A Guide to Historical Salem - Volume 8, Number 4 -- Fall 2002

• Assassination Caused Shock and Confusion
• Salem's Civic Center Has Become a Lively Place
• Champion City: Salem Loves its High School Sports Teams
• Fateful Flood of ’85 Challenged Rescuers
• Historic House Reborn as the Salem Museum
• Schools Integrated in 1963
• SALT versus PEPPER Shakes Up a Debate Over Salem's New High School
• The Rise and Fall of a Roller Coaster

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Assassination Caused Shock and Confusion

By Henry Bellinger

On November 10, 1963, I was assigned to Walter Reed Army Medical Center as the Assistant Registrar and the Commander of the Medical Holding Detachment. It did not take long to find out that the types of patients that would cause me the most problems were the "walking" orthopedic patients and the psychiatric patients that were not fully institutionalized( they could walk around the facility all day) That is why, when a patient approached me as I was leaving Headquarters on the way up the ramp to my office, I did not believe him when he said that "They shot the president, the vice president and Governor Connally!"

Shortly after, to my dismay, I found out that he was telling some of the truth—President Kennedy and Governor Connally had indeed been shot, though not the Vice President. We all went down to Headquarters. The Surgeon General of the Army (his quarters and his small office is at Walter Reed and he spends a lot of time there), the CG of the center and the CG of the hospital and all of the staff were standing around. The surgeon General received a phone call from Secretary of Defense, Robert MacNamara, directing him to prepare Walter Reed Army Medical Center to receive the body of the president. The Surgeon General then instructed some of us to prepare the ambulance to go to Andrews Air Force Base to get the body of the president. The assistant chief nurse and the master Sergeant from our division would be in the ambulance with the president and Mrs. Kennedy. At that time we had two Pontiac Bonneville ambulances, a 1961 and a 1950 or ‘52. The 1961 was on a mission so they draped the older one in white. The ambulance looked so old and ugly and was not the vehicle that we would like to have had for our assassinated president and his wife to ride in. If we weren't in shock, we could have waited for the newer one to return because the body was still in Texas (the rush was due only to our excitement).

The team was ready. Just then, the Surgeon General came out of the office, yelling and waving his arms, "it's all off, it's all off, the damn Navy did it again". The decision had been changed to take Kennedy’s body was taken to Bethesda Naval Medical Center instead. Walter Reed probably should have received the body because the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology was and is a part of the Walter Reed installation and is under the control of the Army Surgeon General.

However, the rest is history. I was just a witness.

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Salem's Civic Center Has Become a Lively Place

By Carey Harveycutter

Carey Harveycutter, Director of Civic Facilities for the City of Salem, wrote this history of the Civic Center originally for the Salem Times-Register in July, 1992. He recently updated it for Historic Salem.

The center was constructed in 1967 by the then Town of Salem and Roanoke County utilizing reserve funds from the town and with funds of a bond issue from Roanoke County. The original organization was that of an independent commission of five members with two appointed by each of the political subdivisions with a fifth member to be selected jointly.

The employees were hired by and operated under the auspices of the center commission. Because there was no one in the area with expertise on center management the first manager, Alex Grubb, was selected from out of town. He would serve only several months into the running of the center before becoming the manager of the coliseum under construction in Hampton.

It was at the departure of Grubb that Salemite Jack Dame was selected to oversee the operations of the center. It was also at this time that I was to receive my start in the ways of civic center life. My first position was actually with the Salem Rebels Hockey team, one of the two prime tenants (the other being Roanoke College Basketball) at the center. I served as the errand boy to Mr. Dame and kept statistics at the hockey games.

I actually began work for the center itself in January 1968 when I worked at the Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians Concert. The first few years were quite successful for the center. As in the case of any new facility, many acts desired to play to the entertainment -starved area.

In 1968 alone, over fifty concerts played the Salem Civic Center. It was not uncommon for an entertainer to perform two times during the year (Spring and Fall) and to draw good crowds each time. During this time artists of caliber of Al Hurt, the Beach Boys, the Harlem Globetrotters, Ringling Bros. Circus, Johnny Cash, James Brown and the ever popular Country Shindig featuring the top country music talents in the country. Throughout the 60s big name talent made their way to the citizens of southwest Virginia through the Salem Civic Center.

In the early 1970s the Roanoke Civic Center severely impacted the events at the Salem center. While we were still home to the Rebels Hockey Club and Roanoke College basketball, concerts and many larger events began to play Roanoke instead of Salem. Partly because of the larger size of the Roanoke center and the “newness,” events such as Holiday on Ice and Ringling Bros. Circus moved to Roanoke.

While many concerts deserted the Salem Center for the larger confines in Roanoke, manager Jack Dame was still able, through his industry contacts, to snare concerts and events for Salem. In fact , the single one-day concert record in the Roanoke Valley is that of Alabama in the Salem Civic Center on October 30, 1981. The concert, held on a Friday Football Night (Salem vs Pulaski at Municipal field) drew a paid attendance of 10,976 to two shows on the same evening. The center was actually turned between concerts and the second show began only some 60 minutes after the first ended. In addition to the Alabama concert Kenny Rogers, with Dottie West and the Oak Ridge Boys, played to a capacity crowd in 1979.

In 1983 the entire operation of the Salem Civic Center changed. In August of that year the leader of the center for so many years, Jack Dame, succumbed to cancer. The loss of Dame was taken quite hard by every one at the center, especially by me. For over twenty years I had worked for the same boss. Jack instilled in me the sense of fair play and respect for everyone no matter their stature in the community.

