When the United States was still a largely agrarian society, there was a nationwide tradition of gatherings called “camp meetings.” When one’s closest neighbor might be half a day’s hike away, it wasn’t as easy to see many other people or to fellowship on the scale in contemporary America today. People would gather from miles around traveling farther than they could traverse in a day’s time. So, the assembled people would camp in a field, a churchyard or a village square for several days enjoying each other’s company, sharing news, stories, meals, conducting business and even marriages while listening to traveling preachers, orators and musicians. From this experience some of America’s most eclectic styles of music styles emerged.
In the 1800s, those speakers and musicians didn’t always bring only a word or a tune that would be church-related. Traveling acts performed hymns, gospel songs and political songs. Many acts were filled with anti-slavery and anti-alcohol offerings, each of which came in both fiery and tear-jerking flavors. Later, these would evolve into pop tunes of the day. However, the distinction was largely one of text only. All the types of tunes both sacred and secular were cut from the same musical cloth.
Embedded in America’s rich musical heritage are songs, styles and tunes from these camp meetings. One could say that the hallmark of America’s music is a perfect fusion of cultural influences from both African-American and white populations, birthed from the camp meeting experience.
Numerous collections of camp-meeting hymn texts appeared in the songbooks in the early decades of the 19th century. Later the songs were written down in musical notation and published (in harmonized form) in such tune books as The Sacred Harp (1844) and John G. McCurry’s The Social Harp (Hart County, Ga., but printed in Philadelphia, 1855). This latter collection has the largest single tune book concentration of spirituals from this period.
Camp meeting songs were simple, repetitive and melodically contagious. Consequently, they appealed to the uneducated frontier folk.
For example:
Give me that old time religion,
give me that old time religion,
give me that old time religion,
it’s good enough for me.
The camp meeting tradition continued strong across the country throughout the 19th century. However, after the Civil War, anti-slavery songs died out as a genre. In America, the camp meeting movement reached its zenith in the last third of the 19th century, facilitated by the railroads that made it easier for big-name preachers (and other speakers, like Mark Twain) and the big-name gospel musicians with their bands (such as renowned composer and conductor John Philip Sousa) to reach rural America. In that day, gospel music became big business, great fortunes were made, and names like Sankey, Moody, Excell and Rodeheaver carried as much celebrity as names like financial gurus Rockefeller, Carnegie and Morgan.
At the turn of the 20th century, the Methodist Chautauqua circuit was the biggest performance booking agency in the nation. The advent of the Victrola (music players) and mass-produced phonograph records along with the rise of radio broadcasting provided the masses with other forms of entertainment. Technology and the nation’s increasing urbanization decreased the need for social gatherings for the remote rural population. The nationwide camp meeting tradition imploded, but not so in Rutherford County.
One of the most famous camps in Rutherford County was in the Windrow community with the first meeting held Aug. 15, 1811. The camp was located on the western slope of a large hill just south of Murfreesboro before it was a city. The four acres given by John Windrow had a beautiful grove of dense sugar maples affording screen from the sunshine and partial protection from an afternoon summer shower.
Here is a fictitious story documenting the camp meeting experience here.
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It was August 1820 and almost three weeks since the Lytle family—John Lytle and his wife, along with their little tow-heads—had loaded up their small wooden cart, tied Ole Bessie to it, and bridled Ole Grey. Their destination was the Windrow Camp Revival. In 1811, an earthquake at Madrid, Mo., created Reelfoot Lake here in Tennessee. From the time of the “Shakes” as it was called, many feared that this natural disaster had triggered the end of the world.
These and other circumstances provided the catalyst in which revival began on the frontier. Some, including Papa Lytle, began to seek God and make professions of faith. Spreading like an epidemic, camp meetings like the one at Windrow were a result of this wave of mass religious hysteria. Only a tiny spark of unity created by these events was needed to touch off the flame of revivalism.
In the early part of the 19th century, the “camp meeting” movement, a phenomenon that swept across the frontier was a result of the Second Great Awakening. Early settlements were scattered and isolated. So understandably the camp meetings became a time of renewing old friendships and establishing new relationships. In fact, only eight years before, in August of 1812, John Lytle met his wife during the first camp at Windrow.
Every August, Mama, Papa and the entire Lytle family would leave crops in the field and herds in the barn to make the grueling journey to the Windrow Camp Revival, the “Mecca” of all camp meetings in Middle Tennessee. After traveling over hill and dale and tracking through the rugged wilderness, the family finally reached the camp at Windrow.
With all their supplies, including a couple of slaves, live chickens, and Floppy, the dog, Papa found just the spot that suited his mind. Windrow was more than a time for spiritual renewal. For Mama, camp meeting was a social event, a time of homecoming visiting with friends and family. For Papa, clad in a new pair of hand-sewn overalls, it was a pleasant break from rigors of farm life.
