A Guide to Historical Salem

A Guide to Historic Salem -- Volume 3, Number 3 -- Winter 1997-98

Baptist Church Faces A Difficult Decision
'I Remember Langhorne Place'
Scaggs Barber Shop Is 107 Years Old
Three That Didn't Make It
Salem Walking Tour Now in Brochure
Museum 'Sounds Off' With Radio History
Football Once Popular at Roanoke College
Salem Theatre Had Its Rituals
Langhorne Place To Be Featured in Homes Tour
It Beats Connecticut

Baptist Church Faces A Difficult Decision

The First Baptist Church of Salem on South Broad Street has a tough decision to make: whether to build a modern, new sanctuary that will answer the congregation's needs as a a prospering, viable house of worship, or to preserve and restore their historic sanctuary, the oldest African-American church building in Salem, to answer those same needs.

The decision is tough because of the church's history. The church's first meetings were prayer services held in a private home on Cove Road (now Craig Avenue), with volunteer ministers. Later, the services were moved to the home of the Rev. Wakler Smith, the church's first pastor, at the corner of White Oak and Calhoun Streets.

The building on South Broad Street was constructed in 1867, according to the cornerstone, immediately after the Civil War. It may be presumed the builders included freed black men and women, some of them born in slavery.

The building remains there today, proudly, an honor and testament to the builders and to the skills and craftsmanship of their time, and to the people who have nurtured and developed it over the past 130 years.

In 1889, more than a hundred members left First Baptist and organized the Shiloh Baptist Church of Salem. Ten years later 66 members left and organized the Calvary Baptist Church (which no longer exists). Despite these losses, membership at First Baptist continued to grow. Under the leadership in recent years of the Rev. James Allison Braxton, it now stands at nearly 400, more than 250 of them active.

In 1988. the church opened its new educational building, with five classrooms, a chapel, a library, fellowship hall, nursery, and large modern kitchen, a facility costing more than a $600,000. It has bought adjacent land and buildings. It has paid off nearly all of its debt and is ready to move ahead into its next phase of construction: a new sanctuary, the main center for worship, and later a child development center.

An architectural rendering shows the proposed new sanctuary neatly attached to the recently-completed educational building, of the same architectural style, standing precisely where the old building now stands.

The old church building's structure is a testament to those who built it. The tower and belfry rise high above the main building on a frame of huge, interlocking wooden beams, each appearing to be at least a foot wide and 4 inches thick, that shape the high arch of the tower window. The belfry houses two old bells, and although they are seldom rung now, the Rev. Dr. Braxton reports that, when those bells toll, they make "a most dynamic, calling sound."

The church's windows hold what apparently are the original tinted glass. The floor of the sanctuary rises gently from the pulpit allowing the congregation good viewing of the pulpit and choir area. The hot-water radiators gurgle and emit a satisfying steam heat, superior, in Dr. Braxton's view, to the heat of more modern systems. The balcony, unsupported from below, projects from the back and two side walls, supported by hanging braces that testify to the soundness of the old construction. The wooden sides of the building, now covered by aluminum siding, are of high quality, Dr. Braxton reports.

The old building needs a new roof, and beyond that the restoration work would be largely cosmetic, Dr. Braxton says. But it would not be a modern building.

So the question remains: should the church's leadership tear down one of Salem's oldest church buildings, the city's oldest Afro-American church, in order to achieve modern standards of successful churches: comfortable seating, efficient heating, advanced acoustics, modern appearance, etc. Or should they try to save the old building, resurrect it, and restore it so that it can meet the congregation's needs?

There is no denying a new and comfortable church will be a blessing to First Baptist and to Salem, another among the city's fine churches. And it also must be recognized that a church exists to worship, not to venerate the past or preserve historic buildings.

The leaders should not forget, however, that a 130-year-old building, of any kind, is a rarity in Salem. A 130-year-old church building is still rarer. A 130-year-old church building constructed by African-Americans, including some who had been born in slavery, can be an inspiration for all in the community, as well as in the church.

Once torn down, it cannot, and will not, be replaced.

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'I Remember Langhorne Place'

By Norma Lugar

One day, without warning, my father marched into the house and made an announcement.

"Mary," he told my mother without preamble, "I saw my dream lot today. I bought it. We're moving to Salem."

That's how David Vecellio did things. Born and bred in the patriarch system of Northern Italy, he was the family decision maker. So, snap, like that, he brought out the house drawings he'd stuffed into a buffet drawer in 1937 when he was building the stonework on three Virginia Tech buildings and had his friend from the architecture department draw blueprints.

After 12 years of dreams in a drawer, my father moved quickly. By winter, the foundation was set. By spring, there was a structure. And on a sunny day in April 1950, 235 Taylor Avenue became home.

It should have been a happy time. The house was beautiful, an altered version of the original plans. Solid as a rock. Big enough to hold my parents, my aunt, myself, four siblings and my father's office. Later we learned it was also the object of much speculation about that Italian family moving in and where they'd put their wine cellar.

