Author: Admin

History of Rowland Creek Church of The Brethren

April 26, 2026 Admin No Comments

The church was organized July 15, 1911, by 23 former members of the Mountain View Church of the Brethren in Grayson County, Virginia, who lived in or near the Rowland Creek community. A week later, two more members transferred from the German Baptist Church in Bristol, Tennessee. At the first meeting, W. H. Handy was voted the Pastor and Elder. Other officers included a clerk, deacons, and delegates to the district meetings. At first the meetings of the church were conducted in an old school building located a few hundred yards from the present church location. The school was a community project since decisions for repairs had to be approved by the citizens of the community. During the time that the old school-house was used, there were several roof repairs and the installation of a stove and stovepipe. Such projects were often paid for by the community. On October 18, 1918, the church voted the school out of the building and resolved that the deed to the property be recorded in the name of the church. The current church was built in the late1920’s. Sunday School rooms were added in 1955. In 1934, there were ninety-three members. Led by Pastor David Cleary from 1947 to 1972, the church grew rapidly. In 1955, the congregation split, when Sunday School literature began using the Revised Standard Version of the Bible. The ones disapproving of the new literature built a new church, the Independent Brethren Church, farther up Rowland Creek Lane. The pastor for over 40 years was Fred Parker, who passed away in 2023. Currently the church has no regular pastor. Visiting preachers hold worship services monthly. Sunday School is attended by 15 to 25 people. The congregation still celebrates Easter Sunrise service and has a Christmas program each year. They also give a bag of Christmas treats to all, a tradition for over 100 years. For many decades in the tiny community of Stoney Battery, a valley sheltered by the foothills of mountains beyond, everyone walked to church. And almost everyone went: the church was often so crowded that people stood outside during the services. Vacation Bible School always overflowed with happy children learning to sing the books of the Bible. Few faithful are left, but they are faithful.

Adwolfe, Brethren, Churches, Uncategorized

The Mysterious Disappearance of Rex Roberts Nearly 80 Years Later

March 16, 2026March 16, 2026 Admin

Nearly 80 Years After Rex Roberts Vanished, Sugar Grove Still Searches for Answers Sugar Grove, Virginia has seen its share of history, but few events have cast a longer or more haunting shadow than the disappearance of Willis “Rex” Roberts. As 2026 arrives, the mystery nears its 80th anniversary. Rex—just 17 when he vanished near Christmas of 1947—would be approaching 100 years old today. Yet not a single confirmed trace of him has ever surfaced. Rex was the son of Maurice and Bessie Roberts, a well‑known family whose roots stretched back generations in Rye Valley. Maurice was a respected farmer; Bessie, a schoolteacher at Sugar Grove, was remembered as kind, intelligent, and deeply devoted to her students. Those who knew her said the loss of her son changed her forever. Even years later, she often seemed lost in thought, carrying a grief that never healed. Rex was last seen walking home from school with a local boy—who was called simply as “Sam.” Sam continued on toward his own home, and Rex went inside the Roberts house. By the next morning, some of Rex’s clothes were missing, and Rex himself was nowhere to be found. The original written information indicates that “Sam” may not have been this individuals real name in order to protect those involved. No note. No confirmed sightings. No explanation. The Roberts home and outbuildings, later purchased by the Brunswick Corporation in the late 1960s, have long since been demolished. The land sits quiet now, offering no clues to a mystery that once consumed the entire community. In the months and years that followed, speculation spread through Sugar Grove and beyond. Some believed Rex had run away—perhaps to Texas, where a local man known as “Mr. Bob” owned a large farm, or to Maryland, where others claimed he had connections. One resident insisted he saw Rex board the “mountain bus,” though the driver denied ever selling him a ticket. Not all theories pointed to a voluntary departure. Many locals whispered that Rex and his father did not get along, and some believed an argument about a calf may have preceded his disappearance. It was even said that Rex told his father he would never see him again if he done anything with that calf. One of the most persistent rumors suggested that Rex may have fallen—or been pushed—into a sinkhole on the family farm, a chilling possibility in an area known for unpredictable terrain. It has been said that you cannot throw a brick into that sinkhole and hear it hit the bottom. Others suspected foul play more broadly, convinced that Rex met an untimely end and that someone in the community knew more than they ever revealed. The FBI and Smyth County Sheriff’ W. Pat Jennings investigated, but no evidence emerged. The Roberts family received periodic updates from federal agents, each one reporting the same thing: nothing new to report. This disappearance happened just as Jennings was elected to serve as Sheriff but J.V. Richardson was the current outgoing sheriff meaning that this was investigated in a transitional phase. Adding another layer to the mystery, Bessie’s own father had disappeared years earlier and was never found. Her mother is listed as the plaintiff on a divorce decree where she listed California as her ex husband’s place of residence in 1920. As decades passed, those who knew Rex personally grew older and eventually passed away, taking with them memories, suspicions, and perhaps answers. Yet among the remaining older residents, the story of Rex Roberts is not forgotten. It lingers in conversations, in local lore, and in the quiet sense that something unresolved still hangs over Sugar Grove. Nearly 80 years later, the disappearance of Rex Roberts remains one of Southwest Virginia’s most enduring unsolved mysteries. Even after all this time, we continue to search for the truth. If you have any information—family stories, old letters, secondhand accounts, or details passed down through generations—we encourage you to contact this page. No detail is too small. No memory is too insignificant. After nearly eight decades, even the faintest clue could help illuminate what happened to Rex Roberts and bring closure to a mystery that has weighed on this community for far too long. Watch the video here.

