photographs by Brandon Dill
Alethea Bragg unlatches the heavy iron gates and, pushing an aluminum walker ahead of her, steps through the autumn leaves covering the worn brick pathway. Slowed in her later years by a relapse of polio in childhood, she is determined to show her visitors — this writer and a photographer — the interesting, ornate, and unusual graves in the ancient cemetery shaded by oaks and magnolias behind Chambers Chapel United Methodist Church.
Later, inside the sanctuary, with sunlight streaming through the rows of stained-glass windows, she points out historic elements of this old country church that seems to have resisted time, though it stands barely a half-mile from busy Highway 64.
Bragg, whose family has owned more than a thousand acres of farmland in northeast Shelby County for generations, is the little church’s official historian, and she can tell the story behind every marker and monument in the cemetery, every memorial on the Laukhuff Studio-produced windows, every plaque on the pews purchased years ago by church members. The former librarian for the Arlington Public Library knows every square inch of this humble house of worship, and after seeing what she and other church members have built and maintained over the years, any visitor immediately understands that Chambers Chapel is a truly special place — a labor of love that has endured against all odds, including a fire and a tornado — for close to 150 years.
In a manner of speaking, this church has remained something of a time capsule, but it has still grown and reflects the present,” writes Dr. Catherine Wilson in A History of Chambers Chapel United Methodist Church and Cemetery, published in 1998 to commemorate the church’s 125th anniversary.
Officially founded in 1870, the church was actually established the year before, on November 8, 1869, when Martha Ann Vaughan Chambers, whose family lived on the old Stage Coach Road (now Stage/Highway 64) donated one acre “more or less” for “the site of a Methodist Episcopal Church South.” Alethea Bragg has preserved that original deed in a safe deposit box, and in the absence of manmade landmarks at the time, it reveals how surveyors laid out the property by measuring from a black oak, to a sassafras bush, to a post oak, then to a hickory tree. Some sources indicate that the cemetery, which Wilson considers “a Who’s Who of West Tennessee history,” may be much older than the church, dating as far back as 1820, making it one of the oldest active graveyards in Shelby County. It’s hard to say for certain, since many of the oldest graves were unmarked, or their markers have vanished with time.
Chambers specified that the land she donated could never be used for anything other than a church, but she didn’t donate any funds for the construction of a building. That would come later, so for the first few months, the members gathered in a simple brush arbor along what was then called Pea Point Road. The first “church,” writes Wilson, was little more than “an informal structure consisting of a wooden frame with greenery used as a protective covering.” A mineral spring bubbled in the hollow west of the property.
The Methodist Conference Board of Missions selected a minister, the Rev. William M. McFerrin, who reported back that “when this field of labor was assigned to me, there was no church organization within its bounds.” Members of the new congregation took to horse and buggy to travel the dirt roads of the area, seeking funds for the construction of a proper edifice. According to Wilson, “the first recorded structure of the church consisted of a simple building without a ceiling.” Such a flimsy structure didn’t last long. In 1880, a tornado swept through the area, and the building — now called Chambers Chapel United Methodist Church — was destroyed.
Once again, church members took to horseback to solicit money and pledges from the landowners in the area — ranging from only a dollar to more than $20 (a large sum at the time) to erect a more substantial structure. In 1892, the new church opened, a one-room wooden structure heated by a pot-bellied stove. Though by all accounts a plain building, the Bragg family donated a large stained-glass window over the altar in honor of Elizabeth Fontaine Bragg, who had died at age 3.
During this time, Alethea Bragg says that the church — out in the county, reached only by rough roads unusable during bad weather — went through periods of inactivity, with the membership rolls changing year by year, and an ever-changing roster of ministers. In her 125th anniversary history, Wilson tells the story of the 1905 funeral service for Helen Bragg, whose body had to be buried in Arlington because the horse-drawn hearse couldn’t pull through the “quagmire” of Chambers Chapel Road. (Alethea Bragg notes that years later, the young woman’s remains were indeed moved to the Chambers Chapel cemetery.)
The church community prospered, however, during the 1920s, with the advent of trucks and automobiles to bring members from far away. The church purchased a pump organ, and the cemetery became a place for children to play before and after the services. Wilson writes, “Two markers seemed to hold a particular fascination. One had a rose carved on top (for David Etta Starr), and the other had a little lamb within an arched stone in memory of Freddie R. Russell.” Despite the unusual name, Freddie was a young girl, and both monuments have survived to this day.
Death in infancy was a constant in those days, before the advent of antibiotics and proper medical treatment, and with few (if any) doctors in the little farming communities nearby, the numerous children’s graves at Chambers Chapel reflect those challenging times.
