Following Mary Draper Ingles

     You'd think that since John and I live right on the Ohio River that we wouldn't want to follow other rivers in our free time, but we love the water, and so over the 4th of July weekend instead of enduring the sweltering heat of either the city north of us (Parkersburg) or the city south of us (Point Pleasant) for sternwheel regattas, live bands, food vendors, hundreds of people, and firework displays, we decided to take off on an adventure of our own sans any of that!

     To begin our journey we did make a quick little stop down at the river in Point Pleasant where the Kanawha runs into the Ohio because 1) we wanted to check out the sternwheelers that were docked there, and 2) because that's where we decided we'd start our drive, retracing part of the journey that Mary Draper Ingles made back in 1755 after she was captured by the Shawnee Indians who invaded her home in Drapers Meadows, in Virginia Territory when she was only 23 years old. If you haven't read her story, you really should! There are several renditions of it, but my favorite is James Alexander Thom's novel Follow the River based on the true account of her ordeal. (You can pick up a copy of this in most bookstores that feature books on West Virginia, including the Tamarak if you're stopping by there, or from our Travelin" West Virginia on-line store.) Anyway, her story began in 1732 when she was born to Irish immigrant parents in Philadelphia, PA. Like many other immigrant families, they migrated west to the mountains where they settled in Drapers Meadows (or what is now Blacksburg, VA). There, 18 year old Mary met and married 21 year old William Ingles (their marriage is the first recorded English marriage to take place west of the Allegheny Mountains), and quickly bore two sons, Tommy and George.  It was during this time that the French and British were fighting, Indians were taking sides, and settlers were getting caught in the crossfires. The region of the Allegheny was hunting grounds for several Indian tribes, but it was a group of Shawnee warriors, raiding and setting fire to villages, viciously scalping and killing most men, women, and children, and kidnapping a few white women and children to take back as wives and slaves, who came storming through Drapers Meadows one day when William and another man were out in the fields farming, without any guns and too far away to be of any assistance. While they did escape notice, all of their neighbors were brutally killed, and their houses burned to the ground. William's own wife and children, however, along with one other woman, were carried off by the Shawnee. Mary was 23 years old, Tommy was 4, and George was 3. They were taken down the New River to the Ohio River south to a Shawnee village located where the Scioto and Ohio Rivers meet, into territory that no English white man or woman had ever gone. In order to make the trip she had had to keep up with her captors and hold her own or she would have been killed. While other prisoners who arrived at the Shawnee camp were made to run the gauntlet to prove their strength and worth, she had so impressed all of her captors that she was not forced to do this. However, it was at this camp that her two sons were taken from her and sold. Unfortunately, the youngest, George, did not survive longer than a few months. Mary was hired to sew, but was eventually sold to French trappers and taken further west into Kentucky to help mine salt at Big Bone Lick. Even though this was extremely hard work, she was given freedom to roam around on her own, as it was taken for granted that escape from this area would be virtually impossible. Regardless, Mary had made up her mind that unless she escaped, William would never find her or their sons, and so determined that their only chance of survival would be if she ran for it, talked an older big boned German woman who had aslo been sold to this French trapping party to go with her. Together they took 2 knives and two blankets, and as discreetly as possible, walked away on November 7th. (James Alexander Thom's account, based on historic records and interviews with descendants, says that Mary gave birth to a baby girl in route to the Shawnee village, but left it with a woman who was "married" to one of the French trappers, who had become enamored with the baby and was better able to nurse and care for her, which makes this whole story even more heart wrenching!)

     Now to set the scene: Mary and the unknown "Dutch" woman had to cross 145 creeks and rivers as they traveled 250 miles up the Ohio River to where it meets the mouth of the Kanawha River. From there they had to make the 95 mile trek up river, crossing another 46 smaller streams and rivers to reach the Falls of the Kanawha, where they would then have yet another 85 to 90 more miles to follow the New River before Mary reached home. Her story becomes part of West Virginia frontier history once she crossed the Big Sandy River on the Ohio, where she would have entered what is now Wayne County, West Virginia. Remember, by November the weather would have become frigid; they had to live on berries and roots and a few fish that they were able to spearhead; their clothes had already virtually become tattered rags and their shoes were worn through; towards the end, Mary's travel partner became so insane with hunger that she sought to kill and eat Mary, and Mary had to work to escape her and the only knife they had left, when she found an Indian boat at the mouth of one of the smaller rivers and made it across the shore, continuing her journey alone on the opposite side of the river. Neither woman knew how to swim, and so had to journey up each stream until they could find a safe place to cross and then make it back down stream to the river they were following, thus making the entire journey of almost a thousand miles in 42 1/2 days. Mary had made it by sheer will and determination to see her beloved husband once more, and so it was to that end that she had kept her wits, noting the different landmarks along the way so that she could return the same way she had been taken if the chance ever presented itself. She had also made knots in a rope belt that she wore around her waist so that she could keep track of each day that passed. Hers is maybe the most heroic story of any frontier person, man or woman, that I've ever heard of or read about. And I'm so proud that she was in fact a woman! Finally arriving sometime in early December, at age 23, a man who recognized her voice as being his neighbor, took her in and nursed her back to health before taking her the last final miles. She returned home with a head full of white hair she had goten as a result of all the trauma, and a toothless mouth caused by the stress and severe starvation and poor diet, but she and William did reunite, and they had more children. Unfortunately it took another 15 years before they could ransom back Tommy who, with "professinal" help, was eventually able to reassemilate back into European culture. Mary out lived her husband by 33 years, dying at age 83.

