Tag: Industry

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 We are especially grateful for the writings, photographs and memories she left behind—many of which remain unpublished, yet hold invaluable insights into our shared past.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

Abijah Thomas and Holston Mills

February 10, 2025 Admin No Comments

The Rise and Fall of Holston Mills: A Historic Textile Town In 1844, industrialist Abijah Thomas made a significant investment in a 344-acre tract of land, complete with a sawmill and grist mill, in what would later become the town of Holston Mills. This land was nestled within a growing area that would become the heart of a bustling industrial hub during the 19th century. By the early 1860s, Thomas, along with a business partner, founded the Holston Woolen Factory, marking the beginning of the town’s rise as a textile center. The Holston Woolen Factory became a major producer of textiles, particularly wool, and played an integral role in the local economy. The village that grew around the factory adopted the name Holston Mills, a nod to the success and importance of the textile mill in the region. The town’s growth was not limited to the mill itself; as the factory flourished, so did the surrounding community. Residential areas, shops, and services began to spring up, creating a vibrant, self-sustaining village. The Impact of the Civil War During the American Civil War, Holston Mills found itself at the center of wartime industry. The village became the site of Co. A of the 23rd Battalion of the Virginia Infantry, and the woolen mill played a crucial role in supporting the Confederate war effort. The factory produced textiles for Confederate uniforms, contributing to the logistical needs of the Southern army. This connection to the war effort highlighted the strategic significance of Holston Mills, not just as a community, but as an essential manufacturing hub during one of the most tumultuous periods in American history. However, following the end of the Civil War, the mill and the town faced challenges. The industry was left dormant for a time, and the post-war years proved difficult for many Southern communities, as they struggled to recover from the destruction of the war. But Holston Mills would not remain stagnant for long. A New Era of Prosperity In the years following the Civil War, the Holston Woolen Factory saw a revival. In 1875, new ownership took over the mill, marking the beginning of a period of renewed prosperity for the town. With fresh investment, the mill, now known as Holstein Woolen Mills, began to expand once again. This resurgence allowed Holston Mills to grow into a fully developed village, with a school, shops, a post office, and a telegraph office. The mill and the infrastructure surrounding it helped solidify the town’s status as a thriving industrial community in the late 19th century. The new owners were instrumental in modernizing operations at Holstein Woolen Mills, ensuring that it remained competitive in a rapidly changing industry. As the town’s population grew, so did the demand for services, and Holston Mills became an attractive place for workers and families looking for employment opportunities in the textile industry. The Decline of Holston Mills However, as with many industrial towns, the fortunes of Holston Mills would eventually shift. In the early 1890s, Holstein Woolen Mills relocated to Salem, marking the beginning of the village’s decline. Without the mill as the central driving force of its economy, the town began to lose its former vibrancy. The population dwindled as people moved away in search of new opportunities, and the shops, post office, and other services that had once been vital to the community fell into disuse. Over time, Holston Mills was abandoned, and what had once been a bustling industrial village gradually disappeared. Today, little remains of the once-thriving town, but its legacy as an important part of the 19th-century textile industry lives on. The rise and fall of Holston Mills serves as a reminder of the rapid changes that can occur in industrial communities, and the impact that one mill can have on the development of a town. Holston Mills may no longer be a vibrant community, but its history stands as an important chapter in the story of America’s industrial past, illustrating both the opportunities and challenges that came with the growth of the textile industry in the 19th century. The location is on Red Stone Road, north of Old Mill Road/South Fork Road (County Routes 648/650). When traveling north, it will be on the right-hand side. A historical marker is located at or near 2107 Red Stone Rd, Marion, VA 24354, United States.

Adwolfe, Black History, Communities, Holston Mills, Industry, Thomas Bridge

The Wreck of the Number 9- A Day In The History of the Marion Rye Valley Railroad

