day for the rest of yer life. Then the devil will have ye.”

On December 11, crowds gathered in the cold to witness the execution. Big Dan defiantly declared “The soul of an innocent man don’t rest,” and then swung from the gallows. The crowd shrugged and dispersed as he was loaded into a death cart, but before Big Dan’s body grew cold, the looming shadow of a man hanging from a rope appeared on the exterior south wall of the jail. The shadow remained after sunset, and through the next day… and the next day after that. Despite no lack of effort, the ominous mark proved impervious to removal. People from around the county came to gawk. Locals agreed it must be the “haint.”

In the years that followed, the jail was sold and for a time became a private home. When paint failed to conceal the shadow, they covered it with ivy. The curse, however, remained. In 1949 the building sold again and was converted to an office. The ivy was removed from the south wall, and this time workers finally succeeded in concealing the haunting shadow with multiple thick coats of paint. At the same time, the most unreliable and damning witness of them all – a then-sixteen-year-old boy whose testimony proved crucial - passed away in Rutherfordton at the age of eighty-five. Perhaps Big Dan finally decided to give the town some rest.

Grier’s Bald

While thick lush forest blankets most of the Great Smoky Mountains, some areas - referred to as balds - are completely devoid of trees. What they lack in green canopy, they make up for in legends and lore… and murder.

David Grier, a strange and fearsome hermit, resided on Big Bald Mountain from 1802 – 1834. It’s said that he fled there after his declarations of love were rejected by the daughter of one Colonel David Vance. Grier holed up in a log cabin of his own making and proclaimed himself king of the mountain. He even went so far as to author a treatise on the government and required all visitors and would-be dwellers to submit to his sovereign laws.

Over the years, Grier took unsavory measures to prove he meant business. Cattle that wandered into his domain were found disfigured. When he was summoned to court for refusing to pay taxes, he showed up in town brandishing a rifle and intimated the authorities into dropping the charges. One day he shot a man named Higgins dead in broad daylight. Higgins’ “crime” was hunting deer without permission in Grier’s “kingdom.” To the dismay of his neighbors, Grier was acquitted on grounds of insanity.

The leniency of the trail proved short-lived. Soon after, Grier found himself in a dispute with a young ironworker who was a friend of Higgins. Grier threatened to kill him, but this time the would-be victim struck first. The lad ambushed Grier in the woods and killed him by gunshot. The premeditated killing was hastily ruled as self-defense, and no trial was ever held.

Nobody knows where the troublesome hermit was laid to rest, but his infamy lives on in the area to this day. Locals refer to Big Bald

Mountain as Grier’s Bald, and you can even find that reference on some maps of Western North Carolina. If you decide to hike in the area, we recommend paying a visit to the kingdom of Grier… just mind the “rules” for good measure!

Hootin’ Heaton

Our next story unfolds in the 1890’s with Hannibal Heaton and his wife, Loesa Emmalie, whose signature feature was a striking white head of hair that she donned since her twenties. The happy couple made their home southeast of Cashiers on a tract of land now named Heaton Field. All was well until Dr. William S. Halstead came along with an enticing offer to purchase their property. Hannibal was tempted by the money, but Loesa declared there was no other place on earth she would live, and furthermore, she would hang herself from the tree out front if her husband sold the property.

Hannibal didn’t take the threat seriously and snuck out one day to sign the deal with Dr. Halstead. Somehow word traveled back to Loesa before Hannibal’s horses could pull the wagon home, and poor Loesa made good on her threat. A distraught Hannibal tried to cut her down from the tree, but he was met with fierce resistance from a white owl perched above in the limbs. The color of the owl and the look in its eyes convinced him that his wife’s spirit had transcended to the creature.

Loesa was laid to rest in nearby Zachary Cemetery, but the owl lingered outside Hannibal’s window each night, haunting him with its mournful “hooo-hooo-hoot” and reminding him of his treachery. Although he was permitted to stay on the property for another full year until Dr. Halstead took possession, Hannibal fled the area and was never heard from again.

Locals claim that the cries of the white owl still heard today echoing across Hampton Lake, Heaton Field and Whiteside Mountain prove that Loesa kept her word and never left her beloved home.

The Enchanted Lake at Clingmans Dome

Clingmans Dome is the highest point in Great Smoky Mountains National Park and from the observation tower you can take in breathtaking 360° views of the Smokies. But this story isn’t about what you can see from there, but rather what you cannot.

According to Cherokee legend, an enchanted lake shimmers near the base of the dome. This area was known to them as Kuwa-Hi or “Mulberry Place” and when the forest canopy yielded its summer greens to autumn golds, woodland creatures would meet there to dance and commune. Chief among them was the Great White Bear who served as a guide and healer. He infused the lake with medicinal powers that could heal sick and wounded animals, even rejuvenating those struck with otherwise fatal blows. The wise bear knew the salutary waters would also attract unwelcome visitors, including hunters, so he cast a cloak of invisibility upon the lake, obscuring it from the human eye. But a young Cherokee - a boy pure of heart and spirit - took vigil there in hopes of seeing that which was hidden. When he opened his eyes, a lake of glistening violet water was revealed to him.

Today, it’s said that a cool morning mist rising from the lake can be seen from the top of Clingmans Dome. Over the years longtime residents have reported finding water-lily blossoms where they otherwise wouldn’t belong. If you visit Clingmans Dome and gaze upon the forest below, perhaps – if your spirit is pure – the Enchanted Lake will reveal itself to you.

What Lies Beneath Fontana Lake

Our journey of 23 tales began on The Road to Nowhere so it seems most appropriate to close with a murky legend from the depths of Fontana Lake. When Old Highway 288 was submerged to form the 10,000-acre lake, several small towns, including Proctor, Forney, Almond and Japan went down with it.

Just a few weeks before the heavens transfigured from sky to water, a photographer captured photos of family members on their farm in Japan. The curious name of this town stems not from the nation six thousand nautical miles west, but rather from the lesser-known Japan Clover that flourished there in 1908. Click here to soak in scenes of kids walking barefoot on a dirt road while a classic car makes it way by and feel the summer breeze as family members cool off on the front porch.

While dust no longer kicks up on their roads, remnants of these small towns remain entombed in the watery fathoms of Fontana Lake, and stories of their residents live on. Some say that on a quiet night you can still hear the laughter of children and creaking of rocking chairs as settlers rest their bones after a long day on the farm. Want to experience this bit of history for yourself? Click here to learn about Cable Cove and join in on the tradition of Decoration Day.

The Complete Set of 23 Tales

Check out our previous issues of Mountain Time in the Smokys for more:

• January/February Issue: The Road to Nowhere, Place of the Blue Smoke, Bunk, Furry Forecasters & Judaculla Rock.

• March/April/May Issue: Legend of the Boojum, Madstones, The Duke of Asheville, The Giant Yellow Jacket & Brown Mountain Lights.

• June/July Issue: The White Squirrel, Cold Mountain, The Moon Eyed People, & The Wampus Cat,

• August/September: The Devil’s Courthouse, The Voices of Roan Mountain, The Phantom Hitchhiker & Decoration Day at Cable Cemetery