Guide to Historical Salem

A Guide to Historical Salem - Volume 8, Number 1 -- Winter 2001-2002

Will Freed Slaves if They Emigrated to African Nation
School Began With Humble Origins In 1842
Stately Fort Lewis Mansion burned in 1949
Salem's Beginnnings Shrouded by Some Mysterious Questions
First Inhabitants of Salem Left Few Clues of their Lives
Salem Early Waystation for Travelers
Who Was James Simpson
Exploring the Roots of Salem's Elusive Founder

Will Freed Slaves if They Emigrated to African Nation

By John D. Long

A recently uncovered deed in the Roanoke County Courthouse reveals a previously untold story: a transfer not of property from one person to another, but a transfer of human “property” from slavery to freedom.

This deed can be summarized in a sentence: Malinda Walton Craig, a prominent and wealthy widow, offered to emancipate 13 of her slaves provided that they relocate to Liberia, West Africa. The text of the deed, dated November 2, 1857, and recorded in Deed Book F, pages 37-38, is reproduced here:

M. O. Craig’s Deed of Emancipation to Reuben Burks and others

Know all men by these presents that I, Malinda O. Craig of the County of Roanoke and State of Virginia, has manumitted, emancipated, and set free the following named slaves, together with the future increase of the females, to wit Reuben, called Reuben Burks and aged about 45 years; Patrick, called Patrick Leftwich, aged 41 years, Anthony Leftwich, brother of Patrick, aged about 29 years; Esther, called Esther Webster, aged about 45 and sister to Patrick and Anthony; Sam, called Sam Dill, aged about 29 years; Charles Dill, aged about 25 years; Elijah Dill, aged about 25 years; Jane Dill, aged about 23 years (the last four being children of Esther); Maria Jenkins, aged about 21 years, Sally Jenkins, aged about 19 years, Henry Jenkins, aged about 15 years; Emma Jenkins, aged about 11 years; and Wiatt Jenkins, aged about 8 years, the last five also children of Esther; all of the above named slaves being of a dark complexion. And I hereby declare the said Reuben and others named above to be entirely liberated from slavery and entitled to all the rights and privileges of free persons with which it is in my power to [grant?] them, but with the express understanding and on the condition that they and each of them are to emigrate to the Republic of Liberia in Africa for which purpose alone the deed of emancipation is executed, and to be void for all other purposes.

Although this document leaves a number of questions unanswered, some of the facts of the case can be illuminated.

First, who was Malinda Craig? She was the widow of one of western Virginia’s most prominent politicians: Congressman Robert Craig. Craig was born near Christiansburg in 1792, and in 1824 married Malinda Walton, daughter of a prominent family living along the Roanoke River. Robert served several years in the state legislature before being elected to congress from our area. He served in the House for five terms from 1829-33 and 1835-41. After 1841, Craig retired from politics and moved to Roanoke County, where he soon purchased the Walton home place from his father-in-law William. That land is today Green Hill Park; the Craigs’ house still stands nearby. Robert Craig died in 1852, a year after the new county to the north of Roanoke was named in his honor.

Perhaps it was an attempt to set all of her affairs in order that convinced Malinda in 1857 to free these 13 slaves. Malinda died the next year, and according to her will was in poor health beforehand. She did not, incidentally, free all of her slaves. At least one, a man named Saul, was sold after her death for $400. Why the thirteen in question were chosen but not Saul is not readily apparent.

Why would Craig free her slaves, but only on the condition they leave for Liberia? In this she was following a popular idea of the day. Liberia was in fact created as a colony for freed American slaves. Its history traces back to a group called the American Colonization Society, founded in 1816 by such luminaries as Henry Clay, John Randolph, James Monroe, and Andrew Jackson. Their purpose was to convince the freed African Americans to migrate back to Africa, an idea spawned by two feelings: pity and fear. Proponents of “colonization” felt that blacks would benefit from having their own land, but also held the less charitable view that freed blacks were a harmful factor in America that should be removed. Few whites of this day believed that the two races could live peacefully side by side outside of a master-slave relationship, and even fewer were willing to try such a thing. Thus by 1867 some 13,000 slaves had been relocated. Malinda Craig, no doubt, considered this a win-win situation: her slaves were free, but not in the way of the white society that had brought their ancestors here.

What became of these 13 slaves? The evidence shows that they did indeed emigrate to Liberia, as stipulated in the deed. A 1980 compilation of Liberian emigrants published by Robert Brown of the Institute for Liberian Studies lists each of the slaves mentioned in the Craig deed, although there are variations in spelling (Dell for Dill). They left Norfolk in November 1857 aboard the M. C. Stevens, a ship that frequently made the Liberia run carrying new colonists and supplies, and probably transporting back cargo, produce, and letters of freed slaves.

