When Dwight York moved his followers to the heart of Georgia's red-clay dairy country 11 years ago, the residents of Eatonton didn't know what to expect. The Nuwaubians were blacks from Brooklyn, Baltimore and Philadelphia, many of them well-educated and steeped in the politics of black nationalism.
Having looked to the South for a paradise to rear children according to their insular, mystical religion, York's followers chose a 476-acre swath of Putnam County. Their new haven was a sleepy county seat best known as home to the fictitious slave Uncle Remus, the invention of a white newspaperman from Eatonton.
On the land, eventually home to 500 people, rose two great pyramids, obelisks, a dun-colored sphinx and a massive gateway covered with hieroglyphics. At the gate stood armed guards, ready to detain anyone wishing to enter the place they called Tama-Re, Egypt of the West.
Known as "the Lamb" or "the Master," York joined messages of black empowerment with Muslim, Christian beliefs and New Age mysticism.
Conflicts over construction on the property grew so tense that observers warned it could erupt into the kind of violence that occurred at the Branch Davidian compound near Waco, Texas.
Putnam County Sheriff Howard Sills first challenged the Nuwaubians in a dispute over zoning. Over four years, Sills, who is white, and York circled each other with a sense of gathering threat.
On the streets of Eatonton, Nuwaubians passed out newsletters excoriating municipal officials as racists; city officials, meanwhile, sought to halt construction.
Sills became sheriff just as York declared the property a sovereign nation, complete with an independent currency and a visa system for visitors. Discovering that York ran a nightclub on the land, local authorities acted to close it.
"The sheriff ain't never been with them," said Charlie Dorsey, a 69-year-old retired truck driver, who is black. "They were the only black race that stood up against the sheriff."
For the last two weeks, the drama has shifted to a courtroom in Brunswick, on the Georgia coast, where York, 58, is on trial on federal charges of racketeering and transporting children across state lines for sexual purposes.
Adrian Patrick, York's defense attorney, has said the allegations are a conspiracy between local authorities and a group of angry former members led by York's son. Six alleged victims listed by prosecutors in the indictment denied the abuse reports on the stand. Closing arguments are expected Thursday.
In Eatonton, locals say York's influence in Putnam faded after his arrest, and authorities say only about two dozen followers remain.
"The more I think about it, the more it seems like a dream," said Georgia Benjamin Smith, 63, who, as leader of the local chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, found herself at odds with the group. "This man was going to take over this county."
York's followers arrived all dressed the same, in cowboy boots and 10-gallon hats. Frank Ford, an attorney, recalls the record store Nuwaubians opened next to his office.
Ford who litigated for the county against the group in zoning cases, said, "It's not often you get a bunch of black folks in the middle of Georgia running around in cowboy suits."