But despite the excitement, I wasn't having fun. I was 15 and heart-broken about the move. It meant leaving lifelong friends. Fitting into a strange place that seemed as far away as Siberia. Even enduring the indignity of riding to Roanoke's Woodrow Wilson Junior High each morning with a teacher. Fortunately for me, she was a lovely and gracious woman named Mrs. Shannon who miraculously lived just a block or two away in the mammoth mustard duplex on Lewis Avenue. (The property was later renovated and expanded by Mary Ann and Brent Mongan and is now the G.O. Clemens home.)

But one rain-kissed Saturday morning, the whining stopped and the magic began. That day, alone, I took a walk around my new world.

I was enchanted.

Maybe it was the wet pavement or spring or the trees that made a canopy of angels' wings, but suddenly I saw the charm and grace of the homes around me. I remember exactly where I was.

On the right was the Broadwater (now Walker) home with its quaint second story wrought-iron balcony. Beside me was the Frey's classic Colonial with just a touch of Southern Gothic. Next came the Garrett's sweet Tudor, and farther along, the Whitescarvers' impressive white brick with its broad porch, and the Lewis home, a style I couldn't quite distinguish but that somehow told me nice, comfortable people lived inside.

Crossing the street, I passed the Finney home with its dark, offset brick, the Hallers (now Brooks) house with an enclosed porch, and the Broadwaters. Then I headed home, waving to the Clems, the only neighbors on our side of the block. I crossed again to get a closer look at the Matterns' modern U-design, Mrs. Guerrant's pretty brick cottage, the Collins' and Ferrell's Cape Cods (the latter now Johnston), and the Duncans' house with its small columned-entrance.

After weeks of melancholy, I was starting to feel at home.

Over the next months, I grew to love the neat, flat lots. The fact that each home was a its own little gem. The unobstructed golf course view from our side porch. Watching as Daddy helped Mother with her golf swing in the back yard. It was summer by then, and they both laughed when this petite woman hauled off and drove a ball across two barren lots and the street to hit the golf course turf. And did it again. And again.

I reveled in the sea of bright yellow flowers growing wild in the two vacant lots between us and the Clems, and gradually, as I went back and forth between the houses, I found patches of blackberries. I was just learning to cook. Scooting between the sticky briers, I gathered enough fruit to make my first pie.

But the pool was the biggest thrill.

For a Roanoke girl who had grown up going to Roberts -- a public pool where the cool older girls jitterbugged in two-piece suits and mahogany tans while the cool older guys watched and salivated -- I was enthralled. We promptly paid the required $3 family fee and got our key.

The pool wasn't fancy. There was no diving board, no filter system and little landscaping. The fence was covered with just enough ivy to, in theory, keep out prying eyes, non-members and teen-age rebels (like me) who defied the rules and scaled the fence after hours for a moonlight dip. The important thing was that there were small crowds that made it easy to get acquainted with neighbors and their children, and sometimes, there was no one at all. That's when the pool became a private playground for me and special friends who'd spent the night. We'd get up early, grab our towels, go to the pool, splash and giggle and talk about boys in perfect security.

But too soon, summer was over and winter dropped on us like a frozen overcoat. Sister Connie had just turned six. Young as she was, she was already an adventurer who squealed and shrieked with the rest of the children when they made a celebration of the first snow with sleigh rides down the hill of the golf course. I watched from the window as they scooted up and back.

I never went along. Instead, when the golf course was crusted with snow and moonlight, I wrote a theme for English class. I don't remember what it said, but I know it was a love song.

A lot has changed since those years. The majestic Langhorne Place pillars are gone, along with the Colonial Theater that sat directly across the street from the entrance, and the Frank Wiley estate which headed the neighborhood and bowed to progress and the First Methodist Church. But there are still wonderful memories ....

Of Mr. Broadwater, a straight, dignified principal who tenderly walked his infirm wife each night. Of Mrs. Mattern strolling the sidewalk with her little son. Of Margaret and Stuart Payne and their beautiful Susan who moved across the street, next to Bob and Libby Saul and their handsome young sons. Of Dr. Vaughn who came faithfully from next door each Christmas to deliver his plate of homemade candies, the fruits of his personal hobby.

Our side had filled up with the Methodist and Presbyterian manses, my sister Sylvia Williams and her husband Shirley, and Anne Taylor and Jim Nimmo. We no longer had the golf course view, but loving, generous and funny neighbors.

And while many things have changed, how blessed we are that some are still the same... Wiley Court with its charm and originality. Long-time residents like the Hobacks, the Byrds, Bonnie Moore Vest, the Minariks and Mathews. The lovely trees like angels' wings. The stylish duplexes and perfect mix of Tudor and Colonial and contemporary houses. The pool.

Now, with The Glenmary as my home, it's good to back at my growing spot. To revisit old places and old faces. To discover new people and remember the time when Langhorne Place and I were young. And, with God's blessing, where we will grow old together too.