It was in October of 1983 that the City of Salem and Roanoke County agreed to change ownership of the center. That year the county paid Salem a lump sum to assume full ownership of the center. It was at the point that I assumed the title of Administrator of the newly renamed Salem Civic Center.

Under the direction of the City of Salem we have been fortunate to secure more and various events and, in fact, there are few weekends that something is not booked in the center. Whether it is a Dog Show or a George Jones concert, the Salem Civic Center stands ready to serve all of the citizens of Salem and the area.

Event days have increased each year since the City of Salem assumed full control of the center. With the necessary funds for maintenance, repairs, promotion and advertising, a bright future is expected for the center. No longer are we content to stay in the shadows of the Roanoke Civic Center, but we are willing and able to challenge the other center for events in the expected range of 7000 attendees and we are finding that on many occasions we are able to complete quite effectively. While we do not always get the event, the promoters and spectators both are aware of the Salem Civic Center and our ability to put people in the seats.

In 1988 Assistant Director John Saunders and I started the annual Salem Fair. Facing an extremely slow summer we were searching for something with wide citizen appeal that would put revenue into Salem during the summer. This event has grown in to become the second largest fair in Virginia (second only to the Virginia State fair) and the largest free gate fair in the U.S. This rise has attracted the attention of many fairs and exhibitors alike. With an estimated attendance of 300,000 + we are the largest summer show in the Roanoke Valley and it continues to grow.

The Salem Civic Center would not be as successful as it is today without the dedicated, hardworking staff. With twenty four full-time employees and a part-time staff of nearly 200, they make the building work. They are the people who work throughout the night for event changeovers, clean the toilets, sell the tickets, and seat the people correctly at events.

In 1995 the Salem Civic Center assumed operation of the food service operations at the Civic Center when it created a separate entity called Salem Catering & Concessions. This endeavor has enabled the facility to grow the food service income so that today Salem Catering has nearly gross sales of nearly $1,000,000. In addition to generating additional funds, the creation of Salem Catering has allowed the facility to maintain better presentation and quality of food served at the events at the Civic Center. In addition, Salem Catering Operates concession stands for both the James I. Moyer Sports Complex as well as the Salem High School soccer/football field, and during the Salem Fair it has operated a concession trailer on the fairgrounds.

In 1996 ,the Civic Center began operation of a state-accredited visitor center for Salem and the surrounding area. Over 5000 visitors yearly journey to the Civic Center from interstate and other routes to secure information on lodging, dining, and things to see and do in and around Salem. In addition, we mail yearly in excess of over 15,000 information packets on Salem to people who are planning a visit to our area. This facility (open daily from 9 to 5), is many times the first point of contact for a visitor to our area, and is instrumental when the City of Salem hosts NCAA championships, events such as the Amos Alonzo Stagg Bowl in our stadium, Division III basketball in our arena, and Division III Softball at the Moyer Sports Center.

In 2002, while the Salem Civic Center maintained its individual identity and name, it found itself part of the James E. Taliaferro Sports and Entertainment Complex, named after its beloved ex-mayor, Jim Taliaferro. The JETPLEX, as the facility is referred to by staff, includes the Salem Civic Center, Salem Stadium, home of the Salem Spartans football team and the Stagg Bowl, and Salem Memorial Baseball Stadium, home of the Salem Avalanche and the ACC Baseball Championship

It is to the unsung heroes of the Salem Civic Center that I dedicate this article. They make John and me look good on a daily basis and without their hard work the Salem Civic Center would not be the caring place to work that it is today.

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Champion City: Salem Loves its High School Sports Teams

By Bob Teitlebaum

Salem has a rich, colorful and winning tradition of high school sports.

This includes G.W. Carver School that served black children prior to integration, old Andrew Lewis High School and the present day Salem High School.

Carver teams went through a period of dominating other schools for black children in basketball during the 1960s before integration ended that school's existence after the 1966 school year.

Andrew Lewis had strong football and basketball teams as well as good track squads that were coached by Ray Bussard, who later went on to winning NCAA swimming titles at the University of Tennessee.

Salem High had a slow start, but after the school dropped from the Group AAA classification to AA in 1988, athletics flourished. The Spartans won four state football championships including three in a row from 1999-2001, two basketball state titles in 1994 and 1999, two boys' state tennis titles in 1993-94, and one each in softball (1991) and volleyball (1998).

Prior to this time, the only Group AAA State championship was won by the 1982 golf team. The 1986 football team lost to Hampton in the championship game that left many fans wondering why Salem two years later dropped a classification.

One of the most vocal critics of the move was retired orthopedist Dr. Richard Fisher, one of Salem High's most rabid football fans and the man who helped lure Willis White from Patrick Henry to coach the Spartans in 1983 through the present day.

"I wrote a letter to the paper. At the time, I felt like I'd rather play up then down. Right now, it seems like a good move as AAA [schools] have gone down [around here in numbers] and because Salem doesn't have the enrollment we were predicting," said Fisher.

There were other people who didn't like the move. The Spartans didn't schedule long-time rival Pulaski County for two years, taking up a complete Group AA schedule. The next year, Pulaski County, then a Group AAA school, returned to the schedule because the game was one of the state's biggest draws in terms of crowds.

Joyce was more than just a football coach. He was also the mayor of Salem, making his position unique in both sports and politics.