Communities, Mysteries, Roberts, Stories, Sugar Grove, Sugar Grove School

Molasses Tradition in Sugar Grove: A Generational Craft

March 5, 2026 Admin No Comments

For generations in Sugar Grove, the Combs family has carried forward a tradition that is as much about community and memory as it is about food. Making molasses was never a quick task or a solitary one — it was a season, a rhythm, and a ritual. Each step, from planting cane to sealing jars of molasses, reflects knowledge passed carefully and meticulously from one generation to the next. This is the story of how the Combs family makes molasses in the heart of Rye Valley, using tools, seeds, and methods that have endured for generations. Every batch of molasses begins long before the fire is lit under the pan. It begins in the cane patch — a field planted with seed saved from the previous year’s crop. This seed‑saving tradition is one of the most remarkable aspects of the process. Sherman Combs, Jr. played a central role in this cycle. After the cane matured, he would walk the rows, selecting the best cane heads and carefully topping them in the harvesting process to collect seed. These seeds weren’t just agricultural material; they were heirlooms. Each year’s planting carried the genetics — and the memories — of many seasons and generations before it. This practice of “topping” the cane, gathering the heads, and saving seed ensured a consistent reliable crop, a lineage of cane adapted to Sugar Grove’s soil and climate and a direct connection between generations of farmers. Gayle Combs, the family patriarch, is shown in this photo going through the heads of the cane gathering the seeds to store for the next planting. Seeds can be stored for several years if kept dry and cool. They are usually stored in an old glass jug to prevent any moisture or other foreign matter from coming in contact with them assuring their quality. The jug has been around also for many generations. Before any cane juice could be boiled, the custom molasses pan had to be prepared — a process that required both craftsmanship and patience. The pan is hand made and custom designed for the cane furnace using its specific measurements. The pan, typically a long, shallow metal trough, was fitted around a wooden frame. To ensure a tight seal, the pan was filled with water. As the wood absorbed moisture, it expanded, tightening around the joints and preventing leaks. Any small gaps or imperfections revealed during this stage were addressed before the pan ever touched the furnace and before any cane juice is put into it. This step is essential. A leaking pan could ruin hours of labor and waste precious cane juice. This preparation is treated as seriously as the cooking itself. The cane furnace — used not only for molasses but also for apple butter — is one of the most enduring pieces of family history. Built from stone and brick, it was designed to hold heat evenly and support the heavy molasses pan. The cane furnace is a rectangular structure built on top of the ground to form a box to contain the fire. it has a smokestack and slats across the top for added support of the pan when it is placed. The cane furnace sits under a pole shelter for added protection from weather and other elements. If it rains or is too windy, tarps can be added between poles for added protection from the weather. Before each use, the furnace has to be “mudded.” This means sealing the edges of the pan with a clay‑like mixture to prevent leaks, keep smoke and ash out of the molasses and ensure the pan heats evenly from end to end. This furnace isn’t just equipment; it is a landmark. Generations have gathered around it, stirring, skimming, talking, and working before first light until sunset. Once the cane furnace is properly made ready for the next molasses making event, the pan is placed carefully on fresh mud so that it forms a seal. Once the cane is harvested, the stalks are fed through a cane mill — a heavy, gear‑driven press that squeezes out the juice. The mill was often powered by hand, mule, or tractor, depending on the era. In modern times, a tractor is used to power the cane mill. As the stalks are crushed, the juice flows into a cloth strainer. This first filtration removed dirt, bits of cane plant matter, leaves and any other debris from the field. A fine, clean cloth sack is used for straining for this step, ensuring the juice entering the pan from the cane mill was as pure and clean as possible. With the furnace hot and the pan sealed, the strained cane juice is poured in. This began the longest and most labor‑intensive part of the process: boiling the juice down into molasses. During this process, about half of the juice is lost to evaporation and skimming that renders a base product which becomes molasses. This stage could last many hours, often from early morning until sunset. Throughout the day, family and neighbors take turns feeding the fire, watching the boil, skimming and discarding skimmings into a nearby 5 gallon bucket. Skimmer tools are handmade from an old broom handles and metal that is hand crafted into a square scoop shape. the scoop has rows of holes so that liquid can flow through but the thicker foamy substance that rises to the surface does not pass through these holes and is discarded. These skimmers are used constantly throughout most of the process of making molasses. This process is performed along both sides of the pan for efficiency and turns are usually taken in the process by everyone. The color slowly deepens from pale green to a beautiful golden amber. The aroma — sweet, earthy, unmistakable — drifts across the yard permeating your clothes, your hair and any other material things you have while infusing everything with the scent of wood smoke mingled with molasses. It’s a unique scent only attained from this process. This…