    I wanted to follow this woman's tracks. Though I could never in a million years retrace her steps,  I wanted to glimpse the terrain she had walked. Ever since I read Follow the River I have never looked at the Ohio, the Kanawha, or the New Rivers in the same way. Not once have I looked on these rivers and not thought of Mary Draper Ingles and her ordeal. Not once have I not wondered, what if that had been me? At what point would I have given up? I was so obsessed by the story that I told John he just had to read Thom's novel, which he did. I knew that he loved frontier history and the river, and that a story about a woman would not deter him one bit. And just like I had hoped, he fell in love with it too. So here we were together, trying to follow as best we could the route Mary Draper Ingles would have taken along the banks of two of the three rivers. We had already traveled the Ohio and the Kanawha and most of the New River in WV, but decided to start at the mouth of the Kanawha again anyway. There are several places where the roads do not follow the New River, but when they do it's easy to imagine the extraordinary strength and will it took these two women to survive. Remembering that it would have been freezing cold; that they sometimes were following the Indian trails, while at other times they were purposely staying off them; that they were climbing cliffs and walking along the rivers' edges, sometimes fighting the strong currents and rapids that run that time of year; that they were almost barefooted, each wrapped in a blanket that was sometimes wet, and then sleeping on the bare ground wrapped in those same blankets; that they were starving, and scared beyond belief of wild animals and Indians alike. In the place where the Greenbrier River breaks from the New River I think of how incredibly easy it would have been for Mary to have gotten mixed up at that point and then headed in the wrong direction. I think about how two dams on the New River in WV now keep the waters under flood control, as well as the one in Radford, VA where Mary eventually settled with William, but how back then there would have been no such daming up of the rushing waters that might have flooded the rivers' banks. Today it is so beautiful and peaceful along these rivers. John and I both were particularly enamored with Sandstone Falls which lie below Hinton, WV. We spent several hours there before we could bring ourselves to get moving along for the remainder of our trip. We spent the night right across the WV state line in Bluefield, VA before making the rest of our trek the following day, driving over Big Walker Mountain to Wytheville, VA and I81 to Drapers Meadows, Blacksburg, and then finally Radford, VA where Mary lived out the remainder of her long life and then died. From there we headed back into WV where we took several county backroads over the mountains through woods and meadows along gushing streams and railroad tracks before getting back onto Route 60 East heading back to Charleston and then home to Ravenswood, where as soon as I can, I plan to reread Follow the River.




(c) copyright 2010 Travelin' West Virginia All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written consent. For more information send an e-mail to trvlnwv@live.com

River Living

     Welcome to the first in a new series about River Living. In this series I will be covering all sorts of information about life along the Ohio River. I may be covering what I see along the river from the view on my front deck, or about the parks and campsites located along the river, to people I meet boating, or anything else I might happen across in my travels up and down the river. When I arrived back in my hometown just about a year ago I knew that river living at the edge of the Ohio would be truly special, and I am blessed to have this opportunity to share it with you.

     Last week Connie and I were taking a break from the work we were doing, and since it was a warm day in the early afternoon we decided to enjoy our break from our front deck overlooking the river. It wasn't too long before a canoe came paddeling up to the old ferry landing with two "gentlemen" on board with a hefty load of equipment and supplies. I knew immediately that they were not the run of the mill paddlers that we usually see, and thus I became very interested, wondering about where upriver they were coming from and where downriver they were going.

     As they made their way to a successful landing and exited their canoe, the younger of the two men came walking up the street calling back to his partner that they were in Ravenswood. I stood observing from the deck, and as the man approached I called out a greeting to him. He returned my greeting and inquired about directions to where he might find a store to get ice and some other supplies. I gave him directions, glad that I could be of some help to a visitor to our landing here on the river.

    As soon as he left for the store I grabbed my camera and notebook and tore out the door toward the landing to speak with the older man waiting down at the landing. As I approaced he had his back to me, looking out over the river from the landing. I hollered out from some distance, "Welcome to Ravenswood," as I approached. The man turned to face me and thanked me for my warm welcome, though he seemed somewhat surprised that I was there and greeting him in such a manner. I asked where they were coming from and he told me that he and his son had started their river journey from Clarington, Ohio and had been traveling for seven days. (Clarington, Ohio is located between Moundsville and New Martinsville on the Ohio side of the river.)

     As we exchanged introductions I learned his name was James (Jim) Webb, that he was from Cincinnati, Ohio, and that he was 60 years old. He has been traveling the Ohio River since 1993, and has completed the entire length ( approximately 981 miles) of the river from Pittsburg, PA to Cairo, IL once. This particular trip he was traveling with his son, Christopher Webb (age 38, and also from Cincinnati), who after completing this trip will have one more segment of 204 miles of the river, until he too will have completed the full length of this great river by canoe.

    

     Mr Webb told me that they paddled about twenty mils a day, and that this was their seventh day on this trip. Their destination was Pomeroy, Ohio where they would be picked up. He told me about his experience of going through the locks in a canoe. The whole business sounded pretty scary to me, especially when he described how the water rushed out of the lock on the downriver side. He was also nice enough to send me a picture of their canoe entering one of the five locks they had to navigate through on this trip. Christopher told me of their experience of camping on an island the night before during a hard storm, and how glad he was that his father had secured the canoe for the night so that it didn't end up floating downriver without them.

     I guess the real reason I was so fascinated by these guys was that I have often dreamed about doing just what these two men were doing, taking a canoe trip downriver, camping and fishing along the way. Part of my frontiersman fantasy! Meeting these two gentlemen reminded me of a book I had read some years ago, entitled 99 days on the Yukon: An account of what was seen and heard in the company of Charles A. Wolf, gentleman canoeist . I was 19 years old living in Alaska, and although I've had many outdoor adventures this is something I have yet to do. Talking with Mr. Webb inspired me to think that I might yet have a river trip of my own. But in any case, I hope some day to look down at the river and see these two paddling in to the landing once again on another one of their own river living adventures.



