The Blairsville Sorghum Festival began in 1969 with a few motivated people and a funeral tent on the town square. Junior Bridges, one of the founders, remembered wearing “old-timey” clothes and selling syrup he and his parents helped make, which is a tradition the festival continues today. Because of the event’s early success on the square, Bridges said the local government gave the Blairsville Jaycees—who later became the Blairsville Sorghum Syrup Makers—a piece of land on which the organization built a cooker in 1971. Fort Sorghum, a memory-packed place that was torn down in 2018, was then built on the donated land in 1973. 

 

The festival moved to Meeks Park in 2008 and has changed leadership only a few times over the years. For example, it was co-organized briefly by Enotah CASA for Children and the Blairsville Sorghum Syrup Makers. For the first fifty-five years, the founding group’s passion kept a core group of people coming back to run the festivities while honoring the 1969 roots–a group so close my dad referred to the Blairsville Sorghum Festival as “a family reunion.” Meeks Park had the old fort’s stage from 2008-2024 and still boasts a wood-fired continuous evaporator pan for syrup making, helping carry over some of the 'feel' from the old fort and continue the traditions of live music and demonstrations. Festival games at the park include biscuit eating, pole climbing, rock throwing, and log sawing on what is now known as the Sorghum Field; “baccor” spittin’ was eventually phased out from the traditional games. The need for more space corresponds with growth and tourism, of course, but also with devoted interest in Union County’s history. Attendees can see for themselves exactly how sorghum cane becomes syrup, from the cane trailer to a sorghum biscuit.

 

Though other events have gained popularity over the years, the Sorghum Festival has historically been the biggest fundraiser in Union County. The festival’s founding purpose was for all profits to help local families who are in need and to fund local scholarships. More broadly, the festival also acts as a staple fundraising event for many other organizations. Countless vendor booths represent groups, such as the Diamond Club, Kiwanis International, and 4-H Club, who raise funds for various youth opportunities. Conversations about community service often cite the need for reciprocity, and the festival was founded to live out that term. Everyone benefits in this exchange–especially local youth. Time and effort from volunteers contribute to multiple weekends’ worth of fundraising opportunities that then funnel right back to the community. And all attendees leave with something: a pottery piece from a local artisan, barbecue and sweet tea from the baseball team, a new appreciation for how syrup and ‘shine get made, or maybe just memories of a slow Sunday walk with friends.

 

Those of us privileged to grow up around the festival learned firsthand how to love, care for, and improve our Southern Appalachian community. And how to have a good time while doing so. 

 

We slid down the old fort’s hill on pizza boxes, helped fetch things, folded many a t-shirt, ate our weights in soup beans and cornbread, and stayed out late with our parents at square dances and in the cane fields. These are the moments of fellowship where kids learn the value of togetherness and can see the direct outcome of that commitment. Every one of us, local kids and friends of the festival’s organizers, helped our Sorghum Festival family strip fodder and load cane in the evenings, working on local farmers’ land to start the next phase of the syrup process. The work is not especially difficult for the able-bodied, but it is time-consuming and leaves seeds in your hair. As the saying goes, "many hands make light work," and lots of entertaining stories are told while the work gets done.

 

It truly is the people who make this time of year special, who keep these traditions alive and accessible for everyone. People like Terry Kane and Mike Jones (my dad and the best square dancer of them all) have energized this festival for most of their adult years. People like Cecilia Pruitt, who baked thousands upon thousands of sorghum cookies. And Lisa Kane who baked even more sorghum goodies while also ensuring all of the details have been ironed out before, during, and after the festival. People like Angie Dills, Ginger Davenport, and Kim Bridges, who taught those pizza-box-sliding kids how to count money and give correct change in order to pop us by the gates or in the T-shirt booth—but who also didn’t tell us we would need to hold elderly people’s hands a little tighter to draw the smiley faces that showed they paid. People like Brent England and Aaron Dills who encouraged us kids to try and pushed us up the climbing pole when we were not yet sure how to climb. There are so many altruistic people who have kept this festival afloat since 1969. I could go on and on with names of people who taught me important life lessons in seemingly inconsequential moments. Suffice it to say, though, that I cannot imagine my childhood without this festival and the community members who poured their hearts and sweat into preserving both the traditions and the magic of it all. 

 

Every October we remember the cultural heritage of Union County and celebrate generations new and old in our small town. The festival's success tells us that—despite changes in the world—farming and family bonds will continue on for another half of a century.