Combs, Communities, Families, History, Sugar Grove

The Bank of Sugar Grove: A Brief Chapter in Local Enterprise

February 24, 2026February 24, 2026 Admin No Comments

In the heart of Smyth County’s Rye Valley, the early 20th century brought a wave of local enterprise and ambition. Among the most notable ventures was the Bank of Sugar Grove, a short-lived but significant institution that reflected the community’s aspirations for economic growth and self-sufficiency The Bank of Sugar Grove was incorporated on October 2, 1914, with its principal office located in the Village of Sugar Grove, as recorded in Charter Book 2 at the Smyth County Courthouse. The bank’s stated purpose was broad and ambitious, encompassing the full spectrum of general banking activities: Discounting and negotiating bills of exchange, promissory notes, and drafts, Receiving deposits, Buying and selling exchange coin and bullion, Loaning money on real and personal collateral,Purchasing and selling stocks and bonds, This scope positioned the bank as a potential financial hub for local farmers, merchants, and residents seeking access to credit and investment opportunities. The bank’s capital stock was set between $10,000 and $25,000, with shares valued at $100 each. This structure reflected a modest but serious investment in the community’s financial infrastructure. Officers: R. N. Ward, President A. T. Slemp, Vice President L. L. Hutton, Secretary/Cashier Board of Directors: A. T. Slemp, Sugar Grove S. A. Meek, Sugar Grove R. N. Ward, Sugar Grove E. P. Wassum, Sugar Grove G. A. Lockhart, Rural Retreat L. H. Shumate, Rural Retreat J. S. Etter, Rural Retreat This blend of local and neighboring leadership suggests a regional vision for the bank’s role in Southwest Virginia’s economy. The bank operated from a building that once stood behind the current Sugar Grove post office. Though the structure no longer exists, its presence marked a tangible commitment to local commerce and financial independence. Despite its promising start, the Bank of Sugar Grove was dissolved on September 21, 1923. The reasons for its closure remain undocumented in the charter records, but its brief existence offers a glimpse into the challenges and hopes of rural banking in the early 1900s. While the Bank of Sugar Grove lasted less than a decade, its incorporation and operation reflect a pivotal moment in Sugar Grove’s development. It stands as a testament to the community’s entrepreneurial spirit and desire to shape its own economic future. Today, the memory of the bank lives on through courthouse records and local recollections, offering historians and residents alike a chance to reflect on the ambitions that once animated this quiet corner of Smyth County. The building later served as a meeting place for the International Order of Odd Fellows after it was used as a bank and also at one time had some apartments before falling into disrepair and eventually being torn down in the 90s. It is estimated that this building was built in the 1920s according to some documentation but this is conflicting with the charter which states the bank was located in the community prior to this date. It stood through the mid 90s and is now an empty lot. During the time the building was being used, we know that Roy Fulton, a custodian who retired from Sugar Grove High School in 1953 , lived in one of these apartments where he made wood crafts and sold them to supplement his income during his later years. *Special thanks to County Administrator Shawn Utt and Clegg Williams for assisting in locating photos of this building. *Photo was colorized from original black and white photo dated 1997 for this article.

