The Stanfield Tunnel
By Matthew Baker
The late Robert Preleau Stanfield was proud of
his roots.
He was born on January 13, 1922, to Harley and Esther Holland
Stanfield in the Cullasaja community of Macon County. Robert
lived in several different places, serving overseas during WWII,
and worked in the automobile industry in Michigan for many
years, but Macon County was his home.
He was born on January 13, 1922, to Harley and Esther Holland
Stanfield in the Cullasaja community of Macon County. Robert
lived in several different places, serving overseas during WWII,
and worked in the automobile industry in Michigan for many
years, but Macon County was his home.
One afternoon, Robert sat in his recliner and looked out of
his living room window upon the apple orchard and the fields
of Cullasaja. He worked hard there as a youngster, plowing
with a team of mules, or working in the family orchard.
Robert spent
much of his youth in the Stanfield apple
orchard. Apple-growing is a Stanfield tradition which dates
to the late 1800’s. Harley Stanfield’s father and grandfather
harvested apples on land that Robert managed until his death.
orchard. Apple-growing is a Stanfield tradition which dates
to the late 1800’s. Harley Stanfield’s father and grandfather
harvested apples on land that Robert managed until his death.
When the first Stanfield harvested an apple, none of the
varieties that we are familiar with such as Striped Red
Delicious, Black Twig, Winter Queen, Red Delicious, or
Golden Delicious apple trees existed in the Stanfield
Orchard; it was simply called the Cullasaja apple and was
Cullasaja trees left in the orchard, and for many years
after they were gone, folks would ask, “Do you have
any of those great tasting Cullasaja apples left?”
trees, and stretched nearly from Peaceful Cove to Nickajack.
During a healthy harvest, the orchard produced plenty of
apples, paid the bills, and kept the Stanfield family up
during lean times.
Apples were a staple in the country kitchen during the
Great Depression. Apple butter, apple preserves, apple
dumplings, apple pies, and more treats were common
recipes of the time. In those days, a bushel of apples
sold for one dollar. There was very little cost in growing
apples because the trees had to be sprayed only a couple of
growers did not exist in those days.
market in Atlanta to be sold and often rode to Bryson City
and Yellow Branch where his father had a store and sold
apples. Robert’s father had a Model T truck with tall side
railings that was loaded with apples, candy, and drinks.
They would stay an entire week in Bryson City, selling and
In 1929, when Robert was eight-years-old, his father
faced a huge problem. The orchard was ready to produce
an early crop and a bountiful one. The previous building
that he had used for storing and preserving the apples
had fallen apart, and he didn’t have the money to
build a new concrete one like he wanted. Harley decided
to dig a tunnel, a naturally-refrigerated storage unit,
to preserve hundreds of bushels of apples. In winter
and summer, the apples needed to be stored at a
consistent fifty-five degrees to be preserved.
distance of the apple orchard where there was very
little rock in the dirt. The soil consisted of vermiculite,
a mineral that’s soft and easy to dig through. Harley’s
wife told him that it would take to the next growing
season to dig through that hill. A neighbor, Andy Evans,
got word of the project and flatly told Harley, “It can’t be
done. You‘ll miss the middle by a mile!”
Robert’s father had mining experience and knew a lot
about moving dirt. He had worked in a mine several years e
arlier in eastern Tennessee when a mining shaft caved in
on him and his coworker. Harley and his friend were trapped
for two days, and his friend died. Harley lay in a hospital
in eastern Tennessee for weeks, near death. He was crippled
for the rest of his life, but somehow, when it came to dirt
and digging ditches or tunnels, he came alive.
together, and they started digging one August morning at
dawn. The only tools used in the digging were a pick,
shovel, and a wheelbarrow. The tunnel was dug from
each end to limit the amount of dirt that had to be pushed.
No instruments were used to keep the tunnel in alignment
and so the two ends would meet in the middle.
and so the two ends would meet in the middle.
Harley told his
boys to go to the cornfield and collect
some corn stalks. Two metal posts were placed at each
end of the tunnel project, and the cornstalks were laid
in a straight line between the posts. Harley checked
frequently and made sure he was digging at the right
place. His only tools were a pick and a mattock. The
tunnel was not a community project. “No one else
struck a lick,” Robert recalled. “Just Dad!”
some corn stalks. Two metal posts were placed at each
end of the tunnel project, and the cornstalks were laid
in a straight line between the posts. Harley checked
frequently and made sure he was digging at the right
place. His only tools were a pick and a mattock. The
tunnel was not a community project. “No one else
struck a lick,” Robert recalled. “Just Dad!”
