When the Tennessee Valley Authority quietly bought 286 acres of rolling farmland on Lockertsville Road in Ashland City in 2020, there was no press release. No open houses. No conversations with the people who would soon be at the heart of one of the most significant grassroots environmental fights in Tennessee’s recent history.

Fast forward to May 2023, when TVA finally came clean: It was planning to build a methane gas power plant on that very farmland and by then, Cheatham County folks were beyond tired of being left in the dark. TVA pitched the gas plant as a partial replacement for the second coal-burning unit at the Cumberland City Steam Plant, which is scheduled for retirement by the end of 2028 — oh, and it came with bonus plans for a shiny new pipeline, developed by a multi-billion-dollar gas company that would get paid by TVA with money that ultimately comes from residents and businesses in the Tennessee Valley. That same company, without waiting for TVA to complete its legally required review of alternatives, was already preparing its legal team to sue landowners for survey access. 

A win for coal phase-out, sure — but replacing one fossil fuel with another isn’t a step forward, it’s just switching seats on a sinking ship. And let’s be clear, dropping a methane gas plant in the middle of a quiet farming community — or any community, for that matter — is a hard no from us. Whether it’s green pastures or already industrialized land, no one deserves to have a polluting fossil fuel plant parked in their backyard. With clean sources available, energy shouldn’t come at the cost of our health or our planet. 

The spark that lit the fire

TVA’s initial open house in June 2023 was meant to check the box for community engagement. They booked the small David McCullough community room, perhaps expecting a polite trickle of residents and some mild curiosity. Instead, they met with hundreds of determined, fired-up locals who had zero interest in watching their beloved countryside transformed into an industrial fossil fuel complex.

From that moment on, the people of Cheatham County rolled up their sleeves and got to work.

The birth of a movement

Out of frustration — and sheer necessity — Preserve Cheatham County was born. A nonprofit rooted in the values of clean air, clean water, sustainable development and agricultural preservation, PCC quickly became the organizing force behind a swelling wave of resistance.

This wasn’t just about a gas plant. It was about legacy. Land passed down for generations. Children fishing in Sycamore Creek. Neighbors knowing each other by name. The idea that local voices should actually matter when it comes to decisions about their own community.

PCC started small — community meetings, flyers, social media. But the momentum was undeniable. When TVA begrudgingly agreed to a second “larger” open house at Cheatham County Middle School, it was again overwhelmed as PCC helped drive turnout to the event. More than 450 locals filled the bleachers and stood shoulder to shoulder, voicing concerns over pollution, potential explosions, proximity to schools and TVA’s opaque process.

TVA, again, seemed unprepared. But the people? They were just getting started.

Tractors, town halls and t-shirts

Opposition spread faster than a summer wildfire. Farmers organized a tractor parade through downtown Ashland City — a moving tribute to the land they were fighting to protect. Town halls popped up in Kingston Springs and Pleasant View. Local governments passed formal resolutions against the plant, and residents donned PCC t-shirts and yard signs that now dot the county like wildflowers.

Then came the cultural blitz. A beloved local celebrity, Jonathan Singleton, organized a “Take Your Pipe and Shove It” singer/songwriter series at a local brewery. Not only did it raise significant funds, it gave the movement a rallying cry — with a side of honky-tonk. The matching t-shirts became iconic, and in a delightfully ironic twist, helped pipeline awareness go…well, viral.

From phone banks logging over 900 calls, to music festivals, to Squatchfest — with a 5K fun run and Sasquatch Call Contest for the ages — the campaign’s creativity and spirit became a beacon for rural activism.

David and Goliath, Tennessee edition

Then, the stakes got higher. TVA began pursuing legal access to survey land and, in some cases, threatened eminent domain. But Cheatham County wasn’t standing alone. Another local country star, with a national platform, amplified the issue in a viral video that caught the attention of U.S. Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins — and then, President Donald Trump.

Two years after the fight began, on July 15, 2025, TVA finally blinked. In a stakeholder announcement, the agency declared that Lockertsville Road was no longer its “preferred alternative” and that it was considering other sites across Middle Tennessee.

A win — but not the end

This is a major victory for Lockertsville Road locals, no doubt. But it’s temporary — and a loud warning shot for other Middle Tennesseans. The threat didn’t vanish. It simply took a step back and moved its aim. In a stakeholder announcement, TVA said it’s evaluating a site nearby and looking at some other sites in Middle Tennessee. TVA has not revealed more specifics, but we are watching and waiting vigilantly.

Those gorgeous rolling hills are still TVA property. The county’s offered to buy the farm back, but until TVA hands over the deed, it’s fair game for development. Now, if TVA wants to be a good neighbor and work with the community, many advocacy groups are open to collaborating on something that doesn’t pollute our air or make climate change even worse. However, it’s stunningly clear that TVA would need to show up with a wholly different approach if it wants residents of Cheatham County to entertain anything beyond a transfer of deed at the Lockertsville site.

Hope, with mud on its boots

This isn’t just a story about pipelines or power plants. It’s a story about people. About how communities — when underestimated and unheard — can rise together, armed with nothing but their voices, their tractors, and a deep, abiding love for the land that raised them.

In a fight where the odds were stacked, they brought more than just resistance — they brought resilience, creativity and an unshakable bond rooted in love for the land and each other.

Cheatham County showed us what happens when rural America doesn’t wait for a seat at the table — it builds its own, with calloused hands, a country music band and a Sasquatch call echoing in the distance.