Bank, Business, Communities, Etter, Families, Lockhart, Meek, Odd Fellows, Organizations, Shumate, Slemp, Sugar Grove, Ward, Wassum

St. Clair’s Bottom: A Name Rooted in Early Settlement

November 26, 2025November 26, 2025 Admin No Comments

The place we know today as St. Clair’s Bottom carries with it layers of history, memory, and shifting spellings. The name itself is believed to honor Charles Sinclair (1717–1766), an early settler whose presence along the South Fork of the Holston River left a lasting mark on the region. Over time, the name has appeared in several forms—St. Clair, Sinclair, Sinkler, and others—reflecting both the fluidity of spelling in the 18th century and the oral traditions that carried family names across generations. Charles Sinclair owned just under 1,000 acres along the South Fork of the Holston River, land that was surveyed in the 1740s. Records also place him along Reed Creek in present-day Wythe County during that same decade. How these two tracts of land connected in his life remains a question for further research, but together they show the breadth of Sinclair’s presence in Southwest Virginia during the frontier era. Local tradition suggests that families with the surnames Bonham or Bottom may have been associated with Sinclair or the area that came to bear his name. While the exact relationship is unclear, these connections hint at the complex web of kinship and settlement that shaped early communities along the Holston. In 1755, amid the turbulence of frontier life, Charles Sinclair and his family fled Virginia for Orange County, North Carolina. It was there that his will was later probated by his wife, Ann. After his death, Ann eventually returned with the family to Virginia, reestablishing ties to the land and community that had once been theirs. Tradition holds that Charles Sinclair was buried in the Primitive Baptist Church Cemetery near St. Clair’s Bottom. If true, his resting place anchors the story of the man whose name continues to define the area. St. Clair’s Bottom is more than a name on a map—it is a reminder of the families who carved out lives along the Holston River, endured upheaval, and returned to leave their mark on Virginia’s landscape. As with much of our local history, questions remain: How exactly did Sinclair’s Reed Creek land relate to his Holston River holdings? What role did the Bonhams and Bottoms play in the naming of the area? By piecing together land records, wills, and oral traditions, we continue to uncover the story of St. Clair’s Bottom—a story that belongs not only to the Sinclair family, but to the wider community that grew from these early roots.