Buddy had a bigger wagon that he could ride down
the hill when it was full. Robert remembered that his
father dug from sunup to sundown, stopping only for lunch
and supper. He would return in the evening with an oil lamp
a ceiling height ranging from seven to eight feet, in eleven
days. With the help of his sons, he moved nearly twelve
feet of dirt per day. There were no supports or framing
put in the ceiling to keep it from caving in, and there
still aren’t any in the tunnel today.
the wagon, when his father broke through the middle
of the tunnel with a blast of air rushing through. The
work Harley and his boys completed without any
instruments was precise; the ends of the tunnel met
in the middle without an inch of error. When Harley
had the tunnel in, he remembered the man who had said, “It can’t be
done!” Then Harley hollered at Andy Evans, “The tunnel is in and you got
to come see it!”
were kept closed in the winter and kept open in the
summer to regulate the temperature. Bill Bryson
built several wooden boxes that lined the walls of
the tunnel and held the apples.
Shortly after the tunnel was finished, some mining
experts from out of the state came to look at the tunnel
and see for themselves the tunnel that Harley Stanfield
had built. They scratched their heads and proclaimed,
“There is no way one man could have built it!” Harley
accomplished what no other able-bodied man was willing
or able to do.
The tunnel was
a naturally-refrigerated storage unit
that worked like a charm. Once Robert left some apples
there for two years, and remarkably the fruit was in
perfect shape, just like it was the day it was picked.
that worked like a charm. Once Robert left some apples
there for two years, and remarkably the fruit was in
perfect shape, just like it was the day it was picked.
what his father accomplished. “It’s especially amazing
to me, and I was there each day to see what was going on!”
Eighty-six years later, the tunnel is a testament to
old-time craftsmanship and dogged determination,
characteristics that were required for survival in those
days. The Stanfield tunnel still stands today, each swing
of the pick still visible on the tunnel walls. One evening
as I was walking through it, I asked my guide, Gary
Stanfield, “Is it safe?”
many a storm. it will probably be here another eighty-six!”
Gary replied.
Many things have become easier with progress,
but tending to an apple orchard is much more difficult.
Today, only a few of the apple trees that Robert’s father
planted in 1921 still exist. Growing apples, like any other
form of agriculture, is much more expensive today.
Cutworms and Maggie-worms, two major threats to apple
but tending to an apple orchard is much more difficult.
Today, only a few of the apple trees that Robert’s father
planted in 1921 still exist. Growing apples, like any other
form of agriculture, is much more expensive today.
Cutworms and Maggie-worms, two major threats to apple
As a result of intensive spraying and crop losses due to
frost during the last several years, apples cost about
twenty-dollars a bushel, a little more than the
dollar-a-bushel they cost in 1921.
Robert sat in his easy chair, smoking a cigarette and
gazing over the old orchard, the memories seemed to
roll by like the wind on a cool autumn day. “Could
anyone today accomplish what you, your father, and
your brother did?” I asked.
The old man rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t believe so!”
How could one crippled man and his two boys
accomplish such a feat as the Stanfield tunnel? In those days,
folks were tough, and boys hauled dirt in red wagons. Hard
work, determination, and guts, the traits that were common
then but rare today, got the job done.
****
(I was fortunate to know Gary Stanfield
as a co-worker,
and I sat with Robert for several hours and listened to his
memories. Gary passed away on August 10, 2013, and his
father, Robert, died a short time later on April 22, 2014.
They are both gone but not forgotten.)
( Matthew Baker is the author of My
Mountain Heroes;
Stories of Inspiration and Courage from Macon County’s
Greatest Generation. He will be signing books at the Read
Local book fair which will be held at the Macon County
Library on September 8th from 10:00 A.M. until 1:00P.M.)
and I sat with Robert for several hours and listened to his
memories. Gary passed away on August 10, 2013, and his
father, Robert, died a short time later on April 22, 2014.
They are both gone but not forgotten.)
Stories of Inspiration and Courage from Macon County’s
Greatest Generation. He will be signing books at the Read
Local book fair which will be held at the Macon County
Library on September 8th from 10:00 A.M. until 1:00P.M.)