A portrait of life in Liberia may be reconstructed from letters of other Virginia slaves who had recently migrated. The slaves of Albemarle County planter James Terrell remained in communication with their previous home, and their letters (now in the UVA archives) form a valuable record of Liberian life. A letter of Tibby Scott dated January 1858 records that her “health had been quite bad” but that the land was wonderfully productive with a variety of crops harvested. However, a shortage of tools, supplies, clothing, and meat led to frequent requests for aid from America. Very likely, the Craig slaves experienced the same hardships, but there is no evidence that they had anyone to ask for help.

Ultimately, though, we can only guess at the fate of Burks, the Leftwichs, and Esther Webster and her nine children. There are at present no records to indicate their fate once they boarded the M. C. Stevens. The long and arduous voyage may have claimed one or two lives; and case studies show that a larger number would have died in the first year from “acclimation fever.” Those who survived would have experienced appreciable hardships, including trouble with the native African population and an unfamiliar climate. But they may have also found a productive and profitable land where they could build a life of freedom.

We are left with an interesting case, about which we will likely never have many answers. Did any of the group long to return to Virginia? Were they envied or pitied by other slaves who remained behind? We can hope that the 13 Roanoke County slaves found a prosperous and contented life, but we will probably never know. We can be sure, however, that their counterparts who stayed here in America would continue to experience the inhumanity of slavery until 1865, and the cruelty of prejudice long after that.

Museum intern Frances Kouyoumdjian of Santiago, Chile, contributed research for this article.

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School Began With Humble Origins In 1842

by Bob Rodgers

In the fall of 1842, a young pastor named David Bittle founded a small school that came to be known as Virginia Collegiate Institute. Since then its name has changed to Roanoke College, the school’s location has moved from near Staunton to Salem, and the attendance has vastly increased from a dozen to almost 2,000 students.

Bittle’s intentions for opening a school were to educate the sons of his parishioners, and also to hopefully guide some of them to the ministry. For the first few sessions the students received a high-school equivalent education, and then some college work was also added. Mathematics and languages were the two main subjects studied, and the students attended class five days a week, much like today’s students.

Bittle left the school in early 1845 to become pastor at his own parish in Middletown, Maryland. The school continued to operate though, thanks to the efforts of principal Christopher Baughman, who had also been instrumental in the school’s founding. Enrollment began to decline over the next two years however, causing alarm among the school’s trustees.

They determined the main problem centered around the school’s isolated and unfavorable location in Augusta County, ideal for keeping the students focused but possessing no other good qualities.

A decision was made then to find a better location for the Institute, one that would assure its continued survival. The town of Salem was proposed as a possibility for the new site, as it offered several attractive advantages.

First, there existed no other major institution in or around Salem, and so a school there would have a monopoly on students in the area. Second, Salem was roughly on the dividing line between the two Synods that sponsored the school. Putting the Institute there then would offer equal accessibility to students from both Synods.

The Roanoke Valley also offered a sizable and fervent Lutheran population. The board of trustees affirmed the choice of Salem by a vote of 9-5 in December of 1846. Four months later Baughman and the students loaded the Institute’s belongings onto a single wagon and started the 150 mile trip south to their new home.

Their expedition certainly was an adventurous one, as no land or money had been set aside by Salem for the new location and buildings the school would need. The Institute’s board of trustees has established a committee though to address the problem, and they came up with a temporary solution.

An abandoned Baptist church east of town, today the location of East Hill Cemetery, was rented, to allow the Institute to hold a summer session and begin making revenue as quickly as possible. Meanwhile construction began on an actual school building, located on four treeless acres of land a block north of the town.

The building committee had purchased the land in May 1847, the same month that the school started its first session in Salem. Six students had come with Baughman from the school’s original location, and it is unknown how many more joined them for that first term. The overall cost for a student that year totaled $67, although ministerial students received a $13 discount.

The price included tuition, board, washing, lights and fuel, and room rent. By the start of the next school year in May the school’s new building was ready for use. Today it stands as the center section of Roanoke College’s Administration Building. Originally the main floor was used for academic purposes, the students’ rooms were upstairs, and Principal Baughman and his family resided in the basement.

All involved with the Institute were pleased with the new building, even though workers were still completing the finishing touches. The students themselves, under Baughman’s direction, helped beautify their campus by planting trees in 1849.

The size of the campus was doubled when Baughman purchased an additional four acres soon afterwards. The school struggled financially though in its first few years, causing Baughman’s assistant to leave for the gold rush in California in 1849, after having received no pay for the year. Through the sale of scholarships and by taking out loans, the Institute managed to survive. Physical expansion of the campus still continued though, with a west wing to the main building being added in 1852, and an east wing following two years later.

As the size of the Institute’s campus grew, along with the number of people involved with the school, the question of expanding it to a true four-year college arose. Currently the school only taught the freshman and sophomore years of college, and most students could not afford to finish their last two years somewhere else. The school had also not received the power to confer a degree of any sort when its charter was granted. Proponents of expansion to a full college cited both of these arguments. They also argued it was becoming more difficult to financially sustain the school as simply a preparatory institution.