It's the older crowd that remembers Joyce and his success. They don't believe he was guilty of being convicted for misusing school funds in the early 1970s and point out that he was taking the blame for someone else.

Instead, they point out to how much he dedicated himself to working with and for the kids. Joyce would later overcome his problems by returning to coach in several venues that included Parry McCluer High School in Buena Vista, Roanoke Catholic and then on to Maryland where he enjoyed a successful finish to his high school career.

"He was a coach number one. He was a people motivator," said former Salem assistant coach Billy Miles, who played for Joyce. "He was way ahead of his time in terms of preparation and planning. He would play a different defense than most people played.

"Offensively, he was way ahead of people. He threw the ball when peopled [in high school] didn't throw that much."

Terry Murphy and Charlie Hammersley, two of the outstanding players in the 1960s under Joyce say he got more out of mediocre to fair players and made them into good and/or great football teams.

They point out that Joyce came up with new training techniques, took the squad to pre-season football camps for two weeks, recruited and motivated strong staffs and utilized booster clubs. Under Joyce, the Salem Quarterback Club and The Salem Sports Foundation, which today is the main outside help for all of the Salem sports teams, both had their beginnings.

The 1962 and 1964 teams won state titles on the field. The 1962 team was forced to forfeit the crown because it had inadvertently used an ineligible player from the Salem Boys' Home.

Cecil Blankenship, the player who was used, rose to become outstanding in higher education and became Dean of Admissions at East Tennessee State University.

Joyce's 1966 team lost to Granby 13-0 in the state title game and then won the regional crown the next year when there were no playoffs beyond that.

For all of this, Joyce's most famous team might have been the 1971 Wolverines. They lost to T.C. Williams; the school featured in the recent movie "Remember the Titans."

Yet it was the first-round playoff game that will go down as one of the most famous in Salem high school sports history. Trailing E.C. Glass 14-0 in the final quarter, the Spartans reeled off three touchdowns in less than two minutes to win the game 18-14.

Willis White came along 12 years later to take over a Salem team that had all of a sudden established a losing tradition. He was hired away from Patrick Henry, where he had taken a team to the state title game a couple of years earlier.

Fisher, whose son played for White at PH, convinced Salem schools' superintendent Dr. Walter Hunt to go after the Patriot coach. White was more than willing to take the job because PH was losing the neighborhood experience of high school sports that he enjoyed.

The Spartans' only losing record under White came in 1983. Three years later, Salem played at Hampton for the Group AAA title, starting a 16-year run in the playoffs that didn't end until this season when a young Spartan team, with only six seniors, went 5-5 despite losing only one game by more than a touchdown.

In between, White became a legendary coach in Salem, finally being inducted two years ago into the Virginia High School Coaches' Association-Virginia High School League Hall of Fame.

His teams were dominant and when he arrived, the town of Salem even built a state-of-the-art stadium to take the game away from cozy Municipal Field that was inadequate for big crowds with poor dressing room facilities.

The new stadium became known as the House that Willis built. Salem vice Mayor Alex Brown confirms there was a different feeling that returned with White. Brown had followed the teams coached by Joyce and, like many citizens, was disappointed by the lack of success after Joyce left.

The late Jim Taliaferro provided the push. "There was absolutely a need for the stadium. We had thought about it. It was in the planning stages. We knew it would be easier to build with a winning team. Willis was the catalyst," said Brown.

There was no doubt about the purpose of the stadium - it was for football only. The Salem City fathers purposely designed it so that it was too narrow for soccer, leaving band concerts or mass religious prayer meetings as the only other options.

For the longest time it appeared that White couldn't win the big one. Three of his teams, including one at Patrick Henry, had lost a state title game while two others went down in the semifinals.

The 1996 outfit, one that wasn't looked upon as being a strong contender in the state picture, ended all the talk of White failing to win the ultimate prize. It won the state under some unlikely conditions to give the football-hungry town of Salem its first state title in 40 years.

In the semifinals, played at rain-soaked Tazewell High School field, the Spartans slogged their way to a 7-0 overtime victory. Coaches for Salem stood in ankle deep water on the sidelines, trying to get their team to slip-slide as best it could to the victory.

Salem was to play host to the state title game the next week against Sherando, but it had to be at a neutral site. Salem chose Victory Stadium, site of the loss to Williams a quarter of a century earlier.

The rains that plagued the Grundy game continued that week. Victory Stadium didn't have a tarp nor was it as well kept as Salem Stadium. The Spartans offered to move the game to their home field and have better conditions.

Sherando refused, not because of leaving a neutral field. The coach had earlier won a regional title against William Fleming at Victory Stadium more than two decades before this and he believed it was a lucky field for him. A sports writer warned him that the game would be better on a good field even if it wasn't neutral.

If the game had been moved, Sherando's speed might have been a decisive factor. It was negated by the muddy conditions of Victory Stadium even though there was no rain and Salem prevailed 20-12.

All of a sudden Salem was hot. The Spartans didn't win the 1998 title, but then won three straight state crowns, including a couple against Park View-Sterling when the Spartans were underdogs coming into the game.

Miles, an assistant coach on all but the last state title team, always insisted that the Spartans probably should have won the 1998 title and even the 1995 crown that would have made it six in a row. That is pure speculation, but it shows how strong Salem's program was during that era.

Having played for Joyce and coached under White, Miles is the one person who can compare the two coaches.

"Both of them are similar. Eddie was extremely organized. So is Willis. Eddie is more of a fiery coach. Willis is a steadier coach, not getting to high or to low," said Miles.

