Baker, David B., Jr.  Interview.  September 15, 1986.  Baltimore, MD. 

Donley, Samuel Jackson "Jack."  Interview.  March 1, 1987.  Keedeysville, MD. 

Donley, Samuel Jackson.  Interview. March 28, 1987.  Keedeysville, MD. 

Dozier, George Washington.  Interview.  May 19, 1986.  Walnut Grove, Jefferson County, WV. 

Flanagan, James William.  Interview.  April 14, 1985.  Martinsburg, WV 

Flanagan, James William.  Interview.  July 23, 1985.  Martinsburg, WV. 

Flanagan, Isabell (Mrs. J. William Flanagan).  Interview.  April 14, 1985 

Flanagan, Isabell.  Notes on Conversation with Mrs. Flanagan, March 23, 1986.  Interviewer unknown. 

Gageby, David.  Interview.  March 31, 1987.  Engle, WV. 

Hetzel, Lowell.  Interview.  September 1980.  Bakerton, WV. 

Hetzel, Lowell.  Interview.  January 1985.  Bakerton, WV. 

Hetzel, Lowell.  Interview.  June 1, 1985.  Bakerton, WV. 

Horn, Juanita Moore.  Interview.  Aprill 23, 1984. 

Knott, Charles R.  Interview.  September 23, 1986.  Bakerton, WV. 

Knott, Charles R.  Interview.  December 18, 1986.  Bakerton, WV. 

Millard, Francis.  Interview.  April 13, 1986.  Alexandria, VA. 

Moler, Guy.  Interview.  July 8, 1985.  Martinsburg, WV. 

Shade, Christine Geary.  Interview.  May 1985. 

Stevens, Martin.  Interview.  December 27, 1987.  Shepherdstown, WV. 

Talley, Louise.  Notes on Church of God, Bakerton, WV.  September 2, 1985. 

Baker, David B., Jr.  Interview.  September 15, 1986.  Baltimore, MD. 

William Theriault: What made the Bakers decide to start quarrying stone in West Virginia? 

David B. Baker, Jr.: I think my grandfather and his brother about 1880 were mixed up in farming and banking up around Frederick and Buckeystown.  And I think I remember my father saying that grandfather found limestone on property near Harpers Ferry, dug it out of the ground, consigned cars to himself in Pittsburg, and sold it.  That was the beginning of Standard. 

WT: There was still a lot of stone around the Buckeystown area, wasn't there? 

DB: Yes.  I'm not sure if this came from Buckeystown or Harpers Ferry near Bakerton. 

WT: Have you heard anything about the very early business relationships between the Kellers and the Bakers? 

DB: No.  I've heard the name around Frederick, I believe, but I've never heard of that. 

WT: The Bakers may have heard about the limestone through the Kellers. 

DB: That's very possible because I think they were mixed up in a tannery or a brick factory, or both.  I have no idea who their partner's, or managers, or anybody else where. 

WT: I know C.F. Thomas was the superintendent of the brick factory. 

DB: Yes.  The Thomases were related. 

WT: Daniel Baker bought the land for the Bakerton quarry in 1889 from William Engle.  Have you heard any details about that? 

DB: No details at all. 

WT: This might sound like a really obvious question, but why was it named Bakerton? 

DB: All I remember is -- and this is jumping 50 years back -- it seemed that there was an awful lot of reserve stone owned up there by the company on both sides of the road.  And for lack of a better thing to call it they may have done that.  I remember 25 or 35 farms that were "reserve stone deposits." 

WT: In most cases when a town is founded (and there wasn't anything there but a schoolhouse), a family name given to it usually means that the family lived there for some period of time.  There were no Bakers that ever lived there that I knew of. 

DB: I don't remember any employee houses, do you? 

WT: Apparently there were some built in the '90's. 

DB: Were there any built at Millville?  Because I remember either at Martinsburg or Millville there were employee houses. 

WT: There are employee houses there now.  They're two-story rectangular wood buildings with a porch.  I understand the ones in Bakerton were built in the 20's.  There may have been some built earlier....  There were also two quarries on the river that quarried building stone. 

DB: I don't remember anything about the company ever selling building stone.  At least in my generation.   It was always limestone, cement, or rockwool. 

WT: C.F. Thomas and Samuel Bratt seem to have been instrumental in constructing the first plant at Bakerton.  Can you tell me anything about that? 

DB: I know nothing about them, except that both of them were members of the family...  One Bratt (I'm not sure it was Sam) retired at the age of 30 and went to Oxford, Maryland, and never worked another day in his life.... What year are you talking about, roughly? 

WT: 1890. 

DB: There's a house in Oxford called the Bratt house, which was in the family for about a hundred years.  It was also called the Academy house.  And Aunt Fannie Bratt, who was the widow (I think) of Samuel Bratt, lived and died in that house.  She died before Kennedy was elected.  So it was either her husband or her father who went down there.  She was the mother of Hazel Bratt.  Her oldest son is an a rest home in Easton.  He may have some memory.  His name is Daniel Bratt.  I've never met the man. 

WT: Have you heard anything about how or why Preston Millard came to Bakerton? 

DB: No, I have no knowledge.  I haven't heard that name for almost all of my life. 

WT: The Buckingham School started about 1890, and the perception of the school from the workers point of view is a little different from what you mentioned.  They believe the school was founded primarily to take care of sons of injured employees. 

DB:  That I never heard.  I heard that it was ....  They were a very religious group.  They were all Methodists, and what I have heard was that ... the people who I have met who came back were orphans, people without families, split families.  Things like this.  All of the older generation were proud of this.  Of everybody who went through that school, not one of them turned out bad.  In all walks of life.  Everywhere from professional people on down to ordinary laborers. 

WT: In the Bakerton area, there were four or five men who came from there.  They all got jobs at Standard.  It seemed to me that there was an effort made by Standard to place those young men in a job. 

DB:  I think the people always felt very loyal to the people they had around them.  For instance, my father had a nurse who came with the family about age 14.  She raised him and she raised me, but she never left the family.  And we had people who came back from Buckingham that I can remember -- Joe Daiuto (it was an Italian name).  And he used to come back, way up in his 80's from the midwest to visit the family, go visit the old man before he died. 

WT: Do you remember about when Joe Daiuto died? 

DB: No, but I think it was before my father died. 

WT: This man was General Superintendent before Frank Thomas replaced him in 1919. 

DB: This guy I knew was a short, wirey guy, and I know he was up in his mid 80's or early 90's.  But when you looked at him, he looked like he was in his 60's. 

WT: About what time was that? 

DB: In the '70's. 

WT: It must be his son....  One of the things I'm trying to figure out is if the Buckingham School, at least for the Bakers, was something to make up for the lack of workmen's compensation, social security, etc., when the plant started in 1890. 

DB: It could easily have been because there was no social security or pension system.  I can see how they felt that way because people started there and they never quit.  They died on the job or left.  I know in my father's later days at Standard he spent a great portion of his time trying to find homes for these old ladies (who were secretaries) who were mostly put in church homes because there was no place to put them.  There was no social security, no pension system.  This was up in the '40's. 

WT: What was the reason why the Buckingham School closed? 

DB: It strictly, as far as I know, came out of the pockets of all of the family....  See, there were only two or three major men involved (my grandfather and his brothers), who had an awful lot of money -- in those days.  And money out of pockets those days meant more than money out of pockets later on when income tax was applied.  And when they started having children, and they started having children, the demands of running about a 2,000-acre school, with staff and everything, was a little heavy on the family.   They started looking around for someone to take it over. 

WT: Was the state trying to come in? 

DB: The state was coming in to take over the job.  The state was moving in and setting up schools for people like this, plus the financial drain.  We used to go up there every Christmas for the recital, and Christmas parties, and things like this.  It was a very remote connection for my generation.  It was closer for my father and his brothers, but I'm sure it was a lot closer for his father.  A lot closer because they lived up there. 

WT: J.H. Baker graduated from college in the 1890's and was secretary of Standard in 1903, so it sounds like he went to school and came back and got right into the business. 

DB: I think about all of them did. 

WT: It seems that there's a pattern in the family of an apprentice period at a lower level job and then most of the Bakers moved into more responsible jobs in the company. 

DB:  That would be normal. 

WT: What can you tell me about J.H. Baker as a manager or president?  People I've talked to in Bakerton say he was a very dignified man who was respected, but that doesn't tell me much about the man. 

DB: I can't tell you much more.  Because he would be my father's cousin.  My early recollection of him was that he would come to visit us -- very prim, stiff collar, coat, tie.  His wife wore one of those little things around her throat.  He was old when I first knew him, and the fond rememberance of him was that he would pull out his little wallet with change in it, and give us either a nickle or a quarter, depending on how he felt that day.  This happened maybe once or twice a year.  And we always remembered "Cousin John" for this reason.  I don't know whether you would call him a caretaker in today's terms....  He was an equalizer when he was around, trying to ride herd on the next generation of boys.  And I would not describe him as a very aggressive man.  He was a very nice person, a very gentle person.  I think he had a bunch of farms up there around Buckeystown.  And he lived his last years at the Belvedere Hotel.  Apart from that, I'm in no position to comment on his ability as a manager, or whatever. 

WT: When he was from president, from 1919 to 1944, was he thoroughly in control of the company? 

DB: Having never worked there and just observing or hearing, there were always....  Control to me means you are absolute boss.  You're the man and what you say goes.  I think you'd find there were factions that were growing up during that period of time that would later force the company to be sold. 

WT: There are two perceptions of J.H. Baker that have been printed.  One appears in Nancy Bodmer's book on Buckeystown and essentially said that he owned Buckeystown.  He had a mortgage on every house or a lein on every business, and he was sort of a gentle dictator.  The other one is from a coversation with a foreman at Bakerton who knew J.H. Baker and who said Bakerton was "His plant," that he had some sort of feeling for Bakerton that was a little bit different from the other places. 

DB: I've never heard that. 

WT: The feeling I got was that there was a feeling of ownership and custodianship. 

DB: It could have been his baby, to put that plant up there.  And if it worked out, he was very proud of it.  I could see where that could happen.  Because when the company was sold, there was something like nine plants in seven states.  And I'm sure each one was somebody's brain child. 

WT: In Jefferson County,  the Bakers donated land for the Bakerton Methodist Church, the Engle Methodist Church, the Millville Methodist Church, the Kearnesyville Methodist Church, refurbished a building for a community center in Bakerton, and donated the land for the Bakerton Church of God.  So there seems to have been an interest in the religious or social wellbeing of the employees. 

DB: I think that was all the way through.  I don't know any time that there wasn't.  The employees to them were rather important people.  And if you didn't have employees, you didn't have a business.  Plus this very strong Methodist feeling.  Because they also got mixed up in Western Maryland College, and donated a lot of money out there, by today's standards. 

WT: There were also a lot of Bakers and Thomases who went to school there. 

DB: Yes.  They were also friend's of Billy Sunday.  That made them hard nondrinkers.  And between their religion and the pressure to make the business go, I'd think they would take care of their people. 

WT: The impression I got from employees was that the Bakers made it very plain what their attitude toward drinking was but did not actively interfere with anything that went on outside plant property. 

DB: I've never heard anything about that, but I can well imagine.  My father's generation was asked to sign a bible and swear on it that they would never drink.  And that started to extend down to my generation, and a couple of them refused to do it, because they thought it was a little unfair. 

WT: There was a fairly large black population in Bakerton in the 1920's and '30's, that worked at the plant.  There was company built housing for them and the two black churches were on company property.  Was there any attitude or policy toward the colored workers? 

DB: I don't think it would have been any different than it was for white workers.  Because we ended up with a guy who was a dynamiter at Bakerton, who wanted to quit dynamiting and come down and be a cook.  He was a cook.  He raised me, and he raised my brothers and sisters.  But he was treated as one of the family....  Arthur Green.  He was more a member of our family that he was of his own. 

WT: I'm trying to see if there was any change in Standard when the second generation took over --1919, 1920.  Have you heard about anything different that was being done at Bakerton between the first generation and the second? 

DB: No, not at that time.  That came later. 

WT: Shortly after Daniel Baker died, they went from quarrying to tunnelling. 

DB: It could have been a change in mining methods. 

WT: The other thing was that there was a change from steam to gasoline power. 

DB: When you stop to think about it, when did cars start coming in? 

WT: 1920's. 

DB: I think they were just keeping up with technology. 


DB: To give you one example of employee loyalty, there was a farm that had stone quarry, and the railroad used it for ballast.  And there was a farm right opposite Donaldson Brown's place, which was a magnificent place.  And they decided they'd better sell these farms.  There wasn't a demand for that rock.  And I think they'd put it up for auction and somehow the word didn't get down to the employees.  And one of the employees bought the thing back in his name for the family, because he felt it was done without the family's knowledge.  So we had to turn around and sell it again.  This was in the '40's.  But these people were very nice people. 

WT: Can you tell me what positions the members of the Baker family held in Standard?  For example, your father [David B. Baker, Sr.]. 

DB: He was vice-president of Purchasing and took care of the farms.  Most of them were money losers.  Uncle Joe [Joseph D. Baker, Jr.] was very strong on sales, an excellent salesman.  Uncle Dan [Daniel Baker, Jr.] was administrative head of the entire thing. 

WT: Was the farmland being held as reserve? 

DB: Precisely.  It was all farmed by tenants and run by a man named Holden, who who lived right around Bakerton someplace. 

WT; One of the residents of Bakerton, who is in his 70's, remembers dealing with your father about working land. 

DB: Tenants were always a problem, because they would come and go.  And when they were all losers, it was a real interesting situation.  Dilapidated houses.  They were always running out of this or running out of that. 

WT: Did you ever hear anything about D.R. Houser, who used to be superintendent of the plant? 

DB: I did.  I've heard the name, but it means nothing.....  As a kid, my recollection of going to the Bakerton plant...  what I remember was that you'd go up there and spend the night with Mr. Holden or someplace, and you'd go into the plant -- inspect the plant -- and talk to the superintendent, or whatever problems they had at that time.  Safety was a very important matter, because I remember seeing safety signs -- "X days without a lost time accident."  And then they'd take off. 

WT: Do you remember what your impression was of any of the early times you went to Bakerton? 

DB: My most vivid visual impression was climbing up to the top of about a 30 foot in diameter tank and looking in there and seeing a lot of white stuff and asking what it was.  They said it was magnesia.  And all I could think of was that was an awful lot of milk of magnesia. 


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Donley, Samuel Jackson.  Interview March 1, 1987.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

Jack Donley: [Bakerton Quarry]  They'd load those cars up (railroad cars) and that shifter would come in every day and take six or eight cars of lime stone, and they had to get it out and ship it.  And whatever was in that lime room down there, if he didn't get that out, it's slag.  Some of it didn't get burned just right -- niggerheads they used to call it -- and I'd haul those upon the farm. I'd haul all summer long. 

William Theriault:  You'd spread that on your farm? 

JD: Yes, that's lime. 

WT: Did you ever get stone out of Knott's Quarry? 

JD: No, they took that stone to Washington, hauled that stone in oreboats to Washington -- Georgetown. 

WT: Did any of your family work down there? 

JD: I was nothing but a little kid then.  I'm a Donley, and my uncles owned the quarry.  I know about it, but I didn't go down to the quarry.  I don't suppose they'd have let me down there then. 