Their opponents offered that Virginia already possessed too many college and not enough preparatory schools, and so it would make more sense to stay as they were. The board of trustees debated the issue in 1850 and because of their division they could reach no conclusion. The topic did not heat up again until 1852, when the Virginia Synod offered its support for securing a college charter. The students then got into the act, urging Baughman and the board to consider the transformation. Baughman was undecided on the issue, but eventually agreed to support the push for college status after the board approved the request to the General Assembly on January 22, 1853.

After some debate, the name “Roanoke” was chosen for the new college by the board, as a reference to the county it was located in.

Baughman traveled to Richmond and was able to have a bill introduced into the senate in late February 1853. The act to establish Roanoke College met with senate approval on March 10, and was passed by the House of Delegates on March 14, 1853.

Sadly, when the leadership for the new college was being decided, Principal Baughman was not included, even after his many years of guidance and service. He disappeared from the record soon after, and the exact circumstances of his fallout with the college remain a mystery.

His absence led to the return of David Bittle, who became president in June 1853. Despite inheriting a struggling school in debt, Bittle managed to attract more students and increase the college’s revenue. His leadership saw Roanoke College survive the difficulties of the Civil War and continue with its operation unharmed.

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Stately Fort Lewis Mansion burned in 1949

By Maria Shanks

Editor’s note: Older residents of Salem will remember the majestic Fort Lewis mansion that stood west of town on Route 11, commemorated by a roadside marker today. The house was long the homeplace of the Alexander White family, and later the boyhood home of famous actor John Payne, star of Miracle on 34th Street. In November 1964, a descendant of Alexander, Maria Shanks, shared some recollections of Fort Lewis with readers of the Salem Times Register.

Up until a few short years ago when it was ravished by fire, the majestic ancestral home of the White family, known as Fort Lewis, stood cradled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains. Located about 10 miles from Roanoke and approximately three miles west of Salem, this beautiful mansion stood on the south side of what is now known as the Lee Highway. This historic old home was built in 1822 by my great-grandfather, Samuel White, for his son, Alexander, who was to be married to Mary Bacon Oliver. At the time he gave Fort Lewis to his son, he also gave the bride a thousand dollar carriage.

Colonel Alexander White, a quite handsome man looking not unlike General Robert E. Lee, tall and of fine physique, the epitome of graciousness, possessed all the attributes of the courtly Virginia gentleman, noble in thought, word and deed, and true and honest in all his dealings with his fellow man.

An interesting background evolves around this charming home of the White family. The original deed, tradition has it, was signed by George III of England and was recorded at the old Fincastle Courthouse in Botetourt County, which was later destroyed by fire. Alexander White retained a copy of the deed until 1885 when it was said to have been loaned to a neighbor to settle a boundary dispute, and was lost.

Samuel White had originally bought a 4500 acre tract including the site of the fort, which Colonel (later General) Andrew Lewis occupied at the direction of George Washington in order to defend the frontier against marauding Indians. The actual fort was 150 feet due west from the center of the residence referred to in my grandfather's will as "The Mansion House."

Bricks to build the walls of this residence were hauled from Lynchburg in wagons drawn by four-horse teams. The water supply was furnished from two large springs erupting from the foot of a hillside almost entirely covered by lovely old moss draped oak trees.

The garden was a veritable show place. Laid off in squares, with boxwood at each corner, it also boasted two tremendous boxwoods on either side of the gate, and yellow jasmine trailed its way across intricate trellises seeming to reflect the golden rays of the sun as it wended its way through the lattice-work. Extending from the back porch ran a row of stately and stalwart cedar trees which stood as though they were sentinels guarding the secrets of the Mansion House. My grandmother loved flowers and on the southwest side of the hill lay her treasured greenhouse.

Directly in front of the mansion was a beautiful fountain situated in the center of a tremendous circle. Bordering the side of the garden next to the road ran a solid wall of japonica, which, when in bloom, looked not unlike a flaming summer sunset in the western sky.

Behind the Mansion house were a number of out-buildings. The four-room brick kitchen, the large smoke-house, the hen house, duckhouse and roomy bathhouse with tub and running water, gave the appearance of a separate settlement. Despite the fact that there was no heat in the bathhouse it is said that my grandfather got in the tub every morning of his life, regardless of the temperature. Back of the bathhouse was the privy, the most up-to-date one in the vicinity, for it was fixed so that it could be flushed and piped a considerable way down the hill!

West of the house lay the slave's cabins. Since there were a goodly number of slaves owned by my grandfather, the cabins numbered twelve or fifteen. Northwest of the mansion was the picturesque schoolhouse which contained four rooms, two up and two down, with a porch extending across both the front and back of the building.