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Scaggs Barber Shop Is 107 Years Old

Years Ago, Barber Shop Stayed Open 'til Midnight

Scaggs Barber Shop, in the very center of Salem's historic district, isn't on anybody's list of historic places, but perhaps it should be.

The shop at 207 East Main Street is 107 years old. Twenty years ago, a newspaper observed that going into it was like "stepping back in time." Today, you step farther back in time.

Men have gathered there for more than a century not only for a shave, haircut, shoe shine and the latest town gossip -- but even a shower in a back room. Women too have patronized the place for years, first for permanent waves in another back room, now for hair styling in regular barber chairs. Two of the barbers are women.

The shop's history is apparent when you walk in. By the door is a glass showcase (itself an antique) displaying old hand clippers, straight razors, a 10-cent Colonial Theater movie ticket, a 49-cent box of razor blades, a genuine horse hide razor strop, and pictures of the 1923 and 1939 Salem High School football teams.

The furnishings also speak of history: the inlaid tile floor, the bevel-edged wood-framed mirrors on the walls, the marble bar around the sinks, the old marble based shoe-shine stand with its big, leather-upholstered, wooden chairs and standing footrests.

The same basic service has been available since 1890,. when a 25-year-old William Hannah opened the first barber shop there. Salem was booming then. Land companies were going full tilt. Some three hundred new buildings were in various stages of construction. Hotel Crawford, center of social and civic activities, was across the street.

The boom didn't last, but the barber shop did. By 1905, the Salem Times-Register and Sentinel reported Hannah was installing 14-foot mirrors with built-in hat and coat racks ("a splendid piece of furniture"), plus "revolving and folding chairs...of the same pattern as those exhibited at the St. Louis exposition, upon which they were awarded the grand prize and two gold medals."

In 1907, Hannah bought the building for $8,000, and it became "the Hannah Building." Some ten years later, according to one press report, a portion of the building apparently became home to the Virginia Beverage Co. which made King-Cola and Dixie Flip, popular soft drinks sold across the country. The barber shop stayed put.

Hannah became quite popular. He served on civic committees and owned other downtown land. Even after his retirement, he was known as an avid hiker and was reported in 1940 as going strong at age 75, according to Norwood Middleton's history of Salem. He died in the 1950s.

Hannah sold his business, apparently in the early 1920s, to C. M. "Mac" South. In 1925, South had the shop remodeled (operating it in the pool room at Hotel Salem during the remodeling). Much of the current equipment dates from then: the inlaid floor, the mirrors, the showcase, the marble, the shoe-shine stand, and one of the four current barber chairs (the other three were replaced about fifteen years ago).

In 1927, South sold out to Bill Littrell, who ran it for 50 years, until 1967. In 1952, a young Fred E. Scaggs, Troutville native, came to work for Littrell after service in the navy and barber school. In 1965, Scaggs and Bill Dalton bought the shop from Littrell, and it was Dalton and Scaggs until 1976, when Dalton got out,. Scaggs, now a well-known Salem citizen, business and family man, has operated it ever since.

With only four owners in its 107 years, the shop continues as a model of stability. Ronnie Lancaster, at the second chair, has been there 31 years, and the women barbers -- sometimes seen as an innovation -- are anything but: Cheryl Coleman has been there 10 years, Cindy Havens eight.

During its earlier history, the shop often stayed open at night, sometimes until midnight. Farmers came to town Saturdays to get shaves, haircuts and shoeshines and to "find out everything that went on that week," Scaggs observes, while their wives shopped. The town's merchants then came in Saturday evenings after they had closed up their own shops, to get themselves ready for Sunday, and the place hummed well into the night. Many customers made use of the two showers in a side room.

Shoe shines, although no longer available, have been a part of the business since the beginning. In 1900, Salem banned boot blacks from the town's sidewalks because there were so many of them, "and they fairly take the streets especially on Sunday mornings," according to a news report. "Hereafter," the newspaper reported, "they will have to shine in some building that is handy and convenient for them."

The barber shop apparently was handy and convenient. Shoe shines became a traditional part of the service, along with scalp massages, shaves, shampoos, showers and haircuts.

The shop's last bootblack, Kiser Janney, sold Roanoke newspapers as well as shined shoes and became a well-known figure in town. Janney died in 1980 and was not replaced.

Women have been customers for years. Virginia Stump, now a resident at Richfield Retirement Community, operated a beauty shop in the back room for forty years, in the days of permanent wave machines. Women still are customers but have their hair styled in the regular barber chairs alongside the men. The women barbers cut both men's and women's hair.

A visit to Scaggs Barber Shop today reveals customers as young as five (the shop has little chair inserts for kids), college students, and men who have been going there for fifty years and more: men like Murry White, who tried to sell an ad for the Salem High School annual to Littrell's Barber Shop in 1933. Littrell asked him, "Why should I give you an ad? You don't even get your hair cut here."

White's response: "If you give me an ad, I'll be your customer from now on."