WT: Which uncles are you talking about? 

JD: My mother was a Knott.  My mother [Virginia] was a Knott.  She married a Donley.  She was Dr. Knott's sister.  She had twin sisters, Kate Knott and Ella Koonce.  Uncle George was her brother. 

WT: When did that quarry close down? 

JD: About '22, when the canal closed. 

WT: Did your family own any canal boats? 

JD: They owned one, I understood. Uncle Doctor, Uncle Will, and Uncle George.  They owned the quarry, the land, the boats, the mill, and the stuff in Georgetown. 

WT: They burned the lime down in Georgetown? 

JD: Yes sir.  They hauled the stone to Georgetown.  I think the original man that owned the kiln, he got in bad shape and turned it over to my uncles.  That's open to question. That was my grandfather's and my uncles took that thing over.  And they ran it until the closing of the canal, and then they closed up the quarry.  People from Maryland came across the river in boats and worked in the quarry -- Ingrams, Groves, Jamesons. 

WT: Did the Welshes work there? 

JD: No, they didn't work for us. 

WT: Was there another stone quarry across the river? 

JD: Yes sir.  There was.  It didn't have anything to do with us. 

WT: Did your uncles own any property across the river in Maryland? 

JD: At one time, they owned a mountain lot to get (my grandfather [Jack Knott] did) chestnut for fence rails.  But the people over there tore them down and used them for firewood. 

WT: Was Flanagan's Quarry still operating when you were growing up? 

JD: The Flanagans sold their operation to the company.  Flanagan had a quarry adjacent to Knott's quarry.  This side was Knotts and that side was Flanagan's.  They had kilns there too.  The Bakers bought Flanagan's Quarry. 

WT: Flanagan's Quarry had kilns, down in the hollow? 

JD: Yes sir.  I think there were six. 

WT: When were you born? 

JD: 1902 

WT: Can you tell me about the Donley family? 

JD: My father came from Pennsylvania. 

WT: When your father came down from Pennsylvania to Moler's Cross Roads, were there other Donleys there? 

JD: No. 

WT: What was your father's name? 

JD: William Clayton. 

WT: Do you know when he was born? 

JD: About 1840, roughly. 

WT: Did your Knott uncles tell you about their experiences in the Civil War? 

JD: No they never did.  I know something about them.  I have all the history of them.  My uncles weren't in the Civil War -- Doctor and Uncle George. 

WT: Their fathers. 

JD: Uncle John, Major Knott, was in it.  Charlie Knott, he was in the 12th Virginia Cavalry.  Grandpa, he was in the 12th Virginia Cavalry. 

WT: Did you ever hear any stories about them? 

JD: Aunt Jennie Moler, she married Uncle Henry Snyder.  He came home to see her.  They lived around Shepherdstown, and he was shot during the war.  I don't know who shot him, but if the son-of-a-bitch turned up today, he'd be a dead duck. 

My grandfather ... from Harper's Ferry up to Packhorse Ford, they were constantly going up and down the road, near where they lived.  And they knew they had all these confederate soldiers up in that area, a lot of them.  And they were all the time checking to see if any of them were around.  And so they came in to search the house one time, and my grandmother had made some soap and put it outside to dry, and some of these Union fellas came up to check the house.  And they saw it, and they just threw it on the ground.  My grandmother told me that when my mother was alive.  And an officer came out and made them clean it all up.  It sort of redeemed some of them. 

WT: Did you go to school at Moler's Cross Roads? 

JD: Yes sir. 

WT: Can you tell me what it was like? 

JD: It was a two-room school, a little room and a big room.  The building was about 60-foot long.  There was a small room about 20 by 40.  It had two teachers.  I had Miss Ruth Link for one ...  My sister was a teacher.  Miss Sutton graduated from Shepherdstown High School.  Mr. Leo Smith.  Harry White. 

WT: Did you have benches or desks? 

JD: We had desks.  I would say that school was (that was around 1910 on) an outstanding school.  The school system for the county was outstanding. We had devotional services every morning.  We don't have that in any schools today....  As a result, I learned the Lord's Prayer.  Of course, as a kid, I had to go to church....  They had eight grades in that school.  And then you went to Shepherdstown to this college.  It was called a college but it was really as high school.... 

WT: Were they pretty strict at school? 

JD: I suppose they were. 

WT: Do you remember when they closed the school down?  Was it before the Depression? 

JD: Yes, I think it was. 

WT: Who did you go to school with at Moler's Cross Roads? 

JD: Kerfoot Moler, a bunch of Carters -- Charlie Carter, Christian Carter, Jake Carter. 

WT: When you said Christian Carter, are you talking about the fellow who owned the stable and store in Bakerton? 

JD: No, he was a farmer. 

WT: Do you remember the influenza epidemic of 1918? 

JD: Yes sir.  They didn't have any school in Shepherdstown, and I went into town and went in the drug store.  And the man in the drug store needed some help in there....  Grover Miller had died.  And he said "Jack, will you help me fill capsules?"  And I said "Yes."  And I stuffed capsules.  And he put some powder out. He said it was quinine.  I don't know what the hell it was.  And he gave it to me and told me to fill up the capsules....  Some of my friends died....  My brother got sick, and Dr. Knott was the doctor.  And he looked at him and told him what to do.  But he seemed to think he had to get out of bed....  I said, "By gosh, you'd better stay in bed because Miller out the road just died yesterday."  And that took care of that.  He decided he wasn't going to get out of bed.... 

WT: Tell me about the store at Moler's Cross Roads when you were a boy. 

JD: Jake Reinhart was running it.  They sold meat up there, eggs, and stuff like that.  My mother used to take meat up there when we butchered.  We'd have some side meat and some lard we didn't need.  So we'd take it up there and sell it. 

WT: That was old store?  The one that burned down? 

JD: Yes, that had to be around 1915. 

WT: What did that store look like? 

JD: It was just a two-story building in an L-shape. 

WT: Was it located where the one is now? 

JD: That's right where it was. I put that one there. 

WT: When did that store burn down?  There's one there now, right? 

JD: That's the one I built back up after it burned down. 

WT: The old store burned down around 1960? 

JD: '60 or '70 

WT: Was there a fellow named Sager who used to run the store? 

JD: Mr. Sager, yes.  He ran a farm before he came up there....  He was a very likeable fella, an honest man. 

WT: When did he leave there?  Didn't he open at store at Ranson? 

JD: I don't know if he did or not.  He moved to Charles Town, but I don't know if he opened one or not.  See, he had brothers down there at that store. 

WT: When did you start up your store? 

JD: I built that store right after it burned.  I wanted to build it up for two reasons: one, I thought we ought to have a store in the community and I thought if I didn't do it, somebody else would put it up.  So I asked my brother and sister if they wanted to join me, and they said they didn't want to put any money into it.  I built it about two years after it burnt.  And I kept it going until my wife got tired of running it and we closed it for a time.  And then she died, and nobody seemed to miss it or care whether it was open or not.  If I had anything they needed at the last minute, they wanted it, but they didn't want anything during the week.  So to hell with it.  It didn't make that much money anyway. 

WT: When did you close it down? 

JD: About 8 or 10 years ago. 

WT: 1978 or 1979? 

JD: Around then. 

WT: Was there a post office in that store? 

JD: Originally there was.  That came out of Shepherdstown.  That's why the store was there -- the original.  That was back in eighteen hundred and something. 

WT: Was Jacob Reinhart the postmaster? 

JD: I don't think he was.  No, he couldn't have been.  Who was postmaster I can't tell you.  My great uncle, Uncle George Knott, owned that store.  And he ran it. I don't know if he was postmaster or not.  But that was lots of years ago. 

WT: So that store was there a long time. 

JD: Yes, sir.  It was one of the oldest buildings in the area. 

WT: Was it built after the Civil War?  Did your great uncle build it? 

JD: I would think it was built after the Civil War.  I would guess he built it. 

WT: Do you remember when the post office left? 

JD: I don't remember anything about the post office.  There was never a post office when I was there.  I just happened to know growing up that there was a post office there.  And that's why part of it was always a center of the area. 

WT: Did you go to church at Moler's Cross Roads? 

JD: Yes sir.  .... 

WT: Do you remember anything about the Orebank? 

JD: No.  Some of my people lived down there in that brick house.... 

WT: You're talking about the brick house across the road from Mark Horn? 

JD: Yes. 

WT: Was Moler's Cross Roads pretty lively when you were growing up? 

JD: Moler's Cross Roads was solely a farming  area ....  It's about the same as it was.  Not quite as intensive as it used to be. 

WT: Was there anyone making moonshine up in your area? 

JD: [laughs]  I don't know if they were making it, but there was moonshine available there. 


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Donley, Samuel Jackson.  Interview March 28, 1987.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

Jack Donley: I grew up in that church [Moler's Cross Roads].  It was Bethesda Methodist Church South at the time I was growing up.  That was controlled by the Southern Methodists.  The people who controlled that church and operated it were the leading people in the community.  We had in that church at that time (and this was the part that impressed me very much) adult Sunday School Class.  The teacher had all the maps of the Orient.  And he brought those to school every Sunday and taught those people.  I was just a kid, but I recall that.  When I grew up (Miss Vic Moler was the teacher of the little kids), I learned the Lord's Prayer, the 23rd Psalm, all children's prayers that were taught at the time and still are today.  But I think they've gotten away from some of that now....  I can still recite a lot of the stuff I picked up as a kid of 6, 8, 10 years old.  Miss Vic Moler was the  primary teacher.  My sister Edith Donley was the girl's teacher.  And a lot of those girls have grown to womanhood and married and died.  She's gone too.  Miss Mary Hennings was organist at that particular time....  And that organ is one of the best organs made, and it's still operating.  The boy's classes, I forget who the man was who taught that class -- Mr. Milt Skinner.  So you had George Knott in the adult class, who was excellent, my sister Edith Donley, Mr. Milt Skinner, who was top people.  They were all educated people.  They were educated at school and had a good education in the Bible....  That church at that time got all of its ministers from a theological seminary down in Kentucky....  They didn't have this setup like it is now. 

WT: Did you just have one minister for the church, or was it on a charge? 

JD: It was on a charge, but it was all top people.  It came out of Shepherdstown.  He had three churches, Shepherdstown, Uvilla, and Bethesda.  They stayed 3 or 4 years, just like they do now, most of the time.  But actually, I believe they were better men than what they are now. I don't know if you want to put that in. 

WT: You think they were better trained? 

JD: Much better trained.  Better educated.  They were educated in the south.  And whether you believe it or not, the ministers that came out of the south were far better than the ones that came out of the north at that particular time.  That is still true.  If my church was still tied in with the Winchester area, we'd still be tied to the southern group....  The [church] activities were always good.  They had Christmas programs.  They had Easter programs.  There were more people going to that church than they do now.  The people lived in that community. We don't have people there like we used to have. They've all died off....  They had a men's choir over there, the Knott choir.  It was one of the best choirs in the county that I heard.  They were relatives of mine....  I think they went to Richmond.  We built that church back in 1914.  They went out and collected the money.  They asked people to give it....  There wasn't any debt on that church. 

WT: Did they lift that church up? 

JD: Yes sir.  They put jacks underneath of it.  I was right there and saw them do it.  They went out ...  We borrowed the jacks from a  contractor that lived out on Shepherd Grade.  He had screw jacks -- eight or ten of them.  Actually, with those jacks you could have lifted the moon, to be honest with you.  They were that type of jacks.  And they raised that thing right up there. 

WT: Dug out a basement? 

JD: They dug out a basement. 

WT: That was a big job, wasn't it? 

JD: It wasn't a big job then.  It was just a job with a pick and shovel. 

WT: Did the people around there do the work? 

JD: Mr. George Waters from over in the mountain, across the river, did the carpentry work that had to be done.  He didn't put the stucco on the outside.  I don't know who did that.  Some local fellow.  It was all covered with wire.  Some things I wouldn't have done today that he did....  I didn't do it.  I just observed it. They put a slate roof on it and have maintained that slate.  It's in excellent shape.  You wouldn't put a slate roof on it today.  It's too expensive.  But at that time, I suppose, a slate roof was the cheapest you could put on. 

WT: Was the organ put in the church after it was rebuilt? 

JD: It was there when we rebuilt it. 

WT: Do you remember hearing about people who didn't want any music in that church?  No organ or musical instruments? 

JD: Oh no.  Did you hear anything about that? 

WT: John O. Knott said when he was collecting money for the organ, a blacksmith named Shell said he didn't want to have anything to do with musical instruments in the church. 

JD: John Knott was a distant relative of mine, but I never heard anything like that.  Mr. Shell lived out on the road to Uvilla.  They called that Shelltown.  That's where that man lived. He didn't have that much pressure....  This I do know, Mrs. ... who died down here, they had an organ.  She played the organ in the church.  When she died, he gave that organ to the church.  We still have it up there, a Yamaha, a good one.  I'm no musician, but I know which one is a good listening organ.  The old one is the better one.  Far better.  I told them, if you have to get rid of one, get rid of the new one and keep the old one. 

We have to build that church up, because we don't have the congregation we did have and the congregation isn't as committed.  I've named you people in this coversation who'd run that community.  They were outstanding people in the community and the state. 

WT: Did you see that place change a lot when the automobile came in? 

JD: I never saw it change any.  That was a  farming area, and everybody farmed....  I stopped farming because I was too damn old.  I wouldn't dispose of the land because it abuts right on the church.  That wouldn't be right. 

WT: John O. Knott said, when the automobile came in, people of your generation were more interested in going to town than in staying home and doing their work. 

JD: Well, I don't know that there was any more of that than there was any place else.  I went over to town, but I had that farm to look after and I can't agree with Cousin John.  I think he was all right but he didn't stay home.  Vanderbilt University.  That's where those preachers came from.  

I'll tell you a good story.  We had two fields of corn.  I planted corn out there one year.  Long about August or September, I went down to a church dinner.  And a couple of fellows I knew -- Guy Marshall was one (he was retired).  He said, "Jack, what do you have in that field out there?"  I said "Corn."  "All that corn?  How many acres?"  I said "Forty acres."  "Forty acres!  What are you going to do with that!"  I said, "I'm going to cut it off."  "Cut it off?  You mean to tell me someone has to cut it off?"  He said, "If you put me out in that 40-acre field, I'd quit."  I said "You can't walk away from it like that."  So that took care of me going to town. 

I might add that when we first revised that church, we didn't have electric in it.  We put electric in it about 1933 or '34....  I put electric in over the whole church.  I had an expert (supposed to be an expert) tell me how to do it.  It's a well-lighted church....  It wasn't just half done....  We had a hot-air heating system in it. It used to have a hand-fired furnace. And we revised that to put a new one in. 

WT: That was a coal furnace? 

JD: It was at the time, but then we transferred to the other. 

WT: So somebody had to go over Sunday morning and get the church heated up? 

JD: Whoever cleaned it up on Saturday did that.... 

WT: Did some colored people live out at Moler's Cross Roads?  Did they have a church? 

JD: No.  They went to Shepherdstown. 

WT: How about school? 

JD: They went to Shepherdstown too. 

