Tally Ho!

In dogged pursuit of a 19th-century sport.

BY JAMIE MARSH
PHOTOS BY NATHAN MARSH

Clad in white pants and green sport coats, a handful of sportsmen gather each weekend from the end of September through March. They meet at farms around Lexington, Berryville and Charlottesville, making use of fields where the crops have finished for the winter. They spend several hours running behind a pack of beagles, scurrying up and down hills and crashing through thick woods. Most Valley farmers simply would call this rabbit hunting, but the mixture of British apparel and baying hounds is more accurately known as beagling.

It wasn’t yet spring when I visited a hunt, but it may as well have been. It was warm and sunny on the Fiery farm, a 500-acre property folded into the foothills near Hightop Mountain.

The beagles were romping on the lawn when I arrived, rolling on their backs and chasing each other in circles. To me, they look like any other pups from a pet store, but these 30 hounds are part of the prestigious Waldingfield Beagles. The pack was established in Massachusetts in 1885 and is the oldest in the nation.

In that era, beagling was called “the poor man’s fox hunt” because the hunters go afoot, eliminating the need for horses. Today, the tradition continues with the Waldingfield now under the care of Dr. Arie M. Rijke, a University of Virginia radiologist who brought them to Virginia in the 1970s.

The Hunt is On

The rules are simple: Rijke will serve as the Master Huntman, directing the hounds with vocal commands and blows on a small copper horn. He has four aides, called Whippers-In. They are agile ladies carrying short whips. They’ll run circles around the pack—never actually hitting the hounds—but cracking the whips in the air to warn wanderers to pay attention.

Then there are the bystanders, dubbed The Field. We observe the chase from a slight distance, careful not to impede the path of the hounds. Retired Army Colonel Hank Shelton is our guide.

When everyone is arranged, Rijke tells the beagles to “Work,” and the adventure begins. The hounds press their noses to the ground. Each beagle is furiously seeking the scent of an eastern cottontail rabbit.
They “work” for several minutes, and my gaze wanders out over the panoramic vista. The estate is mostly cattle fields with a winding stream, anchored by a traditional manor house. In the distance, you can see only one other home. I am enthralled with the deep blue of the mountains, suddenly aware of the beautiful scenery that I daily take for granted. Then there is a loud bellow.

Aah, Arooooooo!

The hounds dart up a hill to meet the whistle-blower, yelping to each other. “Beagle music,” the Colonel tells me. He points forward, and we begin our cross-country clambering.

Rijke is just as fast as the hounds, obviously the pack leader. I am trying to hurry while watching my step in the cow field, when a bushy white tail streaks past me.

“Tallyho!” the Colonel roars. He’s spotted the hare.

The hounds run full force back in our direction as the Huntsman blows the command to “Get In Line!” The beagles tether themselves to the scent, but the hare is faster and more familiar with the territory. It has leaped the stream and disappeared into a bramble, leaving the hounds far behind as they refuse to deviate from the exact trail of the scent.

It’s rare that the beagles get close enough to kill their prey, and even then, Rijke doesn’t allow it. “We like to give the cottontail a good run for his money, but we never kill it,” Rijke had promised before my arrival. “Either it ‘Goes to Ground,’ in a groundhog hole or drainage pipe, or the beagles lose the scent. The whole thing is a bit tongue in cheek, but good fun,” he says.

The hounds splash across the stream, but they have lost the trail on the other side. They start sniffing again, zig-zagging their noses to the ground. And so the performance begins anew.

The End

During the afternoon, this chase repeats with at least three different hares as we crisscross the property. When the beagles are off the scent, I chat with Jock, a retiree from Albemarle County. We discuss the splendor of the Green Valley Book Fair, how to build a split rail fence and the intentions of the founding fathers. I could continue “hunting” for many hours, but the sun is setting.

The Huntsman sounds a long note on his horn: “The End.” The chase is over.

Some of the beagles sing in unison as they rush toward the Huntsman. They were outsmarted by their quarry, but Rijke praises them for an industrious afternoon. They become meek and calm, resting at his feet as he pats their heads. He congratulates them by name.

I am dog-tired as we walk back to the house for fireside soup and tea. The beagles just pant and grin. They are merry little hounds.