February 4, 2025February 4, 2025 Admin No Comments

September 10, 1912 began like most other days, the crew boarded a boxcar coupled to the #9 Shay in Fariwood and headed up to their work site on Pine Mountain. Kent Steffey was a seasoned 45-year-old engineer, respected for his skill and experience. A proud member of the Brotherhood of Engineers Union, and a native of Wythe County who had relocated along with his wife to Wilson Creek, Grayson County. Steffey worked for Spruce Lumber Company. He was known for his dedication to his work, and on the fateful day in September, he was once again at the helm of Shay locomotive #9, taking on the daunting task of navigating Pine Mountain. The journey from Fairwood to the top of Pine Mountain was no small feat. Spanning about five miles, it took roughly an hour for Steffey to guide the massive locomotive up the switchback. The logging crew was dropped off and Steffey’s train was turned to begin its descent. It was here that things took a tragic and unexpected turn. As the train began its descent down the mountain, which featured a steep 6% grade, Steffey applied the brakes, expecting to slow the heavy load. However, to his horror, there were no brakes. The train began to pick up speed rapidly, and Steffey realized the full extent of the danger. Without brakes, he was helpless to slow the train as it hurtled downhill. He whistled to the back of the train to alert the Fireman. The train reached dangerous speeds, and the situation worsened as gears started stripping off the wheels, further reducing the train’s resistance. At this point, Steffey’s options were limited. In a desperate attempt to alert the crew and prevent a disaster, the fireman, Nute Bateman, tied off the whistle to signal impending doom. Bateman, fearing for his life, jumped off the train, narrowly escaping the impending crash and certain death. Meanwhile, Fields Anderson, the conductor, managed to lock the brakes on the last car in a last-ditch effort to stop the train. Realizing they had no chance of stopping the runaway train, Anderson also jumped, watching helplessly as the train sped away around the bend. Both Bateman and Anderson survived, though they could do nothing but watch in horror as the train disappeared around a curve in the mountain. Moments later, the sound of a horrific crash echoed across the valley. The two men rushed to the scene of the wreck, which wasn’t far from where they had jumped. As they approached, they saw the twisted, mangled wreckage of the train, derailed and overturned on its side. The wreck was a scene of utter devastation. Steffey, however, was not immediately found. It wasn’t until later that his body was discovered, crushed beneath the boiler of the 65-ton Shay locomotive. Kent Steffey’s death was a tragic loss. He was survived by his wife, Emma, and their four children: Mabel, Ruth, Virginia, and Mary. His passing left a deep void in the community, especially for his family and colleagues at Spruce Lumber Company. Despite the danger he faced, Steffey’s courage and quick thinking during his final moments, as well as the brave actions of his crew members, remain a testament to the sacrifices made by railroad workers every day. All that remains is his tombstone in Rural Retreat, Va., and this ballad, “The Wreck of Ole Number Nine.” Kent Steffey was an engineer, the best one on the line. Each morning he’d leave Fairwood with his Engine Number Nine. To the mountains he would go, making sure to run on time, Not knowing that his fate relied on his lucky Number Nine. Fields Anderson was conductor on that fateful day. The autumn sun shone brightly, painting the world in gay display. Beneath the clear, blue sky, no hint of danger lay, But the engine’s brakes refused to work, and Kent’s train ran away. “On brakes, on brakes!” he whistled, but the brakemen were all gone, And the fireman, Nute Bateman, thinking of his home, Leaped from the cab to save his life, as Nine dashed madly on. Still on the rails, the bell began its mournful clang, And across the mountain air, the sorrowful whistle rang. ‘Farewell, farewell,’ it seemed to say, and the wheels sang death’s song. It struck the curve with awful force, and from the rails she sprang. Beneath the wreck, now cold and still, the engineer was found, His body crushed and mangled, buried beneath the ground. Now poor Kent is sleeping beneath the mountain sod, His body cold and buried, but his soul has gone to God. ~Anonymous