To my grandparents were born twelve children-six girls and six boys. Many of their descendants are at the present time living in Salem and Roanoke. Their children were all tutored privately at home. One of the tutors secured from the north did not remain in my grandfather's employ very long, for it was discovered she was going to the slave's cabins in secret and getting the Negroes all stirred up in controversial matters. When she departed she astounded everyone by kissing the maid good-bye!

Grandfather then advertised for a tutor and in response secured the services of Miss Martha Sagendorf. She was a very lovely and charming lady who immediately endeared herself to all the family. Not only did the family succumb to her personality, but Gum Jeter, a young dentist, son of Ira Jeter and nephew of my grandfather, was attracted to her and married her after an ardent courtship. To them were born three daughters and two sons. Their youngest daughter, Florrie, married Robert Kime, a lawyer, and Sagen Kime, his son, is a prominent attorney in Salem today.

Fort Lewis was known far and wide, not only as one of the outstanding mansions of the south, but for its warmth and hospitality, and it was considered quite an honor to be invited there as a guest within its walls. On May 22nd, 1866 an outstanding double wedding was held there, rich in grandeur and tradition. Two Shanks brothers, James Lewis and George Thomas, married two of the White sisters. James' bride was Martha Eppes White. I can recall hearing my parents in later years, tell of the augustness of this event, the large number of guests, and the splendor of the wedding feast, where the "piece de resistance" seems to have been a roast young suckling pig with a red apple ensconced in the mouth.

Fort Lewis has never been the ancestral home of any family but that of the Alexander Whites. Today, alas, there lies nothing to remind one of the grandeur of this era and the noble dignity of this pretentious estate, but the grounds of historic Fort Lewis, and it seems an irreconcilable tragedy that such exquisite beauty belonged to a never-to-be recovered past which now is a ghost of the traditional 'Old South."

Wes McCarty, another descendant of Alexander White, notes that Maria erred in some minor points: George II signed the original deed to the property, not George III, and the exact location of the fort in relation to the house has long been debated. Wes is working on a book on Fort Lewis, and would appreciate any information. Contact the Salem Museum.

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Salem's Beginnnings Shrouded by Some Mysterious Questions

Happy Bicentennial, Salem! As any grade school student can tell you, that means our fair city is 200 this year, a good round number worthy of celebration. And it inevitably means that Salem was founded in 1802. Every history book proclaims that date, our new Bicentennial logo bears that date, and a year’s worth of events are planned around it.

But is it accurate? Was Salem actually founded in 1802?

In planning the Bicentennial, officials of the city and the Historical Society considered this question. Although 1802 had always been considered the founding date, there seemed to be other options. What about 1800, when James Simpson first bought the land he would turn into a new town? Or 1806, when it was officially chartered by the General Assembly? Or 1803, a date inscribed on a historical marker on Wildwood Road for no apparent reason?

More tantalizing is a recent discovery that supplies strong evidence that Salem existed more than a year before the traditional date.

At a recent program of the Salem Historical Society, Judge George Honts, a widely respected historian and author of Botetourt County (of which Salem was a part until 1838) revealed a largely overlooked document that is at this time the earliest known mention of Salem by name. On February 11, 1801, the Botetourt County Minute Book records the following:

“Ordered that John Drake, David Shanks, Luke Bott, and Abraham Gish, or any three of them being first duly sworn do view the way proposed for a road agreeable to a petition, this day presented, to wit, to be taken out of the old road near a smith shop on James Breckinridge land, thence to pass Adam’s new furnace, thence through the land of Christian Gish, and thence to a town called Salem, and report the conveniences thereof to court.”

Unless the Botetourt government was remarkably clairvoyant, this would seems to show that there was some settlement already named Salem, at least sixteen months earlier than has previously been assumed. Future research may reveal even earlier evidence of Salem’s existence.

So did we miss our chance for a 200th Birthday? Are we celebrating in vain this year?

No. Don’t cancel the parade quite yet. In fact, 2002 and only 2002 is Salem’s Bicentennial. No other year will do for a simple reason: in 1902, our forefathers celebrated Salem’s 100th Birthday, marking the first sale of land by James Simpson to Susanna Cole. That makes this year the Centennial of the Centennial, and hence our Bicentennial. To observe 2002 is a decision made for us a century ago. And by default we’re condemning the folks of 2102 to compound the error.

But really, exact dates aren’t the most important thing. The point of any commemoration is not to identify a starting point, but to honor a heritage. We date our years according to Christ’s birth, even though it was almost certainly not 2002 years ago this December. We launch fireworks every July 4th even though the Declaration of Independence was not really signed on that day. And Washington’s birthday could not possibly be on a Monday every year. But to obsess about actual dates is an exercise that misses the point of these holidays.

2002 is Salem’s year to shine, a year to celebrate a rich history and to educate our residents about our local past. So what if nothing earth shaking happened exactly 200 years ago? Let’s be sure that we give our posterity a richer heritage and a better Salem. It’s the least we can do, and a darn good reason for a yearlong party.

And if we mess anything up, there’s always 2006. . .

