Sunday in Adams, Tennessee, feels like stepping back in time. The kind of day where everything slows down just enough to appreciate the land, the history, and the people who’ve called this place home for generations.
We started the morning at Red River Baptist Church, a place that’s been standing since 1791, watching over the banks of the Red River. There’s something special about worshipping in a place with that much history—knowing that generations before us sat in those pews, sang those hymns, and bowed their heads in prayer just like we did today.
After church, we headed over to Moses’s, a cozy little spot inside the old Bell School, which was built in 1920 on land donated by the Bell family. It served as a high school until 1949, and now it serves up some of the best food around. Sitting there, sipping sweet tea and watching folks greet each other like family, I was reminded of what small-town life is all about.
With full bellies, we took to the countryside, winding down roads lined with rolling farmland. Adams has deep roots in Tennessee’s tobacco history, and you can still see traces of it in the fields and old barns. This area was at the heart of the Black Patch War, a time when farmers stood up against the American Tobacco Company.
Tobacco prices had dropped so low that farmers were barely getting by, so Felix Ewing, a wealthy planter from Adams, led a movement to fight back. He convinced farmers to join a protective association, refusing to sell their tobacco until they got a fair price. But not everyone played along, and that’s when things got rough.
The night riders, masked men on horseback, took matters into their own hands. They raided farms, burned barns, and even dynamited equipment. It was a full-scale rebellion right here in western Tennessee and Kentucky, all over dark-fired tobacco. Eventually, things settled, but the legacy of that fight still lingers in the stories passed down through families.
As we drove past the old Glenraven Plantation and through Port Royal, another tobacco town with its own storied past, I couldn’t help but appreciate the resilience of the people who built this community. Farming has never been easy, but folks around here have always found a way to stand their ground.
We ended the day just driving, windows down, letting the breeze carry us.
Sunday afternoon drives are the best—no rush, no distractions, just time to soak in the beauty of the land and the stories that shaped it.
In a world that moves too fast, Adams reminds me that sometimes, the best thing you can do is slow down and enjoy the ride.
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