While White couldn't win the big game, Morgan slipped back into town as the boys' basketball coach. He returned to take over a team that hadn't been a winner since his younger brother, Richard Morgan, had been a star Spartan before going on to a great career at the University of Virginia.

Morgan had played at Andrew Lewis right after the Wolverines' 1968 Group AAA state crown under Coach Dick Miley. Morgan's 1994 team would end the drought of more than a quarter of a century by claiming the 1994 Group AA title.

Mark Byington led this team to the crown that featured six victories over rival Northside, the last one coming in the Group AA semifinals in a 63-59 overtime victory.

The Spartans' only loss that year came against Group AAA Cave Spring. Byington would follow this up by returning to play boys' tennis in the spring after a hiatus to concentrate on basketball. He would be the final player Coach Dave Petersen needed to win a state crown in that sport.

Morgan stretched Salem's basketball success to 1999 when he won seven consecutive Blue Ridge District titles. His 1999 team won the state title and after that, Morgan returned to East Tennessee as coach of Dobyns-Bennett in Kingsport to rebuild a program that had been dominant in that state's athletics during the 1950 and 1960s.

“Charlie had come from quite a program," said Brown of Morgan's arrival from a long tenure as an assistant at Science Hill of Johnson City, which was a long-time power in Tennessee high school basketball.

"There was a question mark of what he could do. He took a couple of teams that didn't have a big man and got every bit of talent out of those teams."

Morgan's tenure wasn't always easy. There were strained relationships between him and the football program. Morgan insisted that his basketball players attend summer camps, even if it took away from their football training. If they weren't able to meet both obligations, they might have a hard time playing.

It was quite a challenge in football-crazy Salem. It got worse when Byington and Kevin Garst, both top athletes in football, decided to concentrate only on basketball.

"Charlie tried to do it his way," said Miles. "I told Charlie a lot of times he had my respect but that he was sort hard headed. He acted to make it [basketball] a good program. And he did."

"They both have their special qualities," said Salem athletic director Sandy Haddaway, who presided over most of White's tenure and was one of the people on the search committee to hire Morgan, who was the school's first African American head coach.

It is harder to trace the history of Carver, which disappeared after schools were integrated following the 1966 school year. It was a school for all ages, running from grades 1 through 12.

The legendary Roland Malone, who would later coach boys' basketball at William Byrd, was the head football and basketball coach for Carver.

Basketball was the feature sport. "I played at Carver (1960-64) and we went to the state every year," recalled Wayne Harris who is today the superintendent of Roanoke City schools.

Carver was 22-1 in its last year and finished as runner-up in the Virginia Interscholastic Association, which was an organization for schools with black children.

Hammersley recalls that it was Harris' final team in 1964, with star player William English, who went on to play at Winston-Salem State with the legendary Earl "The Pearl" Monroe, that was the best team under Malone.

Malone recalls that because Botetourt and Bedford Counties didn't have schools for black children, many students were bused to Carver. This early form of busing students out of school zones made Carver stronger.

Malone, though, says it wasn't fair. "They went past Andrew Lewis to get to Carver. Bedford County had made an arrangement with Roanoke County and Botetourt County made the same arrangement," said Malone.

When Carver closed, three impact players made their appearance at predominantly white schools. James Childress went on to star for Byrd and later his children and other members of the family would be outstanding athletes for the Terriers.

Mike Hylton went to Cave Spring to help the Knights finish as the runner up in Group AA basketball to Blacksburg in 1968, the same year that Andrew Lewis won the Group AAA crown.

Earlier, Bernard Harris had moved to Northside where he was a dominant player. Malone points out that "Supernard" as he was known, became famous as a Viking athlete and Carver never received credit for having a player that good in its program.

Carver also featured Joe Gaither on the final team. Gaither rose to become the guru of AAU basketball in the Roanoke area. That program provided many of the athletes, including present NBA player George Lynch, to Patrick Henry that won 1988 and 1992 Group AAA state crowns.

Even though the schools were segregated, the athletes weren't. In the off season, Andrew Lewis athletes such as Hammersley and Hal Johnston would compete in pickup basketball games against the Carver athletes according to Harris. There was a bond there that might not have existed between the athletes.

"I remember that," said Hammersley. "We played in the old 'Dust Bowl' that is behind the [present day] building that houses the Salem Department of Parks and Recreation.

Harris says that three classes at Carver (63-64-64) produced five medical doctors, three PHd's and two lawyers. Yet the classes had fewer than 40 children in them.

"Look at what went on in teaching and expectations. It carried over to our coaches," said Harris.

Malone and Harris both recall the football program as a state power for Carver, though the glory years came mostly in the 1950s.

"I had mixed emotions [about integration]," said Malone. "We had a great school and great players. Great players make great coaches."

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Fateful Flood of ’85 Challenged Rescuers

By Candy Long

Ask any longtime Roanoke Valley resident about their recollections of the flood of ’85 and you are sure to get a story – a personal reflection of how the flood impacted their life. Ask any of Salem’s emergency services personnel and they are a little less eager to talk about their experiences. But recently some recalled their experiences on that fateful day.

Valley residents awoke Monday morning November 4th, to another dreary forecast of clouds and light rain and a little good news – flood watches had expired at 4am for the area and were not being reissued. It was not until after many folks had left for work and school that the National Weather Service realized the forecast was changing. The weather system coming out of West Virginia looked as if it could possibly drop another two inches of rain on the Valley. The region had already endured five days of substantial rain and the ground was completely saturated. However, no one anticipated that this system would meet up with the remnants of Hurricane Juan and stall, dropping a record 6.1 inches of rain in a 24 hour period.