The people who were teachers up at that school, the quality of teachers up at that school.  Down at this school, we had just two rooms, but we had quality teachers.  They were graduates of college at the time -- Shepherdstown.  It wasn't a college at the time.  They called it a normal school.  They graduated them from there and put them down in the grade schools.  My sister was one of them that taught down there.  I had three sisters.  Two sisters taught down at that school, and they were graduates of college.  My cousin taught there at that school.  And two men graduated from Shepherdstown and taught there at that school too.  They left after they got their feet on the ground.  They moved to other parts of the county.  Some went over to Maryland and taught (Sharpsburg), and a man went out in West Virginia somewhere.  Mr. Blake, he became a principal somehere.  Looking back over that, I think we must have been very fortunate to have the quality teachers that we did in the school....  The girl teachers taught up through fourth grade and the men took over after fourth grade on up. 

WT: Was there a Board of Trustees for that school? 

JD: Yes sir.  Mr. Buck Bench was one of them and Dr. Banks was another.  I think Mr. Rolly Moler was one. 

WT: Where did you buy your school books? 

JD: The teachers got them and you paid the teachers.  I think they got them at Charles Town. 

WT: Did you have to take a County examination? 

JD: I did at the end of my eighth year, before I could go to college or high school. 

WT: Where did you take that? 

JD: At the high school in Shepherdstown....  I'd never been in the high school.  I didn't know anybody in the place.  I didn't even know the teacher.... 

WT: When did they tear that school down at Moler's Cross Roads? 

JD: [inaudible] 

WT: Then the kids took the bus to Shepherdstown? 

JD: Yes.  But I went to college, and I had to provide my own transportation.  I either had to walk, or ride a bicycle, or ride a horse.  I was 18 when I started in there. 

WT: Can you tell me about the Grange Hall? 

JD: Well, the Grange Hall was built by some of my people, the Knotts.  My grandfather and great grandfather were part of it.  The Grange was a farm organization at the time, and they had meetings there. And I don't recall how long that worked. But I feel that, not that I remember was any meetings ever held in the Grange Hall by any organization that I know of.  But, see, they could have had that up to 1910 and I wouldn't know anything about it at all.  I don't belong to the Grange. I belong to the Farm Bureau....  It had to lay with my Uncle Charlie and Uncle Sam and my grandfather Knott.  That's who had to have it. 

WT: What did they do with the building after that? 

JD: They rented it out for people to live in.  It's still standing.... 

WT: Was Knott's Mill still running when you were a boy? 

JD: That was before my time. 

WT: Where did you take your grain to be ground? 

JD: Whitings ... up to Shepherdstown.  Billmyer's Mill. 

WT: Was Hoffman's Mill down by the river? 

JD: That wasn't running by that time. 

WT: Didn't there used to be a house down beside Knott's Mill? 

JD: Yes sir. 

WT: When did that come down.  Did it burn? 

JD: No.  They took it down.  It was deteriorating and they took it down.  My great grandfather built that house -- Sam Knott. 

WT: Where was it in relationship to the mill? 

JD: When you come out from the place now. As you come out along that road, around that curve.  It's between the mill.  Here's the mill, and the road comes out here.  The house used to sit right in here.  And I think you'll find a bank there. 

WT: The foundation's still there?  Big old blocks? 

JD: I would say you'd find it there. 

WT: Did there used to be some old houses across the road from the mill? 

JD: There was one wooden house. 

WT: Do you recall who lived there? 

JD: No.  That's not an old house anyway.  That's old maybe as far as you and me are concerned.  But that's not an old house. 

WT: Do you recall a cave up behind Knott's Mill? 

JD: I don't recall that. 

WT: There is a cave at Moler's Cross Roads, right? 

JD: That's right. 

WT: Did you ever go into that? 

JD: Well, I've gone into it, but I'm not much of a cave man.  When I get inside there in the dark, to hell with the cave.  There were two or three boys went in that cave last year and their flashlights went out and they had to stay in there for three days. 

WT: What was it like in your area during the Depression? 

JD: We didn't have any trouble.  Well, that isn't right, because I'd say somebody had.  I expect we were fortunate during the Depression.  See, we didn't have any ...  All I did was get that damn corn in and get it out.  And, you say people ran around in town, I didn't do that....  The only thing during that Depression, you got fifty cents for corn, and I had an interest in a piece of corn.  My uncle had the other interest.  He said "Jack, you ought to sell it."  I said "What do you mean, sell it?  Doctor, you'll only get fifty centy for it."  He said "Well, you ought to sell it."  I said "Hell, I ain't going to sell it."  I said "I'll give you fifty cents for your share."  "Well, we ought to sell it."  So he didn't want to sell his unless I sold mine.  And I wouldn't sell it.  You can't get much money on fifty cents, even in the Depression.  We kept the corn, and next year we got a dollar for it....  I can't say that I had any trouble in the Depression.  It was an unfortunate thing for some of these people. I had a place to sleep and eat.  I had work. I know I did a lot better than others. 

WT: Did anybody lose their farms around there? 

JD: No.  There was no mortgage on them. 

WT: Did you ever ride on the canal when it was open? 

JD: No, I never rode on the canal.  I saw the canal boats.  My grandfather and uncles had a canal boat.  They had a boat they called the "Twin Sisters."  "The Twins."  They hauled that stone down to Georgetown.  I never rode on the canal. I missed something on that.  Should have done something, but I wasn't interested.... 

WT: Did you hear about them trying to run a railroad spur up in that area. 

JD: Yes.  It was supposed to go from Harper's Ferry to Cherry Run. 

WT: What happened to it? 

JD: They didn't build it.  There was a piece of ground up there, and I finally bought it. 

WT: Why did they want to build it? 

JD: Low grade, for freight. 

WT: It was going to connect up at Shepherdstown? 

JD: Hell no.  See, from Harper's Ferry up to Cherry Run it's all up grade.  And uphill.  The grade was too hard to pull a train up there.  And they planned to run a line up there at a lower level.  And build that track up at Cherry Run and use it for freight lines.  It was longer, but it was lower in grade....  It ran across a piece of ground we had....  I bought it....  Down towards Harper's Ferry it came out.  You know where the schoolhouse is down at that crossroads, that's where it was....  I don't know why it didn't go through.  The improvement on trains, engines, they didn't need it. 

WT: What time was that? 

JD: 1902.  That's when the thing was going through.  I just bought that piece of land in 1940.... 

WT: That would have given the quarry access to the railroad. 

JD: Well, they could have done that, but that's not the reason.  Knott's Quarry had nothing to do with this thing. 

WT: They were still using the canal then. 

JD: They used the canal up to 1922.  And I expect they would have been forced to have gotten out of this lime business in Washington anyhow because of pollution. I'm only talking, but I know enough about pollution....  You might just as well stop that.  In 1922 they stopped it because the canal closed. 

WT: How come they didn't burn their own lime up here? 

JD: I don't know.  If my uncle was living, uncle George Knott, he was a very agressive man.  I talked to him.  His brother, Dr. Knott, was a doctor, and Uncle Will was too flighty.  He wasn't quite the ...  Uncle George was a level-headed overall businessman.  Uncle Will was a flighty fella.  He wouldn't have listened to me at all if I talked to him about that.  Uncle George would have said "Jack, if you've got a good idea, I'll listen to it."  He talked very fast.  But he was my mother's brother.  I got along very good with him.  But I was still a kid. I was too young to fool around with the lime kiln. 

WT: Was he the one who ran the store? 

JD: Not that one. It was my great uncle. 

WT: Will you name your brothers and sisters?  You're the youngest. 

JD: Right. 

WT: Who was the oldest? 

JD: The oldest was Sally....  Catherine Donley, Edith Donley, Mary Donley's over in the nursing home in Charles Town.  She's still living.  She's 94.  My oldest brother was Fred Donley.  He was 100 when he died.  Guy was 82 or 3 or 4 when he died in New Mexico.  Raleigh Ashby Donley, named after Colonel Ashby, he died.  And me, Jack.  Samuel Jackson.  I'm 84. 


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Dozier, George W.  Interview.  May 19, 1986.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

GEORGE DOZIER: "[The church I went to was] called the Baptist Church.  It set ... well, this here's [my] house.  It set catty corner right across the road.  You could walk right out of the house, right to the church. 

WILLIAM THERIAULT: Was that on Ten Row? 

GD: Right on Ten Row.  And my father was an ordained deacon at the church.  My father's name was William Dozier.  My mother's name was Sadie Dozier. 

WT: Your father lived in Bakerton, too? 

GD: He lived in Bakerton.  My father ... Here's the houses setting like this ...  My father lived here, and after I got married I moved right across the road. 

WT: Can you tell me what the church looked like? 

GD: Well, it was a wainscotted church.  There was no lining, nothing in it, just wainscotted.  It had pews in the church.  Four of them set this way [lengthwise].  And they had a meeting place there.  If they had all day meetings, to feed the people they put up tents to feed them.  On Ten Row. 

WT: How many would it hold? 

GD: I don't know how many it would hold, but it would hold a good many.  They had all-day meetings there sometimes, you know, right there at the Baptist Church.  And when I moved from Bakerton there was a cornerstone at the church.  I would have loved to have gotten it because my daddy helped to put that cornerstone in there.  I don't know whether it is still in the old foundation or not.  You see, you aren't allowed to go back in there....  The cornerstone is probably right in there.  I know exactly where it is in this wall -- stone wall.  And, if I'm not mistaken, I think they had a little pan, so round, and they put four 5cents in this and a little testament in this place where they set the cornerstone in, in that church. 

WT: Was your father the only preacher? 

GD: He wasn't a preacher.  He was an ordained deacon, but there were several preachers I could name used to be there at that church. 

WT: How about Burrell?  Was that his church? 

GD: No, that wasn't his church.  His church was over on the next row....  I think that was the Methodist Church [he] belonged to.  Now, he lived on Ten Row.  He lived in the end house.  See, there was ten houses on Ten Row, all in a line.  He lived up there and his church was next to ... there used to be an old schoolhouse we used to go in.  That was [where] the church [was]. 

WT: Are you talking about Oak Grove or Bakerton Elementary School? 

GD: Over on the plant....  That's where his church was. And there was a lot of black folks out there when I was a boy coming along.  From Virginia and around like that, you know.  Strasburg, Virginia, and all.  There used to be a lady called Dolly Butler who used to run a boarding house on down -- we called in the field.  And she would cook lunches and all for these men that worked at the plant.  And my grandmother used to live up this way from us, and she would clean clothes and press suits and things for the men that worked in the plant down there. 

WT: Did your father work at the plant? 

GD: He worked at that plant? 

WT: What did he do? 

GD: He fired a lime kiln and different things.  He worked there until he was taken sick.  Then I went to work on the plant when I was 13 years old.  Because it was a large family.  There was 11 of us on my side.  So Walt Flanagan -- Bill Flanagan's uncle -- he was superintendent at the plant.  He told me one day, he said "You know, your father's not getting enough to take care of you all.  You come out and I'll give you a job."  He gave me a job filling water coolers and carrying [them].  They fixed me a hook to carry these buckets and keep the coolers clean and put water in them at different places for the men on the plant.  That's how I got started at the plant there. 

WT: How long did your father work in Bakerton?  Was he there when the plant started? 

GD: I don't think so.  He was from Washington, DC.  I don't know whether he was there when they started that plant or not. 

WT: What year were you born? 

GD: I was born in 1914. 

WT: And you started working ourt there when you were about 13. 

GD: I was about 13 years old, making 77cents an hour. 

WT: Can you tell me about those hand-fired kilns? 

GD: The lime kilns?  I can tell you some about them because I helped there.  You would fill the kilns from the top with stone, raw stone.  And it would come down so far and they had a fire there.  And you would fire this -- keep a fire in there and turn the stone to lime.  And down below, you'd go right in and draw it out. 

WT: Was that wood-fired or coal-fired when your were there? 

GD: It was coal.  When you'd start a kiln off, when you were lighting off a kiln, they'd stack it up with wood.  They'd fill it so full with wood, and then they'd dump these stones in the top.  And then they'd fire it and keep firing until those stones were just as red as I don't know what.  They'd just keep putting coal in it, and when it got ready you'd go down below there and draw the lime out.  You would dump it on the floor.  Then they had men there to separate the stone.  Like for a big stone, they'd take the lime off of that, and then they'd run it up into a bin.  Then they'd grind it. 

WT: Were they still using horses and carts to get the stone out of the quarry when you were there? 

GD: No, they had big Eukes and a shovel down in the mine.  They'd fill them and they'd bring it out on top, come up, you know, and dump it into the crusher.  And they had a place for people to break stone down to eight inches.  You'd put pads on your legs and go down, and you'd break the stone down till it would go down to the crusher.  And then the crusher would crush it.  They had to crush it down.  And they would ship ballast stone, ship lime.  Well, that's what they did -- they shipped lime.  And then they had a magnesia plant there. 

WT: Can you tell me the names of your brothers and sisters? 

GD: There was Fanny, and Richard, Preston, Nellie, Sadie, and Emma. 

WT: How about your children? 

GM: They're all growed up and gone.  My oldest daughter's in Silver Spring, Maryland, Evelyn Dozier.  And my second daughter, she lives on High Street in Martinsburg.  Thelma, she lives in Landover, Maryland.  Doris, she lives in Washington, DC.  Doug, he's in Washington, DC.  Kevin, he's in Washington, DC.  And so is Gregg.  And I've got a son who lives in Denver, Colorado.  He's the oldest son.  Then I've got a son who lives out here (Al Hooper built this place), I've got a son who lives out there and works at General Motors, named Charles Dozier.... 

[Photo from Dottie Welsh]  Those are my youngest.  That's my granddaughter.  That's Kevin and Gregg. 

[Photo of George Dozier, three children, and dog]  There's my dog.  There's the three children that was on that picture there.  That's me and my children taken with my dog. 

WT: That was taken out at Bakerton? 

GD: Right out at Bakerton....  That's Carla, Kevin, and Gregg. 

WT: Could you tell me the names of the preachers at your church? 

GD: Reverend Dusey [?] was one from Charles Town.  Reverend Carter, he was from Harper's Ferry.  George Carter.  And Gene Bailey from Charles Town.  That's about all I know. 

WT: Can you tell me about the meetings where they used to have tents outside? 

GD: They used to have all-day meetings, you know.  People would come from all different places, preachers and all, and they would have a big day there on Sunday.  And all the people around there would help donate money for the church and the preacher. 

WT: Was that church built by the Bakers or by the congregation? 

GD: No, it was built by the congregation. 

WT: Was that on the plant property? 

GD: On the plant property.  They gave them that piece of land [so] they could put up a church right there at Bakerton.  My daddy helped put that church up.  That's the way they got started there in Bakerton. 

WT: Did they deed that land to the congregation? 

GD: Yes, and they had fellows come down and laid it...  See, it was a stone wall they laid up so high, you know, and set the church on.  It wasn't concrete.  It was stone.  I can take you right to the place right now....  You know, out at Bakerton, here set the houses.   Right here.  It's a well, set there between these two houses across the road.  People would always come there and draw water from there from the pump, to bring water to them houses and all. 

WT: So there wasn't any water inside? 

GD: There was no water inside the house.  No bathrooms, nothing like that.  It had outside toilets.  And the rent that we used to pay on Ten Row was only $6.30 a month. 

WT: Was that all the way up to the '40's? 

