Thanksgiving 2013 My journey to Whitwell, TN and Atlanta, GA – Whitwell

While this entry won’t describe a trip quite as distant or exotic as traveling to Siberia, I did take an interesting detour on my Thanksgiving trip to Atlanta. I took an extra day and stopped in Whitwell (pronounced ‘witwul’), TN. What, you may be wondering, would prompt me to go to Whitwell and where in tarnation is it?

The answer to the first question is the Children’s Holocaust Memorial that’s behind Whitwell Middle School – a product of the school’s Holocaust project that began in 1998. Regarding the second, it’s

just a bit northwest of Chattanooga.

Before I write about Whitwell and the Children’s Holocaust Memorial I’m going to relate a bit about my drive. Of course, leaving from the Washington metropolitan area regardless of the time of day you’re bound to encounter a traffic delay somewhere. And I did. There were two accidents on I-66 eastbound that created a four-mile westbound rubbernecking backup. In the scheme of things, the delay was minor but rubbernecking simply irritates me. After I got through the traffic, the drive was mostly uneventful.

Those of you who have followed my overseas adventures know I like to take pictures of interesting, confusing, or surprisingly translated signs. Well, I found an interesting instance on the road to Tennessee. Just past the junction of I-81 and I-77 toward Charlotte, the two interstates share a common road. However, as the signs indicate,

while you are driving on I-81 south, you are sharing the road with I-77 north. I will welcome any explanation that clarifies how drivers can travel north and south simultaneously.

Don’t you think someone might have thought to call it I-77 west? Or I-81 west?

My overnight stop was at the Quality Inn in the intriguingly named Bull’s Gap Tennessee. Turns out the explanation for the name is quite prosaic. A gunsmith named John Bull settled in the area and made his home in the gap between the mountains. As the community grew up around him it became known as Bull’s Gap. I got off the interstate, followed the signs directing me to the Quality Inn, and looked around. I saw a Super 8 and an Interstate Inn but no Quality Inn. What do you do in a situation like this? Pull into the Taco Bell across the street, pick up a Cantina Bowl for a late dinner and ask directions. “Way-ll,” said the counter person, “there’s a Quality Inn in Greeneville.”

“No, I have a reservation for a Quality Inn in Bull’s Gap,” I replied.

“I could ask my manager.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The manager told me to try the Interstate Inn. She thought it might be in the process of changing from Interstate to Quality. And indeed it was. Checking in led to this interesting exchange when I asked if the room had wi-fi.

“It does and I think your room is in the front of the hotel so the signal should be strong as long as there’s not a lot of people trying to use it at the same time. We had a problem with that a few days ago but let me check the floor plan.”

“Thanks.”

Then he told me I should look for one of four networks two of which had Q I in the name and two others that I didn’t remember. “Oh,” he added, “if none of those work, use the Best Western network because we used to be a Best Western.” Best Western, Interstate, Quality Inn. Had I found a motel going through some kind of identity crisis? By the way, the correct network turned out to be Best Western.

Tuesday morning, I went to the hotel lobby to partake of the complimentary breakfast. Apparently, I was in the lobby during the shift change because a woman came in and said, “Oh, that coffee pot is calling my name.”

After an appropriate pause I chimed out, “So your name is Fred?”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard the coffee pot call out Fred.”

Then I got this surprising reply, “Well, my middle name is Fredora and when my family wants to get under my skin, they call me Fred.”

“So,” I replied, “it must have been calling your name. Just be careful it doesn’t get under your skin later.” She chuckled. When I checked out, she said I had made her day that she liked customers who just went with it. We chatted for a few minutes before I set out for my real destination in Tennessee, Whitwell.

The school complex is easy to locate. You simply exit I-24 onto state road 28 north and drive about nine miles. About seven miles along, you’ll pass this sign (which is not from a photo I took and you can tell because it’s a sunny day).

About two miles (maybe less) farther along route 28 the complex of all the Whitwell schools (elementary, middle, & high school) appears on the left.

I first learned about the Memorial when I saw the 2004 documentary Paper Clips. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the project, it began in 1998 when the middle school’s principal, Linda Hooper, wanted to begin a program that would teach the students of this small largely homogenous community about tolerance and diversity. She sent an eighth-grade history teacher, David Smith, to a conference and he returned suggesting they teach an after school course about the Holocaust. Language Arts teacher Sandra Roberts joined Smith as they began their lessons in October.

Early on, one of the students opined that he couldn’t grasp the reality of six million Jews killed. The number simply overwhelmed him and the other students agreed. Roberts supported an idea that the students find an object they could try to collect to reach that number. Learning about some of the compassionate people who secretly aided or supported the Jews as they were being persecuted, they came across a symbolic gesture made by Norwegians after the Nazis invaded that country. The paper clip was invented by a Norwegian in Norway. As the Jewish population had to wear a yellow Star of David, many Norwegians took to wearing a paper clip to express solidarity with their Jewish countrymen. One student suggested they try to collect 6,000,000 paper clips.

The students brought paper clips from home. They set up a web page asking for help. They began writing to survivors and celebrities. By the end of the first year, they had collected several hundred letters and documents along with about 700,000 paper clips. The teachers realized that at this rate it would require nine years to reach their goal. They considered reducing the goal to 1,500,000 to symbolize just the number of children who were killed.

Then, two journalists stepped in. Peter Schroeder and Dagmar Schroeder-Hildebrand. They began publishing articles. They contacted Dita Smith of the Washington Post who traveled to Whitwell and published an article. Next, NBC news picked up the story airing it on its Nightly News program. In the next six weeks the school received over 24,000,000 paper clips requiring everyone in the community to join the count. The volume of mail exploded to over 25,000 letters and notes – all of which have been cataloged and placed in binders in the school. Counting stopped when the total reached 30,000,000 paper clips.

One night at dinner, Principal Hooper made an off the cuff remark wishing they could find an authentic German rail car to house the paper clips as a memorial. The Schroeders volunteered to locate one which, after considerable effort, they did. They then purchased the car and donated it to the school. After unexpected displays of generosity, the car made its way from Germany via a Norwegian freighter through the port of Baltimore to Whitwell where it currently sits outside the school on tracks made in Tennessee in 1943. The tracks, located by CSX, were modified to accommodate the wider gauge of European rail cars.

The car itself houses 11,000,000 paper clips weighing more than 12 tons. They’re displayed together with other artifacts survivors sent. Eleven million represents six million Jews and five million homosexuals, gypsies, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and others who died in the Holocaust. The children involved in the project carefully selected the paper clips to include in the memorial and the sculpture on the left houses another 6,000,000 paper clips. Though you can see more of my photos here, some of you might want to consider watching the film or even a visit of your own.

After my visit, I stopped by Hardee’s to grab some lunch. Not typically a noteworthy experience except that it marked a nice moment of small-town southern hospitality. I ordered the fish combo and then asked about the extra cost to get a large drink. “Oh, hon,” she replied, “I’ll just give you the large cup.”

With that, I set off for Atlanta.

Note: In keeping with my 2022 reformation of the blog into shorter entries, backdated to maintain their sequence, any comments on this post might pertain to its new configuration. See the full explanation in the post Conventions and Conversions.