» Q&A Meet Billy Bobbitt, president of the National Beagle Club

Q&A Meet Billy Bobbitt, president of the National Beagle Club

BY JAMIE MARSH
PHOTOS BY NATHAN MARSH

After retiring from a career as a public defender in Staunton, Billy Bobbitt became a full-time beagler and president of the National Beagle Club. He lives at Web Hill Farm near the Augusta-Rockbridge county line with his wife Mandy.  They each own a pack of beagles. Billy’s is called Glenbarr; Mandy’s is called Bedlam. All together, the Bobbitts sometimes care for as many as 60 hounds—a feat that other beaglers say is remarkable.
Shenandoah Living caught up with Billy during the NBC’s spring trials in Aldie. He had just finished two days of events, competing with people from around Virginia, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio and Florida.

SL: You’re obviously fond of beagles. Why?
Billy: I’ve always had beagles, ever since I was a boy, but now I guess you could say I’m more fanatical. I enjoy the hounds and the sport. Beagling is cheaper than fox hunting, but still most people aren’t willing to maintain a large pack because of the work and expense.

SL: What does a president of the National Beagle Club do?
Billy: I attend a lot of beagling events and show competitions, and I answer a lot of questions about beagles, mostly people who are considering a beagle as a pet.

SL: Is the Shenandoah Valley a good home base for this?
Billy: Most of the action is concentrated in the Mid-Atlantic, so Rockbridge is a central location to travel to events. The national-level competitions are mostly held at the National Beagle Club’s farm [in Aldie]. This is the epicenter, where we have land reserved for beagling competitions. It’s only a couple hours drive, so it works well. On an individual level, the Valley provides plenty of open space for the hounds to hunt, a long season of mild weather, and we have good relationships with many of our neighbors who allow us to hunt on their properties.

SL: Why do you and Mandy keep two separate packs of beagles?
Billy: Mandy’s pack was organized in Lynchburg in the late 70s.  At the time, I was just considering an entry into the sport. I called her for some advice. She was very helpful, and one thing led to another.

SL: So you met through beagling?
Billy: Yes. We each had out own packs before we got married. We just decided to keep two, rather than argue.

SL: Has Uno’s prestige had any impact on the popularity of beagles? [Uno was Best in Show at the 2008 Westminster Kennel Club dog show.]
Billy: Naturally people have been more aware of beagles as pets. We’re calling 2008 ‘the year of the beagle.’ Uno actually stopped in the Valley just a few months before he won.  We saw him in a show in Fishersville. We were quite fond of him then.

SL: Are beagles good pets?
Billy: They’re happy little creatures—loyal, loving, and intelligent—but foremost they are scent hounds. I always tell people that a beagle can smell hundreds of times more powerfully than we can. Their natural instinct is to put their nose down and go where it leads, so it’s important to have a safe area where they can wander.

— J.M.

Beyond the Belfry

Bats are common in the Shenandoah region, although you have probably never seen one.

BY JEREMIAH KNUPP
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

It’s a common animal in Virginia, but most of the state’s homo sapien inhabitants have never seen one. It plays a vital role in the ecosystem, with many benefits to humans, but is misunderstood and even feared, shrouded in a fog of myth, misconception and late-night horror exploitation. The animal we’re talking about is the bat.

There are 13 distinctive species of bats in Virginia, seven of which can be found in the Shenandoah Valley. The most common is the Little Brown bat, a diminutive creature that has a wing span of 10 inches and weighs less than half an ounce and feeds around pasture fields and lakes. Bats make their homes in everything from man-made structures to trees to the caves so common to the mountains of western Virginia.

Popular Programs

Douthat State Park, a nearly 5,000-acre facility near Clifton Forge, has a special relationship with the small winged animals. In 2001, local Boy Scout Christopher Bartley built bat houses for an Eagle Scout project, and the tall narrow “rocket” shaped structures were placed around the park. The bats were quickly incorporated into many of the park’s educational programs. Each summer, there are daily interpretive nature programs, including a “Bat Kapers” event, where children get the facts on the creatures. The program is also provided as an educational outreach that has been popular with local schools.

“The bat program is one of our most requested programs in our educational outreach,” said Beth Hawse, Chief Ranger Interpreter at Douthat.

Bat Myths

Hawse described a few of the bat myths she commonly encounters as she spreads the facts about bats to the public.