Bonham, Primitive Baptist Church, St. Clair, St. Clair's Bottom, Stories

Dr. Goodridge Wilson On Our History

November 5, 2025November 1, 2025 Admin No Comments

Early Settlers Were Attracted to Smyth County’s Rye Valley Rye Valley lies over the mountain to the south of Smyth County. State Route 16, the B. F. Buchanan Highway, coming from the north over Clinch, Brushy, and Walker mountains, passes through Hungry Mother Park, Marion, and Attaway, over another Brushy Mountain, and enters a locality where rye was growing in abundance when the first white men came to this region. That weed is smaller than the cultivated rye but resembles it, and is said to make fairly good horse and cattle food. The pioneers seemed to have liked the plant, perhaps because it grew so well here. Prior to or during the Revolutionary War they gave it its name not only the beautiful valley where the South Fork of Holston starts but also to Rye Bottom on Big Walker Creek, and to Rye Cove in Scott County. The valley is narrow. The high crosses it quickly at a little climbing the steep sides of Iron Mountain and on across Grayson County to North Carolina. The first pioneers who acquired land in Rye Valley appear to have been Joseph and Esther Crockett, enterprising land speculators, who were not husband and wife, but business associates whose names appear together on a number of documents. The late Squire Robert Ward of Sugar Grove, a descendant of one of them, showed me a deed dated in 1753 by which the king of England conveyed the land about the head springs of the South Fork of Holston to Joseph and Esther Crockett. Mr. Ward’s name was included in that grant. His grandfather, a Rev. Crockett, bought it from a James or a Nelson, Joseph and Esther Crockett, or their heirs, had sold the original tract to some families in Virginia and to Nelson families who came from Virginia and they became the first actual settlers in the iron region where three mountain brooks join their waters with those of a number of bold springs in level meadows to form the South Fork of Holston. Two of the brooks, Dickey’s Creek and Cress Creek, come out of Iron Mountain, and the third, Slemp Creek, tumbles into the valley from Brushy Mountain. In this valley meadows a forest of fine sugar maple trees grew. While I was living in Marion back in the 1920s and 30s I would go there sometimes to fish for trout, to visit in some homes, or to conduct a religious service in a public school. At that time two splendid groves, remnants of that ancient maple forest, provided wonderful picnic grounds and ideal places for all-day gatherings as Baptist Association meetings. They gave the community its name, Sugar Grove. Now the groves are gone, and much beauty formerly belonging to this place of many waters faded with the passing of those great trees. Perhaps the first permanent settler in Rye Valley was Jenkins Williams, who settled on land downstream from and immediately adjoining the original Joseph and Esther Crockett survey. When I lived in Marion his descendants in the seventh generation were living on that land. When I went to Marion one of them, a lad in knee pants, lived with his widowed mother across the street from me. He now lives in Richmond and is well known over the state as Robert Williams, executive secretary of the Virginia Education Association, a well-authenticated fact, who made his home here since 1754 when rescuers were trailing marauding Indians and found the dead body of Mrs. Samuel Stalnaker beside a creek, with her infant child crying “Hungry Manny,” they went to warn the family of a settler near the site of Sugar Grove, and left the child with that family. That settler may have been Jenkins Williams. In 1776 John Griffiths came from Pennsylvania and settled in Rye Valley. When I made a sightseeing tour in that section a few weeks ago, B.H. Griffiths of Marion went with me. He was born and grew up with his father’s name in a house that stands on the site of a log house in which the Griffiths settle of 1776 lived. Among other things he showed me some skillful doing masonry work and some lengths of old iron water piping, on a hillside above the South Fork of Holston. These are the remnants of a lead mining and smelting operation conducted there around the turn of the century. An iron working industry was started in Rye Valley early in the pioneer period. Jenkins Williams had a forge on the South Fork in which, among other items, he manufactured barrels for rifles used by Revolutionary War soldiers. A Pierce family engaged in iron working in the valley through successive generations. The Rev. Lewis Wetzel Pierce, a Methodist minister widely known throughout Southwest Virginia as a pastor of churches and as a former agent for the Children’s Home Society of Virginia, is now retired and lives in Bristol. He says that his great-grandfather, Moses Pierce, a Quaker, came from North Carolina and established an iron forge near the mouth of Comers Creek. His grandfather and his father were iron workers at Sugar Grove, He was born on inherited a farm located on the west side of Slemp Creek, which his grandfather bought from Jonathan Slemp. The Slemp’s, Frederick and Jonathan acquired land on the south side of Brushy Mountain in 1804. Mr. Pierce says that Jonathan’s land was on the west side of the mountain between Crockett and Frederick’s on the east side. Frederick stayed and his descendants are still in that section. Jonathan sold his land to Alexander Wilson Pierce and his descendants, Col. Camp, who represented that area in Congress from the 9th Virginia District. The Brushy Mountain land is still called Slemp’s Creek.