(c) copyright 2010 Travelin' West Virginia All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written consent. For more information send an e-mail to trvlnwv@live.com

Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, Weston

     A lot of us might be able to remember the 1975 film starring Jack Nicholson, who gave a stellar performance as Randle McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, a story set during the late 60s, early 70s in a state mental hospital somewhere in Oregon. I was only 16 years old, but I will never forget how terrified I was of Nurse Ratchet, and her horrible treatment of the mentally ill patients in her ward, especially the 6'7" very docile Chief Bromden, the 1/2 Indian character (the story's narrator) who was driven by his fear of the "Combine," a huge conglomeration that controlled society and forced people into conformity. I can't remember what it was I feared more -- her, or the idea of potentially being forced to give up my own individuality if I ever failed to maintain anything less than a semblance of normality! I was a teenager! I was feeling somewhat rebellious and abnormal anyway, and while I understood that McMurphy pushed the envelope (so to speak) a little too much, and so did not get a lot of sympathy for most of the film, even he finally was forced to succumb to the superior powers that be. So who was I? There was even a history of slight "craziness" in my family, so I needed to be extra careful! Electroshock therapy and lobotomies were not to be taken lightly, and the "institution" had the power to do as they pleased! We had all heard "stories." Ken Kesey, who wrote the novel (published in 1960), was inspired to write his story based on what he had witnessed while working in a mental institute during the 1950s. And as I walked down the long corriders of the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in Weston, I felt transported back to the days when women, especially, could easily end up being committed.  Thank goodness I was with John who is still rather enamored with me, and doesn't think I'm all that nutty!

     It was a sunny day when we headed out along beautiful, scenic Rt. 47, on what was originally the Staunton Turnpike that ran from Parkersburg across the mountains into Virginia. In less than 2 hours we hit Rt. 33 in Weston, taking us right by the asylum, and not having a set destination, plus never minding that ominous dark clouds ere brewing up a bad storm overhead, we decided to stop and check it out. And, as luck would have it, we were right on time for the 90 minute Paranormal Tour (I'm not kidding!), so we paid for our tickets and quickly joined our guide and another couple. Together the five of us would be hitting the "hot spots" of ghostly activity as we walked down the nearly dark hallways (they were rather dimly lit, plus by then it was thundering and pooring rain) covering all four floors of this delapidated stone-cut masonry building built some 140 years ago.

     We were kept entertained by lots of really cool ghost stories of past residents who seemed to still be hanging around. There was Ruthrie, an 89 year old woman who liked to slam her dinner tray, and a not-so-friendly man who paced the end of one hall,  whose presence both John and I felt. It was really hot in the asylum, as there was basically no air circulating anywhere; but at the end of this first hallway we both felt this man's presence so strongly that cold chills were running up and down my arms, and John said he felt like he was being pushed. Many times we felt a heavy weight on our chests (another sign of spirit activity); and we both witnessed the ghost of Lily, a 9 year old girl who had lived there with her mother, "playing" with a plastic ball. On the 4th floor John actually saw an apparition run into a closet in a room and then disappear. Some weird stuff actually showed up in John's photos, like shadow figures (which they say are seen often roaming the halls, as are people's faces) and spirit-like light forms; and then lots of his pictures turned out fuzzy, as if they were out of focus. Twice, John's camera just stopped working in rooms where there was supposed to be a lot of paranormal activity. He wouldn't be able to take a picture, and then he'd walk away, and BAM! He could.This kind of thing has never happened to him before, and it really frustrated him!

     Construction began on this asylum, formerly known as the Weston State Hospital, in 1858, and opened in 1864 to house 250 people, reaching its peak in the 1950s, with 2,400 patients in what became extremely overcrowded conditions. Changes in the treatment of mental illness, along with the deterioration  of the building, forced its closure in 1994. The building and its 300 acres were privately purchased in September 2007, and renamed the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum.


     Both the building and its use have fascinating and notable histories.  On June 30, 1861, while the building was still under construction, Colonel Erastus Bernard Tyler swept through town with his 7th Ohio Infantry  looking to round up and convict any and all southern sympathizers, though their main mission was more likely the Western Branch of the Exchange Bank of Virginia, which had in its vault $30,000 in gold coins deposited by the VA state government to provide wages for the laborers working on the new asylum.  Tyler removed $27,000 of it (which would be worth 1/2 million dollars today), and took it to Wheeling, where it was used to help fund the new state of West Virginia in 1863! (Thanks, Virginia!) At the end of the war, the completion of the asylum was given top priority, and to this end Weston never had to experience any post-war economic depression.

     As for the insane, American colonists came to our shores believing that people who exhibited aberrant behavior had to be possessed by demons, witches, or Satan himself (note the Salem Witch Trials of 1692). Those without family or friends were most often placed in prisons along with criminals, chained naked to the walls, no matter the temperature, and mired in their own filth! Families who felt more responsibilty, but embarrassed none the less, often hid their relatives in attics, or sheds, or even in holes in the ground. By the 1770s facilities began to be constructed specifically to house the insane, but still more to extricate them from society rather than to help them, since insanity was thought to be incurable. It was Thomas Kirkbride who theorized that creating a more curative environment, one that admitted lots of sunshine and fresh air, would at least be a more moral way to treat patients (as he had witnessed the Quakers' treatment of the insane while he was a doctor at the Friends Asylum in PA), and could more possibly help towards some recovery. Thus, the building in Weston was designed based on Kirkbride's theory. Dorothea Dix, a famous social reformer, also greatly disturbed by the barbaric treatment given the mentally insane, worked single-mindedly towards altering their conditions as well. It is also noted at Weston that Dix would hire only the ugliest of women to be nurses, so as not to excite any of the patients, male or female, or other hospital staff. The doctors, nurses and staff members all had residences and living quarters on the upstairs floors. The occassional smell of pipe tobaco still lingers in the air of one doctor's apartment, which it did on the day John and I visited, prompting some excitement from our tour guide, who suggested that it was unusually strong that day, as we could all smell it! Hmmmm.

     By the turn of the century the practice of brain surgery had begun, and an American by the name of Walter Freeman  "perfected" the lobotomy, performing his first one in 1936. Inserting ice picks under the eyelids of patients, he drove them through the thin layer of skull bone, using a mallet and local anesthesia. Freeman performed 1000's of these lobotomies, even beginning a propaganda campaign to promote them as being the cure for anything from psychosis to depression to neurosis to criminality. He worked in WV before moving to CA where he eventually performed "assembly line" lobotomies, going from one patient to another, even having his assistants time him to see if he could break lobotomy speed records! He performed his last ice pick lobotomy in 1967 when a patient died on the table. By this time both doctors and the public were up in arms, questioning the number and necessity of lobotomies being performed in the United States. Unbelievably, while lobotomies are no longer being performed, having been replaced by the drug thorazine, electroshock therapy still is being used!