At First Baptist Church in Roanoke, more than 250 firemen were attending the funeral for fallen firefighters Robert Cassell and Harvey Helm, both of whom had been killed in a hit and run incident Halloween night. Many of Salem’s finest were in Roanoke that day either to pay their respects to their fallen comrades or to man Roanoke City trucks in place of firefighters attending the funeral. As floodwaters rose, it became exceedingly difficult for members of Salem’s Fire Department to get back home. Roadways were blocked due to flooding and structural damage and with disastrous situations arising in Roanoke; Salem’s firefighters simply couldn’t be spared. This left Salem dangerously understaffed in the face of an emergency. Randy Smith, the city manager at the time, made the crucial decision to sound the air raid siren that could be heard throughout Salem as a cry for help to rally volunteers. According to Lt. Eddie Hite, “To this day, there has never been another situation disastrous enough to again sound this siren.”

Tom Roseberry, one of those who were on duty at the Salem Fire Department that morning, had a sense that it was not going to be an ordinary day. Both he and his partner changed into light coveralls and emptied their pockets of any valuables all the while never discussing it between them. They had been out several times in the early morning hours in order to keep a close eye on the water levels beneath the bridges. “You could literally see the waters rise,” Roseberry remembers. Not long after, they were called to man a rescue operation to free trapped employees at the Tultex Mills on Kessler Mill Road. Those who were trapped were led up a maintenance ladder to the roof. Lifeguard 10 helicopter hovered long enough for rescuers to push three survivors into the helicopter at a time to be carried to safety. At one point, Roseberry peered over the side of the building only to see the usually serene and trickling Mason’s Creek rolling in torrential waves.

Further downstream, three members of Salem’s Rescue Squad were fighting for their lives and in need of rescue. Word reached the rescue team that there were people trapped inside a building at the corner of East Main and Kessler Mill roads. Kevin Turner and Joe Cunningham anchored themselves by rope to their rescue vehicle determined to go into the flooded building on foot. They soon realized that they needed further assistance and called for a boat.

Bobbie Wilcox and Richie Bolton manned the boat that answered their call for help. The waters proved to be so swift and dangerous that the operators of the small vessel lost control and were knocked into a utility pole. Further downstream, the boat could not resist the current and capsized sending both men into the frigid waters. Both Wilcox and Bolton managed to grab onto the limbs of trees behind Lakeside and hang on for their lives, climbing higher as the waters rose.

Meanwhile, Turner and Cunningham had untied themselves from their truck to help those in the boat only to become victims themselves of the raging waters. Joe Cunningham hung onto the grill of a burial vault truck while fellow rescuer Kevin Turner stretched out his hand to save his friend. Swiftly floating debris struck Cunningham in the legs and he was swept underneath the truck. The waters carried him downstream knocking him into the tree in which he stayed for several hours. “The hardest thing for me was sitting in that tree thinking about how I was going to explain to their families how I lost everybody,” recalled Cunningham in thinking of his fellow rescuers. His location made it difficult for anyone to spot him. “I particularly remember putting on a red flannel shirt that morning so that if something did happen, they could find me,” Cunningham remembered. Unfortunately, red thermal underwear produced by Tultex Mills was swept from the building in the current and littered many of the trees. “Sometimes I think I may have been better off to have worn camouflage,” Cunningham joked. His wife was home listening to the events unfold on her scanner, fearing the worst. The sheer tragedy of the situation could be heard over the airwaves in the dispatcher’s voice.

Hours later, at nightfall, the waters had receded enough that Joe Cunningham was able to climb down and walk away from the tree that had become his safe haven. A short time later, Wilcox and Bolton were spotted by Lifeguard 10 as the last to be rescued from Tultex Mills were being lifted out. A truck tire tied to a rope was hoisted down from the chopper for the men to grasp in order to be carried out, dangling in the air. “Fortunately, everyone went home that night,” Roseberry stated.

However, the work didn’t end once everyone was accounted for. In the weeks following, Salem’s Fire Department took an active role in the community’s clean up effort, washing streets and pumping out basements. Unbeknownst to many, rescue personnel also scoured the riverbanks for days after the waters receded searching for valuables, but fearful of discovering further casualties. This made for very emotional and trying days. “People need to remember that the emotional situations we deal with do not always end with the end of the day,” recalled Roseberry.

“Rescue personnel work in reactionary mode. The welfare of the citizens is first; we are trained that way,” stated Roseberry. “Many people from the Salem Fire Department did what they had to do without regard for their own personal safety.”

There were many other acts of heroism on that unforgettable day, and many more instances of loss. The Flood of ‘85 claimed 10 lives in the Roanoke Valley and 21 statewide, but there were no lives lost in Salem. For this, we can thank the valiant men and women of our Fire and Rescue Departments.

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Historic House Reborn as the Salem Museum

By John Long

The idea of a local history museum for Salem was not born overnight. As far back as 1946, and again in 1953 and ‘57, editorials in the Salem Times-Register called for the establishment of a museum. But it would be more than three and a half decades before any serious consideration was given the project.

In 1970, a group of civic-minded Salemites formed the Save Old Salem Committee to act as a preservation group. With the idea that too much of our local heritage had been lost to development in the 50s and 60s, SOS set out to identify, register, and encourage the preservation of historic structures in town. The group, later renamed the Salem Historical Society, also discussed the possibility of a museum but found no ready opportunities.