GD: That was all the way up until I moved from out there....  I left there, I don't know what year it was, but I know I stayed there 54 years [1914 + 54 = 1968].  And I moved from this house to Halltown.  I stayed down there seven years, then I bought this house here. 

WT: Do you remember when they got electricity out there? 

GD: I don't know when they put it in the houses, but we had electric. 

WT: Who else lived on Ten Row with you? 

GD: There was my brother-in-law.  He lived there for a while.  He worked there at the plant.  Jay McDonald.  And Uncle Trav. That was my uncle's name.  He used to live there on Ten Row years ago, too.  See, they all moved after the jobs was down.  And some of them moved before that.  And I stayed there until they gave us notice we had to move out.  It got so bad they shut the plant down.  They say these hippies come in and went down to the quarry.  It was getting so bad, they gave us notice we had to move.  There was three of us there then.  There was Louise Jamison's mother, and Jones.  Us three were the only ones over there.  Then we all moved, and I moved to Halltown. 

WT: Can you tell me anything about the Methodist church, Preacher Burrel and that church? 

GD: No.  Well, I used to go there, but not very often.  That was over on ... you had to go through the plant to get to his church.  Like you're going out to the Bakerton store?  That's where that church set.  There used to be a house set right across from that church.  The church was set on this side and there was a house over across there.  Hoffmaster used to live in there.  It was the same color gray as the church was.  And there was a big dump over there, you know?  And the church set here, and you could either go down over the dump and go back to Ten Row or around and go out to the store. 

WT: That was a wooden church, too? 

GD: Yes, that was a wooden church.  They had school in that church.  I went to school there.  Miss Flora Walker taught me there.  She lived in Charles Town.  She taught me in that church I'm talking about.  Preacher Burrel's. 

WT: When did you start going to school? 

GD: I guess I was about six years old. 

WT: So it was about 1920? 

GD: Something like that. 

WT: Can you tell me what it was like going to school there? 

GD: It was nice going to school.  Everyone got along good.  But I was a hard learner, and she always had to send to me to get my mother.  Sometimes I'd give it to her and sometimes I'd tear it up.  But she cut it out.  See, I'd get two beatings.  I'd get a beating at school and I'd get a beating at home.  But next time she'd give me a note, I'd take it home.  Well, say like I'm a boy and I like to play marbles.  Well, that was my punishment.  My mother knew I liked to play, and I couldn't go out and play marbles.  I'd have to study my books.  That was my punishment.  Then I loved to play ball.  I used to play ball around the front of that big dump.  Well, if I did something bad, I couldn't play ball.  I'd have to be there sitting on that porch. 

WT: Do you remember any incidents that happened in school? 

GD: My sisters was crazy about boys, and I would go home and tell mother about it.  They would jump on me and beat me.  We never got in no kind of trouble.  Nothing like that, see.  But sometimes, say they let school out at 4 o'clock.  When I hit that door, I hit it running because I know they're going to jump on me.  I'd go home.  My mother would want to know why I was running so hard, so I'd tell her they wanted to fight me out there. I couldn't whip all of them girls. 

WT: How may grades were there in that school?  Did it go to the eighth grade? 

GD: I believe it went up to the eighth grade.  I think it did.  I'll tell you one thing.  I could find out from Miss Flora Walker.  She's living right today. 

WT: She was your teacher? 

GD: She taught me for a while, because the lady who taught me, she was sick and she took her place.  She's 80. 

WT: When did they close that school? 

GD: I don't really know when they closed it down or whether she would know because she was just filling in for Miss Evans.  Miss Evans, she's liable not to know because she's in a rest home.  She's about 90 years old.  She might be a hundred. 

WT: Which home's she in? 

GD: You know where Supertane is?  Well, she's in that rest home right there.  She's from Harper's Ferry.  She taught there at Bakerton a right good while.... 

WT: Was she from Storer College? 

GD: I don't know. 

WT: There was another one, Mary Page, around 1920? 

GD: I don't remember. 

WT: Catherine Kent.  Does that sound familiar? 

GD: Yes, that sounds familiar to me. 

WT: Then there was Mrs. McDaniels. 

GD: Yes. 

WT: Can you tell me anything about her? 

GD: I didn't have her for a teacher. 

WT: Richard Jackson. 

GD: I don't remember him. 

WT: Margaret Evans must have taught there a long time. 

GD: She did.  She was there a long time.  See, after sixth grade I quit school and they might have come after.  See, they didn't compel children then to go to school like they do now. 

WT: You don't recall when they closed that down, do you? 

GD: No. 

WT: Your children didn't go to that school, did they? 

GD: No. 

WT: Where did they go to school. 

GD: My children started out in Harpers Ferry then Bakerton.  Gregg, he went to the Bakerton School. 

WT: Bakerton Elementary? 

GD: Right. Then they had a bus to take them to Harpers Ferry. 

WT: Before the schools were integrated your children went to Harpers Ferry? 

GD: Right. 

WT: Was there a black school in Halltown? 

GD: No.  When my children lived in Halltown, they went to Harpers Ferry School.  On the bus.  Then there were only so many grades there, then they finished up at Jefferson High. 

WT: Do you recall anyone ever telling you about a black school at Engle? 

GC: Might have been before I was born.  But there used to be a black family that lived out there.  John Lloyd and the Jacksons used to live there.  That's all I recall that lived there at Engle Switch.  See, they worked at the Bakerton plant. 

WT: Do you remember the names of Preacher Burrell's family? 

GD: Well, he had a couple of daughters.  He had a daughter named Mary Liza Burrell and he had a son named Wilbur Burrell. 

WT: What was his wife's name? 

GD: Her name was Kate Burrell.  That was Preacher Burrell's wife. 

WT: And he worked at the plant too? 

GD: He worked at the plant.  He drew lime out at the plant.  My wife's father used to work there at the Bakerton plant.  His name was Charles Togans.  He was from Virginia, and they moved over here.  And they lived up there in what they called Italy. 

WT: Little Italy? 

GD: Little Italy. 

WT: The plant had a baseball team. 

GD: Yes. 

WT: That was all white, wasn't it?  Did they have any blacks on the Bakerton team? 

GD: Blacks had a baseball team there, too.  They played down over the dump, in the flat down over there. 

WT: Did they have a name? 

GD: I forget the name of that.  See, they were all out of Virginia.  Then after they moved away, they just gave up  playing ball. 

WT: There was supposed to be a good black baseball team in Shepherdstown, wasn't there?  The Red Sox? 

GD: Right. 

WT: Did they play in Bakerton? 

GD: Oh yes.  They came down and played in Bakerton, too.  And then the whites got up a team and they played out next to the schoolhouse in the flat.  I've walked out there many a Sunday and set in the shade and looked at them play ball.  And they would play the black team out of Shepherdstown on that diamond.  They had a big time out there at Bakerton. 

WT: Was there any black men from Bakerton who played on that team? 

GD: No, that was just a Shepherdstown team.  By that time, all those old fellas had quit playing in Bakerton.  And the white team got up.  Those Jamison boys, they were good ball players.  And those Jamison girls ... [Louise Talley, Dot Miller, and Lillian Lloyd] ... my father set up on the porch, and we used to play ball in front.  When we got through playing ball and it got too dark, he called me up on the porch.  And they were singing, and he called them the McGuire Sisters.  And my daddy gave them a name -- the McGuire Sisters.  They can sing too.  I know all of their children.  I worked with their father, and I'll tell you, we would go to work at 3 o'clock at the plant.  We called him Monk.  He'd come down, come on out, and we'd go to work.  That evening he told me, he said "George, tomorrow you're going to have to call me.  Daisy and I (that's his wife), we're going to get the children ready for Christmas."  I said "OK, Monk."  He told me on his way to work, he said "You know I ate oysters and I don't feel good."  I said, "Monk, just go on over there and tell them you ain't going to work -- you don't feel good."  And you know that man dropped dead down in the mine.  He was down ... there's five levels in that place.  You just go on down.  He went out and told his helper he was going out to get an 8-inch scaling bar (he was a scaler) and he never came back.  And they didn't find him until a quarter after twelve at night.  They went down, and the level he went down [to] they had quit working in ...  And he died of acute indigestion.  And I told him that evening, "Monk, you just go and tell them you won't be able to work."  But, you see, when you've got a bunch of children, you got to go.  And we would get off work at 11 o'clock at night and sometimes, we had a place we'd set out there on this rock, and talk until about 2 o'clock in the morning.  We'd just sit there and talk. 

WT: Do you remember the Orebank at all? 

GD: Oh yes. 

WT: Was it still running when you were growing up? 

GD: No, it wasn't running.  All I know of the Orebank, people had built houses down there.  But I never knew about it running.  And also down below, they used to call the "Low Shed," you know, I never knew about those things running through there. 

WT: Can you tell me about any of the early stores in Bakerton?  Do you remember Mr. Millard? 

GD: Pres Millard?  He used to have, right in the main office they used to have, that was his store right out there.  It was a red brick building, and the plant took it over, and he moved out to the corner and run that for a while.  And when the people worked out at the Bakerton plant, and you'd run a bill with him, he'd get his money before you got yours....  And Martin Welsh, he used to work for him at the store....  Then after Pres went out of business, they closed that store down.  Martin built that little store across the road there.  That little white store?  And he had a lot of people deal with him.  He was short.  He was about as short as Skeeter, his son....  If I'm not mistaken, I think Spooney Manuel built that on the back of that store [Millard's] so they'd have a place to live.  Jap Manuel took it over and then he turned it over to his son, Spooney.  And the store right up from there, where the post office is now, his daughter -- Jap Manuel's daughter--used to run that.  Bertha.  She lives in Martinsburg. 

WT: Do you remember that store before the Manuels owned it?  Do you remember Sam Knott? 

GD: I don't remember Sam Knott....  I knew the Welshes who used to be there.  Roy Welsh, Pat Welsh, and all them.  They lived on down at what they used to call the pot kiln quarry.  Roy used to live up past the store in a big white house that sits back.  Skeeter lived in the little bungalo there.  There used to be a stable [?] out in front.  You'd walk right past it before you got to the house.  It was painted red. 

WT: Was there a beer joint down there, too? 

GD: Yes, Bud Rowe run the beer joint.  You know where Lewis Lloyd lives?  Well, there used to be a beer joint right over there.  And Wayne Jamison made a house out of it.  Then I think Wayne built a house in the back.  And right across the road [from the beer joint], that big white house used to be a boarding house.  I worked there for $6 a week.  [For] this man Nichols. 

WT: I know the Bakers didn't like drinking.  Did they have anything to say about a beer joint in Bakerton? 

GD: Well, they put up a big kick about it one time, but it didn't go through.  They put it up....  They couldn't do nothing about it.  It wasn't on company property.  I used to drink beer.  We used to go out the Row and go out the track.  Cut across the field.  We used to have a big time out there in Bakerton.  They used to sell beer in a quart can called Eslingers.  And that was all the kind of beer they would drink.  The people would come out of there with it underneath their arm.  If they didn't want people to see them, they'd go around, say like through this woods.  They'd shoot through there. 

WT: Was there anybody making moonshine around there? 

GD: Oh yes.  There was a fellow, he was a black guy, called Chester Jones.  Say like, I live up here, in these houses up here, a little shanty set down here.  It had a little building.  And any time you seen fire shooting out of the top, he was in there making his whiskey.  I could take you right to the place.  And see, the law got after him and he left.  They never did get him, but they got that still.  Yes indeed.  We drank a lot of moonshine there in Bakerton. 

WT: Did they used to get a lot of it from across the river? 

GD: Yes indeed.  From over Frog Hollow. I used to be a drinking man when I come along, but I don't fool with it now because I tried to raise my children.  But I'm 71 years old, and I never gave my daddy and mother a bit of trouble.  Never was in trouble in my life.  And I raised nine of my own.  And all of them growed up and got away from me.  I didn't have to have the law pull them out the door and say, "I'm after your son or daughter."  That's the way we raised them....  When me and my wife got ready to leave Bakerton, they didn't want us to move.  Them white folks didn't want us to move.  When I said I was going from out there, that phone would ring.  They wanted us to move back.  I told my wife, I've been there too long now.  Nice people out there.  All of them people are nice....  I always told my children, just like my dad told me, he said, "Son, if you see trouble, walk away from it.  Don't you stay there."  And that's the way I raised my children.  I only had to make it to the school one time about my two oldest boys.  And I went and I told them, right in front of the teacher, I said, "Now, if I make another trip to school, I'm going to beat you all."  I didn't have no more trouble.  And when these three children right here went to Jefferson High, when them children graduated, the principal come (I worked out at the school for 7 years), he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, "Mr. Dozier, I've got one thing to tell you.  If all the children in this school were as good as your three children that are leaving here, it would be a whole lot different school."  I thanked him, and I said, "Mr. Carter, I want to tell you something.  I didn't send my children to school to run over the top of you or that teacher.  I sent them here to learn." 

WT: Was Knott's Quarry still running in Bakerton when you were a boy? 

GD: I don't think so. 

WT: How about Engle? 

GD: I don't think that was running.  But I done a lot of hard work there at that Bakerton plant.  That didn't hurt me. 

WT: Do you remember Mr. Rice and the garage? 

GD: Albert Rice?  Yes.  You know where the Church of God sets? Well, down on the corner, there used to be a curb coming around, his garage used to set right there. 

WT: He used to sell cars, too? 

GD: He used to sell cars, Fords. 

WT: Do you remember a circus coming to town when you were a boy? 

GD: No. 

WT: Do you remember Mr. Carter?  He used to own a store and a stable. 

GD: No, but they used to have a horse stable in there, you know.  But I don't know who operated that. 

WT: Did you ever hear of Preacher Montgomery? 

GD: No. 

WT: April, 1918.  Robert Dozier dies of pneumonia. 

GD: That was my brother. 

WT: In the fall they had an influenza epidemic.  Do you remember that? 

GD: No. 

WT: Some people were telling me that Bakerton used to be a pretty rough place. 

GD: Yes, it was.  I've seen them down there in the field.  Them guys would get all drunk and they'd get to fighting.  I seen a guy pull a gun on a man when I was a boy.  His name was Jack Johnson.  And this other guy's name was ...  I don't remember the name.  This guy told him, "I don't believe you'll shoot that gun."  He didn't shoot it, and that guy took that gun away from him and like to beat him to death.  They had to call the law.  And down in the field below us, they used to get drunk and carry on.  And if they would have a meeting at the church, them guys would get all drunk up there and raise Sam..., they'd have them arrested.  They'd have to go to town or out at Bakerton, to pay a fine for disturbing the peace at the church.  Oh yes, there used to be a rough bunch out there. 

WT: 1921, John Proctor was shot by Henry James. 

GD: It seemed to me, like he lost an eye.  I remember my daddy talking about that. 

WT: Do you remember Shorty Evans? 

GD: He shot a boy called Buster Tinley, I believe.  He was a bad one.  And he got killed in Martinsburg over three cents.  Gambling -- rolling dice.  A fella shot him over three cents. 

WT: Was there a sheriff in Bakerton, or a constable? 

GD: I think Will Bowman was something like that.  Him and Kenneth Moler had a little office there in Bakerton.  Take people there and try them and all.  Will Bowman was a short man and Kenneth Moler was tall.  Yes, they used to have a little place up there. 