     From 1864 to 1889 there were about 125 different recorded reasons for admittance to the Weston State Hospital. Among them were listed bad habits and political excitement, domestic trouble, fever and jealousy, female disease, hysteria, ill treatment by husband, marriage of son, religious excitement, seduction, time of life, sexual abuse and stimulants, grief, hard study, shooting of daughter, venereal excesses, novel reading, parents were cousins, dissapointed love, desertion by husband, feebleness of intellect, over action of the mind, laziness, fall from horse, suppressed masterbation, and women trouble. These were just a few, but one can imagine that not every person admitted needed to be there, or wanted to be there. There's more than one story of women suffering from post-partum depression being admitted, along with their babies, by their husbands, never to be released even after recovery. Their husbands had found a new wives and moved on. I also imagine that still other people found solace and happiness shut away from the drudgery of their everyday lives. But in any case, it's hard to imagine why any of them might still be hanging around.

     The SyFy Channel's Ghost Hunter's Academy will be airing their visit to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum  tomorrow, Wednesday, June 9th at 9:00 p.m. If you're interested, check it out. John and I will definitely be watching!

(c) copyright 2010 Travelin' West Virginia All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written consent. For more information send an e-mail to trvlnwv@live.com

Tamarack: The Best of West Virginia, Beckley

     Now that it's summer and Memorial Day Weekend is almost here, many people will be traveling in and around the state, while many others will be leaving for destinations outside the state. Whatever the case may be, if you plan to be driving on I77 north/south, or on I64 east/west, and will be anywhere near the Beckley area, then I strongly recommend you plan on stopping at the Tamarack, located at the far end of  the ramp of exit 45 (beyond and to the right of the service plaza). For several years, when I would travel back and forth from eastern North Carolina, I drove right past this place, glancing over at its unusual building design with the red peaked roof (which from the air resembles a starburst quilt pattern!), not realizing what I was missing. When finally (thank goodness) curiosity got the better of me and I decided to check it out, I have made a point to build it into my travel plans as either the first break stop I make whether I'm headed east or south, or the last break stop if I'm on my way back home. I have even made it a point of destination since John and I have been together just to share with him how wonderful it is! While it opened in May 1996, I think it took me until sometime in 1999 to figure out what I had been missing. You hear people mention places, and I had heard something or other about the Tamarack, but I think what finally swayed me in its direction was the mention of its food court being managed by the Greenbrier Resort, and that Greenbrier chefs did their training there. I had also heard about how much even a hamburger platter cost at the Greenbrier, and people that I know who had eaten there have said that this was just as good only a whole lot cheaper (though since it is cafeteria style you still have to be a little careful). So as usual, it was the promise of good food that did it for me!

     And it's not JUST the food, though let me tell you about the food! But where to start? To tell you the truth, I go for the dessert, and everyhing else I eat is just "icing on the cake" so to speak. So let me start by mentioning the most decadent two-layered chocolate cake I have ever eaten in my life! I'm not diabetic and I need insulin to eat it! And honestly, I wouldn't even be mentioning it if I thought for one minute that all the pieces would be gone the next time I showed up because I wrote this article about it! I think it's happened to me only one time that I got there too late at night and all the chocolate cake was gone. I'm pretty sure that I had been fairly happy on my trip up to that point, and then WHAM! This is what happens when you live for something edible. Okay, so besides that I can settle for their fresh peach half smothered in homemade Greenbrier style whipped cream! And where do they find those peaches? Those things are gigantic! And I do love them too, and they make a great dessert dish for when you have company, and it just so happens that they can be purchased from the Greenbrier gift shop located directly across from the food court. Because I have wanted to impress my own guests, I have on occassion bought a vacuumed sealed can or two (or three) of them, although the whipped cream can only be had there. Oh, but the food court has many delicious desserts to suite every taste bud, from cheese cake, to bread pudding, to a whole variety of pies, and other things too. And then there are the various main gourmet and down-to-earth dishes of meats and vegetables, along with a few of their signature items such as rainbow trout and fried green tomatoes. They sell a whole assortment of deli sandwiches and soups and salads and breads and pizza, all made right there by those amazing Greenbrier chefs, and so your taste buds get the very best of West Virginia before you head out for your walk to browse around the artisans' shops and galleries (that's because I recommend eating first, though you don't have to).

     The Tamarack, named for the northern conifer that reaches its natural southern extent in West Virginia (and is known for its strength, beauty, and versatality), is the result of a collective vision of Govenor Gaston Caperton, artisans, bussiness men, economists, and others who desired a way to boost the state's economy by fostering a market-driven approach to selling indigenous products. Even from its inception, funds were set aside under the WV Parkways Economic Authority (without tax dollars or toll revenues ever being used), and from the first year it has generated enough revenue to stand on its own without any further support. The idea was to establish a premiere showcase for the state's best artists, crafts people, artisans, and food producers so that people traveling along the turnpike would be able to experience the very best that West Virginia had to offer all under one roof. When it opened in May 1996 it became the nation's first statewide collection of arts and crafts, all chosen by a jury selection process that was set up to insure quality and authenticity of West Virginia made items.

     Today there are over 2,800 artisans representing all 55 counties who sell everything from books and DVDs, to fine art, sculptures, furniture, jewelry, art to wear, fiber arts, toys, glass, WV souvenirs, pottery and ceramics, metal decor, outdoor and garden items, music and instruments, specialty foods, and seasonal and holiday gift items. The 59,000 square foot building also houses an art gallery, a theater, a Hall of Fame Museum, and an information desk! Because so many visitors have wanted to return for group meetings and  the like, a 22,500 square ft. conference center was added in June 2003.