The August sun hung high in the cloudless sky. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, buffing the edges off the summer heat, a perfect day for a camp meeting at Windrow. Countless birds, especially the fiery cardinals, flitted from bush to tree creating blazes of scarlet as chattering squirrels scampered up and down the sugar maples. The grove offered ample shade and partial protection from a sudden rain shower.
At first sight, the camp meeting presented a scene of confusion. Hundreds of cloth tents that dotted the hill were erected as temporary shelters. Free from the restraints of a formal meeting house, most of the services were unplanned and often quite spontaneous. The religious activities of singing, preaching, and praying competed with the sight of spectators casually walking about, talking and laughing freely.
It had been a busy morning. Papa, armed with an ax, had cleared a larger area of brush and vines around the camp. Mama and the children had prodded through the tall, luxuriant grass to the spring to fetch water. Floppy barked happily alongside, instinctively guarding the children as they played. The aroma of hot, fresh slab bacon cooking aroused the senses as the smoke of countless fires towered above the treetops.
All of a sudden from a distance, the roar of the ram’s horn bellowed, rousing the entire encampment. Everyone began flocking to the one story open air worship center. This crude structure was constructed of cedar rails all sloping in one direction. The ground was elevated at the lower edge so that the speaker had a commanding view of the congregation assembled.
Beams of soft sunlight streamed through the dense sugar maples as the warm melodious harmonies of the slaves began filling the air. Without hesitation, Papa Lytle gathered Mama along with the children and slowly began walking with the all the other worshippers to the assembly. Once there, Brother Douglas announced that there had already been 100 conversions at the tents.
Without restraint under the open air, this announcement stirred the vast assembled congregation with a peculiar excitement. The emotional magnetism transmitted into fervent exhorting, group singing, clapping and continuous praying. Bold hunters, sober matrons paying little attention to their bows or bonnets, young men and maidens, including all the children, shouted happily with liberating and enthusiastic spontaneity.
Sterling Brown, an energetic young man who had traveled many miles to this meeting began to preach. As in days prior, Reverend Brown exhorted the crowd as the convicting power of God began moving over the assembly. The general air of anticipation infused the scene with a kind of intuitive awareness that this revival would be a special occasion.
Trembling with uncontrollable fervor, many came to the altar to pray. In many instances, worshipers would get up to leave and then abruptly rush back to the altar, not getting up until they arose praising God. Immediately, many began to sob. The sawdust floor of the enclosure was filled with fallen people lying powerless in a state of holy unconsciousness. It was as if a divine flame had swept over the whole multitude. Having been seared with ecstasy and the energy of the moment, the result was over 350 conversions on that August morning of 1820.
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For over 150 years, from 1812 until 1968, the Windrow Camp Revival hosted tens of thousands with its traveling circuits. The event was responsible for 3,000–4,000 conversions. There is no doubt that this homespun, “holy fair” camp at Windrow was one of the most remarkable ever held in the state. It played a vital role in the spiritual and social life of Rutherford County. John Lytle, one of the early organizers of the camp at Windrow, became a prominent member of the Methodist denomination. In 1823, he gave the land on which the first Methodist Church was built located in the vicinity of Murfreesboro Housing Authority on Maple Street.
As in the days of the Windrow Camp Revival, we are in need of another manifestation of God’s power to heal and transform our lives. Conflicts rage around the world as traditional values are threatened on all sides. The strife that runs rampant in our world is a reflection of the inner conflict storming in our hearts. There has never been a time of such uncertainty in all of history. As in the past, there is a time of “shaking.”
History is a great teacher, particularly through the powerful songs left by our ancestors. Their silent cries through song can revive us, too. Our past is just a moment. Our past need not be our destiny but a tutorial. From a noiseless whisper in our past, we can learn from the rhythmic harmonies and diverse creative expressions that persist as a great gift found in all of America’s music today.
Can we learn from the pathos from the songs of another day and time, particularly as we move our rapidly growing community forward for future generations? Can we begin to assess the pain and plunder of complex problems: the poverty, homelessness, crime and human trafficking that lie under the veneer of prosperity and success? As we assess where we have been, can we gather some lessons from the past and emerge with new approaches, new ideas, and new innovations that allows our community to flourish? I think we can and I know we will.
Out of an old black spiritual sung at the meetings comes some eternal meaning: Wherever we are, wherever we’ve been . . . we can start again!
All mankind is seeking peace and security by elaborate schemes; however, the spiritual emptiness and confusion continues. Unsuccessfully, we clutch to human ingenuity to solve the issue of the heart. Until we realize that each of us is hard-wired for God and were created for a relationship with Him for eternity, we will never fill the emptiness that only God can fill. Whether it is 100 years ago or 5 minutes ago, we can start fresh!
