But I guess I’m a-gettin’ ahead a’ myself. Haven’t rightly introduced my own self, let alone get into tellin’ you about our line. Well, my name is Otis Taylor -- and a fine name it is in these parts, if I do say so myself. Why, they’s been Taylors here since the first trappers came up from the coast o’ South Carolina. They was a Taylor had a spring over near to where the courthouse now stands, and they’s been Taylors farmin’ hereabouts since I can remember. And o’course, they’s my family of Taylors, and a right handsome bunch of folks they be, if I do say so myself. Now Hattie says I run on altogether too much when it comes to talkin about the Taylors -- and I guess she’s mostly right about that. She’s mostly right about most things -- most wives are, I guess. Well, anyways, my name is Otis Taylor and I’m the fella who’s in charge of this here freight station. Heh, that sounds pretty pompous, don’t it? But the fact is, it tickles my innards to meet the day on this little piece of track down here at the crossroads. And that’s one o’ the things about the railroad that never ceases to cause me wonderment: It just takes these two skinny little legs o’ rail to move those great roaring engines across the ridges and over these hills.

Well, you can see I’m partial to this job. Even though it gets heated up and grimy down here when the engines rush in a-blowin’ steam, that steam is like mother’s milk to me. It rushes and escapes onto the station platform --   and with every breath of steam, it’s a-movin’ us forward into a better day.

It’s a powerful truth that this place is a growing place. We call it Cleveland, and that’s a fair enough name, I reckon. It’s certainly a fair enough place. They’s blue, hazy mountains over to the east and a broad, easy-rollin’ river over to the north. It’s called the Hiwassee, and it is a gem of a river. The whole county is crossed with creeks and scattered with springs. Legend has it that Indians were here way, way back, living on our creeks and rivers -- all kinds of Indians -- long before the Cherokee and even before the Yuchi. Not that there's much sign of them anymore. 'Twas a shameful time, the way those Cherokee were shipped out of here, lock, stock 'n' barrel -- just shameful. 'Twas the roads, you know -- and that gold in Georgia. Poor Cherokee just didn’t have a chance.

Folks, I sometimes set my mind to a-wonderin’ just what it is about this place that makes it stretch itself so mightily. Now I know that this here freight depot has a right smart to do with the bustle of this place, but they’s something more to it. We got roads runnin’ ever which-a-way. We got hotels -- more’n any town our size oughta have. And we got storekeeps openin’ up for business ever time you pass through town. Why, this place puts me in mind of my nephew Zach -- ever' other month he’s outgrowin’ his clothes. His ankles shoot out of his britches and his shirtsleeves creep steadily upward from his wrist to his elbow. Why, ever' time that boy bends his elbow to feed his face, his britches creep up a good half inch. And this town is just the same. Ever' time we bend our elbow, they’s a new family a-movin’ into town, a new peach orchard laid out, a new mill or foundry settin’ up business, a new one a’ these and a new one a’ those -- just ain’t no tellin’ where it’ll all end.

Like I said before, this here freight depot is a good part of the cause for all this carryin’ on. Not that I don’t like a steady pace, mind you, they’s just somethin’ about the click, click, click of a wheel on a rail that sets my heart to dancin’ in my chest. It’s a powerful thing. And I’m mighty proud to spend my days here at the depot where the clickin’ goes on night 'n’ day.

We do a right smart business here at the depot. 'Course, it was the copper that heated up this part of east Tennessee. You know, they mine that copper over in the next county, just to the east of us. But they laid the rails to haul it out of here right through Cleveland, and now we haul everything from canned tomatoes to enamel stoves. Like I said, it’s a bustlin’ little place.

... Oh, and we’ve just heard some right lively news: The Division Superintendent hisself announced in Knoxville last month that the Southern Railway would be buildin' a fine new passenger station right here in Cleveland. Imagine that! A passenger station! And it’ll be open next spring -- 1911. A passenger station! Now ain’t we just fine and fancy! Why, it’ll be a place where regular folks could come and meet their trains and travel up and down the line, visitin’ relatives, meetin’ other trains, travelin’ abroad. Why, I just don’t know where it’ll all lead. Like I told you, this is a bustlin’ little place.