     During the Summer (April - December) the Tamarack is open daily from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. The food court serves breakfast from 8:00-10:45, and lunch/dinner from 11:00 until closing (but I'd get there before that if you want a piece of chocolate cake!). Over 1/2 million people visit there every year, and I hope to see you there the next time John and I go. If you haven't ever been, don't be like me and miss out on the experience any longer!





(c) copyright 2010 Travelin' West Virginia All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written consent. For more information send an e-mail to trvlnwv@live.com

The Anna Jarvis Birthplace Museum, Webster

     Today is a very special day, as it has been designated as the first internationally celebrated holiday in the world--Mother's Day. Like everybody else on this day, John and I both recall our own mothers with special memories of tenderness and love. He and I both lost our mothers (his in 1990, and mine in 1997) to different forms of cancer, and so we understand that strong tug on the heart you get when you see other adults still sharing in that most special relationship. Even when your parents are gone, you sometimes feel so strongly that they're not, that somehow they are still with you, especially in those most familiar moments or occassions particular to you privately, or to your family. This was most likely how Anna Jarvis felt after her own mother passed away on the second Sunday in May 1905 (May 9th). It had been her mother's lifelong desire to have a holiday that honored mothers, and Anna vowed to make that a reality. Immediately she began to lobby groups to found the holiday, having a cause that everyone could agree on during an otherwise troublesome era of women's suffrage and the labor movement. And it was our own home state of  West Virginia that became the very first state to officially declare the establishment of Mother's Day in 1910 (which makes today the 100th anniversary of its celebration in WV). But before that, on May 10, 1908, the first Mother's Day service was held at the Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, WV; Anna sent 500 white carnations, her mother's favorite flower, to the church to be given to the mothers who attended (which is how the tradition of giving flowers on Mother's Day, to say thank you for all the love and care, originated).

     Yesterday John and I drove over to Webster, WV in Taylor County. At 2:00 the 12th annual Founder's Festival got underway, honoring 10 decades of mothers, starting in 1914 when the first Mother's Day was nationally celebrated, moving up through the beginning of the 21st century, highlighting a century of changes in the ways women have mothered in terms of the advances made in technology, products, and services, as well as the various changes in social and legal issues that moms have had to concern themselves with. Of course hearing them speak made me think of how different it was for my mom raising us three kids in the 1960s and early 70s versus how it was for me to raise my daughter in the 80s and  early 90s, to how much different it is for her as she raises her two young boys today. Observing all this, it appears to me that life for a mom has gotten so much more busy, complicated, and expensive!

     After the program we took a guided tour of the Jarvis house, where we learned why it was that Anna Jarvis felt so strongly about honoring the wishes of her mother, Anna Maria Reeves Jarvis, to establish a recognized day for mothers. Ann Marie and Granville Jarvis (a successful mercantile businessman) married in 1850, and eventually had 13 children, 8 of whom died before making it into adulthood. Motivated to try to understand what may have caused the deaths of her children, she called on her brother, James, who was a doctor and expert in public health, for help. He was able to explain to her that poor hygienic living was the cause of many of the diseases such as cholera, typhoid, dysentery, and even measles that were rampant among the population. So Ann Marie, who was only 26 years old, got in her buggy and traveled to neighboring towns encouraging women to form Mothers Friendship Clubs through the churches where they could learn what she had learned. Antibiotics were unknown, so the only hope of desperate mothers were taking preventative sanitary measures like covering food, washing diapers, bathing regularly, and cleaning out the wells and privies; this, combined with good nursing eventually resulted in a drastic decrease in the number of deaths.  Another time Ann Marie called on the women's clubs to meet was to determine their part in the war that had by then broken out (the first land battle of the Civil War occurred in the neighboring town of Philippi). They agreed to nurse soldiers from both sides, and pledged to stay united during the war for friendship and goodwill.

     In 1861 General George B. MClellan, with Mrs. Jarvis' permission, began using her house as his first Civil War headquarters, taking over her front room and tying his telegraph into her local line. The house was strategically located on the highway (the Wheeling-Staunton Pike) that connected the two main cities of Virginia: Wheeling and Richmond. His soldiers, sometimes numbering into the hundreds and thousands, camped across the road. This lasted for four years (the front room of the Jarvis house has been preserved as a memorial to McClellan and the Civil War). After the war resentment was so strong on both sides that it often became dangerously life-threatening to be outside, so once again Ann Marie called on her Mothers Club for help. She asked each member to bring a soldier to a meeting in Pruntytown, where they would celebrate a Mother's Friendship Day. Dressed in gray and accompanied by a wife of a confederate soldier who dressed in blue, Mrs. Jarvis asked the band to play "Dixie," while the lady in blue asked them to play "The Star Spangled Banner." Cheers and laughter followed, and then Mrs. Jarvis delivered a speech in which she begged the soldiers to lay down their arms and get on with the business of life, and to forgive their enemies and lay their hard feelings aside. The band then played "Auld Lang Syne," which brought the crowd to tears. No further shots were ever fired.

     In 1864 Ann Marie gave birth to Anna. Mr. Jarvis was quite prosperous by this time, having invested in land, timber, and the railroads, and so eventually moved his family to Grafton. When Anna was old enough she was sent to school on Staunton, Virginia (the Augusta Female Seminary, which later became Mary Baldwin College) where she studied Latin, math, literature, music, and the arts. While there she met Woodrow Wilson, with whom she became a lifelong friend. Anna returned to Grafton to teach for seven years before moving to Philadelphia. When her father died in 1902, her mother and sister also moved to Philadelphia where her brother Claude had a very successful taxicab company. He gave her shares in his company, plus she had inherited a very sizeable amount from her father's estate. When her mother died in 1905 she began a writing campaign, sending letters to every governor in the nation and every head of state around the world. In 1907 Congress authorized, but President Theodore Roosevelt did not sign off on it, a proclamation designating the second Sunday in May as Mothers Day. It wasn't until 1914 that President Woodrow Wilson signed the proclamation stating, "The American mother is the greatest source of our country's strength and inspiration." By 1908 forty-five states, Puerto Rico, Hawaii, Canada, and Mexico joined in observing Mothers Day. On June 20, 1932 West Virginia Governor Conley invited Anna Jarvis to be the keynote speaker at the dedication of the $10 million capitol building in Charleston. Then began her battle to prevent the commercialization of Mother's Day, railing against florists, candy makers, and card makers who were making millions off of "her" holiday. She attended their conventions and castigated them for their profiteering, telling them that they owed it to mothers to put aside a portion of their profits to establish a fund for indigent mothers. She spent at least $100,000 of her inheritance for postage, stationery, clerical work, and educational leaflets to make people aware of the huge profits being made by these industries, all to no avail. By 1944, at the age of 88, she was penniless and broken-spirited. Found wandering the streets of Philadelphia with pneumonia, she was sent to a sanitarium where she spent the last four years of her life until she died on November 24, 1948. Ironically, and maybe because they felt guilty, the Florists Exchange, one of the groups she despised, paid the bill in full for her stay in the sanitarium.

