Cameron McWhirter writes in
The Wall Street Journal:
Brad Carver, a Georgia lobbyist, is thirsting for a small patch of land just
north of the line now dividing Georgia from Tennessee.
Two centuries ago, surveyors from Georgia and Tennessee marched through the
region's mountains and hollows to mark the official border between the two
states. They were supposed to follow the 35th parallel, according to an
agreement approved in 1802 by Congress.
Instead, they wandered about a mile south, marking a border that puts the
Georgia state line here, just a minute's stroll from the edge of the broad
Tennessee River.
That has led to years of water wars between Georgia and Tennessee, as the
Peach state's population has exploded, outstripping its water supply—all while
the Tennessee River has flowed achingly close.
Now Mr. Carver has floated a resolution in the Georgia state legislature that
calls on Tennessee to give Georgia about 1.5 square miles of forest and meadow
north of a small country road here called Huckabee Lane—just enough to get a
pipe into a wide inlet at a dammed-up part of the river called Nickajack Lake.
He says that could easily supply parched Georgians with more than a billion
gallons of water a day.
On a recent visit, Mr. Carver, in a gray suit and sunglasses, carefully
walked across the soggy, disputed land and stopped at the water's edge.
"We call this occupied Georgia," he said, pointing to the wet earth.
The 41-year-old Mr. Carver, whose clients include the Georgia Association of
Realtors, major hospital systems and energy companies, says he feels so strongly
about the state's water rights that he is lobbying on the water issue pro bono
for no specific client
He is proposing what he calls a generous swap. Georgia would give up its
long-standing claim to be the rightful owner of about 68 square miles of land
and water given to Tennessee when the surveyors mistakenly ambled off the
parallel. It includes large parts of the river, several towns and the homes of
30,871 residents, Mr. Carver says.
To make his point, he has handed out white papers on the bungled border,
pressed the issue with numerous Georgia politicians and appeared on a History
Channel program called "How the States Got Their Shapes," where he hit a golf
ball from Huckabee Lane into the Tennessee River to show viewers how close it
is.
If the Volunteer state doesn't accept the offer, Georgia will take its case
to the U.S. Supreme Court, the arbiter of all state border disputes, says Mr.
Carver.
Tennessee says Georgia's proposal is all wet. "The governor will continue to
protect the interests and resources of Tennessee," a spokesman for Republican
Tennessee Gov. Bill Haslam said in an email.
Mr. Carver's resolution—the 10th from Georgia since 1887 calling for a change
in the border—passed overwhelmingly in both legislative chambers.
His proposal is less bellicose and more modest—yet more desperate—than past
claims to the mismarked land. Over the years, resolutions from agitated Georgia
legislators have called for the return of all 68 square miles. A resolution in
2008 prompted Ron Littlefield, the mayor of Chattanooga, Tenn., to send a truck
of bottled water to the Georgia State Capitol in Atlanta along with a
proclamation calling Georgia lawmakers "misguided souls" engaged in "irrational
and outrageous actions seeking to move a long established and peaceful
boundary."
"It is feared that if today they come for our river, tomorrow they might come
for our Jack Daniel's or George Dickel," the proclamation read, referring to
Tennessee whiskey.
Georgia legislators see little humor in the situation. When the Georgia
senate passed the resolution 48 to 2 on March 25, state Sen. Charlie Bethel, a
Republican from north Georgia, sternly condemned Tennessee politicians' "late
jocularity on the issue." The resolution directs the state to sue if Tennessee
doesn't cooperate.
A spokeswoman for Georgia Gov. Nathan Deal declined to comment on whether he
supports the resolution.
Georgia is thirsty despite a rainy winter that has filled reservoirs. Its
population has nearly doubled over the past 40 years, and frequent droughts have
restricted development and forced residents of Atlanta at times to use dirty
water to irrigate their gardens.
Experts on the history of American surveying say many state borders in the
Eastern U.S. have quirky twists and turns. Tennessee's borders with Virginia and
Kentucky are also off the mark of what was originally approved.
Tennessee's claim that it should continue to control the land stems from
"acquiescence," a concept in property law that it has the right to keep a
boundary if it is not contested over a long period. Mr. Carver and other
Georgians insist their state has complained about the border to Tennessee
numerous times and therefore never "acquiesced."
It remains to be seen whether Georgia's threat to take the case to the
Supreme Court holds water. Any state in a border dispute with another can
petition directly to the high court under judicial powers defined in Article III
of the Constitution, according to Joseph Zimmerman, a political-science
professor at the University at Albany, State University of New York, and the
author of several books on interstate disputes.
Mr. Zimmerman said the court almost always takes such cases, and then
appoints a special master, usually a retired judge, to review the facts of the
case and sometimes make a recommendation to the court.
"This could very well happen, if Georgia wants to push it," he said.
Even if Georgia ever got the boundary moved, it still wouldn't necessarily be
able to slake its thirst. The Tennessee Valley Authority, which owns the
property in question and manages the river here, would have final say on whether
Georgia could pipe out water, according to a spokeswoman.
Buster McCulley's parents are buried in an old cemetery on the land Mr.
Carver is proposing to annex from Tennessee. The 82-year-old preacher from
Alabama said he didn't think his departed ancestors would mind suddenly becoming
Georgians.
"I don't think they'd be much disturbed," he said. "Probably when they
started the cemetery they didn't give much thought to what state it was in
anyway."