Today, perhaps a thousand haircuts later, Murry White, 83, is still a customer.

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Three That Didn't Make It

The Spring Issue of Historic Salem featured pictures and brief histories of 38 historic buildings and other properties selected in the 1970s and 1980s by the Salem Historical Society as Salem Historic Landmarks. Above are three more such buildings, selected as landmarks with the others, but these three -- the Ordinary House (left), Bittersweet (center), and Intervale -- all have been torn down since their designations as historic landmarks. The Ordinary House, also known as the Colonial Tavern, was a favorite gathering place for men after a day's work across Main Street from the County Courthouse, especially on court days with their juries, spectators and trial participants. Walter Biggs painted it. Believed to have been built in the early 1800s, the solid brick building had four chimneys and sat directly on the street. Bittersweet, a tin-roofed frame typical of many area farm houses, stood right on the sidewalk too, a bit to the east at 408 East Main Street not far from Thompson Memorial Boulevard. McCauley's history indicates it may have existed prior to 1820. Intervale, a fine old manor house reportedly built by James Deyerle before the Civil War, once sat on a 39-acre estate at the end of a tree-lined drive behind a stone gate at the end of Midland Road. The brick structure had the usual center hall and stairway with large rooms to right and left, both up and down, with fireplaces in each of the front rooms. Legend had it that Hunters' Raiders came through during the Civil War and took all the wine and sausage in the place but did not disturb the home. The property was zoned industrial, and Intervale was torn down.

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Salem Walking Tour Now in Brochure

The "Historic Salem Walking Tour" that has occupied this page of Historic Salem since the publication began, now is available from a new source.

The Salem Visitors Center, in cooperation with the Salem Museum and Historical Society, has published a new brochure featuring the Salem Historic Walking Tour, based largely on the tour and map previously published here. The Center has printed 15,000 copies so far and is making them available, free of charge, to any and all who request them. The Salem Historical Society and Museum also are distributing them.

The brochure includes the familiar map (changed a bit in style but with the same icons) published in previous issues of this paper. It also includes several photographs from Salem's past, a 750-word narrative account of the town's history, and the slogan, "The Past is the Beginning of the Future," plus information about the Salem Visitors Center and the Museum.

Because the Walking Tour henceforth will be made available to visitors in a more convenient brochure size, the Salem Historical Society, with this issue, has discontinued the Walking Tour text and map as a feature of this publication. The Society will continue to distribute and publicize the Walking Tour information.

At the same time, this publication will be able to devote this page to other news and information relating to Salem's history.

Copies of the Historic Walking Tour brochure are available at the Salem Visitors Center in the Civic Center, at the Salem Museum, and other locations. The Salem Visitor Center may be reached at 375-4044 as a local call, at 1-888 VA SALEM outside the 540 area code, and on the Internet at http://www.salem-va.com.

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Museum 'Sounds Off' With Radio History

By Mary Hill

When Roanoke's first professional radio station, WDBJ, broadcast Ray Jordan fiddling "Turkey in the Straw" on June 20, 1924, few would have suspected what radio in the valley would become. In fact, few would have even heard it. At that time, S.H. McVitty, a prominent Salem businessman, was the only person in the area to own a factory-made radio set. When the McVittys called the station and let WDBJ know that the program came through, "we thought it was a big thing," said Jordan, who later became WDBJ's station manager. WDBJ was the second station to emerge in the entire state of Virginia, broadcasting at 20 watts for about two hours each day. For a quick comparison, WDBJ's offspring WFIR is now one of over twenty stations in the Roanoke Valley and broadcasts at 5000 watts 24 hours daily.

This summer the Salem Museum explores the growth of Roanoke's radio and its correlated recording studio enterprise in a new featured exhibit, "Making Waves: The Valley's Radio & Recording History." From the first local amateur radio station 3BIY to Jivin' Jackson and Freddie Freelantz, the exhibit explores the area's earliest stations, studios, and personalities-with a little bit of trivia thrown in.

Did you know, for example, that the von Trapp Family Singers-yes, the Sound of Music von Trapps-were passing through Roanoke in 1938 when they heard Orson Well's famous War of the Worlds broadcast? (They feared, incidentally, for their "little girls" who were left behind at a convent in the Bronx.) Or that The Rock-a-teens recorded a national top-forty hit named "Woo Hoo" in Salem? (The beach-boppin' tune, which consists mainly of the lyrics "woo" and "hoo," is sometimes piped over the sound system at Pizza Hut even today.) Or that country singer/songwriter Tom T. Hall was a disc jockey for area station WBLU for a brief time in the 1960s? (There are rumors that local folk might have been models for some characters in his hit "Harper Valley PTA.")

The "Making Waves" exhibit, which will be open at the Salem Museum from July 11 through September 12, includes early radio photographs from Blue Ridge Institute and the Roanoke Times, private collections of antique radios and local recordings, and related memorabilia. A shortwave radio station will be available for guests to use, and crystal and am/fm radio kits will be given as prizes to the two young people who contact the farthest stations during the run of the exhibit. Guests will also be invited to share their radio memories in a journal that will be preserved in the Salem Historical Society archives after the exhibit closes.