     Anna Jarvis now holds a place of honor as the first woman to be memorialized in the WV Capitol, as the Anna Jarvis Memorial Bust was dedicated on November 9, 2001 at the WV State Capitol Rotunda.  Thunder on the Tygart Foundation sponsored the sculpture, which is now in the state's permanent collection. 
The Anna Jarvis Birthplace Museum opened in 1996, two years after the present owners, Tom and Olive Dadisman, were handed over the keys in 1994 by the Willis Preston Felton heirs. The house was declared a historical site in 1974, and in 1984 the Daughters of the American Revolution received a sizeable grant to restore the house, but over $90,000 of it went towards studies, while the remaining monies went towards repairing the foundation and painting it. When the Dadisman's got the house it was falling down, and was in such a mess that they spent the first year just cleaning up the yard. What is now the gift shop parking lot and pavilion was at that time mostly swamp, which they had to clear and fill. Olive said that all the work s done was with the help of volunteers who came from all over West Virginia. While they have received several grants over the years to help fix the furnace, repair the porch, replace the windows, and exterminate termites, they have not received any grant money for the past seven years. It wasn't until 1998 when Mrs. Hova Underwood, who was being honored as the first Mother of the Year, learned that there were no public restrooms on the premises when she inquired as to their whereabouts, promised that she would secure the funds necessary to change that situation! In 2001 the area across from the Jarvis house was flooded, and everything was lost and had to be rebuilt, which is when someone donated the bridge that now crosses the creek. Also, everything in the house is 95% authentic, either to the Anna Jarvis family or to the time period, much of which has been privately donated to the museum.Thunder on the Tygart, Inc. is a non-profit foundation begun in 1994 to create jobs in WV, preserve historic sites, and educate today's youth about their heritage and the wealth of history that occurred in the great state of West Virginia. They will gladly accept tax-deductable donations, while they strive to keep the cost to visit the Jarvis Birthplace Museum still very low at $5 a person (children under 6 get in free). Besides the Mother's Day Founders Festival Weekend, they sponsor an Old Fashion Christmas Tour during the month of December. Having just visited there myself, and having met the wonderful people who own and work the museum, I'd strongly recommend a drive to Webster, WV. It's a treat for Moms and Civil War buffs alike!


(c) copyright 2010 Travelin' West Virginia All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written consent. For more information send an e-mail to trvlnwv@live.com

Blennerhassett Island, Parkersburg

     Yesterday John and I made a trip to Parkersburg to visit Blennerhassett Island, a West Virginia historical state park. Blennerhassett Island, located on the Ohio River, has a rich history that spans from Ice Age hunters 9,000 years ago to Native American tribes who lived on the island almost continuously until white settlers began to arrive in great numbers into the Ohio Valley in the 1780s. While I vaguely remember being taught about the various Indian settlements along the Ohio River in my 5th grade West Virginia History class, I more readily remember the story about Aaron Burr and his military conspiracy. In 1798, Harman Blennerhassett, a wealthy Irish aristocrat, settled on the island and built a magnificent mansion. Unfortunately, in 1806 he became mixed up in an elaborate scheme with Aaron Burr (who had dueled with Alexander Hamilton in 1804), who wanted to conquer part of Texas territory, along with northern Mexico (which was Spanish territory), in order to create a new empire which he would rule. President Thomas Jefferson accused Burr (a former U.S. Vice President who had tied with Jefferson in the presidential elections, and with whom he was bitter enemies) and the other men of committing treason.  Blennerhassett fled the island, but was captured and put in a Virginia state prison, while Burr was arrested in Kentucky, then tried and acquitted with help from his young attorney, Henry Clay, and a ruling made by Chief Justice John Marshall that declared Burr protected by the 1st Amendment which gave him the right to voice public opposition to the government. The trial went to a jury, but based on Marshall's ruling the jury had no choice but to find Burr not guilty as there was no proof of assembling men for treasonable purposes. However, both men's lives were ruined. Burr, whose name was forever marred, went back to England, while Harman Blennerhassett, who was released from prison after Burr was acquitted, moved down south and then eventually back to Ireland where he died. After Blennerhassett was put in prison, Virginia militiamen had ransacked his island estate and burnt down Blennerhassett's mansion, the foundation of which was rediscovered by archaeologists in 1973 (who worked almost 2 decades digging on Blennerhassett island), and through careful historical and architectural research, was recreated. Work on its interior furnishings are still  in progress, but visitors may take guided tours of the mansion by period costumed volunteers, or docents, and may also visit the Blennerhassett Museum of Regional History (located in downtown Parkersburg on 2nd and Juliana Streets) where they may trace the history of the Ohio Valley, the city of Parkersburg, and the islands through exhibits of 18th, 19th, and 20th century relics.