WT: And did the black community have anybody who looked out for them? 

GD: I don't think so. 

WT: 1923, Babe Carter burned up. 

GD: Yes. On down where we lived there used to be a shanty, and Babe was standing up in the corner trying to make it out, but he got to the wrong ...  you know, he was trying to make it to the door and he got in this corner.  He was standing up in there -- burned up.  I could almost take you to the spot where that place used to be. 

WT: There used to be a lot of fires out there? 

GD: Oh yes. 

WT: Did any of the plant ever burn down? 

GD: I don't recall about that? 

WT: 1924, William Hoffman killed.  Do you remember him? 

GD: No. 

WT: This is 1924, too.  Robert McGowan and James Grim hurt raising stacks at Bakerton. 

GD: I don't recall. 

WT: 1925, Mary Burrell ... backed down the quarry hole. 

GD: I recall that.  That was her brother's car.  Mary Liza Burrell, that was Preacher Burrell's daughter.  You'd come up the road like this, and over here is the quarry.  And her and this woman was in there, and she went over the thing.  They got held up on the trees and they got out.  It didn't hurt them.  They got trucks and things and pulled the car up; out of there. 

WT: Was there a black family named Bishop? 

GD: That was a white family, I believe. 

WT: Lowell Hetzell was telling me that a lot of people who worked in Bakerton lived across the river.  They'd come across in boats.  And a lot of people got drowned. 

GD: Yes, I think Guy Allen got drowned.  And I think his brother got drowned too, learning how to swim. 

WT: In 1926, Ray Hoffman and Kate Gross died crossing the river. 

GD: They sure did.  He had one arm and she was a real big woman.  I think she lived over in Dargan, but he lived in Bakerton. 

WT: 1927, Captain Myers, conductor on the Bakerton railroad, got killed. 

GD: You know, it seems I remember a man got run over by The Shifter in Bakerton. 

WT: 1927, Sam Potts and Thomas Sutherland were killed by a train at Engle.  Do you remember Sam Potts? 

GD: No. 

WT: 1928 was the murder.  Will Gray killed Ralph Beckwith. 

GD: Put him in the pond.  I heard people say he was running this man's wife.  And some way or other he got killed and they put him in the pond.  See, there was this long shed where they used to stack lime and stuff.  And they say they drug him through there and put these weights around him and threw him in the pond.  I think someone said he was in the pond about 17 days.  And he was standing up in there.   I remember when they got him out of there.  There was a steel part [turtle] on his head, and this boy, Stanley Springer, if I'm not mistaken, found him.  And he run and told the people about it and the people got together. 

WT: Ralph Beckwith's wife was a Burrell, wasn't she? 

GD: Yes....  Now, I don't think Will Gray was married, because he stayed with some of his people on down in that field, you know... 

WT: Did many people from Bakerton go to that trial? 

GD: I don't know whether they did or not. 

WT: Do you remember anybody called Uncle Bud Wilkinson? 

GD: No.... 

WT: Thanksgiving Day, 1928.  Otis Everett and George Fraley scalded to death in a railroad accident down at Engle? 

GD: I can't recall that. 

WT: Do you recall Abbie Keys?  She was a black woman that lived in Bakerton. 

GD: I heard of her.  That's when I was real little. 

WT: William Burrell. 

GD: That's Preacher Burrell.  I believe so. 

WT: There was also a black man named Edward Henderson. 

GD: Ed Henderson.  He used to work at the plant. 

WT: What did he used to do? 

GD: He used to wheel lime and stuff like that. 

WT: Elmer Griffin was electrocuted in 1932.  Do you remember that? 

GD: I sure do.  I remember bringing him out of the mine.  He went to pull a switch or something and it shorted.  And they had to take a board or something and knock him away from it.  That was Sam Griffin's son from over in Dargan.  If I'm not mistaken, I think he had another son that got blown up down there, too.  In that mine. 

WT: The next year Theodore Griffin died of a fractured skull. 

GD: Yes, right down in that mine.  And his daddy helped this blacksmith up on top at the mouth of the mine.  Sharpening these steel bits and things. 

WT: 1935, Lionel Cogel killed by a train.  There used to be some Cogles in Bakerton, weren't there? 

GD: Cogel used to be a family in Bakerton, but I don't know what happened to them. 

WT: Do you remember a black man who lived near Bakerton named John Fink? 

GD: No, I don't. 

WT: Do you remember anything about Frank Thomas? 

GD: He used to be the head of the lime plant.  He was a tall fellow.  I think he got killed in an airplane crash. 

WT: You probably remember Brian Houser pretty well. 

GD: Oh, yes.  He was my last superintendent.  He was a nice fellow.  You know, we had a union there.  Then the guys give him a rough time.  They wasn't satisfied with anything.  So one time he had a hall meeting.  Everybody had to be at the hall ... the community center.  Everybody went on out there.  Well, this fella claimed that Brian should pay him for the day's work he gave Dick Houser.  His name was Neil Ambrose.  Well, before the meeting closed, Brian Houser said "You know one thing?  You fellows are all the time arguing over this and the other.  I got something in my heart that will hurt every man on this job."  Nobody knew what it was.  But I remember it just as good as today.  We were down loading stone dust.  We saw these fellows coming down the road, you know, going to the office.  And this fellow called Joe Giffin used to drive a truck there, said "I'm going up and find out.  See what's going on."  He came back and said, "You know, Brian Houser said he had something in his heart that would hurt every man on the job?  Well, he's right."  He said, "They're going to shut this place down."  Now, they had a certain time to shut the lime plant down.  They had a certain time to shut the other part down, the stone plant.  And a certain time to shut the pulverizer down.  And the last day's work I did at the Bakerton plant, I could tell you what I did.  Pete Springer and I loaded ...[?] in bags, you know.  And when we got that car loaded, Eddie Mills locked the switchbox and said "That's it."  That was the last day I was on the job.  And Brian Houser come and told me.   He said, "George, I tell you one thing.  It hurts me.  You've got a lot of children.  You're doing the right thing."  But he said, "Anything I can help you to do ... get a job ... you let me know.  I went down to Langley to put that CIA building up.  I went down that morning.  I didn't say anything to him about my going down.  I caught a ride down and came back with Sonny Hough because he was a guard down there.  Security guard.  By the time I came out of there, Brian Houser came out of the store and talked to me.  He said, "George, were you down Langley today?"  I said, "Yes, I just went there."  He said, "I just put a recommendation in the mail for you.  I was in on a Monday.  On a Wednesday they called me to work,.  I worked 2 years and 6 months down there. 

WT: How did people in Bakerton feel when they found out they were closing the plant? 

GD: Well, some of them died.  Some of those old fellas just sit right there and died.  That's true.  I never had a thing that hurt me so bad.  I had them children.  I didn't know what I was going to do.  See, we were all depending on the Bakerton plant running. 

WT: Was there any warning they were going to do that? 

GD: They just sent you a letter. 

WT: Nobody knew beforehand. 

GD: No, nobody knew beforehand it was going to happen.  Burt he told us right in that meeting.  He said, "I've got something in my heart that will hurt every man on this job."  It sure did hurt us. 

WT: When did the union come in there? 

GD: I don't know when they came in.  It was called the A F of L.  That was the name of it.  But they claimed they would give us so much -- a big dinner -- they didn't get nothing. 

WT: Who was running the union in Bakerton? 

GD: Well, Albert Eaton, he used to be the book man, or something like that.  Several others, you know, Jimmy Moler. 

WT: Do you think the union did any good in Bakerton? 

GD: I don't think it did us any good.  I believe that if they didn't have that union, the plant would still be going.  I might be wrong.  But they used to kick up all the time.  They'd kick up a row about this and the other, what's right.  They'd give a man a day's work and they'd claim that was that man's day, you see. 

WT: What was it like there during the Depression? 

GD: It was awful.  I had to walk to Harper's Ferry to get food.  Sometimes I'd get beans and flour.  And that was it. 

WT: Were you working there during the Depression? 

GD: I was working. 

WT: Were there a lot of men out of work? 

GD: A lot of people out of work.  You might catch a few hours here or there, you know, and when the time came to get to Harper's Ferry, you walk all the way down there and bring it back in a little sack on your back. 

WT: Were they doing anything special down there during the Second World War?  A magnesia plant? 

GD: I think that was the first thing that went down, that magnesia plant. 

WT: They had women working in that plant, didn't they? 

GD: Oh yes, they had women working at the magnesia plant.  Joe Capriotti's wife was one of them, and the Jones girls used to work there. 

WT: Helen Mills? 

GD: Yes, she worked there....  I think Bill Flanagan's wife worked there....  I believe Eleanor worked there, too.  Brian Houser's sister....  I think Guy Moler's wife worked there. 

WT: How did people feel about having women work out there? 

GD: Well, they didn't like it so much.  You know what I mean.  But there was nothing they could do. 

WT: When the war was over, did they leave? 

GD: No, they continued on working there until they shut the place down.... 

GD: Joe Capriotti used to be a foreman there in Bakerton, and Guy Moler and Ronald Bush.  Bill Flanagan worked in the laboratory.  His brother worked at the air compressor -- blew the whistle.  Charles.  That's where he died.  The morning that he died, I could have told his brother because he was coming up to the plant and I was going to the store.  But I didn't say nothing to him, though we cut up and all like that.  I didn't tell him anything until he got out to the plant and found out for himself.  He went to blow the whistle and he dropped dead.... 

WT: In 1954, the Bakers sold the plant to American Marietta.  Did anything change then? 

GD: Well, they run some kind of thing from Millville, hauled over there, burned for a while, and then they shut her down.  Marietta shut that thing down  and then they shut down Millville, too. 

WT: Did you ever hear about any reason the Bakers sold the plant? 

GD: They claimed they went in the red too much, wasn't making no money. 

WT: They sold them all, though. 

GD: Yes indeed.... 

GD: [Duke's Woods]  That's where we used to have picnics down in there.  I think when they started that, it was Walt Flanagan, I think started having company picnics for them that worked over there at the plant.  And they could bring their families.  Had all kinds of food there for them.  And what was left, he would take it around on Ten Row and distribute it around for the people that had large families.  Johnny Moler and my daddy and Uncle Trav.  He'd bring it around in his car.... 

GD: [Joe Capriotti]  This fellow here used to be my foreman.  You know when they first came out with Christmas Fund?  He said, "I want you to give me two dollars every time you get paid."  I said, "Why do you need two dollars of my money for?"  He said, "I'll tell you later."  I said, "Listen, I'm not going to keep on giving you two dollars."  I already had several guys that way.  But he wouldn't tell us what he was doing with our money.  He just said he was saving it for us.  He had it put in my wife's name.  We had two hundred and something Christmas savings.  One day just before Christmas he said, "Has you wife got any mail yet?"  I said, "Not that I know of."  "Well," he said, "she will."  Come to find out he was putting it in the Christmas savings for me.  Joe Capriotti.  He was a catbird.  He was a nice guy, though.  I went to his funeral.  See, he moved from there.  They sent him to Woodville, Ohio.  He died out there.  Well, they brought his body back here.  His first wife was buried up here.   After they buried him, his second wife died the next day right up there in the hospital.  They shipped her body back to Ohio.... 

The Bakers used to come up there and eat lunch at the boarding house....  One of them named Young, was a big man.  Her had a chauffeur. 

WT: Did your church ever have baptisms in the river? 

GD: Yes, they had them down to the river, too.  There used to be a run, down over the hill there.  They fixed the place for water to be baptised. 


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Flanagan, James William.  Interview.  April 14, 1985.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault 

J.W.F.: One thing about the Oak Grove School was that Martin Dineen Welsh, Sr., his home was built out of the Oak Grove School. That's the Oak Grove School with the original windows and siding and everything. 

Q: That's the one that's across the road from Skeeter's [Martin Welsh, Jr.'s] place? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: How about the school itself. What was it like on the inside? 

J.W.F.: Well, it had a platform and it had the single-row seats. I guess there was at least forty or fifty seats in each room. It was a two-room school. It had a pot-bellied stove, back to back, there were two rooms, you know, where the two rooms came together. The upper grades and the lower grades. And, of course, the teacher and the blackboard was up at the end of the school, the west end of the school. And, of course, the children, all of us, always looked outside to see the engine go by, which came by from the orebank bringing ore from down to the orebank. And we had, the upper grades too, inside the school was a coat room for boys and girls at each, the south and north end or sides of the building. 

Q: How about the teachers? 

J.W.F.: The teachers were Miss Ethel Moler and Mr. Jesse Engle the principal and he was in the east of the school and Miss Ethel Moler was in the west. 

Q: Can you tell me anything about them? 

J.W.F.: Everyone, most all of the students were scared to death of Mr. Jesse Engle because he could really bring the switches in. He always cut them down in front of my house. That's where he got them, in that woods down there. And he'd bring them up and bring them in the school. And of course all the kids were scared to death. And then some of the kids, especially, I think it was the Walker children, two boys, would notch the sticks and when they would go to whip them down across the shoulders, why these sticks would just fly all over the place. And it was a good while before Mr. Engle would find out what was going on. Miss Ethel Moler would never whip the children. She would correct them. I don't know how many years Mr. Jesse Engle taught, but Miss Ethel, let's see, I was in the fifth grade, that would make it 1916. 

Another little instance was that one of the little Geary children was so upset because there was school, she was up and Miss Ethel Moler was trying to get her to write on the blackboard her ABC's and numerals. 

And, of course, the first thing you know, everybody got to giggling and wanted to know what was going on. She a ... a little stream of water started running off the platform down the floor. And that was in the first four grades. And we used to, I was one of them that would, I my toes sticking up through the seat and then the older boys would put ink on them, black. 

We had a lockout there. The teachers decided that they were going to do something to the children, make stricter rules, and so we decided we was going to have a lockout and the teachers had gotten word, but the students didn't know it. So Mr. Jesse Engle came real early one morning. Nobody knows how early he got there. And he climbed in the bell tower. And when it was time for school to open, he come climbing down the ladder out of the belfrey, and he said "Okay, everybody take their seats now." And of course that was very disturbing to everybody because they were going to have a big time. They felt sure they had teachers locked out and there wouldn't be any more studying that day. 

Q: Do you remember any of the people that taught over at Elk Run? 

J.W.F.: I knew Dave Gageby, Charlie Gageby, the Potts girl, Charlie Kelly. John Law was the colored person. [They were students.] 

Q: Was there a store in town that sold all your schoolbooks and things like that? 

J.W.F.: No. We had to go to Shepherdstown. I think most of us went to Charles Town, but you could go to Shepherdstown. You had to get the books at a nearby town, which was Shepherdstown or Charles Town. And all the other supplies you got on your own. Pencils, tablets, slates. 

I can't think of that superintendent's name, the one that ... Ike Bonham was the one that everybody was afraid of. They were always afraid that they'd be the one person picked out to do something because they always called someone to the blackboard. 

Q: Was the school year about the same as it is now, from September to May or June? 

J.W.F.: Yes. The school was from September. It started the first day after Labor Day or the first Monday after Labor Day. A lot of them didn't even go to school until winter set in because they were helping on the farm. Until the superintendent of schools set down the laws. Then they had a truant officer and you had to go to school or else your parents paid a fine. 

Q: How hard was it going to school during the winter time? 