The Salem Museum & Historical Society thanks everyone who has contributed information, photographs, and collections to the exhibition, including the Blue Ridge Institute, the Roanoke Times, WFIR, WVTF, WROV, WDBJ-TV, Warren Moorman, Wick Moorman, Larry Bly, Dave Moran, Jack Fisher, Ted Rogers, Joe Yates, Curtis Downy, Tom Omhsen, and Denis Reaser. The Salem Museum, located in the historic Williams-Brown House of Longwood Park, is open to the public Tuesday through Friday from 10 am to 4 pm, and Saturday from noon to 5 pm. No admission is charged. For more information, please contact the Salem Museum, 389-6760.

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Football Once Popular at Roanoke College
Teams Were Fielded from 1870s to 1940s

By Kristine Price and Kent Shiner

"The day was bleak and dismal," The Brackety-Ack, the student newspaper of Roanoke College, reported in its issue of November 22, 1922; "flakes of snow were falling at intervals, and the spectators were huddled in the bleachers trying in vain to delude themselves into thinking that they were warm. But for what account was all this? 'Hail, hail, the gang's all here,' the Roanoke Maroons on College Field were repeatedly assured Saturday afternoon, and responding to that assertion and proved that they were very much present by running up a 63 to 0 score on the pigskin warriors from Elon College."

Such was the coverage of the Roanoke College football team, as a member of the South Atlantic division, that played that season to a record of four wins and four losses. Their opponents: Virginia Military Institute, North Carolina State, Richmond, King College, Hampden-Sydney, William and Mary, Guilford College and Elon College. The Maroon squad also played an exhibition opener against Randolph-Macon Academy, defeating them 186-0 (that's right! the score -- one of the highest ever in the state -- was double checked in college archives), at the beginning of the season.

Football was a popular sport for Roanoke College from its inception in the 1870s as "association football" (to distinguish it from rugby), until its demise in the 1940s. Roanoke played football before the "Big Four" of Virginia Tech, University of Virginia, Virginia Military Institute and Washington and Lee. Roanoke faced Virginia Tech before the rivalry with Virginia began, as well.

"Football is at present the most popular game with the Roanoke College students," the Roanoke Collegian, a college periodical, commented in 1876. "They are very fond of it, although it is a real ankle-peeler of a play." It became so popular that the school purchased some adjoining property along Market Street, where the current science plaza now sits, for the construction of a new athletic field and stadium.

Two years the Collegian reported in March: "It appears as though we are to have football fever this year instead of the periodic attack of spring fever, and as the one is a very effectual antidote for the other, the change will be very welcome."

The first "regular" Roanoke football team played its first game against Allegheny Institute in the fall of 1892.

In the 1890s, interest in the sport accelerated, with support from the college's Athletic Association, the administration, and the hiring of a new coach. Until 1911, football (and other sports, for that matter) at Roanoke was essentially dependent on student interest and support. The Brackety-Ack, named for a popular Roanoke cheer, was started in order to financially support the team through subscriptions and advertising sales. Often the paper featured a front page banner: "Be a Roanoker: Root for Maroons." Every week in the fall, the previous week's football game was covered on the front page, as were basketball games in the winter and baseball games in the spring.

The school's athletic colors are an offshoot of football. In those days, the students had to purchase their own uniforms. When the official colors of national blue and mandarin yellow were not available to the students' liking, they selected a more suitable uniform in maroon and gray, inadvertently changing the school's athletic colors. Thus, the Maroons were born.

The team had a number of successful seasons and remarkable games. From about 1910 to the early 1930's, Roanoke's teams won more than they lost, compiling 59 wins, 56 losses and 12 ties.

In 1914, the Maroons' season finished with a record of just two losses in eight games, with a tied game versus Virginia Polytechnic Institute. The Roanoke platoon downed the collegiate champions of Tennessee, King College, in an October 1922 match-up.

In 1923, the Maroons won the "state small college championship" and had what is said to be the strongest line of any Roanoke team.

The 1923 yearbook, the Rawenoch, was dedicated to their coach, Guy H. "Pinky" Spruhan. According to the Rawenoch, Spruhan devoted "ceaseless and untiring efforts to turn out teams that will be a credit to" the college. He gave the team "the spirit which has caused Roanoke to be considered a formidable, yet courteous and gentlemanly opponent." In fact, Roanoke did not lose one game on its home field that year. In later years, the football field was renamed Spruhan Field in honor of the beloved coach.

In the 1927 season, Roanoke defeated Randolph-Macon College, Virginia Military Institute, Hampden-Sydney, University of Richmond, Bridgewater College and Lynchburg College to earn another state title.