     Adding to the beauty of the island are the thick hardwood groves, a walnut plantation, and a great Tulip Poplar (the 2nd largest east of the Mississippi) which all offer welcomed shade, the long beaches that encircle the island, and the wide open fields that provide a habitat for white-tailed deer, water fowl, and other birds. Blennerhassett Island also has an inlet cove which was used in frontier times by canoes and smaller riverboats to access the island, which in about 1840 began to silt in and by 1900 had become dry land. And to top it all off, to get to the island today visitors must take a 19th century-style sternwheeler, run by Captain Harry Batten, who designed and commissioned the boat to be built for himself back in 1994 (which he named the Jewell City). (Now I'm not altogether certain that I have the following information straight, so if you decide to visit Blennerhassett Island, you might ask him yourself to clarify it for you when you see him.) What is interesting is that he sold the sternwheeler to a man in Illinois (and somewhere in this whole story he worked for Rubles, who made a bid on the boat and lost either before or after the man in Illinois), who then eventually sold it back to the state of West Virginia, and Captain Batten, who has been operating sternwheelers on the Ohio River for 26 years, is now back home on his own sternwheeler, which in 2009 was renamed the Island Belle (so named by a class of elementary school kids who won a competition with other classes from other area schools), taking almost 32,000 passengers a year back and forth to the island from May 1st through October each year. (Whew!) In any case, the man is extremely friendly, and will let passengers making the ride across visit him in the pilot's house and steer the boat for a minute or two! When John and I were headed over, he invited a group of 7th - 11th graders who were visiting the island from Mid-Valley Christian School in Middleport, Ohio to go in one by one and get their pictures taken with him.

     Blennerhassett Island hosts several special events throughout the season, and today John and I went over to experience the "Rendezvous on the River," a four-day event which started in 1989, where muzzleloaders and mountain men gather to recreate 18th and early 19th century frontier life with authentic camps, demonstrations, and period costumes. John was extremely excited about visiting this recreated event, as he has always wished that he could have lived back in those days, often making mention of that fact whenever he recollects some backwoods outing he went on during his younger days. And I have no doubt that he could, indeed, have been a lone mountain man (but thank god he's not!). We also met a couple on the boat ride over, Art and Ann Linger, who for the same reason as us, were making their first trip ever to Blennerhassett Island in their 37 years as Parkersburg residents. Interestingly, this event was being sponsored by the West Virginia Muzzleloaders Association, a group of muzzleloader shooters, builders, hunters, and history enthusiasts, who in 1977 formally organized in order to promote and preserve the traditional style of muzzleloader shooting. And thanks to this group's active involvement in legislative matters and the Department of Natural Resources policy matters, they have worked to improve conditions for the sportsmen and women of WV, and have secured a muzzleloader deer hunting season in West Virginia! We got to meet several of these individuals (many of whom have been doing this for 20+ years) who generously gave of their time during the afternoon to talk with us about what they do, and to show us their pre-1840s camps, plus let us take a peek inside their tents (all of this where they are living, cooking, and sleeping for the 4 days).
    

Among the people we met were Linda Reed, and the 1830s mountain man, Raymond "Ugly" Leeper (who explained to us the period costuming and camps), both from Grafton, WV; Monte Pearson (a very interesting guy dressed in 1700s frontier costuming who's 1/2 Mohawk and Shawnee, and 1/2 Welsh, who builds period rifles, plus throws a mean tomahawk and knife!) from New Manchester, WV; and the Benson family from Ripley, WV: Marlin (who was cooking made-from-scratch biscuits in a cast iron pot over an open fire, that were delicious, by the way!), and Beckey (who was spinning wool from sheep and angora goats and llamas that they raise themselves), and Casey (who was sitting in the shade reading--which would have been my favorite activity!). John and I both learned so much from talking with all of these people. They really knew their frontier history, and they seemed to love sharing it! Next year they expect to have about 40 camps set up, which ought to make for a spectacular event for visitors of all ages.

     By 5:00 we had to catch the last run of the sternwheeler which would take us back across the river to our car. As we drove back home we talked about how we both felt like we had made a few new friends that day, and how we thought that we could so easily just have pitched our own tent, made a camp, and stayed there with them!
If you would like more information about visiting Blennerhassett Island, go to  Blennerhassett Island State Park .





(c) copyright 2010 Travelin' West Virginia All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written consent. For more information send an e-mail to trvlnwv@live.com

The Governor's Cup Regatta, Charleston

     Ask people what they think of when they hear West Virginia mentioned, and whether it's their beloved home or whether they've just passed through on their way to someplace else (and especially if they've never been here at all), it's highly unlikely that anybody would think of crew shells racing on the Kanawha River. In fact, even the biggest sports officianados might not know that Charleston is host to the annual Governor's Cup Regatta, a nationally prominent crew racing invitational that brings teams from all over to compete in various race distances and team combinations. This year's event took place on Saturday, April 24th behind  the campus of the University of Charleston (UC), and was co-sponsored by UC and Huddleston Bolen, LLP, a law firm with offices in Huntington and Charleston, WV, and Ashland and Louisville, KY.

     I really wanted to make the trek to Charleston this year because, thanks to Facebook, I have recently gotten back in touch with some of my old school friends from Parkersburg High, including one of my very best friends who was on the PHS crew team, and who, after graduation, along with several other of the guys who rowed in 1976, went to Morris Harvey (it was still named that back then) to row on their team. And me? I was a crew groupie! For two seasons my girlfriend, Cindy, and I followed them around as they traveled from state to state to compete. In the early part of the seasons, as we stood on the rivers' banks, we'd about freeze to death as we strained our eyes watching the shells come into view, hoping that our guys were in the lead, and in the later part of the seasons we'd about melt from the heat of the sun. But it was all worth it to watch those guys row! Talk about SMOOTH. And they were tight with each other! So much so, that this year they decided to all get together on the UC campus for the Governor's Cup Regatta and alumni reunion. And what a reunion it was! The weather had called for rain, but fortunately it sprinkled only a little bit before noon, and then the temps climbed high into the upper 70s with the sun out in full force the rest of the day! But even with the good weather I'm not sure that any of us caught even one race result for all the talking and hugging and picture taking that went on all afternoon! And from what I heard afterwards, the UC crew reunion went on well into the night!  John and I left around 4:00 to go hang out with his brother, Mike, and his family who live just up the road in Kanawha City. We pretty much collapsed when we got there, and settling into some soft cushiony chairs felt good after sitting on hard ground for most of the day. Plus, we were more than ready to quench our thirst when Mike offered us cold bottles of lemonade and icy Cokes before the two guys went back outside to cook hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill. After we ate, John and I stuck around until almost 10:00 while he and Mike kept me in stitches reminiscing about people from their past and stuff they did when they were young; so it was a great day all around!