J.W.F.: I only had to walk a short distance, but for some of them like the Geary children, Hoppers, even Mr. Jesse Engle himself and Miss Ethel Moler, they lived about a mile from school. And he always walked, as I remember, even in the snow he came up through the woods there out by our house. 

Q: So they got there every morning and got the stove going and got everything ready? 

J.W.F.: Yes. At first, we had a janitor, who was Mr. John Moler. He wasn't related to most of the Molers that lived around there. And he used to, I think he was the one now, that used to call himself "I look like Jesus" because he had a long beard and used to wear a black hat. 

Q: Do remember anything about the colored school? 

J.W.F.: Nothing at all. I don't remember the colored school at all except that they went to the [Black] Methodist Church for a short time in the latter years they built a house out there at Ten Row. 

Q: Were there a lot of colored people in Bakerton when you were growing up? 

J.W.F.: While I was growing up, there was, I'd say, at least 15 or 20 families. And we had an Italian group, a Yugoslav group. And a lot of colored persons that worked at the plant and didn't have family there with them came from Sperryville, Virginia, and Rapahanock, Virginia.  And this Grigsby man ran the, what they called a boarding house. He would buy so much food and the company built him a place out back, near the end of Ten Row, and built him a place where he served meals. And he served breakfast, lunch, and even dinner to the employees that wanted to  with him or didn't carry their own lunch. 

Q: Was Ten Row mostly colored? 

J.W.F.: Ten Row was mostly colored, and there were a row of homes that were back of the plant laboratory and east of the kilns themselves . They were foreigners of some kind. Italians, Yugoslavs, Czechoslovakians, most of them Italians. 

Q: Did the Capriotti's open a restaurant in town? 

J.W.F.: The first restaurant in town was Starry's of Shepherdstown started a restaurant. And then the Capriottis took over. Miss Nichols served meals in her home. Mostly Bakers ate there, Mr. Millard the store owner, and the superintendent. 

[Isabel Flanagan tells how Joe Capriotti used to make up big pots of spaghetti sauce and take them to Shepherdstown to sell. One evening on the way to Shepherdstown, he had an accident, and when the police got there they thought he was dead because there was red spaghetti sauce and meatballs scattered all over the place.] 

Q: Was what they called "Little Italy" out by the Capriotti's house? 

J.W.F.: No. Little Italy was west of the quarry, of the south quarry, and there were little shanties. There was one house and then about 10 or 12 little shanties, and this was south of Ten Row. 

Q.: About 1910, did a man called D'Antino become plant superintendent? 

J.W.F.: Joe Diyuta [?). He came in when Mr. Frank Thomas went to, Mr. Thomas was related to the Bakers. He was plant superintendent. And this Joe Diyuta was ahead of him because Mr. Thomas went into the service. He was in the first World War. And Diyuta became general superintendent. I guess it was Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas was in the airplane crash at Martinsburg, getting ready to go to Hampton, Virginia. 

Q.: Do you remember what year that was? 

J.W.F.: I think it was 1949. I'm not real sure of the date.... You have in there about me being foremen. I was made foreman when Mr. Garvin took Mr. Thomas' place. 

Q: Can you tell me about each of the Bakers that you knew? 

J.W.F.: There was Mr. J.H. Baker who was president of the company, and I guess I talked to him not over 5 or 6 months before he died. And then I knew Mr. Daniel Baker, who became president of the company. And he was Mr. Joe Baker's son, and Mr. Joe Baker lived in Buckeystown, Maryland. At one time, I would imagine, I think he was superintendent of the Monocacy Corn Company of Buckeystown. And Mr. Joe Baker. Let's see, Joe, Dan, and David were sons of Mr. Joe Baker. I knew all of those and then the youngest boy came along, Daniel Baker. And he still lives down near Baltimore. He's a salesman for the industrial sales. 

Q: He works for Martin Marietta? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: Can you tell men anything about any of them individually? 

J.W.F.: Mr. David Baker was the buyer for the coal. Most of the kilns were coal fired. 

Q: How did the people in town like the Bakers? 

Oh, they thought they were wonderful people. They thought there was nobody like the Bakers. And, of course, when it was reported that Martin Marietta was going to take over, why everybody was very much disappointed because there was no one like the Bakers. Even the community around at Moler's Crossroads and Harper's Ferry. They helped with the Church. The quarry at one time, to advance the quarry southward, they had to take the Southern Methodist Church, and of course, by selling the church to the company, then the company, that was the Washington Building and Lime Company at that time, they gave so much money toward the present church in Bakerton. The Methodist Church. 

Q: Do you remember any other incidents about the Bakers? It doesn't sound like it was a "company town" in the bad sense of the word. 

J.W.F.: Oh no. They contributed to almost everything that went on in Bakerton. They built the community hall. No, they bought that property from Rice. They did build the Church of God, the Bakers did. They gave them the land and the church at long as they would use it as a church. And they contributed to the school. Of course, they bought the Oak Grove School, and then built in 1928 all those present homes in Bakerton. The rent was $8 a month. 

Q: What kind of salaries did people make back in those days? 

J.W.F.: Back in the 1920's, the first salary I remember when I first went to work was 33 cents an hour. That was labor, and then, of course, foremen, or supervisors, or timekeepers, they got different salaries But it was 33 cents, and I started to work on February 4th 1928, and I  worked for 31 cents an hour. And finally got up to 35 cents and then to 50 cents, then to 72, and when I became foremen I got $117.50 per month. But that was a good salary at that time. And when I was elected foreman of the laboratory I got $150 per month. 

My dad worked for $6.60 a week. He worked six days a week and when he came home he had $6.60. A dollar and ten cents a day. 

Q: Can you tell me about Mr. Thomas. 

J.W.F.: I think he married a Baker. I don't know. It was just working conditions that Mr. Thomas would come around and talk to you about. I guess I was as close to Mr. Thomas as any working employee because he asked me to do certain things. On Mrs. Lomay's house in Westminster, 

Maryland. We put out a special whitewash we used to make. It was a secret formula at that time. And we'd go around to different places, and finally Mr. Thomas himself built a home up here in Martinsburg and then the town sort of built up around him. The reason he built there, I think, was because it was part of the company property. Because it adjoined the north end of the quarry that was known as Thomas Quarry. 

He didn't like anybody to bother him, so he built a home back out there in the country. And it was a beautiful new brick home, and we had to use this secret whitewash formula on his house. It wasn't exactly secret because we got close to some people in Washington, D.C., and they divulged that they were using it in Washington, D.C., and on the Maryland state road the same whitewash was used. And I don't guess it's much of a secret at this point, because it contained white cement, titanium dioxide, stearic acid, and several other chemicals that were used. And so we put it on Mr. Thomas' house when it was a brand new brick home to make it look old rather than to be a new one. And I worked close with him because I had to move around. They'd send me to other plants such as Woodville, Ohio, Strasburg, Virginia. In later years, I tried just about all of them, Manastee, Michigan, McCook, Illinois, Pleasant Gap, Pennsylvania, Millville 

Q: What other kinds of things were you doing? 

J.W.F.: I was sort of a sales contact man. Customer relations. The salesman would have a problem with the product he was selling, whether it was stone dust for coal mines or finish lime for use as a light coat in homes. They would run into a problem or a customer would have a complaint to make and I followed up with the salesman and referred back to the company whether it was our fault or the product's fault or just who's fault it was. We got a lot of calls. There were certain people I really was very close to in New York, especially, and even as far as St. Louis in the Veteran's Hospital out there. But most of it was done on finishing lime, which was manufactured in Woodville, Ohio. And I went to that plant. 

Q: Do you remember anything about the influenza epidemic, going back to 1917 or 1918? 

J.W.F.: It hit Bakerton rather hard because it was a close-knit community and there was a lot of illness with the flu around, and some very good friends of mine died. We had a good many deaths at that time. And we had two cases in my own family. My brother and mother both had the flu, and my cousin Harold's mother [my aunt] died with the flu, and that's how mother was at her funeral and came back sick. It was a blow to the community because every day you'd want to know if so and so was over the flu. And the doctors were having a time of it. We were having a time getting doctors because at that time there was so much sickness around, it was a long time before you could get a doctor. Of course, the flu at that time was something new and doctors didn't know exactly how to handle it. They'd keep you in bed and drink plenty of liquids and things. 

Q: What was it like when World War I started? 

J.W.F.: World War I, there wasn't too many from Bakerton. Most of them served overseas. But we had no fatalities and never even had a wounded person come out of any of these World War I, World War II, Korean Affair. We even had two in the Mexican affair with Villa. And there was one wounded, that was Charles Hoffmaster, and one death, that was the Mahoney boy in Viet Nam or Korea. 

Q: Was the plant doing anything special during World War I? 

J.W.F.: I don't know. The plant during World War II was making magnesium carbonate. The magnesium carbonate was for J.T. Baker Chemical Company of Phillipsburg, NJ. They took the output of the plant until the war started, and after the war started we had to put in two electric furnaces at the carbonate plant, and this was shipped to the rubber people--Goodyear, Goodrich.  

Q: That's World War II? 

J.W.F.: Yes. And also when they were making that synthetic rubber, because rubber was scarce from the areas where they were getting it and they had to add something else to it. So magnesium oxide was made from the carbonate by these electric furnaces. And that's when the first women went to work at that time at Bakerton. 

Q: Which women worked there? 

J.W.F.: Mrs. Willie Mills, Mrs. Guy Moler, Mrs. Helen Mills, Mrs. Edward Cox, and the Jones girls, Bertha and her sister Hodgie Jones, Mrs. Virginia Moler. 

Q: Did any of them continue to work there after the war? 

J.W.F.: No. After the war, they furloughed them. And the plant sort of failed after that because it was too expensive to manufacture. It was put in as a pilot plant. It wasn't put in to really make money. Well, to make money, yes, but not as a full-fledged plant. And it finally just dwindled away. They didn't have the business, and it was too costly to manufacture. 

Q: What was it like here during the Depression? Did it hit Bakerton as hard as it did other places? 

J.W.F.:  During the Depression, they started laying off people from certain jobs, and then it got down to the point where they had laid off  so many people and, since it was a town where each one owned their own home or the company owned the home, they split up the workday by one working three days a week instead of 5 days a week. At that time, they were working on a 40-hour basis instead of a 7-day 8-hour day. They worked 40 hours and each person was allowed half the time. 

Q: What was the reaction here when people found out that the mine was closing down? 

J.W.F.: Well, everyone got sort of on the despondent side, decided what they were going to do and started looking, figuring whether they were going to sell their homes or whether some other industry was coming in or just what they were going to do. And they got to transferring them around. And some of them got a choice of where they wanted to go, and others had to go to other companies, scattered out to other cement companies, iron companies, or just whatever they could do, farming. 

Q: Did they get much warning that it was closing down? 

J.W.F.: Well, I'd say it was about 2 years before it phased out completely, but I'd say they had at least a year's warning before it started to close down. 

Q: Did they have a union here? 

J.W.F.: A union was formed. I don't know just how long [ago] it was, but the union wasn't recognized for a good many years, and then they finally did recognize them. Well, the company decided it better.   I  wasn't in on the union side because I was a supervisor. But the reason they got the union in was because our customers were unionized, such as the steel companies.  Most of our business went into steel at that time -- United States Steel, Pittsburg Steel .... We shipped to a lot of steel mills and paper mills, and they were all unionized, of course. 

Q: Was this before the Bakers sold out? 

J.W.F.: The Bakers finally consented to the union coming in. Well, the employees themselves had to vote the labor union in. But it was a long time before the employees would recognize the fact that the Bakers wasn't being just as good and the union had nothing to offer to them that they were not already getting from the company. 

Q: Do you remember when the "Safety News" started? Was it in the early 130's? 

J.W.F.: At least. They were always interested in safety. The safety programs were very competitive among the plants. There was Millville, Bakerton, Martinsburg, Capon Road. Some of the safety teams trained the children and their families in first aid. 

Q: Is this something that started because of the accident rate? Do you remember any of the accidents that happened there? 

J.W.F.: Well, I guess the worst of the first accidents at the plant that I remember, even before working there, were loss of fingers, crushed hands, feet, flying objects, things in the eye, things like that. But  some of the worst accidents even after the plant was fully mechanized.  Mark Horn was one of them and Bill Williamson. He was from Charles Town. He went through the stone-sizing plant, and they were crushed between the wall and the side of the screen. It was called a screen house. And it had different size openings and the screen took care of four sizes of stone. I think it was from two inches down to dust. And there were certain sizes of screen called number one, number two, number three, and number four. And Bill Williamson and Mark Horn were doing some welding work and the control, electric control, was tripped accidentally some way by some person. Of course, it beat these two men up beside the building. Mark Horn had I guess forty or fifty bone breaks in his body, especially pelvic area. And he laid in the hospital, I don't know how long.  And Bill Williamson was pronounced dead. And a similar accident happened with Strother Lynch. Strother Lynch, somehow or other he got in the stone sizing plant and they found him with the stone down on top of him. His scalp was split back over his head. And he still talked to you and asked for something to drink and a cigarette. And they hauled him into Charles Town hospital and lived a short time. But he died the same day. An another one was during an electrical storm, two men were killed in the mine, were loading dynamite into these kiln holes and it went off at the time that the electric storm was going on outside of the mine. They figured that that was what caused the accident. Nobody knows for sure.  Some of course wanted to call it an act of God, but you never know in cases like that. 

Q: There was a Trundel that got killed in the mine, wasn't there? 

J.W.F.: Mr. Rion Trundle was killed walking along the narrow railroad track. And he was talking to two other people. And they don't know whether they were joking with one another and he accidentally stepped in front of it or whether he was in front of the train and the operator of the locomotive didn't see him. And he was killed. Melvin Hoffmaster was injured by a runaway truck of stone that was running down an incline and pinned him up against the side of the mine entrance and broke his hip. And he laid in the hospital for a year. And Raymond Hoffman. He was in the factory pressure room and an arm was caught in a fly wheel and came off. And there were other bad accidents out there. I just can't recall. 

Q: Do you remember anything about the Orebank? 

J.W.F.: Well, no. Not the Orebank. The only thing I remember was that as children we used to get all excited about the train coming by if school hadn't let out. It was an evening run that went down to the Orebank, or the Orebank engine and cars would come out to transfer their material to the main track. And the B&O that served our plant, the Washington Building and Lime Company and then the Standard Lime and Stone plant, and then American Marietta, and finally Martin Marietta.  Why, they'd transfer the ore over to that. And there was a washer at the Orebank that washed the ore. That's about the only thing that was down there. They just got the ore out of big pits. I never even saw one of the pits. They always said it was so dangerous because if you fell in and nobody could hear you or saw you fall in, you'd probably stay there and die. 

Q.: Was there a little community down there? 

J.W.F.: No. There was only a few houses, about half a dozen houses, two or three log houses as I recall and two stone houses. Two big stone houses where the Eaton family and the Jones family lived. It was owned by someone else. I don't know who owned the Orebank [Savory]. William H. and his brother from Rye, New York, I think. 

Q: Can you tell me about any of the stores in town, back as far as you can remember? 

J.W.F.: The first store I remember was the commissary, and it was run by M.S.R. Moler and P.S. Millard. And they ran it for their own profit, but they sold to the company. And the company insisted that they let the people have their products at a reasonable price on credit, and their bills would be deducted from the payroll. of course, the law came in later on and they couldn't do that. And one story that comes to mind was about the several people that run up bills that they couldn't meet. 

