Covered Bridge marks 142 years of flood-resistent community service

Treasured landmark spared devastation from Hurricane Helene

In Elizabethton, Tennessee, the Covered Bridge is an iconic representation of community and cultural memory. Images of the bridge are reproduced in the city seal, and are on stationery and letterhead for city communications mailed to residents. It is not uncommon to drive past the Covered Bridge and see folks posing in front of it to commemorate a prom or an engagement. Each Christmas and July 4th the bridge is decked out with wreaths, lights, and buntings. It is a part of community celebrations that reinforce the rituals that communities create to maintain connections within themselves to the place they live. The bridge also serves as a landmark and gathering place for parades, festivals, and events that reinforce a sense of belonging and shared social memories for community members. The Covered Bridge reminds us that our individual stories are part of a larger, connective network of stories. As the late American author bell hooks wrote in her 1995 book, Art on my Mind: Visual Politics, “Architecture is a dwelling place for your spirit.” Places like the Covered Bridge, which are imbued with our feelings about our personal and communal history, act as living cultural documents where we continuously write and rewrite in an act of ritual remembering. 

— Rebecca Proffitt

Appalachian folklorist, researcher, and Elizabethton resident

For 142 years, The historic Covered Bridge in Elizabethton, Tennessee, has defied the odds of survival during numerous catastrophic floods along the Doe River. It did so again on Friday, Sept. 27, 2024, during major flooding caused by Hurricane Helene, which washed away homes, businesses and other bridges upstream. (Photo taken from a video by Rebecca Proffitt)

By Ophelia Thornton

Shortly before the Doe River reaches its confluence with the Watauga River, it flows under what is arguably Upper East Tennessee’s most photographed architectural feature — the Elizabethton Covered Bridge. The river’s more than 20-mile run through Carter County was swollen and muddy on Thursday, Sept. 26, a day before the worst of torrential rains from Hurricane Helene. Major floods are infrequent along the Doe, but when they come, they destroy developments and have taken lives.  

Heavy rains were already raising the water level along the Doe River in this photo of the Covered Bridge taken on Thursday, Sept. 26. (Photo captured from video contributed by Teresa Treadway)

By Friday, the raging and rising river carried worrisome amounts of debris

through Elizabethton from destructive flooding upstream. Residents grew anxious for the Covered Bridge and gathered around it in helpless solidarity. The scene was a repeat of previous floods that also lifted turbulent water to within inches of the 142-year-old wooden span. Objects such as cars, buildings and trees, swept up with the unrelenting force of fast and troubled water, had destroyed homes, property and bridges upriver. But the anticipated violent demise of the Covered Bridge never materialized, providing a much-needed reason to smile amid the grim reality of community-erasing destruction elsewhere. 

The Doe River at normal water level in early November, more than a month after floodwaters had subsided. (Photo by Ophelia Thornton)

Carter County borders North Carolina to the East and is roughly five miles south of Virginia. Elizabethton, the county seat, is home to Sycamore Shoals State Historic Park, a crucial site in American Revolutionary history. Early settlers established one of America’s first ever constitutional governments at Sycamore Shoals in 1772, the Watauga Association. In 1780 the Overmountain Men, a militia group of Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee volunteers, mustered at Sycamore Shoals. Carter County locals supplied them with food, gunpowder, and other supplies as they prepared for battle. They went on to defeat British loyalists in the Battle of Musgrove Mill and the Battle of Kings Mountain in South Carolina.   

Just over a century later in 1882, the Covered Bridge was built. After the Civil War, the people of Elizabethton sought to expand the boundaries of their village but were halted by Lynn Mountain to the east and the Doe River to the west. Ideas for a bridge started to make their way around town. One of the first to try to bring these ideas into reality was local physician George E.E. Hunter. When the Doe flooded, Dr.Hunter could not reach patients across the river. He and four other locals contracted the bridge project. They chose Colonel Thomas Matson, who designed railroad construction in New York City, to engineer the construction. It cost about $3,000 to build and netted its contractors only $5, thus earning the nickname “the five-dollar bridge.”

The bridge in the winter of 1965. (Library of Congress photo by Jack Boucher)

The bridge was built with the Doe’s flood potential in mind. According to a 1939 article in the Elizabethton Star, “massive oak pieces were used in the floor, fastened together by enormous steel spikes. Vertical wooden frameworks form the skeleton, over which the heavy weather-boarding was placed.” Even in 1939, covered bridges were beginning to fade out of style, with most being destroyed to make room for steadily increasing commercial traffic. The article notes that to a civil engineer of the late 1930s, the level of attention to detail applied to the construction design for the Covered Bridge would seem ridiculous. But it was that attention that allowed it to withstand a major flood just a few decades before in 1901.

In terms of historic crests of the Doe River at Elizabethton, the Sept. 27, 2024, level was well above the 10-foot mark considered “major” by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. From the river gauge at Elizabethton, NOAA’s National Water Prediction Service lists the recent flood as causing the Doe’s second highest crest in the town at 10.84 feet. The highest crest measured by the Elizabethton gauge (10.92 feet) was recorded in the early morning hours of Jan. 8, 1998, when seven inches of rain that fell overnight caused catastrophic flooding and killed seven people in Carter County.  

Floods in 1901, 1977, and 2003 also recorded historic crests at Elizabethton (10.50 feet, 9.34 feet, and 8.20 feet, respectively) causing concern for the city’s most treasured architectural feature.  