• Bats aren’t blind. Despite the pop-culture idiom, all bats have varying degrees of vision in daylight. Some even use their eyes to navigate in flight. Others use echolocation, a form of biological sonar shared with whales and dolphins, where animals generate a sound and then listen for its echo to judge the distance and type of objects ahead.
• Bats aren’t birds. They are mammals, just like you and me, and the only mammals capable of flight (flying squirrels “glide,” if you’re wondering). Their motion in flight is much different than birds; instead of flapping their wings, they grasp and release them like a hand (bat’s scientific name, Chiroptera, comes from the Greek words for “hand wing”). And despite being mammals, bats are not “flying mice.” If you see a bat crawling around the ground, Hawse noted, don’t assume it’s injured and needs your help. Bats can’t just flap their wings and take off like birds. They have to drop into flight from their upside-down hanging positions. The bat will probably find its way to a tree that it can climb to drop into flight.
• All bats aren’t vampire bats. These carnivorous animals are found only in Central and South America. Some bats feed on fruit. All of the bats that are native to Virginia have a diet composed exclusively of insects.
• “We encounter lots of kids that have what we call the ‘Animal Planet’ or ‘Discovery Channel’ syndrome,” Hawse said. “They know about animals from all over the world, but they’re not familiar with what’s in their own backyard.”
• Bats do not carry rabies more often than any other mammal. Hawse noted that less than half of 1 percent of bats carry rabies.
• Bats won’t get stuck in your hair or attack you. If you encounter a bat at dusk, it may swoop toward you, but only because it is eating the insects that are hovering around you.
• “Many children have ‘nature-deficit disorder,’” Hawse said, using the phrase made popular in the book, “Last Child in the Woods” by Richard Louv. “These kids don’t get out in nature enough, so they have unnatural fears like ‘will a bear eat me while we’re hiking?’”

Bat Benefits

Bats provide many benefits to humans, destroying mosquitoes and flies and preying on beetles and caterpillars that damage plants and crops.

“They’re ‘nature’s bug zapper,’” Hawse said, noting that some bats can eat half of their weight, or 600 to 1,000 insects, in a single evening.

Homeowners who are interested in having the creatures around can build their own bat houses. Douthat has a “Roost in Peace” program, where children and adults construct a bat abode using a kit of two-by-four pieces and plywood. Bat houses not only attract the insect eaters to your neighborhood, they can also provide bats an alternative to nesting in other man-made structures, like your attic or chimney. So invite some bats to your backyard. You might have the chance to teach someone else a thing or two about Virginia’s most misunderstood mammal.

What’s on the Water Tower?

It may not just be plain paint; it could be a unique
piece of art. What’s on the Water Tower?

BY LUANNE AUSTIN
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

Looming above the highway along Interstate 81 in Shenandoah County, a huge sphere gives drivers the impression there’s a hot-air balloon hovering over the town of Edinburg. Light as it appears, the gaily-striped globe is actually the town’s half-million-gallon water tower.

When the tower was erected 10 years ago, townspeople commented that it appeared to be rising up out of the trees. “They said it looked like a balloon,” says Edinburg’s mayor/manager, Dan Harshman. So they decided to paint it to look like one. “We’re always shocked at how visible it is,” he says. As a matter of fact, on the wall of the town council chambers, they tacked up a letter from a man who wrote that the tower brought a smile to his face every time he drove by. The man was from the neighboring town of Mount Jackson. A bit ironic, since three years later, Mount Jackson residents decided to get artsy with the new water tower they were putting up.

While Edinburg’s balloon has a faded ole-time look, Mount Jackson’s basket of apples is bright and striking. Mount Jackson’s town manager, Charles Moore, says they get letters from all over the country commenting on the water tower’s art. They even got one from a New Jersey couple that included a self-addressed, stamped envelope. “They argued about how it was done all the way home, whether it was painted this way or that,” says Moore.

Stuck on You

As it turns out, neither the husband nor wife was right. It was done with decals.

That’s right. The 200-foot by 4-foot decals were taken from a photograph of Bowman apples in a basket. The apples are courtesy of Bowman Apple Products Co. Inc., a Mount Jackson apple processing plant founded in 1939, and the basket is from the town’s history museum. Moore says 25 of the town’s citizens submitted sketches in a contest held for the tower’s design. The company that manufactured the decals had never done a spherical structure before and was challenged by the project, Moore says.

While painted water towers are not rare, they’re not commonplace either. Among the more artistic are the rose-covered Rosemont Water Tower in Rosemont, Ill., and the American flag tank in Cocoa, Fla. Two hot-air balloons, similar to Edinburg’s, tower over the town of Anderson, S.C. Two ground-level tanks in Placerville, Calif., feature full-size scrub oak trees and brown grass, both native to the area. Two elevated water towers in Granger, Iowa, are labeled “hot” and “cold.” Still other water towers resemble the town of Woodstock’s, which proudly displays the town’s name on the I-81 corridor. This tank is built in a “hydropillar” style, with a wide base that can accommodate a variety of uses.