We tried to keep them down, of course, as much as we could. I worked there in 1925 and 1926, and part of '27, before going to school and going to work for the company working in the laboratory. And there was one in particular. I think I can tell his name. He was Charlie McDonald. And he lived at Engle at that time and worked in the quarry at Bakerton loading stone. And he had a large family, and he bought all his groceries there at the store and boots, shoes, gloves, hats, most all things that were necessary. And at the end of each month they would have to pay. Later on, they didn't deduct it from the payroll check Some of the people at the plant never even knew how much money they'd made or how much they were to draw, because they took all the money they had made to pay their bill and there was nothing coming to them. This one in particular was Charlie McDonald. And Mr. Millard, I heard him say several times, maybe about in July or August of the year, "Charlie, you're getting a little behind." He'd say "No, Press, sorry to say you're the one a little behind." 

But another good thing that would happen out of these types of accounts was Mr. Millard was very good. And he was another man that was well-liked besides the Bakers because (he was in the Baker family some way or another), at the end of the year, he would go to what we would call the account registers. They had two of them, and there were a couple of hundred names in each one. They had that many accounts to take care of. He'd go to the register at the end of the year and take every one of those accounts and tear them up and throw them in the waste barrel. And tell them to start over new the first of the year and try to keep their accounts within reason to where they could handle their accounts, and at least draw a little bit of money. Of course, later on it was compulsory by law that you couldn't draw and attach their wages at the company office and it was up to Mr. Millard to collect the best way he could. 

Q: Where was that store located? 

J.W.F.: That store was located in the place where the brick building was, in the identical location. It was a wooden building, and at that time Martin Dineen Welsh, Sr., was sort of the general manager of the store. He was the main clerk for Mr. Millard at that time. And he lived in the house adjoining the store. It was attached to the store. 

And then they had a fire. The building burned, and Mr. and Mrs. Welsh both narrowly escaped. The floors of the upstairs burned their feet in their escape from the flames. And that was rebuilt into a brick building and the same people operated it. Mr. Millard continued to operate it. 

Q: Was Mr. Carter's store before your time? 

J.W.F.: No. Mr. Carter's store was during my time. The Carter store was where Joseph Capriotti, who owned a restaurant for some time, and the Starrys owned a restaurant there also 

Q: Where was that? 

J.W.F.: Out where Bernie Bradgon lived. 

Q: So that house was built where the store used to be? 

J.W.F.: Yes. That burned also. 

Q: And he had a livery stable too? 

J.W.F.: He had a livery stable and furnished horses for the Bakerton plant. They hauled the stone to the incline, which was then pulled up by cable and motor. The garage was built much later. The fire destroyed most of his horses. And then, of course, the plant was mechanized then. They didn't need horses. They used dinkys and cars. 

Q: How about Sam Knott's store. Was there anyone running a store there before him? 

J.W.F.: Mr. Millard owned the store before Sam Knott owned it. He built that place, that I know. I'm not sure on that. But Sam Knott's store, he did run the store up where the post office is. Sam Knott ran a store there, but there also was a company of Moler, Knott, Carter, and Rice.  The bowling alley was in the basement. A movie and athletic floor was up on the second floor. The house part was in the back. Sam Knott was  before he moved to California, because he had a barber shop in the back that was run by a man by the name of Huckleberry. 

Q: Where was the blacksmith shop located? 

J.W.F.: The blacksmith shop was located across the street from Martin Welsh, Jr. It was run by Mr. A.G. Rice, Albert Rice. 

Q: Was that what they used to call Poketown? 

J.W.F.: Yes. I lived in Poketown, on down the road farther. 

Q: Where did the name come from? 

J.W.F.: Pokeberries. The woods down there was full of pokeberries. And that stained. I don't know how many people would fool with those berries and get their hands all stained, and stained their clothes. 

Q: You said there was a beer place there too? 

J.W.F.: Right across the street from Martin Welsh, Jr. Wayne Jamison has built a house over there back in the yard farther. 

Q: Who ran it? 

J.W.F.: Bud Rowe. He ran the beer joint, and I lived at that time over where Martin D. Welsh, Jr., lives now. I lived over there. We belonged to what was known as the young adult Sunday School class at the Methodist church, and we used to have meetings at different homes. And this particular night was at my home, and they had a juke box over at this beer joint and while the meeting was going on, well, we said we were going to have a prayer now. Brother Lowell Hetzell, will you please lead us in prayer. And he started praying, and just as he started praying, the juke box started over at the beer joint and one of the records was "Makes No Difference Now." 

Q: Was there illegal liquor around there during Prohibition? 

J.W.F.: I know a lot of the men at the quarry lived at Dargan. They bought whiskey over there, but I don't think there was too much of it. They did, at Frog Hollow, have their special bottle with a frog on it. That was made special, Frog Hollow white lightning. 

Q: When did the Manuels come in there to the store? Was that in the 1930's? 

J.W.F.: Yes, I would say they were in there in the '30's. 

Q: Did they run the post office too? 

J.W.F.: No. The post office was in the wooden store or commissary, in the front part of it. The post office was in that building. And after that it came to the store on the corner down there. And there was quite a race for who was going to get that post office because it was up for appointment at that time. And there was Roy Best, Martin Welsh, Sr., and Jasper Manuel were all after the post office, and finally Martin Sr. got the post office (this was after Mr. Millard left the post office) and moved it across the road. All this happened after Mr. Millard. Martin Welsh built the store over there. 

Q: What time was that? In the '40's? 

J.W.F.: Before the '40's. 

Q: Before World War II? 

J.W.F. Yes.  When I started to work in 1928, they had a coal shed there then. Different kinds of coal -- soft coal, hard coal -- it was all bought from Mr. Millard. Millard was still over on the corner. Mr Millard lived in Harpers Perry after he moved because the house was needed for the new superintendent. He commuted by automobile from Harpers Ferry to Bakerton. I don't know when Mr. Millard died, exactly. He was sick a while too. 

Q: I have an article here from the Shepherdstown Register, August 1917 and it says C.D. Carter, S.L. Knott, Carrol Moler, and Albert G. Rice were arrested for operating a motion picture at Bakerton without a license. They were raising money for the Methodist Church. Do you remember that? 

J.W.F.: I don't remember when they were arrested. 

Q: Do you remember the car dealer? 

J.W.F.: Yes. Rice and Carter, but Rice finally ran the dealership himself. I might mention that all those cars came out of Baltimore. They were shipped into Baltimore by boat and he'd pick up a bunch of boys (I was one of them), and we'd go to Baltimore and drive cars back to Bakerton. And we had all kinds of problems with those things. Either they'd run out of gas or they'd get the engine too hot, or something would happen. Of course, there wasn't too many hard surface roads back then. 

Q: What kind of cars did he sell? 

J.W.F.: He sold Maxwells and later sold Fords. 

Q: Where was that located? 

J.W.F.: The community hall. That was the garage. 

Q: Do you remember how much they cost? 

J.W.F.: Three or four hundred dollars. 

Q: Were there many people who had cars in Bakerton then? 

J.W.F.: No. Cars didn't start coming into Bakerton much before the early 1901s. I had a Star made by the William Durant Company. They went bankrupt. I don't know when the predominance of cars started coming into Bakerton. Charles [Flanagan] had a 1925 Ford with a rumble seat. 

Q: How long was the car dealership open there? 

J.W.F.: I would say through 1929 or '30 because I had a 1928 Pontiac, and I got the Pontiac from A.G. Rice, who was the dealership there at the community hall. And then he moved to Charles Town and I bought a 1931 Chevrolet. 

Q: Do you know if there are any members of the Rice family still living? 

J.W.F.: The only ones I know of would be Woodrow, Gilbert, and Bernard.  Geneva Carter married an Emory. She's related to the Rices. 

Q: Do you remember anything about gypsies coming through here. 

J.W.F.: Gypsies would come along the railroad track down at the underpass. I know they used to be down there. And I think some of them came down there to Duke's Woods. But they didn't stay very long because they run them out. Anywhere there was a settlement, they didn't stay around. But they were down around the Old Furnace, from there on up to Engle. But they didn't bother the townspeople around there very much. 

Q: Do you remember anything about a circus coming into Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: Yes indeed. We used to have a circus, across from where the church is now, up to the time the church was built. But they had Hunt's Circus come in there. They used to have traveling tent shows, plays and things would come in there. They had them out there at Carter's store. And also, there was a vacant lot across from the Methodist Church, on the other side of the highway there. And we had a carnival in that vacant lot. 

Q: Where Charles Knott lives now? 

J.W.F.: Adjoining Charles on the west. Lester Staley, he brought that carnival in there. 

Q: Do you remember when the telephone came in there? 

J.W.F.: The first telephone that was in there was Carter's, C.D. Carter. And everybody used to wear those people to pieces to go up and use the telephone. And I used it many a time. And then D.R. Houser was the second one. That was back, I don't know what year, but it was somewhere between 1905 and 1911. And I don't know who had the first electricity, because the plant was run by steam at one time. 

Q: Can you tell me about the murder? 

J.W.F.: Well, the murder that happened was, a pretty large-sized pond was across from the store and restaurant. The whole area in there,  clear to the edge of the quarry, was one big artificial pond. And two boys from school, which I think was Guy Moler and Daniel Link, were in the same class with me. And we carried water from the plant out there. That's where the water tower was. There was a well there. And they carried water to the Oak Grove School down on the corner. And that was the route they would come by the pond. They'd come over the hill there down to the school. And this object was seen on the surface of the water, and they started picking up stones and throwing them at this object. And when the waves started, why naturally it showed it was a person's head. And it hadn't been reported, I don't think. He was a married man, Ralph Beckwith. And it was finally reported because they thought this William Grey (they were both colored) was ... It was a family argument between Grey and Beckwith. At least it proved out in court. And my brother Charles was one of the witnesses. And the reason he was called as a witness is because this Grey had borrowed a .38 handgun from Charles. And the bullet that was found in Beckwith's body matched the gun. So that's the reason they called Charles to Charles Town to be a witness. And Grey had threatened Charles because he thought he was instrumental in being brought to trial for the murder. And naturally, he was right, but apparently he contested Charles' statements and reported around, and it got back to Charles that when he got out of the penitentiary he would get even with Charles, or he threatened to kill him. So Charles was part of this also, and in the meantime Will Grey died in prison and soon after Charles died also. So that's the way it happened 

Q: Charles Knott seemed to think there was a woman involved in that murder. 

J.W.F.: It was Beckwith's wife. 

Q: Did she go to jail too? 

J.W.F.: No. Nothing happened to her that I recall. 

Q: Can you tell me anything about the Flanagan Quarry? 

J.W.F.: The only thing I recall about the operation of that quarry was the little dinkys running back and forth, bringing the stone to those six kilns that were up in front where the Welsh's home was. There was an ore barge sunk in the river down at the Orebank. It's still down there, I think. But I don't know very much about the operation of the Flanagan Quarry other than that the stone was quarried out, put on a scow, and taken across the river to what they called Broken Lock. And they put it on canal boats and took it into Georgetown. They had a boat named after my grandmother, "The Mary Ellen." They used what they called one-man stone" 8" x 4". They couldn't carry anything larger than eight inches. 

Q: I seem to remember Juanita Horn telling me that her father, John Moore, used to live in one of the Flanagan houses before he built the house that she now lives in. The way I understand it, John Moore used to work at Flanagan Quarry and used to boat stone down the river. 

J.W.F.: He might have lived where Strother Hoffmaster lived, above the main house. Down next to the river there were a couple of houses down there until the 1936 flood that the company owned. The Washington  Building and Lime owned and the men that worked in Bakerton lived there. Sam Mormon, George Bredon, there's two that I know of. And Sam Mormon was the one that started the first electric air compressor that supplied air to the air drills in the quarry in Bakerton. He was the first man to start that electric air compressor. Nobody else could start it. They didn't know how. Sam Mormon. And he moved to Washington, D.C., and lived right across the street from Uncle Will on Eye Street. 

Q: Those houses you were talking about down on the river, they were north of the Orebank? 

J.W.F.: North of the Orebank and right on the road. 

Q: Between Flanagan's Quarry and the Orebank? 

J.W.F.: Yes. In other words, the dump that runs out there. These houses sit right on the bottom, right on the river, right by that dirt dump down there. 

Q: Juanita Horn said that George Washington Jones used to boat stone out of there. 

J.W.F.: I didn't know that he did. I didn't know what he ever did. 

Q: James Smith Flanagan was your grandfather? 

J.W.F.: Yes. He died about 1923 or 1925. So I don't know very much about him, other than we used to go down there when the whole family got  together. There was about 45 or 50 of them all together. 

Q: You went through eight grades at Oak Grove? 

J.W.F.: I went through seven and started the eighth at Shepherdstown and then went to Shepherdstown High School, and I went one year down to Harpers Ferry. 

Q: After that you came back and started work at the plant? 

J.W.F.: I came back and started work at P.S. Millard's at the store, the commissary. That was in 1926 or '27 and on February 4th of '28 1 started with the Washington Building and Lime Company. I went to Shepherd in 1925 and '26. 1 finished up some highschool and college work. I didn't get a degree at college. It was a secondary degree they called it in those days. I think I had 8 or 16 hours of college work I took Latin, Algebra. 

Q: Why were those two Methodist churches as close as Bakerton and Engle? Did they have their own group down there? 

J.W.F.: They had their own group but never at any time was that on the same charge. That was on the Harpers Ferry charge. It was Bakerton Shenandoah Junction, and Millville. Moler's Crossroads didn't come in. They were with Camp Hill or Bolivar. 

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Flanagan, James William.  Interview.  July 23, 1985.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

Q: Can you tell me about Marshall DeHaven and Mr. Kaufman? 

J.W.F.: No, other than, Marshall DeHaven, when he left Bakerton, he went to McCook, Illinois, to be Superintendent of that plant.  And Mr. Kaufman, he was a Charleston, West Virginia, man, and I didn't know much about him. 

Q: So he wasn't a regular there? 

J.W.F.: Oh, he left very early...  No, he died early.  He came from Charleston and he was in charge of the laboratory. 

Q: Do you have any idea when that picture might have been taken? 

J.W.F.: I'd say it would have to be around '28 or '29....  No, it's later than that because the plant didn't start til '28.  The laboratory wasn't built until after 1928. 

Q: Was Oscar Flanagan one of the Superintendents? 

J.W.F.: No, he worked in the cooper shop.  They made wooden barrels to ship lime.  And then he went in the First World War in 1917 and came back in 1918.  Then he left here and, as far as I know, the last place we heard from him was, he was at Purdue University teaching the military -- tactics.  He was a machine gunner. 

Isabel Flanagan: He was the grandson of James Smith Flanagan, one of the Flanagan brothers that had the quarry, and a brother to Bill's father. 

Q: It was Walter Jerome Flanagan who was Superintendent. 

J.W.F.: Both at Bakerton and at Capon Roads.  They opened a plant at Capon Roads, Virginia. 

Q: Do you know when he was superintendent?  He wasn't still superintendent when you came in? 