Until the early 1980s. By that time, Salem had ceased to use the historic Academy Street School buildings for education, and local history buffs concluded that the marvelous Victorian structures would be ideal for a museum. An Academy Street Museum Foundation was formed to explore such an idea, led by such local luminaries as Sam Crockett, Anna McClung, and Woody Middleton. Working closely with SHS, the Foundation began raising money and awareness, and went so far as to have Virginia Tech architectural students develop a model of the planned museum. Other groups, such as the American Legion and Salem Women’s Club, were interested in sharing the space. Hopes ran high that the dream would soon be fulfilled.

But it was not to be. By 1983 a confluence of factors contributed to move the museum from Academy to Main Street. First was the estimated cost of the Academy Street project, which was mounting above expectations. Second was the consideration that using the old school as a museum would not generate any tax revenues from the site. City Council began to explore the possibility of selling the buildings to a developer for condominiums.

And what of the museum? Fortunately, another option had recently become available. The historic old Williams-Brown House on Main Street had been vacant for years, and its owner was interested in developing the property. He offered the house to the city on the condition it be moved. Council was interested, seeing a way to solve several problems at once. If the proposed museum was located in the Brown House, an 1845 structure on the National Register of Historic Places, the school could be sold and become a tax generating property. Furthermore, proceeds from the sale could be invested in a museum in the Brown House, which would be torn down if not relocated. “You’d be saving two buildings for the price of one,” remarked councilman Alex Brown.

Some members of the Historical Society were disappointed in the turn of events, but quickly embraced the opportunity. (In a prophetic suggestion at the first (1970) meeting of the Save Old Salem Committee, Dr. Warren Moorman had proposed the Brown House as home for a museum). Money from the sale of the school reimbursed SHS for what it had already spent on the project, and plans were quickly put underway for the massive effort of moving the Brown House. Rear and side additions to the original structure had to be removed (these recent annexes were rather dilapidated; but the 1845 house with its interior brick walls was in remarkably good shape). Structural analysis, fundraising campaigns, negotiations for land in Longwood Park to serve as the new site, all had to be accomplished in a relatively short period of time, generally by volunteers who had never participated in such a project. And yet the group succeeded with energy and aplomb.

In April of 1987, the Brown House began its slow crawl up the hill to the former site of Poole’s gas station adjacent to Longwood Park. The trek of the massive house was an attraction in itself, bringing flocks of spectators and becoming one of the most photographed events in Salem history. Once on a new foundation in its new home, the Brown House took nearly five years to renovate before the museum could open in 1992.

With that, a long-standing dream had finally come true, and Salem could boast of a local history museum the envy of other communities its size. And two irreplaceable structures had been preserved for future generations, an achievement in which the entire City could take pride.

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Schools Integrated in 1963

by Lon Savage

On Monday morning, February 2, 1959, when 21 black students entered formerly all-white public schools in Norfolk and Arlington, breaking Virginia’s policy of massive resistance and its historic policy of total segregation of races in the schools, the world watched with baited breath. Banks of TV cameras trained on the children as they got out of their cars or made their way to their schoolhouse doors; scores of newsmen from major networks and from newspapers in this country and abroad interviewed them over and over, reporting every detail of their appearance and actions, transcribing every comment, describing every facial expression. As the day progressed, Virginia’s Governor Almond, Senator Byrd, President Eisenhower and leaders throughout the world received reports or watched the news.

Four years later, in September, 1963, when Salem’s first black children entered formerly all white public schools as students, not even the local newspapers covered it. Neither their names nor even their numbers were reported until later.

School integration, although still unwelcome to some whites, had become much more accepted in Virginia during those four years. It was progressing in an orderly fashion in many areas of the state; even Roanoke County (of which Salem schools were a part) had integrated other county schools the preceding year. But the issue was far from dead.

As Salem’s first black children started to schools with whites, Virginia’s Prince Edward County public schools were closed to avoid integration, and no less than President Kennedy worked to get them open. Memories were still fresh of the days of massive resistance when some of the state’s largest public schools closed for the fall semester of 1958 in Norfolk and Arlington, Charlottesville and Warren County, putting more than 11,000 youngsters out of school, and the state’s fight against integration was a focus of worldwide attention. And in places like Little Rock and Birmingham, political leaders still were openly defying federal integration efforts and violence escalated.

Salem’s/Roanoke County’s integration of schools was so peaceful largely because the black population, both of the town and the county, was small – about 5 per cent of the total – and evenly distributed. Relations between the races always had been better than in most Virginia localities. Opposition to integration had never been as strong among whites here as in eastern and northern Virginia. Finally, a desegregation plan was quickly put in place, generally agreed to by blacks and whites and the Federal courts.

By September 1963, when Salem’s first integration occurred, it was not an uncommon experience. Numerous Virginia counties and cities had already done it, including Roanoke City, Lynchburg, Martinsville, Radford and Galax, and Floyd, Pulaski, and Montgomery Counties in Southwest Virginia. . Even Roanoke County Schools had integrated the preceding year without incident; the integration just didn’t reach Salem. Everywhere in Virginia, the process had been peaceful – unlike elsewhere in the South. Virginia was the only state on the eastern seaboard that did not use National Guardsmen to suppress racial disturbances during those years.