But it wasn’t always muddy and gloomy here. “The blooming of the beautiful flowers in front of the church was always a sign of the coming spring and the advent of Easter,” writes Wilson. “Easter egg hunts were held yearly for the children and became something of a neighborhood event.” In the summertime, Chambers Chapel also had a special Children’s Day, “where poems, songs, and Bible verses were presented by the children.”
Church dinners, held outside beneath the old trees, became a regular social event in the early 1900s. “Food was served in abundance and sharing was a natural part of the day as families spread their blankets on the lawn to enjoy such homemade delicacies as chicken, corn pudding, and pies,” writes Wilson. “Sharing picnics and dinners was a wonderful way for community members to come together to eat, have fellowship, gossip, and perhaps share a few recipes.”
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On December 4, 1927, just as Sunday School was drawing to a close, men outside the church noticed smoke swirling from the roof. Sparks from the wood-burning stove flue had apparently set the shingles ablaze. As church members rushed to save anything they could carry, the flames spread, and Chambers Chapel burned to the ground. A letter in the church archives describes the end: “When we realized that no more could be saved we all stood silently, watching. Then all at once the entire church was engulfed in flames. There was no wind, and for about ten seconds the rafters and frame were silhouetted against the sky, and then the entire structure collapsed to the earth.”
Alethea Bragg heard stories about that day: “My grandmother was short like I am, but she was a real strong person. Another member, Miss Fanny Griffin, was a real tall lady. They’re the ones who picked up the church organ and carried it outside.”
The church members were certainly resilient. The same letter observed, “Before anyone left the church grounds, enough money was pledged so that the church could be rebuilt.” Alethea Bragg’s grandfather, Howard S. Bragg Sr., and other family members served on the building committee, with assistance from the Ladies Aid Society. Box suppers and quilting bees were held to raise additional funds, and the church held a fund-raising barbecue on the grounds, which became an annual tradition, so popular that a brick barbecue pit was constructed behind the church.
The new church — the third structure on the site — opened in 1928. Although members were unable to raise enough funds to erect a steeple, Chambers Chapel Methodist Church was a handsome structure, with gleaming white siding, rows of tall windows, and a large sanctuary. On each side, smaller Sunday School rooms held lamps salvaged from the old Manhattan branch of Union Planters Bank in Memphis.
During the 1930s, a wrought-iron fence was added to the cemetery, and bricks salvaged from demolished homes in Memphis were used to lay the pathway still used today. Membership rolls increased, and Chambers Chapel became a “sister” church with Eads Methodist Church, sharing a minister — a practice continued to this day.
Alethea Bragg says that during this time, members — by this time the congregation had reached 40 permanent members — decided to make their little church more substantial. Perhaps they remembered the fire, but Bragg also says that “woodpeckers were just drilling holes in the walls,” so funds were raised — some $4,700 — to add a brick facing to the entire building. Once again there was a Memphis connection; the bricks came from a fire station torn down at Madison and Dunlap. In a 1953 story, the Memphis Press-Scimitar noted the various improvements and described Chambers Chapel as a “beautifully poor and simple church.” The reporter observed, “Snuggled in a corner of the county is a little white country church of the old stock, a bit of historic Memphis which generations succeeding its founders have determined shall not pass away.”
Other improvements in the late 1950s included the distinctive row of brick memorial columns — 19 in all — across the entrance to the cemetery, each marked with a concrete plaque honoring a church member. The massive wrought-iron gate is dedicated to Kathey Bragg, a 12-year-old girl who passed away in 1959. “She was my first cousin and a year younger than me,” says Bragg. “She got real sick and they were never quite sure what it was, but she passed away just before Christmas. It was devastating to my family.”
Inside the cemetery, a memory garden is dedicated to another member of the Bragg family, Heslope Bragg Armstrong, who is also memorialized with a stained-glass window by the front doors. Unusual graves can be found here. The Connell family tombstone is etched with a complete farming scene. Another is decorated with a piano. An old buggy seat invites visitors to take a seat nearby. Most intriguing of all is the brass marker for Jackie Lou Billings. At the foot of his grave are three concrete slabs, decorated with handprints and colored tiles and marbles pressed into the cement. A wire frame still holds the gentleman’s favorite cap.
Inside the church, Alethea Bragg points with considerable pride to the stained-glass windows designed and fabricated by the Memphis firm of Laukhuff Stained Glass. Each is adorned with a distinctive symbol, either an image from Christianity, or something pertinent to Chambers Chapel, such as the original church deed. The triptych behind the pulpit, with Christ in the center, pays tribute to Howard S. Bragg Sr., of the building committee. Gilt letters at the bottom of the windows honor church members memorialized here, among them: The Russell Family and Rouse, Stewart and Mary Baxter, Arty and Geneva Harting, Francis Adams, Herman C. Boggs, and many more.
