Rodney, Mississippi: A Fire that Never Goes Out, Part I.

Eudora Welty once wrote, "A place that ever was lived in is like a fire that never goes out."  Demographics, population maps, census figures---all would argue to the contrary.  It takes people to make a place, doesn't it?  But does it matter if those people are long dead?  Can the spirit of a place ever fully be lost?  Is it possible for a place to hold the emotions, memories, and passions of the people who once resided in it long after those people are gone?

I first learned of Rodney, Mississippi through the works of Eudora Welty.  Beginning with "A Worn Path" in my high school American lit class, I progressed to The Optomist's Daughter on my own, and was eventually presented with Welty's marvelous autobiography and testament on a writing life while in college.  My favorite professor happened to be one of the definitive Welty scholars.  Yet none of her works quite ignited my imagination as when I finally read The Robber Bridegroom and her short stories based on Mississippi River Country, as she called it, stories like "A Wide Net," "At the Landing," and "Asphodel."  Entranced by the mythic nature of the Natchez Trace and a colorful history of Mississippi's frontier entitled The Outlaw Years, Welty created fiction that could not really be deemed historical, more of a dream of a time once past, as if fairy tale, history, and folklore collided and produced something not meant to recreate but to inspire.  Welty demonstrates the intermingling of history and literature, the harmonious weaving of fact and fiction into something almost otherworldly.  I cannot recall whether it was my love of literature that led to my love of history or my appreciation for history that spawned my literary obsessions, perhaps because they can never be mutually exclusive.  To say anything of any import as a writer, one must have a sense of history without being held captive by its boundaries.  For me, Welty embodied the truth that comes when history and literature combine.

Eudora Welty, Jackson, MS, 1978 (William Ferris).

Welty traveled to Rodney by herself in the family car.  It was like entering a bygone world, another age.  When she visited Rodney, few people remained, but in her imagination the town and its environs were populated with river pirates, frontiersmen, robbers, Indians, farmers, maidens, and adventurers.  In her mind, she saw more than the vestiges left of the once thriving town.

Photo by Marion Post Wolcott, 1940.

Situated about thirty-two miles northeast of Natchez, Rodney, Mississippi was a bustling river town, one of the most important ports between New Orleans and St. Louis.  Steamboats docked on its banks, carrying cargoes of cotton and statesmen like Andrew Jackson, Henry Clay, and Zachary Taylor.  Initially known as Petit Gulf for the little eddy in the river before it, in 1828 it was re-christened in honor of Thomas Rodney, a territorial judge of Mississippi who presided over Aaron Burr's trial.  A true frontier town, Rodney attracted bachelors intent on making their fortunes and adventurers setting out to make a new life.  Duels were fought on the sandbar in the river, and people of all backgrounds, classes, and creeds passed through on the many steamboats traveling the mighty river.  

Rodney was a cotton port that grew up in the realm of many large plantations, including Rush Nutt's Laurel Hill, David Hunt's Woodlawn, Zachary Taylor's Buena Vista, and Smith Coffee Daniell's Windsor.  Petit Gulf cotton originated in Rodney and commanded a high price, as it was immune to rot.  Its reputation was particularly well known in England.  Rodney resident and inventor Dr. Rush Nutt also perfected Eli Whitney's cotton gin.

Photo by Marion Post Wolcott, 1940.

Rodney reached its zenith in the 1850s, boasting 1,000 residents, two banks, two newspapers, and a hotel.  The first opera house in the state of Mississippi made its debut at Rodney.  Churches were established, first Rodney Presbyterian in 1829 and later Sacred Heart Catholic Church and Mt. Zion Baptist Church.  The town suffered from fire, yellow fever epidemics, and cholera outbreaks, yet always managed to rebound thanks to King Cotton and the greatest of rivers.

Photo by Marion Post Wolcott, 1940.

During the Civil War, Rodney and its environs were involved in Grant's campaign to take the Confederate stronghold of Vicksburg.  Control of the Mississippi River and its ports was crucial to a Union victory.  On Sunday, September 12, 1863, the Union gunboat the Rattler was stationed at Rodney.  Twenty-four of its sailors came ashore to worship at Rodney Presbyterian church only to discover themselves being ambushed by Lieutenant Allen and his cavalry.  The Confederates burst into the service and called for the immediate surrender of the Union sailors.  Shots were fired, the congregation ducked under the pews, and a melee ensued.  The Union gunboat fired on the Presbyterian church, resulting in a shell lodging in its brick facade.

Such drama seemed fitting for the rough and tumble port town of Rodney.  Yet its future held mostly silence and solitude.  In due time, the once thriving town would be swallowed up by the landscape surrounding it.