Practical, but Pretty

Water towers serve a vital purpose in creating secure storage and water pressure to municipalities. Without water towers, water may not spray from a tap with sufficient flow and water may not reach the top floors of a building. Water towers can supply water even during power outages since they rely on gravity, not electricity, to push the water through pipes. They can’t do this indefinitely though, since pumps are used to fill the elevated tanks. Also, water towers serve as reservoirs to help with water needs during peak usage time. Some towns let the water fall during the day and fill the tank up again at night.

Painting the tank serves a practical purpose, protecting the steel—and, by extension, the water supply—from the elements. “It has to be painted somehow,” says Moore. “Why not make it pretty?”

Grandma Carrie and Me

One purpose unites two people from two different worlds.

By DALE HARTER

We came from two different worlds.

I was a white college student in Virginia chasing the ghost of a Confederate general forgotten in his hometown. She was an elderly black woman from South Carolina chasing the ghost of a grandfather she never knew.

In 1990, this same ghost brought us together in the Shenandoah Valley. The bond we forged would last for nearly 20 years.

Carrie Allen McCray already had enjoyed a long and fruitful life when I met her in Harrisonburg. Born Oct. 4, 1913, in Lynchburg, to a civil rights activist mother, she had been a scholar, teacher and a social worker. She became a serious writer after age 70, first as a poet and later as a historian researching her family heritage.
She journeyed to Harrisonburg with her sister Rose in 1990 to learn more about her roots. Her mother, Mary Rice Hayes Allen, was born here in 1875, but divulged little about her genealogy before dying in 1935. The memory of a photograph of a uniformed man on her mother’s mantle and the recollections of her mother’s best friend, poet Anne Spencer, led Carrie to believe her grandfather had been a Confederate general from Harrisonburg.

My Search

For three years before Carrie’s visit, I had been researching the life of John Robert Jones, a Confederate general accused of cowardice during the Civil War and forgotten by locals after his death in 1901. Early on, I discovered he had fathered two black sons. I also learned his wife had divorced him for adultery with someone named Malinda Rice. That name meant little to me before meeting Carrie.

Chris Bolgiano, then the Special Collections Librarian at JMU, had heard a few earfuls from me about Jones by the time Carrie and Rose arrived on campus. When Carrie told her she was looking for a Confederate general who might have been her grandfather, Chris contacted me and gave me the telephone number for their room at the Holiday Inn. Over the phone, I learned that Malinda Rice was their grandmother, and they learned that Gen. Jones was their grandfather. Within a few hours, I was sitting with two elderly women in their hotel room, connecting the dots of two separate research paths.

The next day, I took them to Woodbine Cemetery to visit their Confederate grandfather’s grave. Our interaction was cautious and guarded at first, but a relationship began that would transcend our research and change my life.

The Journey

Continues Our initial meeting led to an invitation to stay with Carrie and Rose at their home in Columbia, S.C. Carrie took me to the University of South Carolina to meet Tom Johnson, a friend and archivist at the South Caroliniana Library. Based partly on this meeting, partly on the university’s applied history program and partly on my relationship with Carrie, I moved to Columbia to attend graduate school. Tom, who also was a Presbyterian minister, performed my wedding service on the campus in January 1996.

After moving to Columbia in 1993, I saw Carrie and Rose more often. At first, every conversation was mainly between me and Carrie and revolved around Jones and her mother. As time passed, we talked of our own lives, current events, politics and racial issues. We enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner together and Rose’s homemade rolls. I went to one of their family reunions; they came to my wedding.

They had become Grandma Carrie and Grandma Rose. I had become their grandson.

In 1998, Grandma Carrie published “Freedom’s Child: The Life of a Confederate General’s Black Daughter.” The book, which told the tale of Jones but revolved around her mother, brought her national acclaim. Although I had spent countless hours in dusty archives uncovering previously unknown facts I wanted to keep for my own book, I shared it all with her. She made the dry facts of history sing, and she never stopped thanking me for my help.

We continued to keep in touch and visit after I returned to Virginia. Whenever I could, I went to hear her speak or recite poetry, to hear her gentle delivery and her delightful chuckle. She captivated every audience to whom I ever heard her speak, whether it was Civil War historians in Richmond or high school girls in Tappahannock. She brought tears to my eyes every time. Like other grandsons, I didn’t write, call or visit enough.

A Final Visit

In October 2007, I traveled to Lynchburg to hear her speak at a conference dedicated to an African pygmy named Ota Benga who had lived with Carrie’s family when she was young. She had been working on a narrative poem about Ota and read it at the conference. Although slipping some at age 94, she still stole the show. We spent too brief a time together, and she told me she was getting married. We shared some hugs, and I went back to Harrisonburg.