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First Inhabitants of Salem Left Few Clues of their Lives

By Jaison Annarino

Human occupation of the Salem area has a long and rich history. Archeological evidence suggests that various peoples have dwelt here for possibly 10,000 years or more. Information about the first inhabitants is sparse. Thankfully, volunteer organizations such as the Archeology Society of Virginia and professional local archeologists have dedicated untold years and personal resources to the study of the valley’s prehistory.

It is believed that around 10,000 years ago people commonly referred to as Paleo-Indians first entered the Salem area. The world they inhabited was quite different than that of today. The geography was the same, however the climate was that of a land only a few hundred miles away from Ice Age glaciers. Average temperatures were possibly 15 degrees cooler than today. The massive ice sheets in the north pulled a lot of moisture from the air and caused strong, cold, dry winds to flow over Southwest Virginia. Some of the higher mountains may have had tundra-like environments with sparse, tough vegetation and permafrost.

During this last Ice Age the valley was home to many strange creatures long since extinct: mammoths, dire wolves, giant ground sloths, giant beavers and possibly saber-toothed tigers. Their bones have been found west of Salem and near present day downtown Roanoke.

The Paleo-Indians were well adapted to this world. Probably living and travelling in small, family groups they hunted and foraged for survival. Seasonal migrations and a lack of agriculture kept these groups on the move. They were master toolmakers: well made stone artifacts such as knives, Clovis spear points and hide scrapers have been found, skillfully knapped from quality local material. They were a people who believed in the motto “the right tool for the right job;” considering their environment, this was a matter of survival.

Around 8,000 years ago the environment started to moderate. The northern glaciers retreated and the climate became wetter and warmer. Plants and animals much like today’s spread northward. Although the climate was still cooler than today’s, the valley was more hospitable to its inhabitants.

There seemed to have been an explosion of diverse cultures and technological change in the valley during the Archaic Period (8000-3000 years ago). The Archaic peoples remained migratory, but they developed new styles of tools made of different types of materials. By the end of the Archaic period appeared crude pottery andsimple weaving techniques for storage bags, baskets, fishing nets, mats and perhaps even textile clothing and footwear. The atlatl or spearthrower revoltionized hunting technique, allowing for more accurate targeting and greater force, and hence a more stable food supply.

About 2000 years ago began what scholars term Woodland period. With minor differences the climate, plants, and animals were all as they are today. The greatest changes were cultural and often related to how the people fed themselves.

Starting around 2000 years ago agriculture found its way to the Salem area. It allowed groups of people to remain in one place rather than wander seasonally in search of food. Nutritious foods such as corn, beans and squash could be grown in fields year after year. As the agricultural techniques improved, the populations grew and villages sprang up in the Valley.

There many significant archeological sites in the valley that shed light on the life of the Woodland people. Palisaded walls of small tree trunks generally surrounded their villages. These palisades seem to have been for protection from other tribes, for warfare was all too common.

Like most eastern Native Americans, the Woodland people here lived in houses made of bent saplings covered in hides, bark, clay or thatch. Most houses were round or oblong in shape with one entrance and an opening in the top for smoke from a central fire. English neighbors called these structures “wigwams” from the Monacan word wigawa.

It was later in the Woodland period, about 900 years ago, that the bow and arrow was introduced. Spear tips and atlatl darts gave way to the small, triangular projectile points so commonly found in plowed fields today and loosely termed arrowheads.
As profound as the cultural changes of the late Woodland period were, the greatest change of all for the original inhabitant s of the Salem area came with the arrival of the Europeans.

The archeological evidence from the Thomas-Sawyer site off Riverside Drive and the site under the Moyer Sports Complex suggests that contact with the Europeans, at least through trade, came to the valley as early as the late 17th century. Iron, glass beads and pieces of firearms found buried in trash pits say that the inhabitants of this area knew about the Europeans perhaps before the Europeans knew of them.

Many scholars believe that the first contact between the resident people of the valley and Europeans was through a group of English explorers led by Thomas Batts and Robert Fallam in September 1671. Governor William Berkeley commissioned these men to follow the Roanoke River and cross the mountains in search of the Pacific. At this time the British did not know the full breadth of the North American continent.

The explorers kept a journal describing their journey. Within a few days they reached a broad valley with rolling hills. After descending a steep slope they came upon a palisaded village which they named Totera Town. The journal records that they were “exceedingly well entertained” by the Totera or Tutelo people before venturing westward in search of the Western Sea. The expedition traveled for some days before reaching the New River. Seeing the seemingly endless chain of mountains stretching west they admitted defeat and followed their path back home.

Although Batts and Fallam were the first men to record their encounter with the Totera, they most probably were not the first Europeans to venture into the Salem area. There is some speculation that Spanish explorers may have ventured into the valley well before, for Batts and Fallam had found several trees marked with the words “A.MANI” and “MANI”. There is no definite answer for who may have carved this.

