Cottontown Tennessee, is a beautiful area of forests, farms, and rural homes in northern Middle Tennessee. Cottontown today is an unincorporated country community whose boundaries are defined by the United States Postal Service zone. Cottontown is approximately forty-five square miles, bordered by the cities of Gallatin, Hendersonville, Whitehouse, Cross Plains, and Portland.
The community of Cottontown was founded by settler Thomas Cotton, who received a Revolutionary War land grant for his service in the United States Continental Army. Thomas and his wife, Priscilla, settled on this land called ‘The Southwest Territory’ in 1795. A year later, the Southwest Territory was granted statehood and became the state of Tennessee. The 1792 Sumner County tax records reveal that Thomas Cotton was awarded 1,280 acres of land by the United States.
In this book, there are representations of both current and historical Cottontown families, their homes, churches, farms, and Cottontown’s wildlife and woodlands. In my opinion, it would take several volumes of books to place all the history, beauty, and wonder of Cottontown into print. I have carefully selected a representation of the people and land, to preserve the past and the present Cottontown in photographs and in their own words. I hope others will build on thiseffort to further preserve the history of Cottontown and its people.
Local artifacts of the early Archaic, Woodland natives, as well as those of the Shawnee and Cherokee Indians who frequented or lived in the area, were discovered by settlers and families in Cottontown over the last 230 years. Documenting their early habitation of this land was made possible with the help of families who still live in Cottontown, who provided artifacts discovered by their ancestors in Cottontown.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time.
He has also set eternity in the human heart;
yet no one can fathom what God
has done from beginning to end.”Ecclesiastes 3:11
In 1916, LIGGETT started a produce peddling route in Cottontown, using one horse to alight wagon. Later he advanced to a two-horse wagon. The wagon this scribe can remember was pulled by a team of small white mules. He kept a brass bugle, on the seat beside him, that he blew to alert the customers that he was near their house. Everyone was a friend to him; he laughed easily, was very jolly, and would crow like a rooster for us kids. If the truth were known, he gave away as much candy as he sold. He had a route for each day of the week except Friday. This day was set aside to haul the eggs, chickens, hams and calves to market that he had either bought or traded groceries for during the week. He hauled this load to Nashville on a solid rubber tired, snub-nosed Mack truck. His son, Leonard, recalled to me that his daddy played his banjo for nearly every square dance in the county.“ The Gallatin News-Examiner Wednesday, April 18, 1979. By David Collier.
My mother was a farm girl from Lick Log Hollow, located on the border between West Virginia and Kentucky. My father was a farm boy in Fields, Louisiana, before World War II. We were a fairly poor family for a while, living on
government subsidies for a lot of the time, which included powdered eggs, a log of some kind of cheese, and, of course, the famous bologna roll. It built character, and living in diverse communities provided great life
lessons and values as well.
Moved to California when I was eleven and grew up in a small town called Brea in Orange County. Brea had horse pastures, farms, and barns, and the largest cow pasture was directly across the street from my high school, which provided a great smell during hot summer football practices. I hiked and explored the countryside, looking for lakes or streams, but none were found.
Today, Brea’s once-farms are now huge shopping malls covering acres. Every available piece of land is now developed into apartments, tract homes, and
commercial businesses and shops. I used to drive through farms and pastures on my way to work as a young deputy sheriff. Today, virtually every square
mile, except for the park preserves, is developed in Orange County. You now drive from city to city on continuous asphalt/ concrete land. Orange County has 791 square miles of land, with a population of 3.17 million,
resulting in an average of over 4,000 people per square mile.
My son moved to Gallatin six years ago, and my daughter moved to Franklin Road on the outskirts of Cottontown. With all my grandchildren and kids here, Cindy and I moved to Cottontown. What a blessing Cottontown has been; its people and land are a treasure to this twice-removed guy.
Through my travels and interactions with Cottontowners,
I gained insight into their family bonds, values, and character. I also learned about their concerns regarding growth in nearby cities and their desire to preserve their community. I wasn’t aware of the potential for growth in Cottontown until I learned about it from the community. Seeing how my small town changed in Orange County brought concern to me here in Cottontown. A county commissioner told me that Cottontown is the “Jewel of Sumner County.” He told me there are 24 commissioners in Sumner, and nine are fighting to preserve Cottontown as it is today.
I was troubled about growth here, partially due to my previous location and my future plans to leave my home and land to my son and daughter for their children. Recently, seeing a hundred-acre farm sold and now replaced with twenty homes on Watt Nolen Road really bothered me. So, I decided to document Cottontown today to preserve in photos and words its wonderful history and the spacious lands and beautiful soul it has today.
Wow! What a journey this has been. Sitting on the front or back porch, in their living rooms, or walking with Cottontown family members on their farm or fields, I learned of their past, present, and what they want for their future.
This book is a modest contribution to my stated goal, but I hope it will inspire other ‘Cottontowners’ to emulate their early settler ancestors and work hard to preserve the land they call home.
Godspeed, Cottontown, may your rich, fertile fields, forested tree-filled hills, and people keep this land a wonder that it is.
William Herrin
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