On March 28 , 2008, I drove to Columbia to see Grandma Carrie one last time. Shortly after marrying 95-year-old John Nickens, and mere weeks after speaking in Lynchburg, she had suffered a severe stroke. She had been in a rehabilitation center since December. Over the phone, Grandma Rose had sounded hopeful of her recovery.

When I went to see Grandma Carrie, she couldn’t speak. I showed her the latest pictures of my wife and daughter, I held her hand and I told her I loved her. I want to believe she knew who I was. Then I made a long, long drive home.

Carrie Allen McCray Nickens died July 25, 2008. Her passing was front-page news in South Carolina and was picked up by the Associated Press. Across the country, people who knew her mourned her death and celebrated her life.

When our different worlds collided nearly 20 years ago, we were just two people searching for the memory of a Confederate general. Now, the memory of someone else means much more to me.
Someone I called Grandma Carrie.

Musical Harmony

BY JEREMIAH KNUPP
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

The basement bar of the Blue Nile restaurant is dark, except for the back corner. There, in the sterile glare reflecting off the white wall, Dave Laney, lead singer in indie rock band Auxes, belts out a chorus, the sound reverberating off the low ceiling and pounding against the crowd that is inches from his mic stand.

Down the street at Clementine’s, the orderly arrangement of tables filled with the Friday night dinner crowd dissolves into the random shape of a pulsing crowd drenched in the visual and auditory overload of a performance by Video Hippos.

A stone’s throw away, at James Madison University’s Memorial Hall, the audience is silent, held spellbound and anonymous in the auditorium’s darkness by the soft, melodious voice of Brooke Waggoner, a sound that fills the space despite Waggoner’s inhabiting the stage alone with her piano.

The location is Harrisonburg. The event is MACRoCk, a two-day indie music festival that fills the city’s downtown with a schedule packed full of an eclectic mix of sight and sound.

MACRoCk, the acronym for Mid-Atlantic College Radio Conference, was first held in 1996, the brain child of the staff of WXJM, JMU’s college radio station. It quickly grew from its humble beginnings, small crowds at venues located in off-campus student housing, to a peak of 120 bands and a crowd of several thousand that nearly took over the JMU campus. Along the way it developed a reputation for its mix of local, regional and national talent that over the years has featured many up and coming performers in the indie music scene, including Elliot Smith, The Dismemberment Plan, and Fugazi.

“Virginia and the entire Mid-Atlantic region has such a rich independent and progressive music scene, and MACRoCk showcases that,” said Harper Holsinger, one of MACRoCk’s co-directors.

Changing Times

In 2006 festival organizers and the university ended their association and instead of scrambling to put together a hastily assembled show, the organizers skipped that year. The hiatus marked a watershed in MACRoCk’s evolution. For 2008 a whole new MACRoCk was planned. The event was incorporated and moved to downtown Harrisonburg. Although no longer officially sanctioned by the university, the core of MACRoCk’s board of directors, volunteers and attendees remain JMU students.

For that first year off campus and on their own, organizers held their breath. The success or failure of MACRoCk 2008 would define the event’s future.

“It went off without a hitch,” Holsinger said. “We got positive feedback from everyone involved. “It was a big step forward so the success was really overwhelming.”

Scaled back in size, 2008’s event was concentrated in Harrisonburg’s downtown area, allowing participants to walk from venue to venue.

“Our mission statement and vision didn’t change,” Holsinger said. “Our focus was still on college radio and independent music as we moved that concept into the local community.”

Utilizing small spaces, like restaurants and cafes, meant that all shows were full to capacity. The crowd of 900 was a mix of locals and those who traveled from around the eastern seaboard to see 80 different acts perform.

“We’re planning [2009] with confidence following the success of 2008,” Holsinger’s co-director, John Reiss, said. “We’ve shown the town and the local businesses that even though we’re a bunch of kids we can pull something like this off.”

No Logos Here

Planning is a year long event, with the band selection process starting in January. Board members will narrow down 500-700 applicants to fewer than 100 final selections.

“We’re looking for bands that complement each other and that will draw crowds that will fit into the venue we have available to use,” Reiss said.