According to the 1927 Rawenoch, the VMI game started with a Roanoke kickoff, and a VMI fumble on the second play: "the flying form of one 'Squire' Givens crashed through the line, scooped up the bounding ball and headed west. Squire was downed on the fifteen yard marker, and thrusts by Miller and Dietrich contributed five yards to the cause. 'Turtle' Jones then took up the good work and with a five yard gain, made it first down on the nine yard line. At this time Dutch stepped into the breach for three smashes, and when the dust had cleared away the score was six to nothing in favor of Roanoke."

"The old VMI jinx" of the Keydets' defeat of Roanoke year after year was finally broken.

Including a loss to VPI (in the first game ever at the former Miles Stadium in Blacksburg), Roanoke scored 122 points to their opponents' 85 that year, for a 6-3 record and the "unquestionable claim" to the state collegiate title once again. The ever-determined team secured their title with a victory over the Hornets of Lynchburg College on Spruhan Field, when Mike Marsh kicked a field goal from the 35-yard line. That was the third game to have been decided by "Mike's big toe" that year.

In 1938, the squad had an All-American, Kenneth Moore, a native of Vinton and "the finest pass snagger in the state," who was named to the Associated Press' Little All-American team. That year, the team, rated 83rd in the nation at any level (VMI was 86th), lost the state crown to Tech by a 6-0 score, but defeated the Richmond Spiders 13-6 in a true team game -- linemen were substituted for injured running backs.

Roanoke also played against the likes of Catholic University, Georgetown University, Emory and Henry, Susquehanna College and George Washington University during its time.

Despite being the most popular sport on occasion during its history, there were years when the support was somewhat deficient. There were four times when seasons were canceled. In 1901 the season was canceled due to lack of funding. The 1918, 1943 and 1944 seasons fell victim to the world wars.

Some at Roanoke became concerned that the sport was gaining too much importance. In 1940, a resolution was passed that stated that athletes and non-athletes had to be academically equal in order to qualify for financial aid. With this decision, plus the effects of the war, student enrollment remained low, and a shortage of funds for the football team developed. The question arose whether the administration should use money from the General Education Fund, causing an ethical dilemma for the school: putting football over academics.

After the ending of World War II, according to Mark Miller, Roanoke professor of history and author of "Dear Old Roanoke," "the administration dropped its own version of the atomic bomb" by vetoing alumni requests for the re-establishment of football in March 1946. The decision was described as the most distressing one of President Charles Smith's administration. "Dr. Charlie" stated that "Roanoke could be a good college or have a good football team. We cannot have both."

Even though the decision to abolish the football program was almost unanimous, there were verbal protests for ten to 15 years following the decision.

Roanoke College's final game was played on November 13, 1942. The struggling Maroon team fell to Catawba College of Salisbury, N.C., 42-0. The headline in the Brackety-Ack to the story written by Ozzie Worley on November 20, 1942, stated, "It's All Over Now", which described the disappointing loss after a hard fought season for the Maroons.

Ironically, it also described the fate of the football program at Roanoke College.

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Salem Theatre Had Its Rituals

By Chris Gladden

By movie palace standards, the Salem Theatre wasn't particularly grand. Stately, perhaps. Even dignified, in a way suitable to the architectural needs of a small southern town.

But it lacked the ostentation, the baroque embellishments of such gaudier cousins as the American Theater in neighboring Roanoke.

Still, to a boy growing up in Salem in the 1950s, the colonial-style movie house at the corner of Main and College fulfilled every entertainment need imaginable. During the week and on Sundays, well-mannered adults gathered there to watch the latest from Alfred Hitchcock or Elia Kazin.

On weekends, the theater was commandeered by hordes of rowdy youngsters oblivious to the theater's architectural amenities and nods to elegance. The velvet curtains and faux opera boxes with their starry skies and medieval-style stone work went unappreciated. On the other hand, the balcony served two practical purposes: it was a trysting place of hormonally charged teenagers and a launching pad for a bold youngster itching to hurl ice at his pals below. Already in the clutches of a sugar rush from the banana splits offered by Newberry's five and dime down the street, young movie goers charged the concession stand as soon as their tickets were ripped. Newberry's delectable gut bombs were just an appetizer for the Neccos, Junior Mints, Sugar Babies, All-Day suckers, Dots, Almond Joys, ice cream sandwiches and cherry sodas available at the theater's concession stand.

Saturday's double-feature matinees were a culinary event. They were also a weekly social ritual of major proportions: a chance to raise Cain, visit friends, to see and be seen and to try out the latest in pain inflicting gadgets that passed for toys in those days.

One of the longest, loneliest Saturdays I ever passed in my life resulted from one of those gadgets. It was a pea-shooter, a long plastic, state-of-the-art straw bought at Newberry's that came with a sace of real, dried peas. You loaded the pea in the end of the straw, blew on it and it rocketed out the other end with amazing force. Cheap, efficient and deadly, it had everything the Pentagon seems to scorn.

I paid my 50 cents and entered the theater, which was screening "Ben-Hur," the four-hour, Charlton Heston toga epic.