Communities, Crockett, Families, Genaology, Griffitts, History, History Keepers, James, Native American, Nelson, Pierce, Roberts, Stories, Sugar Grove, Teas, Ward, Williams

The History Keepers- Sena Roberts-Ward

November 1, 2025November 1, 2025 Admin No Comments

“The History Keepers” is a special series on our website dedicated to honoring those who have preserved and chronicled the stories of our region. Through their writings, collections, and memories—sometimes shared directly, sometimes lovingly submitted by their families—we celebrate the voices that have safeguarded our local heritage. One such voice belongs to Mrs. Sena Roberts-Ward. If you’re from this area, you likely knew her, heard her name spoken with respect, or admired the graceful mill she restored and tended in Sugar Grove—a quiet sentinel that still reminds us of our heritage. Mrs. Ward lived 94 remarkable years, bridging generations and bearing witness to much of the history we now study and remember. Her life overlapped with elders who themselves had lived through even earlier chapters of our community’s story. Her lineage traces directly to several of the pioneer families who settled the Rye Valley, and her deep knowledge of that legacy was matched by her high academic achievements and meticulous care for detail. We are especially grateful for the writings, photographs and memories she left behind—many of which remain unpublished, yet hold invaluable insights into our shared past. Her work is a gift to all of us, and through this series, we hope to bring it to light, honoring her dedication and the enduring spirit of those who keep history alive. Sena Roberts-Ward was one of many who have posthumously contributed to this research and compilation of the History of the Rye Valley and here is her story transcribed from documents found in her own collection: Sena Narcissus Roberts was born February 26, 1901 in Flat Ridge, the first child of Adam Batey and Laura Elizabeth Jennings-Roberts, and the first grandchild of Charles Lafayette Jennings of Camp. She was joined by two brothers, Wiley Winton and Charles Maurice. The family grew up in Grayson and Smyth Counties. She was a graduate of Berea College in Kentucky, and did graduate work at the University of Virginia. She was one of the early home demonstration agents of Kentucky and taught high school and home economics in Mullens, WV. In 1932 she married Clarence John Ward and they were parents of two daughters, Laura Frances and Elizabeth Lavinia. She was the home economics teacher at William Flemming High School in Roanoke, and then operated the Hamm-Roberts Mill in Sugar Grove. In 1968 she retired from the Southwestern State Hospital as a dietitian and returned to Sugar Grove, where she did substitute teaching. With help from many friends, neighbors and relatives, she ran the family farm for several years. Her interests included a wide range of farming activities, from raising cattle to making molasses. She made a study of genealogy of her own family as well as others. She had a special fondness of country living, and her warm, wonderful friends and neighbors were a source of help and comfort to her during her declining hears. Although she saw several generations, she was always especially delighted with the newest generation. She maintained a joy of living almost until the very end. *We would like to extend a special thank you to Elizabeth Ward-Allison and her family for these contributions. **Photos from the Sena Roberts-Ward collection

Business, Camp, Education, Families, Genaology, History, History Keepers, Mill, Roberts, Ward

Fire At the Boiler Plant at Teas

September 26, 2025 Admin No Comments

On Saturday, June 14, 1930, around midnight, a fire broke out in the Boiler Plant, part of the Teas Extract Plant. The fire was suspected to be arson, according to local newspaper coverage. The flames were first spotted by Robert Griffitts, who reported the fire, but by then, it was too late to save anything. The interior of the building was completely gutted by the time it was discovered. Witnesses reported that flames shot up the old smoke stack, which towered over Teas at 150 feet tall, and out from the top. At the time, the damage was considered minimal because the company had already planned to demolish the old building and sell the brick. After the fire, the walls remained standing, and the brickwork was undamaged. Mr. T. J. Maxwell reported that the total loss would amount to $300. In the aftermath, the Teas Extract Plant was demolished, and the 150-foot smoke stack was brought down with dynamite. Spectators gathered to watch, describing the explosion as reminiscent of a Fourth of July celebration. Such events were a rare sight in the area.