MACRoCk isn’t your typical music festival. It forgoes the industry standard of charging an application fee for bands looking for a performance slot. Organizers also offer housing (albeit on the floors and couches of volunteers’ homes) to any performers who need it and provide a “band banquet” at the end of the weekend.
It’s all within the spirit that has defined the event over the last decade. Don’t look for the Pepsi logo hanging behind the main stage. MACRoCk has always passed up expensive headlining acts, large crowds, high ticket prices and the burden of corporate sponsorship. The entire staff is volunteer. Eighty percent of the bands aren’t paid; they’re up-and-comers looking for exposure. The result, some of the best music you’ll hear anywhere at a price anyone can afford. With ticket prices under $20 for the entire weekend, the cost per band is “pocket change,” Holsinger said (contrasted with major multi-day festivals where ticket prices hit triple digits).

Options, Options

Organizers see expansion in the future, but in a manner that is responsible to the community that has given them a home.

“We hope to grow based on the size of the community and the resources that are available to us,” Reiss said.
No matter your musical taste, MACRoCk has something for everyone, from bluegrass, folk and Americana to hip-hop, electronica and heavy metal. The mix of performances are so accessible, it’s a chance to stretch your musical horizons. But the festival’s attractions go beyond performances.

“We have a lot of attendees who don’t come for the music,” Holsinger noted.

There are panel discussions and workshops featuring topics that range from political and social issues, to screen printing and do-it-yourself recording. For those wanting to be more than spectators, volunteer opportunities are available in every capacity, from crowd control to moderating panel discussions.
“It’s an event that each person makes into their own thing,” Reiss added.

Keeping a Dream Alive

The house was once the lieutenant governor’s. Now, a family works to keep it in pristine order.

By CYNTHIA NORRIS
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

The building of my house has and is causing me great trouble and I do not think I will ever attempt to build another. –Edward Echols
It sounds like a typical statement from a modern homebuilder, but it’s not. Echols made this entry into his personal journal Thursday, March 15, 1894. His Staunton residence, called Oakdene, exemplifies the Queen Anne architectural style and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The current owners, Brian Robin–son and wife Debbie, share Echols’ love for the beautiful home. They continue to maintain and preserve one of Virginia’s most beautiful historic houses.

The Man Who Built It

Echols, the wealthy bachelor and son of Civil War Gen. John Echols, was a successful banker and lawyer and served numerous terms in both houses of Virginia’s legislature. He was one of the most popular political leaders to hold office in the Shenandoah Valley. He served as Virginia’s lieutenant governor from 1898 to 1902. Both Edward and his father, John, kept a diary every day of their adult lives. As a rising socialite, Echols built Oakdene to serve his personal, professional and political life. The house, especially the main ground floor, contains large gathering spaces where a bachelor could entertain and impress his guests. Margaret J. Young was impressed. On Thursday, Oct. 4, 1894, Echols wrote, “I took Margaret Young over to my house and showed it to her. I had a long talk with Miss Margaret. She is a fine young woman and I have enjoyed this day with her.”

The two later married, and the residence stayed in the Echols family for more than 100 years.

Elite Builders

Echols commissioned Yarnell and Goforth, the largest architectural firm in Philadelphia at the time, to design the structure. He spared no expense in hiring the best people to build his showcase home. He hired Larner and Smith, noted local masons, for the detailed stonework throughout the site.

Typical of Queen Anne structures, Echols used various materials for visual and design interest. Perched on the uppermost portion of the turret, a 3-foot-tall copper owl appears to be guarding the home. Its cut glass eyes were originally lit by gas, glowed red and could be seen from far away. The owl does not directly face the street, and there was no mention of it in Echols’ diary. The bird adds visual interest and mystery to the home.

He used limestone in walkways, pressed brick on the chimney, patterned wooden shingles, painted stone on the tower and stucco on the top story.  Starting at the ground level, the turret of rusticated limestone becomes a refined pattern around a cornerstone dated 1893. Wooden shingles decorate the second story of the turret, and the third story is covered in slate shingles.

A cherub resides in the fountain of the side garden. This patio is made of soapstone in sepia tones from the Alborie Soap Stone Company.  Echols shipped many of the elaborate and expensive building materials from out of the state using the early railroad system.

The interior features an irregular floor plan and many Gothic details. Pointed arches decorate doorways, windows, stair rails and wainscoting. Natural oak prevails on the main hallway and the cozy library. The elaborate tiled foyer opens onto a main hallway with a grand staircase. A large Gothic window illuminates the main stairs. Originally, the window was stained glass, later replaced by clear leaded glass to allow natural sunlight into the room. The fireplaces on the main floor contain Portoro marble, which was mined from an Italian quarry, no longer active. This marble is dark, almost black, with flame-like highlights. The color pairs beautifully with the oak floors and oak wainscoting.