The pea shooter burned for a test run. I scanned the theater and immediately fixed on a freckled beauty two rows ahead. I furtively loaded the pea shooter. In whatever misguided world view that drives boys, I figured that this was the quickest way to gain the girl's attention and thus her heart. Still, I experienced that sick premonition that we seldom heed when we're readying ourselves for an act of folly. I aimed the shooter at the back of the girl's head and fired. At the same moment, she turned toward the back of the theater. The pea hurtled through the air and struck her smack in the eye. In memory, the subsequent events seemed to have gone into slow motion, like a scene from Sam Peckinpah's "The Wild Bunch."

The girl yowled in pain. Then she turned and looked directly in my shocked, stupid and ashen face. She rose from her seat, tears streaming down her cheeks, and bolted up the aisle. Already sick with dread, I knew with an unwavering uncertainty that she intended to fetch an usher. These were maroon-blazered, power-crazed storm-troopers who packed flashlights and loved nothing better than humiliating little dweebs like me in front of female audience members. Of course she picked the worst of the lot, a pimply Himmler, his hair all agleam with Vitalis, a malevolent smirk on his face as he charged toward my seat.

He grabbed me by the jacket, jerked me up from the seat and dragged me up the aisle. Dazed and disgraced, all semblance of bravado gone, I provided the best show of the day for the gawking multitudes. Charlton Heston was upstaged and the movie hadn't even started. That left me with four lonely hours to kill and the prospect of thelling my parents a whopping lie when they asked me about the movie.

Of course, all such movie events weren't so traumatic. There was the time "Blood and Roses," an apparent vampire movie played at the theater. My comrades and I were entering adolescence and left the theater stunned by what we had seen. "Blood and Roses" is a little-known movie from director Roger Vadim, who later married Bridget Bardot. The movie was populated almost entirely by pouty Bardot look-alikes who wandered about a castle in French lingerie. Our parents wondered why we so enthusiastically flocked to the theater for the next night's showing. Great movie, pop!

I spent a good portion of my newspaper career reviewing movies for the Roanoke Times and World-News. Whatever nudged me toward a love of movies certainly began at the Salem Theatre. I may not have paid attention to directors then but that was the place that introduced me to Hitchcock and John Ford, William Castle and Howard Hawks, Peter Cushing vampire movies and George Stevens' "Shane." To "Gone with the Wind" and "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." Then, the theater's booking schedule was certainly dictated by product and availability. Today those choices could serve as a classroom survey of American filmmaking.

The Salem Theatre was born amid hoopla in 1930, heralded as Virginia's second theater built especially for sound. It entered a seedy decline in the 1960s as an adult theater and finally succumbed in the 1970s, a fate of most small-town theatres when its screen went dark for good. But for at least some of us, downtown Salem's last picture show left an enduring legacy: a love for the movie-going experience.

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Langhorne Place To Be Featured in Homes Tour
Event Scheduled Dec. 7

By Jaime Banks Anderson and Mary Hill

This year, the Salem Museum's Holiday Homes Tour explores the unique neighborhood of Langhorne Place and Wiley Court.

Developed in the late 1920s, Langhorne Place is one of the loveliest areas in the Valley-a quiet, welcoming nook with the sort of red-wagon charm that is rarely found outside of Norman Rockwell scenes. "Neighborhood News" (a publication written, edited, and distributed by enterprising area youngsters) records pertinent happenings of the Place...who is going to college, who is getting a new bike, the name of the Woodridge family's new dog ("Tila," if you're wondering). With its lovely old homes and views of soft-rolling hills, this close-knit neighborhood maintains the openness and comfort of an earlier time.

The people of Langhorne Place are equally charming. This year's tour hostesses and hosts delight in warmth and hospitality. Artists, designers, entrepreneurs, and homemakers--all are particularly suited to sharing their own aesthetic pleasures in their neighborhood. The Salem Museum & Historical Society is proud to invite you to spend an afternoon discovering the charm of one of Salem's most enchanting neighborhoods.

The Nimmo-Oakey Home (249 Taylor Ave) opens the tour with the family that began it all. Anne Taylor Wiley Nimmo Oakey is the daughter of Annie Langhorne and Frank Cameron Wiley, who developed thier family estate into Langhorne Place in 1928. After growing up amidst the new construction of Langhorne Place, Mrs. Oakey has lived in a number of different Langhorne Place homes throughout the years.

The current residence was built by James M. Nimmo, Jr. almost 40 years ago, a brick neo-Georgian house with a breathtaking view of the mountains. A cursory glance at the home's gracious exterior reveals fins architectural detailing--molded treads leading to the front entrance stoop, wrought iron railings, turned columns, and raised panel doors with leaded glass transoms. The rooms are full of art, antiques and family heirlooms, including several special collections--from an array of Herend rabbits to VMI memorabilia belonging to the late Mr. Nimmo.