Communities, Extract Plant, Griffitts, Industry, Teas

Jothmada: A Logging Camp Along the Railroad

July 13, 2025July 13, 2025 Admin 2 Comments

Rails Through the Timber: The Forgotten Story of the Virginia Southern Railroad Tucked away in the steep ridges and hardwood forests of Grayson and Smyth Counties, the Virginia Southern Railroad once carved a lifeline through the mountains—a narrow-gauge logging route designed for passengers, timber, mail, supplies, shipments and more. Though its memory has largely faded, traces of the rail and its legacy still echo through the woods near Sugar Grove and Fairwood, and in stories passed down by the region’s old timers. The Virginia Southern Railroad was the brainchild of Jerome W. Moltz, a seasoned lumberman who had already made his mark in Pennsylvania. There, his Moltz Lumber Company managed 7,000 acres of forest and operated 15 miles of logging railroad—an enterprise that remained active into the 1940s. Seeking new timber-rich territory, Moltz turned his attention southward to Grayson County, Virginia, and began constructing a new line between Sugar Grove and Fairwood. The purpose of the Virginia Southern was clear: harvest the vast reserves of timber in the region and transport it to nearby sawmills for processing. This industrial corridor quickly became a bustling artery of Appalachian lumbering, reshaping both the landscape and the economy. Eventually, the Virginia Southern, along with the Marion Rye Valley Railroad, came under the control of P.S. Swain of New York, who was appointed president over the combined 27-mile rail network. Swain’s oversight marked a period of organized expansion and efficiency, aligning two essential railroads under a single management structure during the peak of the southern Appalachian timber boom. One of the more curious landmarks along the Virginia Southern’s route was a stop known as Jothmada, located between Sugar Grove and Troutdale, near present-day Raccoon Branch Campground along Dickey’s Creek. The name “Jothmada” was a creative blend—formed by combining the first two letters of the first names of the wives of the four men who founded the local logging camp. While most of the women’s names have been lost to time, one is remembered: May Moltz, wife of Jerome. Old maps from 1916 and newspaper timetables list Jothmada/Jothmado (pronounced “jot a mada”) as a regular stop, and locals once referred to it as a “shack town,” a temporary settlement of logging workers. From this remote camp, narrow shoots of small-gauge rail snaked up into the mountains, allowing crews to access and fell timber from otherwise inaccessible terrain. The logs were hauled down to the main line, loaded onto trains, and transported to Troutdale and Fairwood for milling. The Jothmada stop was located at milepost 2 along the Virginia Southern Railway. After the U.S. Logging Company had exhausted the forests along the line between Sugar Grove and Troutdale, the area’s economic flame began to dim. With the timber gone, so too was the purpose of the rail. Eventually, the entire operation was sold to F.L. Knight of Lynchburg, marking the final chapter for the Virginia Southern Railroad. Though the tracks are long gone, the ghost of the Virginia Southern lives on in archival maps, rusted rail fragments, and place names that still cling to the landscape. It’s a story of ambition, resource extraction, and the transitory nature of boomtowns built on timber. Photo of Moltz Lumber Engineer Grant “Dutchman” Bruner leans on front truck of a Shay Engine delivering logs to the mill at Lake Toxaway, PA. The company operated similarly there as it did here even using the same Shay style engines. Special thanks to Gary Price and Ed Clayton for their contributions to the information in this article!