On the second story, each bedroom has its own wood theme. Entire rooms are made of one type of wood. The floors, doors and wainscoting are cherry, mahogany, oak or pine. The third floor, predominately pine, was designed for the servants.

Echols specified that the house contain seven bedrooms and multiple bathrooms with plumbing. Marble slabs were built into the floor beneath the plumbing fixtures to prevent water damage.According to construction documents, Echols imported Ohio River sandstone for windowsills and lintels, along together with buff brick from Philadelphia and Boston, and they utilized iron from the Fred J. Myers Manufacturing Company in Covington, Ky.

Innovative Amenities

Oakdene incorporates a number of technological amenities. Just outside the garage, a driveway turntable allows a car to rotate for easy access from the garage. There is a call system throughout the house. Buttons pressed on various floors called for servant assistance. Multiple gas lamps lit the entire home. It also used a central coal furnace, steam heating and interior plumbing. Each second-floor bedroom window transforms using pivoted transoms. These half-doors open to sleeping porches, which create ventilation during the warm summer months.

Current Owners

The Robinsons purchased the home 14 years ago from the estate of Echols’ daughter. “When we saw the house Debbie loved it,” Brian Robinson says. “We love older homes. This is our third. We love renovating. You can see how wonderful it is and how well made it is. It is our obligation to preserve and to save it.”
The couple redesigned the kitchen, adding white cabinets and a large central island. They added a roof to the front porch to rebuild it to its original state.

“I like the stonework,” Brian Robinson says. “It has the most amazing intricate detailed carving. It was all done by hand. They did not have power tools.” The slabs of limestone weighed thousands of pounds and were hauled into place by men. This could not be reproduced now with the level of detail the Robinsos put into it. The edge of every step has detail. You can imagine how beautiful it was when it was first built, with every vertical surface painstakingly chiseled.

The Robinsons also removed wallpaper from almost every room. Debbie stripped the oak library and restained it with a deep warm shade.

“We’ve enjoyed working on it,” Debbie says. “Brian is replacing the gutters by himself. This is a true labor of love considering the height and complexity of the third-story slate roof.”

The Robinsons have two daughters, both now in college. “Our kids loved growing up here. It was a fun place for our two daughters to explore,” Debbie Robinson says.

Throughout the years, Oakdene has become more than a showplace. The Robinsons share a genuine love for the workmanship, materials and amenities, but mostly they share the Echols’ love and respect for the place as a home.

“It’s amazing. I would love to have seen them building it,” Brian says. “We are now the stewards of someone’s dream.  We are keeping the dream alive.”

Tickled Pink Over Red Velvet

This cake is a staple at potlucks and reunions.

By LUANNE AUSTIN
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

It’s so good and so bad. Regardless, red velvet cake is in.

Shenandoah Valley folks have been enjoying the blood-red confection for decades. It shows up regularly at church potlucks, club meetings and family occasions. Now bakeries all over New York City have discovered it. Red velvet cake is selling like hotcakes. Noting the trend in a February New York Times article, Florence Fabricant writes, “It’s a cake that can stop traffic. The layers are an improbable red that can vary from a fluorescent pink to a dark ruddy mahogany. The color, often enhanced by buckets of food coloring, becomes even more eye-catching set against clouds of snowy icing, like a slash of glossy lipstick framed by platinum blond curls.”

The origin of red velvet cake is hard to pin down. There’s an urban legend that claims to explain how the cake became popular. In “The Vanishing Hitchhiker,” Jan Brunvand writes:

Our friend, Dean Blair, got on a bus in San Jose one morning and shortly after, a lady got on the bus and started passing out these 3 x 5 cards with the recipe for “Red Velvet Cake.” She said she had recently been in New York and had dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria and had this cake. After she returned to San Jose, she wrote to the hotel asking for the name of the chef who had originated the cake, and if she could have the recipe.

Subsequently she received the recipe in the mail along with a bill for something like $350 from the chef. She took the matter to her attorney, and he advised her that she would have to pay it because she had not inquired beforehand if there would be a charge for the service, and if so, how much it would be.

Consequently, she apparently thought this would be a good way to get even with the chef.

A resurgence in the popularity of this cake is partly attributed to the 1989 film “Steel Magnolias,” in which the groom’s cake (another Southern tradition) is a red velvet cake made in the shape of an armadillo, albeit with gray icing.

Gloria Markley, church secretary at Wakeman’s Grove Church of the Brethren in Edinburg, concurs. She remembers it becoming popular around 20 years ago. About 15 years ago she got a recipe for red velvet cake from her then-pastor’s wife, Doris Knicely. Gloria, now 60, has been baking it ever since for family birthdays and holidays. Along with the recipe, Doris passed along a few tips to Gloria (see recipe). Gloria thinks that’s what sets this recipe apart.