The extent of the most recent storm’s devastation was unexpected. Flash floods ravaged large Southeastern regions destroying homes, leaving thousands without power, and claiming more than 230 lives. In Southern Appalachia the degree of loss and devastation was unprecedented. In Western North Carolina and East Tennessee, lives have been put on hold with businesses and critical infrastructure throughout the region destroyed or damaged. In Carter County, homes and businesses near the Doe saw the most damage. Residents living on the river lost power early and were a top priority for evacuation efforts.  

As water from Hurricane Helene was bringing the Doe so dangerously close to the Covered Bridge, Elizabethton residents came out to witness and record the foreboding conditions. Among the concerned citizens was Rebecca Proffitt, director of the Reece Museum at East Tennessee State University (ETSU). A folklorist and scholar of Appalachian Studies, Proffitt has researched the relationships between cultural markers and community identity. The flooding so near to her home was providing a real-time case study involving her community’s close relationship to its iconic landmark. 

Proffitt provided for this article a chronology of the events that she recorded in photographs, video and words while she and other residents watched as the river came out of its banks at Covered Bridge Park in Elizabethton. 

One of the many official warnings that Proffitt received on her phone over social media during the flood. (Photo by Rebecca Proffitt)

As she began hearing about the possibility of a strong storm through weather notifications on her phone, Proffitt kept in touch with museum staff, stocked up on nonperishable foods and tracked developments related to Hurricane Helene. “I felt very prepared and ready for winds, lots of rain, and loss of electricity,” she said. 

The storm began to build on Friday with dense and heavy clouds. “I sat on the floor beside my glass storm door with all of my pets around me and just watched,” Proffitt said. 

Throughout the morning, Proffitt and her family kept each other updated with minute-by-minute screenshots of important news. Every few minutes, Proffitt's phone would light up with notifications of evacuations, flash-flood emergencies, and posts warning of large debris. By noon, conditions had calmed in Elizabethton, and residents were warned of rising river levels.

The Elk Avenue Bridge, located just downstream of the Covered Bridge, was closed as the Doe River was cresting during the flood. (Photo by Rebecca Proffitt)

That afternoon, she decided to take a walk and see the bridge for what she thought might be the last time. “As I got closer to the Covered Bridge Park, I saw road closures and barricades; trucks and emergency vehicles all along the shoulders of the roads,” she said. “There was a feeling in my chest that I can’t quite identify, as I thought about saying goodbye to the bridge, and what it would feel like to walk my dog in that park if the bridge wasn’t there anymore.”

Crowds of other residents were in the park, most of them fixated on the bridge. Covered Bridge Days, a long-standing festival in Elizabethton, had been held the weekend before. Many people were using their phones to take photos or FaceTime the flooding event to friends or relatives. “Everyone I overheard in the crowd seemed to agree that we were seeing the end of the old bridge’s life that day, and were there to bear witness,” Proffitt said. While at the park, Proffitt captured this video showing the intensity of the Doe that afternoon:

The shared concern for the bridge, according to local historian Teresa Treadway, reflects its essential nature as a backdrop to everyday life in Elizabethton. Treadway relates to the bridge as a key element of her childhood. “I would look out the (car) windows, begging my dad to not take the normal route home, but to go through the Covered Bridge and blow the horn,” she said. 

Treadway chronicled the local flooding on her Facebook page and on the group page, “Carter County and Elizabethton Genealogy and History.” Many user comments under photos of the bridge reflected anxiety over whether it would survive the storm. “I am so thankful this last flood didn't take it out,” Treadway said. “I know a lot of people were holding their breath and watching the river there to make sure it wasn't harmed.”

Joseph Penza, archivist for the Elizabethton/Carter County Public Library, has spent more than a decade collecting records relevant to preserving local history. He often assists residents in learning more about their family histories and leads library programs for children. Penza told Appalachian Places that the Covered Bridge is often a source of study and inspiration during such programs. “We recently had kids here after the flood, and we held an art program in the meeting room so they could come and do a puzzle or color,” Penza said. “We had a Play-Doh station for the little kids, and one of them built an amazing Play-Doh Covered Bridge.” 

Penza said the bridge’s history of community involvement, from construction to maintenance and restoration, is a testament to how residents have long cared for it. “They put a tin roof on it sometime between 1926 and the early ’40s,” he said. “That was all donated time, donated lumber. The rail lines moved the lumber here free of charge. So, there’s always been a community involvement in maintaining the covered bridge.” 

Elizabethton took care of the bridge — and sometimes it returned the favor. In May of 1901, the devastating flooding along the Doe left many residents without homes. With all other bridges along the Doe taken out by the flood, the Covered Bridge provided a critical crossing to higher ground. There was the expectation during that flood that the bridge might fall. If it had, Penza said the resulting debris could have created a dam effect and caused worse flooding in the downtown area.  

“It’s a symbol of longevity,” he said. “It’s a symbol of Appalachian construction that it was built right and built to last.” 

Indeed, the bridge’s survival against incredible odds has been an enduring feature of stories recorded about the structure for most of its history. As recently as last year, Penza mentioned the bridge’s longevity during a segment about the structure on local TV station WJHL. 

“I think the symbol of strength that it’s become — because it survived these natural disasters, survives the test of time — endears it more to the community,” Penza said. 

Ophelia Thornton is a student in the Master’s in Appalachian Studies program at East Tennessee State University, and a staff member for Appalachian Places. She holds a master’s degree in Secondary English Education and has taught history in Tennessee public schools. Mark Rutledge contributed to this article.