Industry, Railroad

Stirring Tradition: The Art of Making Apple Butter

May 3, 2025May 6, 2025 Admin No Comments

In the heart of Southwest Virginia, the quiet community of Sugar Grove, the Combs Family keeps a rich Autumn Appalachian tradition alive: the making of apple butter. This slow-cooked, spiced spread is more than just a seasonal delicacy—it’s a symbol of heritage, hard work, and togetherness of families and neighbors. For generations, churches, families and neighbors in Sugar Grove have gathered around copper kettles, often before dawn, to stir previously peeled and sliced apples over open wood fires, sharing stories and passing down techniques as old as the mountains themselves. Apple butter making in this region dates back to the early settlers who relied on preserving fruits to last through the harsh winters. What began as a necessity eventually became a celebrated tradition, with church groups, neighbors, visitors, and family farms organizing this activity each Fall. These events are part work, part festival, featuring laughter, music, and the comforting aroma of cinnamon and firewood filling the crisp mountain air. Today, making apple butter in Sugar Grove is as much about preserving a way of life as it is about preserving apples. Whether sold at local markets or ladled into jars for holiday gifts, each batch carries with it a sense of place and history that only Southwest Virginia can offer. What Does The Process Look Like? On a crisp October morning in Sugar Grove, Virginia, the valley hums with the low crackle of a hardwood fire and the rhythmic scrape of a wooden stirrer against copper. It’s apple butter day at the Combs family homeplace, and that means more than just cooking—it’s a gathering of generations, neighbors, and even curious visitors drawn by the promise of rich tradition and the sweet scent of spiced apples hanging in the cool and still misty, very early morning mountain air. The process is usually underway by 4AM. A pole structure, open on two sides and draped with a heavy tarp to block the wind on one, sometimes two sides, shelters the heart of the operation: a weathered “cane furnace” fueled by hand-split oak logs. The hardwood burns hot and steady, heating a gleaming copper kettle that’s been cleaned and set in place since before dawn. Within it, bushels of peeled apples—often Wolf River or another available locally grown variety—have been simmering for hours. The apples slowly break down, to the rich, deep brown of true Appalachian apple butter.. At the center of the kettle stands a stirring stick, worn smooth by decades of use and lovingly passed down by Grandad Combs. This stirrer has been passed down through the family, and today, a younger member of the Combs family keeps the rhythm going, arms steady as they guide the long handle around and around. “Don’t stop stirring,” someone calls out with a grin—one of many reminders passed along with the craft. What happens if you stop stirring? The copper kettle scorches on the bottom. The kettle must be constantly stirred to prevent this costly mistake. Around the fire, a circle begins to form. camp chairs, cinder blocks, and a few other things provide makeshift seating as family and friends gather closer to stay warm. The picnic table is moved over near the cane furnace, Potatoes wrapped in foil roast slowly over heat nearby, filling the air with an earthy, comforting aroma. As the sun climbs higher, casseroles, crock pots, and dessert trays begin to appear on picnic tables—homemade dishes brought by neighbors and friends in true potluck fashion. There’s cornbread, slow-cooked beans, and pies of every kind. There are usually hot dogs to roast over the fire at the other end of the cane furnace as well. It’s a feast earned by patience and fueled by fellowship. What Exactly Is This “Cane Furnace?” The cane furnace is a brick rectangular structure standing at a height of about 2 feet that we also use in the process of making molasses with a large rectangular pan. The brick foundation is mudded and provides a place to build a fire under the whole pan to cook cane juice all day. There is a smoke stack to carry smoke up through the roof and away from the work area. When we use this for apple butter making, we do not use the entire length of it and cover it except for a cut out that we have for the kettle so that we still get the use of the smoke stack and use the covered surface for baking potatoes and the fire for roasting hot dogs. Visitors Throughout the day, visitors drop by—some from nearby, others from out of state, drawn by memory or curiosity. They’re welcomed with a variety of food options, a chair, and often a story or two. Here in Sugar Grove, making apple butter isn’t just about the end product. It’s about the fire, the food, the stories, and the stirring—together. There is a LOT of stirring! Over the years, we have hosted many guests, some were content creators who produced an entire documentary about Appalachian Life focusing on our apple butter making and others from as far away as New York! Our family’s old time apple butter making has been the subject of the Appalachian Studies curriculum at Radford University and has provided many with insight into the culture and heritage of Southwest Virginia’s people. Some of the lucky ones even get to take a jar or two home with them! The Day Continues… As the day wears on, the kettle’s contents darken and thicken, transforming from tart apple pulp into a silky, spiced spread with just the right balance of sweetness, spice and tang as cinnamon and sugar are gradually added. Every so often, several elder family members tests a small spoonful on a saucer, and nodding in quiet approval. “Almost there,” they say, the phrase echoing like a ritual. The patience is part of the process, part of what makes the end result so special. Rushing isn’t an option when it comes to good apple butter. Grandad, while he…

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