     As we crossed the bridge back over the Kanawha River to get to the interstate, we could see the lights shining all the way down Kanawha Boulevard on the one side, with the capital building standing prominently on the river's north bank; and we could see the lights shining all the way down MacCorkle Avenue on the other side, with the University of Charleston standing prominently on the river's south bank. High above the water, we could  feel the heart of the Kanawha River as it flowed through West Virginia's seat of government, still beating vibrantly with life! As we drove back in the cool night air north on I77 to Ravenswood we knew without a doubt that this place would always be a welcoming beacon to light our way home.
     (And now a little bit of info for anybody who's interested and may not know: the University of Charleston is a private residential university with close to 1400 students who come from 37 states and 22 countries. From the campus one can be awed by its amazing panoramic view of the West Virginia hills, the Kanawha River, and the state capital building and governor's mansion. It shares its lawn with 1000s of guests for such annual events as Symphony Sunday, Wine and All That Jazz, and Blues, Brews, and BBQ. The college was originally founded by the Southern Methodists in 1888 as Barboursville Seminary in Barboursville, WV,  became a college in 1889, and was renamed Morris Harvey College in 1901 in honor of a prominent donor. During the Depression, the college moved to Charleston, but it wasn't until 1947 that construction of the present facility, which is located on the south bank of the Kanawha River, got underway. In 1942 the college disaffiliated itself from the Methodist Church, and in 1978 the Board of Trustees changed the college's name to the University of Charleston.)

Say hello to my new partner/contributor

Hi Everybody!
 My name is Connie. Like John, I was born and raised in West Virginia--over on the western side of the state in the Mid-Ohio Valley region. Actually, we grew up in the same town of Ravenswood, our fathers both attracted by employment opportunities at the newly established Kaiser Aluminum plant, as were so many other men with young families during the late 50s and 60s. A new section of town literally sprang up over night in order to meet the needs of its newest residents: streets were laid out and paved, and ranch style homes with attatched carports were built on almost every portioned out lot;  a new strip plaza which housed new businesses that would compete with the older downtown businesses was built; and finally, all around this new construction grass, and bushes, and trees (that have since grown large into full maturity) were planted as quickly as new residents moved in. John and I grew up only 2 blocks away from each other over on the north side of town, and were one year apart in school. We were close friends in high school (especially between 9th and 10th grades when he practically lived at my house), and he was the first boy I ever kissed (he was so sweet about it, stopping on the walk home from school to my house--carrying my books, I might add--in order to ask me in a very gentlemanly fashion if he could kiss me!). I was really too young to date, and my parents would have killed me if they thought for even one minute we were "serious," so the whole business just naturally went the way of most all young romances. Unfortunatley, my parents got divorced early in 1975, and after that school year I moved with my dad and brother to Parkersburg. A few months later John left Ravenswood to join the Army. It would be almost 35 years before our paths would cross again. I eventually left the state in 1977 to go live near my mother in California, but returned to Parkersburg in 1982, where I lived until 1989. Since then I have lived in Ohio, Eastern North Carolina, and Kentucky, teaching English at several different colleges. I have also spent time over the last decade traveling extensively throughout the Middle East, Western Europe, and the Mediterranean region, which I am currently blogging about at  http://dancingamongtheruins.blogspot.com/ . You are welcome to follow me there, if you'd like, as I attempt to bring the world of Biblical archaeology and the culture of the Middle East to life.

     As for me and John, our story picked back up in 2009 when we found each other on Classmates.com and quickly rekindled that old flame! Realizing that the spark between us had turned into love (after tons of phone conversations, emails, and a couple of visits), we  decided to move back together to our hometown of Ravenswood, where we now share a little house right on the Ohio River down at the old ferry landing. And for most of this whole past year, whenever I've not been teaching my classes at OU or WVU-P we have jumped in the car and taken either short day trips or longer weekend  drives all around this beautiful state, visiting not only places that had once been familiar to us as kids, but to almost every nook and cranny of about 45 of our 55 counties. Still, it sometimes seems to both of us a little unbelievable that we are back here, and yet we both feel in our hearts and in our souls that we have truly returned HOME. Together we have decided to share it with you through words and pictures as we continue our travels and explorations all over this wild and wonderful state. If you like, please feel free to make comments or share your own favorite places with us. Thanks so much for visiting our blog, and hope to see y'all real soon as we go travelin' West Virginia!

Jackson County, West Virginia

Major Highways

Interstate 77
U.S. Highway 33
West Virginia Route 2
West Virginia Route 34
West Virginia Route 62
West Virginia Route 68
West Virginia Route 87


Jackson County, West Virginia is my home. This is where I grew up, on the Ohio River in the small town of Ravenswood. Like many young people, when I lived here I couldn't wait to leave. When I moved away, I couldn't wait to move back. While I was away, there was always a sense that this was my home, this is where my roots attach me to the earth. I missed the Ohio River, and the Mid-Ohio Valley. I missed the rolling hills and the mountains. I missed the friendliness of the people. I missed everything about this place.

After being away for nearly twenty-five years I moved back home to Ravenswood, where I live in a house that sits at the river's edge. From my front deck I have an unobstructed view of the river in both directions, and on the opposite bank is a beautiful view of the wooded hills in rural Meigs County, Ohio.

Immediately I set about exploring the area surrounding Ravenswood, and seeing again those places I used to go when I was a kid. I expanded my explorations to include all of Jackson County by taking drives along the many country roads crisscrossing the county. Here I see the beauty of this place that I missed so much. My soul feels at peace in this place, and I absorb the beauty, the sights, sounds, and smells of all that I find here, all that I have forgotten over the years, and know that finally I am home.