Many archeologists and historians argue that Totera town was located where the Moyer Sports complex in Salem is today. Others feel it may have been at the confluence of Masons Creek and the Roanoke River. Still others insist it is lost forever to development and all we have left is speculation.

The 18th Century brought great changes to the Totera people and their local cousins, the Saponi. Diseases such as smallpox and measles arrived for which they had no natural immunities. The Native Americans also had a low tolerance for and high degree of addiction to the strong liquor traded by the British. Firearms soon replaced the traditional hunting weapons and the population of white tail deer, an important food source, dropped rapidly as the Europeans paid handsomely for deer hides.

The century also included increased warfare from other, more powerful tribes. By 1720, the Totera and Saponi had been forced south to live with the Tuscarora people in North Carolina. Within a few years the remnants of all three tribes had moved to upstate New York where they ultimately allied themselves with the Iroquois.

As the years progressed so did European expansion. By the 1750’s The area was being settled and traveled by folks moving south from the Shenandoah Valley. Written accounts of those years describe a well-watered valley with rich soil, flowing springs salty bogs and open meadows. A brief fifty years before those meadows may have been the cornfields and village sites of the Totera.

It is not too difficult to imagine a Scots-Irish farmer in 1760 walking his fields before planting wheat. Glancing down he spies a peculiar stone shaped like an arrowhead and wonders, “Who made this? And when?”

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Salem Early Waystation for Travelers

By Lon Savage

From its earliest days, Salem seems to have been a hospitable place, a place to stop for a mug of ale or a good meal or a night’s lodging. Sitting athwart the Great Road that led from the Atlantic to the West, the little town’s first important industry – and a reason that it became a center for the region – was its inns and taverns.

Even before 1800, there were early inns and boarding houses in the area, and home owners often took in travelers. William Walton, a resident, built a house about two miles west of today’s Salem in 1776 and opened it as a tavern in 1782. Others followed suit. Inns, taverns, lodging houses and “ordinaries” – as they were sometimes called -- began to appear.

By early in the nineteenth century, when the town of Salem came into being, stagecoaches came through periodically, pulled by four-horse teams under the whip of a high-seated driver, bringing mail and people and, most exciting of all, news from the outside world. Soon a steady stream of coaches, carriages, wagons, and people on horseback and on foot – Scotch Irish and Germans coming down the Valley and English pushing straight west from the Virginia coast -- moved through, heading toward Tennessee or Cumberland Gap and the western country beyond, or returning from those same places.

Although they called it the “Great Road,” it initially was little more than a dirt trail. Fording rivers, overcoming obstacles of fallen trees and rocks, slipping and sliding and bogging down in mud holes, pushing through narrow passages and up and down steep embankments, travelers did well to make 15 to 20 miles a day, and they needed places where they could rest their horses and drivers and get and a little rest and relaxation. Salem helped meet this need.

One of Salem’s earliest taverns was the Mermaid, located just west of the town limits about where Burwell Street meets Chestnut today, about a block south of Main Street, and it apparently was popular. It was at the Mermaid (which he spelled “Mair Maid”) that Andrew Jackson, then a former senator from Tennessee but not yet president of the United States, penned his locally famous letter on July 2, 1807, to a Fincastle lawyer and legislator, accusing him of “stating a thing to be true which you know to be false.” His letter is the first known mention of the tavern. Jackson, in his travels between Washington and his home near Nashville, returned to the Mermaid as well as to other Salem inns and homes in subsequent years. .

James Simpson’s son Griffin Lamkin later became operator of the Mermaid, having been issued a license for “private entertainment” in 1809. A few years later, about 1816, after buying 126 nearby acres from Andrew Lewis Jr., Lamkin was instrumental in building a race track near the tavern – an attraction that undoubtedly would have interested President Jackson, who loved blooded horses. Lamkin, reportedly a jovial spirit who enjoyed “the flowing bowl,” could be seen frequently riding through town in his coach pulled by four horses, and it was a loss when he and Simpson left Salem, never to return. (See Article on Simpson, Page 1).

Once organized as a town in 1802, Salem quickly grew into a center for taverns and inns, outstripping other communities in the region. Deedie Kagey, author of a history of Roanoke County, writes that the abundance of references in county records could lead one to believe that “almost everyone with a home large enough to accommodate one traveler applied for a license to keep an ordinary….”

Dates of the opening of some of the early taverns are inconclusive. The Hotel Salem (actually, the first Hotel Salem as others were to follow) opened about 1818 just east of the town limits about where Thompson Memorial Drive joins Main Street today. It was built by Charles Lynch Mitchell, who had moved to Salem from Bedford the year before, and it apparently thrived. An annex was built on the other side of the road three or four years later. The hotel later was owned by William C. Williams, who had managed the Mermaid, and Henry Harrison Chapman bought it in 1847, giving impetus to an era of expanding hotel operations that was to last the rest of the century.