History, Industry, Railroad, Stories

Moonshine Still In Sugar Grove

November 11, 2024November 11, 2024 Admin 1 Comment

In the stillness of the early morning on January 16, 1952, the quiet woods five miles outside Sugar Grove, Virginia, held a secret that was about to be unearthed. Just off the bustling State Route 16, a clandestine operation was brewing, its presence masked by the thick trees and the soft sounds of nature. As dawn broke, law enforcement officials gathered with a palpable sense of urgency. ABC Investigator D.J. Davidson from Bristol, Smyth County Sheriff Pat Jennings, and Saltville Police Chief Frank Cox stood ready, their breath visible in the frosty air. They had been monitoring the moonshine still since its discovery two days earlier, hoping the elusive owner would show up to tend the operation. But as they prepared to move in at 7 AM, it became clear that their quarry would not be appearing. What lay hidden in the woods was no ordinary setup. The still—a formidable 500-gallon creation of local ingenuity—boasted four fermenting boxes, each filled to the brim with bubbling mash, and two thumping kegs that echoed with the promise of illicit spirits. A pipeline snaked from a nearby spring, ensuring a steady supply of pure mountain water, making this operation as bold as it was intricate, located a mere 200 yards from the highway. With a thunderous blast of dynamite, the team dismantled the still, sending smoke spiraling into the crisp morning sky. Investigator Davidson estimated that the value of the operation, including the 600 gallons of mash that met its end that day, was around $1,200. Though no arrests were made, the raid sent a resounding message through the serene woods: the fight against illegal distilling in Smyth County was far from over, and the law was ready to reclaim its ground. As the sun climbed higher, illuminating the remnants of the operation, a sense of mystery hung in the air. Despite the successful raid and the destruction of the still, the identity of its owner remained shrouded in secrecy. No one came forward, no leads materialized, and the investigation gradually faded into the background of daily life in Smyth County. In the days and weeks that followed, whispers spread through Sugar Grove and beyond, tales of the bold moonshiner who had dared to set up so close to the highway. Some speculated that the owner was a local figure, well-known but careful to keep their distilling escapades hidden. Others believed it might have been an outsider, someone who slipped into the woods under the cover of darkness. Yet, despite the law’s best efforts, no charges were ever filed. The elusive figure remained a ghost in the community, a testament to the age-old dance between law and those who operated just beyond its reach. The woods, once filled with the promise of illicit spirits, returned to their quietude, but the legend of the moonshine still lived on—a tantalizing mystery that would forever linger in the hearts of those who dared to imagine the life of the unseen distiller. Do you have a moonshine or bootlegging story that people might like to read about? Send it in using the form on the contact page! You can remain anonymous if you like.

Communities, Industry, Moonshiners & Bootleggers, Mysteries, Sugar Grove

The Death of Daniel “Doc” Hoppers on the Marion Rye Valley Railroad

July 31, 2024September 20, 2024 Admin 4 Comments

On September 25, 1910, the Marion Rye Valley Railroad was struck by a profound tragedy that shook the local community and the railroad industry alike. The incident claimed the life of Daniel “Doc” Hoppers, a respected fireman who was tragically killed in a horrific accident. As the dust settled on that fateful day, the story of Doc Hoppers became a somber reminder of the dangers faced by those who worked tirelessly on the rails. Daniel Hoppers, known affectionately as “Doc” by his colleagues, was a fireman on the Marion Rye Valley Railroad. At 35 years old, he was a seasoned worker, trusted by his peers and valued for his experience. Doc was originally from North Carolina, but his life and work had brought him to the heart of the developing railroad industry in Grayson and Smyth Counties. On that particular September day, Doc Hoppers was performing a routine but perilous task. He had adjusted a switch and underhook in preparation for the Shay engine, a robust locomotive known for its unique design and power. He needed to jump onto the cow catcher of the engine, a maneuver that was fraught with risk. However, as fate would have it, something went tragically awry. While attempting to complete the task, Doc fell under the moving Shay engine. The heavy machinery, unable to stop in time, ran over him before the engineer could bring the locomotive to a halt. The scene was one of utter devastation, with Doc Hoppers’ life cut short in a matter of moments. Daniel Hoppers was not just a worker on the railroad; he was a devoted husband and father. He left behind his wife, Alice, and three young children who were left to grieve the sudden and tragic loss of their beloved father and husband. The impact of his death rippled through his family and the community, leaving a void that would be felt for years to come. The accident occurred near the old band mill located in Fairwood, a place that now holds a bittersweet significance in the history of the Marion Rye Valley Railroad. It is here that Doc Hoppers met his untimely end, a grim reminder of the perilous nature of railroad work in that era. In honoring his memory, Doc Hoppers’ remains were interred in the Liberty Hill Baptist Church Cemetery in Grant. The cemetery, a place of solace and reflection, now holds the resting place of a man whose life was cut tragically short but whose legacy is remembered with respect and sorrow. The death of Daniel Hoppers serves as a poignant reminder of the inherent dangers faced by those who worked on the railroads during the early 20th century. The rigorous and often dangerous nature of railroad work was compounded by the limitations of safety protocols and equipment of the time. Each accident was a stark reminder of the risks involved and the critical need for stringent safety measures. As we reflect on the life and tragic death of Doc Hoppers, it is important to remember the sacrifices made by railroad workers and to honor their contributions to the industry. Their dedication and bravery paved the way for the modern advancements in railroad safety and technology that we benefit from and know today. In the annals of railroad history, the story of Daniel “Doc” Hoppers stands as a somber testament to the bravery and risks faced by those who kept the wheels of industry turning. His memory continues to be honored by those who remember the perils of the past and work toward a safer future for all involved in the railroad industry. For added context and information, Gary Price provided the following insight on this event: “It was a very common practice for railroad men to ride the cowcatcher of a locomotive when throwing a lot of switches, assuming their trip that day was going up the switch backs to the scales. The fireman would throw the switch and jump on the cowcatcher and then ride to the end of the switchback while the brakeman on the rear would reverse the switch for the climb up to the next switch back. Once passing the switch again, the fireman would return the switch back to the original position and climb back aboard the locomotive. The underhook was a device used to help secure the Shay locomotive to the cars it was hauling because the tacks were crude and uneven.”