Bragg remembers when the church had old-fashioned theater-style seating. “They were wooden chairs, and the seats flipped up with a bang every time anybody stood up,” she says. “So in the 1960s, church members purchased the new, more modern pews. Each has a brass plaque showing who paid for each one.” Finished in a light oak, softened with red velvet cushions, they match the piano, railings, and other interior features.
She’s pleased with the gleaming brass lights along the nave, installed in the 1970s. “We used to have these old lights that hung down by a chain,” she says, “and they had been there so long that people were afraid to sit under them.”
Hanging on a wall is a detailed plan of the cemetery, showing the locations of hundreds of graves arranged in neat rows. “If the name is written in pencil, it means that plot is reserved,” she explains, “and then when they are buried, you erase that writing and put it in ink — permanent.” Among her duties, it’s her job to keep track of all these burials.
Walking to a table, she shows visitors a church treasure — a silver cup that was presented to the members of Adams School — a nearby county school now long gone — for sending the most students to participate in the 1919 Armistice Day Parade downtown. “We found this in the basement, and it had no wording on it and was tarnished, but we researched what it was for. It was for the largest percentage of students at the parade, and the Adams School sent all of them — 100 percent — so they got the prize.”
The year 1995 marked two important dates in the history of Chambers Chapel. The church celebrated its 125th anniversary with a party held on the grounds. In her history, Wilson writes, “A large tent was borrowed from the city of Lakeland and chairs and tents were set out on the grounds. The tables were decorated with cotton and pumpkins grown by members, wildflowers in the fields, and the beautiful sumac that grows in abundance alongside the road. Invitations were sent to former members, members of the sister church in Eads, neighbors in the community, and dignitaries to celebrate this great event. This was a joyous celebration and one which brought families together for the first time in years.”
Just a few weeks later, tragedy struck the church, when Elizabeth Griffin, who had served as the Chambers Chapel pianist and organist for more than 55 years, died in a car accident. A Tennessee Senate Resolution, in a black frame, now hangs over the organ, paying tribute to “this compassionate and caring lady, whose every endeavor epitomized the true spirit of Tennessee volunteerism.” A new bridge at Highway 70 and Paul Barret Parkway, close to land once owned by her family, was named in her honor, and a stained-glass window here also memorializes her.
A major improvement came in 1969, when the county finally ran a water line down Chambers Chapel Road, allowing the church to add sinks and toilets to the community room in the basement. “Until then, we had to use a pair of old outhouses set back in the corner of the cemetery,” Bragg says. “One of them burned, but one of them wasn’t torn down until the 1990s.”
In 1998, Alethea Bragg and Katherine Wilson spearheaded the effort to have a historical marker placed in front of the church. Erected by the Shelby County Historical Commission, the green marker summarizes the long history of the church and cemetery. That same year, Wilson concluded her 125th-year history in this way: “The members of Chambers Chapel wish to see this beautiful church preserved and protected for future generations, in the hopes that the church will continue to serve as a worship place to the glory of Christ, our Savior.”
Alethea Bragg carefully checks the locks before closing the church and escorting her visitors to their cars. These days, Dr. Cecil Bellew serves as the minister for the Chambers Chapel and Eads Methodist Church congregations. A painted sign indicates two services each Sunday, at 9 and 10 a.m., but as families have moved away, sometimes less than a dozen people attend.“We count maybe 50 members in all now,” says Bragg. “We have certain people that you can pretty much depend on being here on Sunday, but others hardly ever come.”
But as one looks around at the spotlessly clean church, inside and out, and the well-maintained grounds, there’s no sense of foreboding that Chambers Chapel faces an uncertain future. Back at her home, just a mile from the church, Bragg has a sheet listing the leadership team for 2018 and beyond. Maybe they have only 50 active members, but they stay active indeed, heading up committees devoted to education, outreach, missions, disabilities concerns, finance, and even disaster response preparedness. Chairpersons of the Pastor Parish Relations Committee have been selected for 2018, 2019, and even 2020.
Chambers Chapel has endured many hardships over the years, but this “time capsule of West Tennessee Who’s Who” faces the future with as much strength and resolve as ever before. Martha Chambers, who is buried here in the cemetery, probably never realized her gift of “one acre, more or less” would have evolved into such a memorial for a community that has kept the “poor and simple” church alive.