Williams, meanwhile, became proprietor of the Exchange Hotel at the southwest corner of Main at Walnut (later College) until 1851 when David Guthrie became its manager. Williams then opened the American Hotel on the crest of Main Street hill, promising a “table…supplied with the best the country affords”; a bar “furnished with the choicest wines and liquors” and “stables provided with good hostlers.” Williams died that same year at age 67, and his son, William W. Williams, took over.

The Bull’s Eye Tavern was located at the west end of Salem – an imposing five-story brick building standing atop a rise on the north side of Main Street, about where First United Methodist Church is today. Andrew Jackson stayed there several times. Dr. H. B. Dillard later purchased the tavern and removed the top two floors because it was too large as a residence.

Then there was the Globe, located at today’s northwest corner of Main and Broad Streets, two stories in height with a half-story attic and basement, run by Joel Bott as landlord who kept a neat and orderly establishment.

The Indian Queen operated at the southwest corner of Main and Colorado Streets. Those serving as landlords of this establishment included William Pennock, Chilton O. White, etc., and Thomas G. Huff. The building was razed after the Civil War.

Benjamin Farris opened Farris’ Tavern (also spelled Faris’ Tavern) at the northwest corner of Main and Market Streets, where Salem Presbyterian Church is located today. It apparently served the community well, being the site of a number of important meetings and gatherings.

Local newspaper ads of the times refer to other inns in and around Salem with names like The Star and Garter, The Leather Bottle and the Eagle, but little is known of them or their locations.

Colorful signs lured passers-by inside the inns, where a traveler could enjoy such libations as rum, brandy or whiskey, sleep in a bed with clean sheets for six pence and get stabling and hay for his horse for another seven and a half pence. At the two-story Indian Queen, a sign displayed dazzling colors of costume and headdress of its namesake, and the Bull’s Eye featured a circular window with blue panes, presumably resembling a bull’s eye, in the center of its street-front gable.

In some cases, places of lodging were also places of gaming. On April 6, 1814, a Botetourt County grand jury returned 29 indictments of which 26 were for unlawful gaming. The following year the grand jury returned 58 true bills, all but nine of them for unlawful gaming. Some of the indictments charged defendant with “exhibiting a game table called ‘equality.’” In 1838, when such indictments were much less common, those who secured licenses included Jonathan Entzmenger of East Salem, Benjamin Farris who ran Farris’ Inn; John McCauley and William C. Williams, all with places in Salem.

Improvement in the roads around Salem apparently was slow, and rain still largely paralyzed movement. As late as 1836, President Andrew Jackson, on one of his stops in Salem, wrote that after two weeks of rain, “in many places it takes ten horses to pull through the bog one wagon…” (woody 40).

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Who Was James Simpson
Exploring the Roots of Salem's Elusive Founder

By John D. Long

It is tempting to imagine that hot June day in 1802. A weary figure trudges up the hill in Fincastle to the courthouse. He is probably in his sixties and dressed modestly. His clothing gives little indication of his station in life—perhaps like many of his contemporaries he is “land rich and cash poor.” He enters the courthouse and looks for the clerk of court.

“I have some deeds to record. I have some land in the west county along the Road, and I’ve laid out some lots for a town I’m calling Salem. The name is James Simpson.”

This scene must have occurred, because the deeds in question are still recorded in the Botetourt County courthouse in Fincastle. On June 4, 1802 James Simpson sold to Susanna Cole a lot on the northeast corner of today’s Main and Cherry Alley. The lot lay along the Great Wagon Road, uphill from the Roanoke River, in a grid of lots that Simpson had recently laid out. That $20 transaction , recorded in Botetourt County Deed Book 7, has been considered for at least a century Salem’s birth certificate (in 1902, the town celebrated June 4 as its centennial).

But despite the momentous nature of the sale, little is known of the main character. James Simpson, founder of Salem, is virtually forgotten in the town he created, the details of his life as murky as the thick mud of his wagon road.

Who was this James Simpson? What were his plans? Did he consider them a success? Where did he come from? Why did he leave so suddenly and where did he go? All of these questions are lost in the vacuum of history, and any attempt to write his biography leaves more questions unanswered than solved.

There are several reasons for Simpson’s obscurity. It seems fair to say that he was more interested in making money than in making history, and left behind no contemporary accounts of his life and precious few legal records to give some hints. He also (as will be seen below) left town very soon for southern climes, and so faded rapidly from memory here. And any researcher will attest to the difficulty of finding certainties in the documents of the early 19th century: names are misspelled, deeds go unrecorded, census takers miss a house or are ignored. Add to this the fact that Simpson was a common name in western Virginia, and James a common name among Simpsons, and the result is a virtually unrecoverable past.

Still, we can ascertain a few facts and make a few educated guesses about Salem’s founding father, but not many of the facts below can be considered incontestable.