Industry, Railroad

Teas Extract Plant

April 10, 2024May 30, 2025 Admin

Situated just outside of Sugar Grove Virginia is the smaller community of Teas wherein lies a storied chapter of industrial history – the Teas Extract Plant. Formerly known as the Marion Extract Plant, this facility was chartered in 1910 in what is now the community of Teas, just outside of Sugar Grove. The charter was granted to the Marion Extract Company on May 20 1910, with a capital of not less than $300k or more than $600k. Officers for the first year named in the charter were W. H. Teas, President, E. M. Campbell, Vice President, both of Ridgeway, PA. Also, J.C. Campbell of Marion was named secretary and treasurer. The Extract Company consisted of the following buildings: Main Building 75 x 100 Engine House 40 x 75 Barreling House 40 x 100 2 Leech Houses each 50 x 250 Chipper Shed 60 x 10 Pan House 40 x 60 Machine Shop 60 x 100 12 boilers, 200 HP each The company expected to use about 100 cords of wood each day It was The name “Teas” was bestowed upon the area in honor of W. H. Teas, the esteemed Superintendent of the Extract Plant, who left an indelible mark on the community. Read more about the history of Teas here. Mr. Teas, a prominent figure in the region, not only oversaw the plant’s operations but also built his grand residence in the heart of the community, a home that still stands today along Teas Road just past the church, serving as a testament to the area’s rich heritage. While the plant was in operation, it boasted its own company commissary, expertly managed by Mr. Charlie Keesling, catering to the needs of its workforce and fostering a sense of community spirit. During its heyday, the Teas Extract Plant employed over 2000 individuals from the surrounding area, becoming a vital economic lifeline for the community. Operating with a capacity of 300,000 gallons per day, it ranked as the second-largest extract plant globally. The plant’s operations revolved around the processing of chestnut, oak, and hemlock bark, primarily for the production of tannic acid. Unfortunately, this demand resulted in a near-extinction of chestnut trees in the region, highlighting the environmental impact of the plant’s operations. However, as resources in the area became depleted, the fate of the Teas Extract Plant was sealed. Once its supply was exhausted, the plant was dismantled, marking the end of an era for Sugar Grove and the Rye Valley area. The community, which had thrived around the plant, witnessed changes as the small houses constructed for plant workers were eventually sold off and demolished. Several community elders have told stories over the years of going outside to watch the demolition of the smokestack and likened the blasting to fireworks. It was quite a memorable spectacle to been according to most accounts given. The legacy of the Teas Extract Plant lives on through the memories and stories shared by residents, preserving its impact on the region’s history. The rise and fall of this industrial giant serve as a poignant reminder of the complexities of progress and the delicate balance between economic development and environmental stewardship. As visitors explore the scenic beauty of Sugar Grove and the surrounding area, they are invited to reflectupon the legacy of the Teas Extract Plant and its enduring impact on the communities it once served. Through the contributions of individuals like Mrs. Lucille Kinkade, who graciously shared her insights, the story of the Teas Extract Plant continues to be woven into the fabric of Sugar Grove’s history, ensuring that its legacy endures for generations to come. Mrs. Kinkade shared this account 7/21/2018. She passed away at the age of 101 on May 23, 2023. Her obituary can be viewed here.

Communities, Extract Plant, Industry, Teas