What sets red velvet cake apart from other cakes—aside from the two bottles of food coloring—is the buttermilk, vinegar and cocoa. In his book, “American Cookery,” James Beard writes that the reaction of acidic vinegar with buttermilk tends to turn cocoa a reddish color and that before Dutch processed cocoa became widely used, the cocoa had a more red color. This natural tinting may have been the origin of red velvet as well as devil’s food cake. Some cooks are unwilling to use the required two bottles of red food coloring and instead use beet juice.

“You can buy cake mixes now for red velvet cake,” says Gloria. “But it’s not the same.”

Get the recipe for Red Velvet Cake

Red Velvet Cake

½ cup shortening
1½ cups sugar
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon salt
2½ cups cake flour
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 tablespoons cocoa
¼ cup (2 bottles) red food coloring
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 teaspoon baking soda

Cream shortening and sugar, then add eggs, cocoa and food coloring; beat for 10 minutes. Add buttermilk, then slowly add the flour.  Add salt and vanilla. Remove the bowl from the mixer.  Add by hand vinegar and soda. Stir lightly.

Pour into 3 greased and floured 8-inch cake pans. Bake at 350° F for 25 to 30 minutes. Test with toothpick. Be careful not to under- or over-cook it.

Tips: Instead of cake flour, you can use 2¼ cups of regular flour. Don’t skimp in the 10 minute beating.  The cake, which has a tendency to be heavy and dense, will be much lighter and higher, says Gloria Markley.  Also, when adding the vinegar and soda to the batter, Gloria makes a well, then measures in the baking soda and pours the vinegar over the top of it. She lets the baking soda dissolve and the vinegar to become bubbly before hand-stirring the mix into the batter.

Icing
1 stick butter
½ cup shortening
1 cup sugar
3 tablespoons flour
½ cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream butter, shortening and sugar.  Add flour, 1 tablespoon at a time.  Add milk and vanilla. Beat for 12 minutes.

Tip: Beating the sugar for the full 12 minutes will assure that the sugar is not gritty.

— L.A.

Scents and Sensibility

When decorating, don’t overlook the smells.

BY JENELLE WATSON
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

The way to a man’s heart may be through his stomach—or it may be through his nose.

Just ask Debbie Fox, a Shenandoah Valley candle maker whose hand-crafted products are a hot item in New Market, Dayton, Harrisonburg and Richmond.

When we say hot, we mean it—particularly when it comes to one particular candle.

“We’ve had people tell us that certain scents can be a good tool when a wife wants to have her way, if you know what I mean,” Fox said, giggling, from the candle factory/commercial jelly kitchen she and her husband,  Bobby,  built behind their home in Stanley. “The scent of pumpkin pie is supposed to, well, you know, arouse a man,” she said, laughing harder. “If she can’t get him off the couch, I guess she could either bake a pumpkin pie for dessert—or light a candle!”

Talk about a romantic evening! Who would have guessed that pumpkin pie does for a man what a dozen roses will do for a woman? Perhaps it’s the connection the scent sparks that lies at the heart of why Fox’s pumpkin pie candles are among her most popular.

Common Scents

But it doesn’t stop there. In homes throughout the Valley, scent holds the secret to lighting fires, masking odors and much more.

“I swear, I can light a candle and it doesn’t matter how filthy my house is, it suddenly seems cleaner,” said Shirley Goiner of New Market as she lifted the lid on a soft blue candle called “African Rain” at the Shenandoah Heritage Market. “That’s why I always keep a scent like this burning; it calms me down and keeps me from worrying about all the dirt and dust I can’t find time to get to.”

Mitzi Miller sells “African Rain” and dozens of other soy-based candles from her boutique , House to Home. Located in the market on the southern outskirts of Harrisonburg, her customers are a mix of tourists and locals with one thing on their mind: making their homes feel more inviting. Candles are an inexpensive way to give a room an instant facelift, she said. “I’m seeing a big demand for soy candles and beeswax tapers,” she said. “People like the fact that the soy candles are clean and burn longer. They don’t produce that black smoke you get with some candles.”

When the weather is cold, her best seller is apple pie. She says she also does a solid business with scents like pomegranate citrus, coffee and cinnamon bun. “It’s a personal preference,” she said. “One candle can make a room feel warm, but light another candle and that room will feel fresh and clean.”

GET SCENT-SATIONAL RESULTS

Next Page »