Area school administrators and the public also had had time to prepare for the change. The Supreme Court’s 1954 desegregation decision and its “all deliberate speed” ruling a year later had put pressure but no deadline for integration. School systems tended to delay as long as they could. In Roanoke County the delay lasted until 1962 when Federal Judge Simon Sobeloff , noting that not a single black child attended public school with whites in Roanoke County, declared the situation “in flagrant disregard” or the Supreme Court’s rulings and made it clear that if the County did not develop a voluntary plan for compliance, one would be forced upon them.

County school superintendent Herman L. Horn responded almost immediately with a progressive plan to integrate all grades, beginning that very fall with the seventh and eighth grades and vocational classes, and a timetable calling for completing the job by 1968. Although there was some resistance from both races, he indicated, the plan went ahead, and the county’s first school integration occurred in September on schedule -- although not in Salem.

The fact that schools in Salem did not experience integration apparently was something of a surprise. The Roanoke Times reported on September 1, 1962 – three days before schools were to open -- that eight Roanoke County Negro children had turned up at school orientation meetings at previously white schools– seven at Andrew Lewis and one at Cave Springs. The report went on to say “Other Negroes may report to other high schools when classes begin Tuesday [September 4]. Ninety-eight are eligible to attend previously all-white schools this year under a plan to desegregate the seventh and eighth grades.”

But when schools opened, the Roanoke newspaper’s reports on school opening did not include any Negro enrollments in previously white schools. A front page article on enrollments simply ignored the question of integration of Roanoke County Schools, even though it apparently had occurred. Another Page 1 article, however, reported that 140 Negro children had been enrolled in four integrated schools in Roanoke City.

The Salem Times-Register was equally uninformative on the subject. During the summer, the newspaper had published full coverage of the Roanoke County School Board’s approval in July of the desegregation plan “calling for immediate (September) integration of the seventh and eighth grades…[and] grade-a-year desegregation ‘each September thereafter until all grades have been desegregated.’”

When schools opened, the Times-Register published full reports on such things as the practice schedule of the Andrew Lewis marching band, the employment of new teachers, school enrollments and total enrollment, on a meeting of the Andrew Lewis PTA board and a feature about a student from Italy attending Andrew Lewis. But there apparently was no word published about racial integration. As it turned out, integration had occurred in Roanoke County but not in Salem.

A year later, integration of county schools was treated as history, and the advent of integration in Salem again was largely ignored. The Roanoke Times reported on September 1 that “Roanoke County enters its second year of integration with 50 to 60 Negroes expected in formerly white schools. Last year 30 Negroes reported to several white county schools.” It did not say which schools.

The Times Register gave another perspective. In June, as the schools prepared to open for the 1963-64 year, the weekly newspaper reported on the front page that, contrary to widely repeated rumors, no white children would be assigned to Carver School that fall. The report added: “So far, 30 Negroes have been assigned to white schools for the 1963 fall term in the county.” And it quoted School Superintendent Herman L. Horn as saying “We probably will wind up with about the same number of Negro children in white schools as last year.” No mention was made of schools in Salem, as such.

The county’s desegregation plan originally required students to attend school in their defined districts, which usually meant each child went to the closest school. However, there was an "escape clause" whereby parents could request that their children attend schools in which their own race was a majority. Both black and white families had taken advantage of this loophole, but another judge, Thomas Michie, later struck down the "escape clause." Under that plan, several white children from families living on Union and Alabama Streets were originally assigned to the all-black Carver School. However, the plan allowed families to appeal their assignments. Both white and Negro families appealed from decisions, Dr. Horn reported, and their appeals were granted. “There will be no white children at Carver next fall,” Dr. Horn said.

There were, however, six to eight African American students at Andrew Lewis and at least some attending the Broad Street and Academy Street schools.

But no one made much of it. The area news media, and apparently the public too, seemed to feel that integration, itself, had become so humdrum that they treated it briefly.

But the process in Salem had begun. And once begun, it moved rapidly. By 1966, in fact, it had proceeded with such relative ease that full integration was achieved two years early. The achievement was praised statewide.

Salem’s exemplary manner in the transition to integration of its schools was paralleled as Jim Crow began to fade in other areas. In February 1960, African American students in Greensboro, NC, staged a "sit-in" at a segregated Woolworth's lunch counter, demanding service and refusing to leave when denied. Less than a year later, a similar event occurred in Salem, as six black youths entered the Newberry Department Store diner on Main Street and demanded service. But instead of a face-off, the management simply decided to serve them. They ate and left peacefully.

A similar incident began the integration of Lakeside, Salem's popular amusement park, a few years later. The Reverend R. R. Wilkinson, pastor of Hill Street Baptist Church in Roanoke and president of the local NAACP, led a group of six African Americans to the park in August 1964. Again, they were admitted without difficulty, although the question of integrating Lakeside's swimming pool was more controversial, and it later was closed. Wilkinson, as one of the local NAACP's most activist presidents, also played a major role in the integration of the valley's schools, hospitals, and public businesses.

The peaceful achievement of racial integration, notable as it was, had its trade-offs. For the Water Street Community, as Salem’s black community was called, the biggest one was the closing and renaming of Carver School. Largely to satisfy a white constituency, and with no further need for a segregated high school, the building was converted into the integrated Salem Intermediate School. The students and teachers were reassigned to other schools. The principal, Chauncey D. Harmon, was assigned to an administrative position of “visiting teacher,” a change that had to be difficult but one he accepted with grace. (He retired in 1978 and died in 1993, regarded by all as one of the elder statesmen of Salem's African American Community.)

