Most people have never heard of the State of Franklin. That’s a shame. It’s one of the most interesting stories in early American history. And it tells us a lot about courage, community, and what happens when people feel unheard.
Let’s rewind to the 1780s.
The American Revolution was over. The colonies were now states. But the new nation was messy. Money was tight. Communication was slow. And trust in faraway governments was low.
In 1784, North Carolina decided it was too expensive to manage its western lands—what we now call East Tennessee. So, it gave them up to the federal government.
The settlers living there weren’t thrilled. They felt abandoned. Forgotten. They had fought in the war too. They wanted protection. Roads. Schools. Laws that made sense for mountain life.
So, what did they do? They formed their own state.
They called it Franklin. After Benjamin Franklin, of course. He never officially supported it, but they hoped his name would help.
And for a few years, Franklin functioned like a real state. It had a constitution. A governor—John Sevier. A capital in Jonesborough. Even courts and taxes. They weren’t waiting around for permission. They took action.
Now here’s the part where most people raise their eyebrows: Congress didn’t approve it. Franklin needed support from nine states. It only got seven. But the settlers kept going anyway.
That’s bold. Some would say reckless. But I say it was hopeful. The people of Franklin believed in local power. They believed government should be close to the people. Not far away.
Eventually, North Carolina changed its mind. It took the land back. And that caused real tension. For a while, there were two competing governments in East Tennessee. One from North Carolina, and one from Franklin.
It got messy. Families picked sides. Leaders clashed. But the dream of Franklin faded by 1789. The State of Franklin was done.
Still, it wasn’t a failure. It was a lesson.
Some historians say Franklin was a rebellion. I don’t agree. I think it was an early test of American democracy. A moment when everyday people tried to shape their own future.
The settlers of Franklin weren’t radicals. They were practical. They just wanted things to work better. They saw a gap in leadership and filled it.
And guess what? Many of those same leaders helped create the state of Tennessee in 1796. Including John Sevier, who became Tennessee’s first governor. Franklin may have died, but its spirit lived on.
The people who built Franklin laid the groundwork for statehood. They showed what self-rule could look like. They showed it in action.
And that’s what I find so inspiring. Not the part where Franklin failed—but the part where it dared to exist at all.
We often talk about history like it’s a straight line. Thirteen colonies. Then states. Then a strong union. But the truth is, history is a patchwork. With zigzags, missteps, and forgotten footnotes.
Franklin is one of those footnotes. But it shouldn’t be. It’s a reminder that American identity wasn’t handed down from the top. It was built, tested, and reimagined from the bottom up.
Now, here’s my contrarian take.
I think modern states could learn something from Franklin. Yes, we live in a different time. But the desire for local control, for responsive government—that hasn’t changed.
Too often, we ignore small voices. We assume the center always knows best. But sometimes, the best ideas come from the edge. From people living in the foothills, not the capitol buildings.
Franklin reminds us that communities matter. That policy should reflect people’s lives. Not just pass down from distant decision-makers.
I’m not saying we should start forming breakaway states. I’m saying we should listen better. Respond faster. Lead more locally.
And one more thing: Franklin’s story is fun. It’s scrappy and surprising. It deserves more attention in schools and museums. Not just as a curiosity—but as a chapter of American resilience.
In the end, the State of Franklin didn’t make it. But it made a difference.
It pushed boundaries. It sparked debates. It left a mark on Tennessee that still matters.
And maybe that’s the bigger point.
Not every bold idea has to last forever to be worthwhile.
Some just need to show us what’s possible.
Franklin did that. Quietly. Briefly. Bravely.
And that’s why I believe the State of Franklin was not a failure. It was a spark.
One we’d do well to remember.