The Stokes Home (242 Locust Ave) was erected within a decade of Langhorne Place's first development. Designed near the end of the Depression, the home takes the Minimal Traditional style, echoing popular Tudor features. Flanking Salem's Golf Course, the home was built by Robert Martin, Jr., brother to artist Harriett Stokes. When the Stokes family first moved to Langhorne Place, it was considered "too far out in the country," says Mrs. Stokes. Today, it is one of the neighborhoods central to both Salem's historic district and the new growth on the western end of town.

The cover artist for the Salem Museum's 1998 "Women for All Seasons Calendar," Mrs. Stokes finds inspiration for her paintings in "the uniqueness of our Roanoke landscape." Her home shows a rich appreciation for that landscape--as seen in her own paintings and those of other local artists. Mrs. Stokes recalls a childhood encounter in which the prominent illustrator Walter Biggs remarked to her father, "Your little girl has some talent." With a genuine smile, Stokes reflected, "That was a wonderful thing to say to me." Now her own expansive landscapes hang next to the original artwork of Walter Biggs in her home.

Also featured on this year's tour are two homes in Wiley Court, a 1936 development of eight Cape Cods in a landscaped courtyard within Langhorne Place. Although originally each of the Wiley Court homes shared an original floor plan (four rooms downstairs, four up), most have been remodeled to suit their owners over the years. In all, ther is an unqualified devotion to excellent workmanship in these little "gems," from the floors of white oak to the clear pine trim.

The home of James Powers (Wiley Court #1) has been maintained in something very close to its original state. While the side porch has been enclosed and the kitchen modernized, its basic floorplan remains unaltered. The epitome of style, the Powers Home reflects the tasteful aesthetic of its owner, himself a prominent designer with the firm Bowles Nelson Powers, Inc.

Beginning his career as a window designer for Heironimus, Mr. Powers has used his flair for colors. His primary goal in his current work is to create "a pleasant place to live"--combining the client's ideas with his own understanding of design. In the past, Mr. Powers acted as the civic spokesperson of Bowles Nelson Powers, Inc., by decorating for events such as the Symphony Ball, the Miss Virginia Pageant, and the Harvest Bowl. "I like bright and rich colors," Mr. Powers comments. The rooms are splashed in robin's egg blue, rose, and yellow. The Powers Home mixes classical elements with floral patterns to creat a sense of beauty hand-in-hand with comfort.

As a partner in Bowles Nelson Powers, Inc., Bill Bowles grew up about three blocks away from Wiley Court. In fact, he remembers playing in the Court construction site as a child. Mr. Bowles moved into Wiley Court #5 with his mother in 1958 and has maintained it as his home ever since. Mr. Bowles' grandmother, always sensitive to design in her own home, fostered his interest in style. Visiting her house each summer as a young man, Mr. Bowles noticed his grandmother changing things in her home according to the season and arranging slipcovers which she made herself.

The Bowles home is larger than the original Wiley Court plan, with a two-story addition at the back. Mr. Bowles has furnished the Cape Cod house with 18th century antiques; some are family pieces and others are acquisitions gathered over years. From its collection of Imari porcelain to its formal boxwood gardens, the Bowles Home is the elegant consequence of a lifetime's devotion to style.

As a special treat this year, the Homes Tour also features a nearby Salem landmark--the Inn at Burwell Place. Built in 1907 by Samuel H. McVitty, the Inn takes its name from the prominent civic leader Nathaniel Burwell (pronounced Burr-ell), who had owned the land prior to Mr. McVitty. Bought in 1915 by Lewis E. Dawson, an official with the Salem Tannery, the home was occupied by the Dawson family for over fifty years. The impressive Colonial Revival him is currently operated as a Bed & Breakfast by Cindi Lou MacMackin and her husband Mark Jesse Bukowski. The couple drove by Burwell Place several years ago after a deep snow storm and were amazed at how lovely it looked lit up against the winter sky. When they arrived home, Mr. Bukowski picked up the paper and there the Inn was--for sale!

Ms. MacMackin has taken special care to foster an intimate, homey air in the Inn. "We did not decorate the house to be a Bed & Breakfast," she says. "We bought it as a home...we decorated it for ourselves." She worked with designer Lawrence Cummings to create an atmosphere of "comfortable elegance" in the house. Resplendent in rich jewel tones, the Inn is furnished with fine cherry and walnut antiques, alabaster lamps, crystal, and unusual art objects--including an old Virginia carousel horse. The spacious home will be decorated in high style for the season by Dear Francisco, with balls of light, garlands, pointsettias, fresh greenery, and an angel tree created especially for the family's young daughter, Sara Beth.

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It Beats Connecticut

Eureka! Yes, I have found it! I have found a town amid the mountain-guarded river-divided valley of Roanoke, a valley more fertile, more beautiful and more healthful than your much extolled Connecticut Valley. I have found a town here that will be a large and thriving city within the next ten years, just as surely as the manufactured products of the mineral deposits of Southwestern Virginia continue to be used in the civilized world...Salem will continue to grow and thrive long after she has fulfilled my predictions."

--The American Wool, Cotton, and Financial Reporter, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, August 21, 1890.

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