Carver had long been an anchor to the black community, a symbol of opportunity, achievement and community during a time of segregation, and many resented what had happened. Carver teacher Georgia Reeves asserted that Salem's blacks "lost more than they got." According to Reeves, in the segregated Carver, black students "received attention and values that they did not get in the integrated schools. The exceptional students benefited from academic scholarships and athletic opportunities that opened as a result of integration, but the average student suffered because their new schools were 'not like family."' The reassignment of teachers also engendered a few hard feelings. Still, few looked on integration as a mistake to be rectified, and many valued the obvious advantages-better facilities, wider opportunities, and a new day in race relations.

Even then, it was not long before the venerable school name was brought back to life. Not long after Carver closed, a drive was initiated to commemorate the role the school had played for nearly three decades by returning to the venerable name George Washington Carver. In 1977, eleven years after integration had been achieved, Salem opened its new Salem High School, Andrew Lewis became Salem’s junior high school, and the path was cleared for Salem Intermediate to close and for the building once again to bear the name of Carver.

As an elementary school, it bears that name today.

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SALT versus PEPPER Shakes Up a Debate Over Salem's New High School

By John Long

After more than four decades of service, the old Andrew Lewis High School was due for replacement. Virtually all residents welcomed the prospect of a new high school in west Salem. The most heated debate was not on replacing the structure, but whether to replace the venerable name Andrew Lewis. Not only was it a debate that engendered fierce emotion, it may be credited with launching one of Salem’s most celebrated political careers.

As plans for the new high school progressed, a change in terminology was noted. What was originally the “new Andrew Lewis” became the “new high school,” then the “new Salem high school,” and finally the “new Salem High School.” Indeed, the school board in August 1975 adopted the name Salem High School, a decision destined to rankle a few feathers.

The reasons for the name change were many. Geography and accuracy certainly played a part—this was after all the high school for Salem. But beyond that the feelings of west county residents had to be considered. The city of Salem was still in a cooperative arrangement with Roanoke County on operation of schools, and the new high school was to serve not only Salem but replace the old Glenvar High (which would become a middle school). Andrew Lewis and Glenvar had a fierce rivalry, and it was deemed that Glenvar kids would never be content to wear school jackets with the dreaded name Andrew Lewis. Furthermore, according to one Salem leader, schools were “not named for people anymore.”

But a large cadre of Lewis kids felt differently. Most vocal was the student body president, Morgan Griffith. Acting swiftly, Griffith and other concerned students and faculty formed a group named SALT: Save Andrew Lewis for Tomorrow. Claiming a consensus of the student body and alumni, SALT collected an impressive body of evidence to support their position. The name Andrew Lewis, they argued, was a venerable one that deserved recognition in the last place of residence of the great General. No other school apparently bore his name, whereas Salem High Schools could be counted by the dozens nationwide (including another in Virginia). Younger Salem children had for years eagerly anticipated entering ALHS. As for the feelings of Glenvar students, SALT argued that eventually demographics would require the reopening of Glenvar High (a prediction that came true in 1983 when Salem established an independent school system).

But SALT was not without opposition. A group calling itself— what else?— PEPPER (Prevent Erratic Protest—Protect Everyone’s Rights) was formed to argue the opposing position. Made up primarily of students from west county, PEPPER insisted that it would be intolerable to require them to bear the name Lewis, a name they associated with their rival school. It would be better, they thought, to make a clean break with the past and bring the two communities together. The name Salem High also had a tradition, since the school on Broad Street before Lewis had born that name. Furthermore the name Andrew Lewis would not be lost, but would continue as the building was converted into an intermediate school. (In a recent interview, Morgan Griffith was asked what he would have named the middle school if the high school remained Andrew Lewis. With a grin, he replied “Andrew Lewis Middle!”)

In January, 1976, the two groups went before the school board to plead each case. Board member Dr. Richard Fisher seemed most sympathetic to SALT’s argument, and even proposed repealing the earlier name change, but the motion failed for lack of a second. Fisher then suggested that SALT proponents consider a referendum. In effect, then, Fisher’s suggestion threw the issue into the lap of Salem City Council.

On February 12, proponents of both sides again faced off, this time in Council Chambers. Griffith was the lead spokesman for SALT, presenting a petition with 1000 signatures to keep the name Lewis. Others spoke just as passionately for the opposite position. But in the end, Council deferred taking any action. Issues such as school names, they pointed out (with justification), were in the exclusive domain of the School Board.

There would never be the hoped for referendum. But SALT even then did not give up. Using remarkable political savvy that would serve him well in the future, Griffith engineered a direct mail campaign to Lewis grads, based on class reunion lists; and the SALT faction even ran candidates in that year’s city elections (and came strikingly close to winning a seat). But in the end the name change was to stand, and over time the issue lost its controversy. When the new school opened for the 1977 school year, it was indeed Salem High, and Salem High it has remained.

Was the SALT fight then without any effect? If nothing else, the experience taught valuable lessons to Morgan Griffith, lessons that would serve him well in his future political career, culminating in his current role as Majority Leader in the House of Delegates. “I learned to stand up and fight for what you believe,” Griffith remarked in a recent interview. “Even if you lose, it’s worth the fight in the end.” SALT’s campaign, he feels, also helped to raise awareness of Andrew Lewis’ history, a man Griffith calls “the most unappreciated figure of the Revolutionary War.” Only recently, Griffith finally succeeded in having something named for Lewis: a stretch of I-81, including that which passes only a few hundred yards behind the school whose name he still laments.

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