James Simpson was born probably in the 1740s in Virginia, possibly along the Potomac River and probably a son of another James Simpson. At some point in his adulthood he married Eleanor Crawford, a daughter of Samuel Crawford. We know little else of his early life, but there is one tantalizing possibility: in 1774, a Private James Simpson of Botetourt County fought under Andrew Lewis at the crucial Battle of Point Pleasant. Was this the same one who would later carve Salem out of Lewis’ estate? Did he move to the Roanoke Valley because his commanding officer lived there? We cannot know the answers to these questions.

We do know that our James Simpson was in the area within a few years after Point Pleasant, while the Revolutionary War was still ongoing. In 1779, Simpson acquired 242 acres along the Roanoke River, his first known holdings in the valley. Over the next twenty years or so, Simpson continued to buy land until he owned over 1000 acres near modern Salem. Undoubtedly he farmed the land, and there are indications that he harvested timber and ran a sawmill, and that he was employed as a wagon maker, since tools of that trade are mentioned in a list of his property.

Of Simpson’s family we can only make conjecture. It seems that he had a one son named James, possibly another named Robert, and a daughter, Elizabeth, who married Griffin Lamkin, later a Salem tavern-keeper, racetrack owner, and entrepreneur.

It was in 1800 that James Simpson procured his most important acquisition, so far as we are concerned. On the red-letter day of October 15, he bought 31 acres of land from William Lewis (son and an heir of the late general Andrew); $100 worth of property straddling the Great Road. Unlike his other property, which seemed to be either farmed or undeveloped, Simpson had big plans for at least half of this new real estate. Simpson envisioned a town here: a few blocks of platted lots full of homes, shops, and taverns catering to the travelers along the Great Road. And so, in June of 1802, Simpson recorded in the Fincastle courthouse the aforementioned “birth certificate deed” from Susanna Cole, at the same time recording his original purchase from Lewis two years before (there were sometimes gaps of several years between the purchase of land and the recording of a 19th century deed).

The Cole deed, by the way, identifies the residences of both signatories. Susanna Cole was already living on the lot she purchased, and Simpson lived on property adjoining the new town, likely where the Monterey mansion stand today.

Simpson sold 16 other lots that year, only two in 1803, but 14 in 1804. Those last sales, however, may have been somewhat out of desperation, for the evidence suggests that Simpson was heading out of town, apparently to Madison County, Alabama. In 1804, he sold most of his remaining Botetourt County land to Johannes Brugh (who continued the development of the new town). He also hired a surveyor to produce an “inclusive survey,” a sort of inventory of the land he owned and how he acquired it. This document is an important source in reconstructing Simpson’s landholdings, but it leaves many questions unanswered. Why was he is such a hurry to put his affairs in order? Had financial trouble spoiled his vision of a thriving Salem? Were the Simpsons eager to join Eleanor’s family in Alabama? Like so much else of Simpson’s life, these answers remain hidden.

All of the sources concerning Simpson agree that he left his new town rather soon, but 1804 is earlier than has often been supposed. That Simpson was gone by then is evidenced by the 1805 application of local residents to the state legislature to officially establish Salem as a town. Simpson is mentioned as the man who laid out the town, but he is not a signatory to the application (though Johannes Brugh is). This application also seems to answer an age-old question: who named Salem? According to this document, Simpson did, although the conflicting story that the nearby Bryan family from Salem, NJ brought the name with them cannot be so readily dismissed.

Also interesting in this document is the description of the town in 1805, the earliest on record: in a “fertile part” of Botetourt County; a number of “proprietors have made good buildings and settled, and sundry others are now building—which from the present appearance must make it in a short time a flourishing place—as it lies on a very eligible spot and in the midst of a wealthy and populous part of the said county—being at the junction of the roads from your seat of government and from the northward leading to the western country and where the farmers and others may find a market for their produce and be conveniently supplied with such materials as they may be in need of as there are a number of mechanics and some vendors of merchandise resident therein.” While certainly a pollyannaish view, this description testifies to James Simpson’s foresight in choosing the town’s location.

So, soon after settling his affairs in Salem, Simpson moved to Alabama, though a stop in Tennessee, as recorded by McCauley, is not out of the question. That Simpson may have been in financial straits might be deduced from a deed in Alabama in 1812, when Simpson sold all his worldly possessions to Samuel Crawford (a brother-in-law?) for $500. The last record we have of James comes from 1819, when he and Eleanor sold the last of their Salem land to a George Hartman, a deed witnessed in and transferred from Alabama. After that, Simpson fades from the historical record. He most likely died in the 1820s in Alabama.

And so the curtain closes on Salem’s founder, a man whom Salem owes so much and about whom we know so little. Future research may illuminate some of the murky details of his life, but for now our elusive founding father remains in the shadows history.

This research owes a great debt to Norwood C. Middleton, Salem historian and the first winner of the Salem Historical Society’s James Simpson Award, who compiled much of this research for a presentation to the Salem Historical Society in 1986. Charlene Mullins, a museum intern from Roanoke College, also assisted with research.

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