J.W.F.: No, Uncle Walt came down there when Mr. Houser retired.  That's the reason he came -- he came from Strasburg.  And in the meantime ... Strasburg on the south end of town had a plant, and it went on strike. So they wouldn't start that plant, so he stayed in Strasburg, lived in Strasburg for a year before Mr. Houser -- they retired him or he decided to retire himself.  And they brought Uncle Walt in to Bakerton. 

Q: Mr. Houser retired around '38.  Could your uncle have worked there after '38? 

J.W.F.: Oh, yes. 

Q: Was Brian Houser the next one after that? 

J.W.F.: No, they had John Bean from Washington; and Sidney Mash, he came from Havre deGrace; and Jack Frost, he worked for a cement plant up in New York. 

Q: Why didn't those fellows stay around long? 

J.W.F.: Well, they didn't get along with the personnel, I guess, was the main reason.  And the Baltimore officials were not satisfied with the work they were getting done.  I don't think any one of them left of their own accord. 

Q: Mr. Thomas probably would have made the decisions? 

J.W.F.: He would have made the decisions on any plant that they owned at that time. 

Q: So, if they didn't get along with Mr. Thomas, they wouldn't stay around? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: What did your father and brother do at the plant? 

J.W.F.: My dad was a laborer, and he was in the cooper shop.  And then he went into what we call the lime room, where the kilns were.  A few men -- Lawrence Welsh, who was related to Lowell Hetzel, Lawrence was John Welsh's son. 

Isabel Flanagan: Charles was the air compressor operator and dad did what Charles did. 

J.W.F.: Well, dad was for a short time.  After working in the lime room, [he] loaded lime into boxcars, he and Lawrence Welsh.  He and dad worked together for years and years.  And then he tried a stretch at being foreman and he didn't like that so he went back to his old job -- laborer. And when he left there he was with what we call the stone plant, preparing the sizes of stone and operating whatever stone the kiln demanded at a certain time.  He took care of that. 

Q: Did your brother work in Millard's store? 

J.W.F.: Yes, he was considered assistant postmaster there. 

Q: So he worked the one out on the corner, the newer store. 

J.W.F.: He worked the one right on the corner...  That's where Spooney Manuel started out....  And because of better pay, he [Charles] left Mr. Millard and the store and post office and went out to ...  He got a job out at the plant operating the electric air compressor.  That's when they started the electric air compressor that this Mormon started.  And he was running that.  That's when he dropped dead on the job.  Twenty-one years old..... 

Q: I've made a copy of John Welsh's diary and I thought maybe you could help me out on some of these things.  He mentions Carter's Hall 

J.W.F.: That's where the post office is now, but I didn't know it was ever called "Carter's Hall."  Maybe that's why we can't read that name [on the store sign].  What could you read on that picture of the hall? 

Isabel Flanagan: I thought I read the word "Manuel."  I don't remember. 

Q: Was that building once owned by Mr. Carter? 

J.W.F.: Four of them -- Carter, Moler, Knott, and Rice. 

Q: Was that before Sam Knott operated the store, or was it at the same time? 

J.W.F.: Excuse me -- it was not Rice.  It was Knott.  Rice had no part of the store building or the hall.  It was a combination of a bowling alley in the basement and on the second floor was considered a movie house and stage.  They brought in outside plays.  And they ran an opera house there -- or called it an opera house for a good many years.  I couldn't tell you how long. 

Q: Was that when Sam Knott was operating the store, or was Jap Manuel there? 

J.W.F.: That's when Knott was running it.  And he and his wife and son lived in the house part of it. 

Q: Do you remember anything at all about the first Methodist Church? 

J.W.F.: The only thing I remember about the Methodist Church is my Sunday School teacher was Miss Beulah Trundle.  And it was a brick [building] and had stained glass windows, and set up there across from the Superintendent's house. 

Q: Do you remember any of the Sunday school superintendents? 

J.W.F.: David Hetzel and William Capriotti and Guy Moler.  Mr. Carter was the oldest Superintendent that I know of.  But it was a red brick church and seated probably a hundred people. 

Q: I know that other Methodist churches in the area, such as the Uvilla church and the Molers' Crossroads church, had some differences of opinion on music in the church and other issues.  Were those types of controversies going on in Bakerton while you were there? 

J.W.F.: No.  Now, outside entertainment of any kind was condemned, of course.  Nothing that they had a controversy over.  [In later discussion, Mr. Flanagan remembered that the Church of God was formed because of a disagreement among members of the Bakerton Methodist Church.] 

Q: There was no problem with church music or an organ in the church. 

J.W.F.: No, organ and piano were both in the church.... 

Q: Did the Bakerton Methodist Church ever have baptisms in the river? 

J.W.F.: Church of God, maybe, but I don't know of anyone ever requesting to be baptised in the river. 

Q: The Beckwith murder took place in 1928, and I got the newspaper article.  There were a couple of things I thought you might help me out on.  It said that Beckwith had talked to the management of the company and had gotten Will Gray fired. 

J.W.F.: It could have happened, but I don't recall it. 

Q: Mr. Houser would have been Superintendent in '28? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: The other thing that puzzled me was that the article said Beckwith was shot five times.  Was there any place in Bakerton in 1928 where you could shoot somebody five times and drag him out and stick him in a pond without anybody knowing about it?  Was it noisy enough there at night so that could be done? 

J.W.F.: Yes, because the machinery was running at one end of the building and where he was dragged on the floor, clear to the other end, which was at least 100 to 125 feet away from where he took him out the back door. 

Isabel Flanagan: It was noisy there, all right. 

Q: So they were running night shifts there. 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: It sounds to me from what Guy Moler was saying that the colored section of Bakerton was pretty rough back in those days. 

J.W.F.: Well, on the beginning of Saturday evening, you didn't dare go out that way.  At least, my family wouldn't let Charles or I go out because you could hear gunshots clear over until midnight Sunday.  It was some kind of shooting going on or some kind of fighting. 

Isabel Flanagan: There was one thing I remember my dad saying to me more than one time.  He ran that paper mill.  He was just the foreman at the Harpers Ferry Paper Company on the Potomac River.  And they bought lumber locally, trees -- pine and poplar.  And it was delivered by truck and dumped in the mill race, where it was floated down and soaked for the barking machine and everything.  And I remember my dad saying that when they had charity nights when they had payday in Bakerton that they used to come down, a lot of them would come down the river to the saloons that were in Harpers Ferry.  And this one guy (remember Jack the Bear?), I don't know who he was, but I remember my dad used to talk about this terrible big guy they used to call Jack The Bear.  And he was inebriated and killed there at the crossing one time on his way back one Saturday night.  But I have no idea who he was.  But dad said they would come down a lot of times and they would lose their money sometimes in the roadway and get in scraps.... 

Q: Do you remember somebody called Shorty Evans? 

J.W.F.: Yes, I do.  He was a pretty rough character.  I worked over at the laboratory and he had a little shanty right near there.  And I guess he practically ran things among the colored race....  But he had everybody afraid of him, or he thought he did.  He would take and pull a gun out and shoot at your feet. [Laughs]  You had to dance for him.  He did it one night there, I think someone told us, he did it there in the store.  He and Charles used to have quite a time. 

Isabel Flanagan: But then Charles had quite a time with everybody. 

Q: Another name that came up in Welsh's diary was Preacher Burrell.  Can you tell me anything about him? 

J.W.F.: Nothing other than he was a very respected colored preacher. He was very strict and he tried [to keep] his family [in line] but his family would give him a rough time.  Once in a while, one of them would get in some kind of brawl or drinking or just in trouble, and one night they took him out to jail over there, and he said "Oh Lord, not mine!" 

Q: He worked at the plant, didn't he? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: And I think Guy said he was a kiln tender. 

J.W.F.: I would say so.  It was the shaft kilns, not the rotary, because he didn't work after the rotary kilns. 

Q: Was he preacher at one of the two colored churches at Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: Was it the one on Ten Row? 

J.W.F.: The first one that I knew about in preaching -- of course, I didn't know he preached at all out at Ten Row -- the house out there on the right hand side as you are going out there toward the plant.  Just before you get to the road that leads down to the farm where -- the old Moler place.  Right across from, there was a green lawn there where the church was torn down. 

Q: It was his daughter who was the wife of Beckwith, wasn't that right? 

J.W.F.: Yes, she was a Burrell. 

Q: Was her name Mary? 

J.W.F.: There was a Mary, but I don't think Mary was the one. 

Q: I've got an article here -- June 24, 1925 ... Mary Burrell backed down a quarry hole.  Was that one of Preacher Burrell's daughters? 

J.W.F.: That was the older daughter. 

Q: Do you remember that event? 

J.W.F.: Yes, I do.  I didn't see it or anything, but I remember talking about it.  I think we went up there after they got them out and everything.  But I didn't know that she was injured very badly and taken to the hospital.... 

Q: Where did people vote in Bakerton? 

Isabel Flanagan: It was at the school house when I worked there. 

Q: How about before that? 

J.W.F.: I don't know of any place except the old Oak Grove School and the other school. 

Q: Was the school used for social events or Carter's Hall? 

J.W.F.: Carter's Hall, but I never knew it being called Carter's Hall. 

Q: I think they also called that Knott's Corner? 

J.W.F.: That was Sam Knott who owned part of the building you were talking about....  He either bought or ran that store for someone. And then he must have sold it because I know he had part ownership of that building above, and he lived in the back -- both he and his wife and son. And after his wife died, he and his son moved to California. 

Q: What did John Welsh do out at the mine? 

J.W.F.: Ran what we call ... he worked in the hoist house.  That is, he drew the little cars from the quarry loaded with stone up on top to be delivered to the kilns. 

Q: January 4, 1928, Strother Lynch died.  Wasn't he killed in an accident? 

J.W.F.: That's the one I told you about. 

Q: September 28, 1927, Sam Potts killed.  I think that was a railroad accident. 

J.W.F.: That's right, on a handcar.  He was a track workman there.  They had three people there that just took care of the track from Bakerton to Engle.  They repaired the track -- kept the rails in, took the ties out and replaced the old ones. 

Q: Did he work for the B & O or the Company? 

J.W.F.: B & O. 

Q: May 26, 1927, Capt. Myers, conductor on Bakerton car, killed. 

J.W.F.: I think it was right near the door where they drug this man out that shot Grey.  It was right near the railroad track ... road and railroad track that he was hit and run over by the engine.   I think he was really cut in two because they gathered him up by his arms in one of those big wicker clothes [body] baskets. 

Q: Guy Moler told me about three other boys who went to Buckingham School.  He said Grover Mill's three boys.  His wife died and he got sick and they went there.  He said Joe and Bill Capriotti's father got killed in Martinsburg? 

J.W.F.: At Martinsburg. 

Q: Do you recall any others who went there from Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: No. 

Q: Guy Moler seemed to think that the school was primarily for boys from families of people working at the Bakers' mines or whatever. 

J.W.F.: That's true. 

Q: It was their way of taking care of them because there wasn't any insurance or pension or anything like that. 

J.W.F.: That's right....  I wish you could talk to Ralph Whitlow, because he was Safety Engineer and he was at Buckingham School.  He taught there.  If I'm not mistaken, he was Superintendent of the School. And he lives in Martinsburg, now, but he's not in very good shape. 

Isabel Flanagan: He's very confused. 

Q: May 16, 1928, Robert McGoun and James Grim hurt raising stacks at Bakerton. 

J.W.F.: Could have been.  Both of them are familiar to me. 

Q: April 17, 1924, big hoister Grisley installed at Bakerton.  It the Grisley the crusher? 

J.W.F.: Yes.  The crusher and the Grisley were a combination.  The Grisley sized the stone.  In other words, it was a rotary screen.  You were talking about Mr. Welsh a while ago.  What he did, he brought the stone up, he dumped it (just tipped the car), and it went into the crusher.  And from the crusher it went by conveyor to another elevator and into the rotary screen, which had three or four different openings. 

Q: March 29, 1924, Walter Hoffman killed. 

J.W.F.: I knew him as Buck Hoffman....  If it's the same one, it's Arnold Hoffman's father that lives down in Harper's Ferry -- is a minister down there at the [Assembly of God Church].  But he was struck by another employee.  In other words, they went to switch ... they had two trains, small dinkys with these cars, and they had a passing point.  And where the passing point was, somebody didn't throw the switch and they ran together and he was killed. 

Q: January 30, 1924, Preacher Burrell died.  Mr. Jesse Engle died January 20, 1924.  From what I understand, he did not teach at the new school. 

J.W.F.: No. 

Q: And I think Guy Moler said when he started school around 1913, he said Mr. Engle was teaching the upper grades [J.W.F.: That's right], but by the time he got there Mr. Engle wasn't there.  So it must have been around 1918 that Mr. Engle retired....  September 5, 1921, John Proctor shot by Henry James -- both of those colored. 

J.W.F.: I know them, but I didn't know very much about the shooting. They were both a little on the rough side, like Shorty Evans. 

Q: September 6, 1921, John Ewings found dead in Mountain Lock.  That was quite a way from Bakerton, so I don't know if he was a worker or someone Mr. Welsh knew. 

J.W.F.: I would say he's related to him, I'm not sure.   They crossed the river to work. 

Q: Guy Moler gave me a copy of the Millville Plant's safety paper, and it was a memorial edition on the death of Mr. Thomas.  August 3, 1948. 

Isabel Flanagan: We were on our way back from Texas.  We were on our way back from New Orleans and Texas.  And Olin Knott, just as soon as we got out of the car at my parents' home, came by and told us Mr. Thomas had just gotten killed. 

Q: Do you recall the memorial service at the Church of God?  Did you attend that? 

J.W.F.: Yes, but I've forgotten all the details of it. 

Q: Were there a lot of people there? 

J.W.F.: Oh yes, the church was crowded. 

Q: Were there other members of the Baker family there? 

J.W.F.: I don't remember. 

Q: I think J.H. [Baker] was still alive. 

J.W.F. Yes, he was still alive. 

Q: And Daniel III was president at that time.  I think he [J.H.] retired in '44 and died about 10 years later. 

Isabel Flanagan: Isn't he the one in the picture, the one who used to wear the white suit and bow tie? 

J.W.F.: That's David Baker, brother to Daniel....  Was Guy one of the boys that discovered the body? 

Q: I forgot to ask him....  May 5, 1919, Will Smith killed. 

J.W.F.: I knew a Will Smith but I've forgotten what he did. 

Q: I think he was an engineer.  [END OF SIDE I] ... 1918, Annie Flanagan died.  What relation is Annie Flanagan to you? 

Isabel Flanagan: Your father's sister....  Annie Flanagan Moler. 

Q: I think I talked to you before about the influenza epidemic.  Did she die from influenza? 

J.W.F.: No, she died of a heart attack. 

Q: I've got a whole bunch of people here who died in September and October of 1918.  See if any of these might have died from influenza. Emma Daugherty, September 12, 1918. 

J.W.F.: I don't know. 

Q: Rene Houser. 

J.W.F.: Yes, that's true. 

Q: Harve Huff or Hoff. 

J.W.F.: I don't know. 

Q: Mrs. Millard. 

J.W.F.: True. 

Q: Wallace Grim. 

J.W.F.: True. 

Q: It also says here, September 9, 1918, Olin Knott hurt.  I guess that's Charles' father.  Do you recall what kind of accident that was? 

J.W.F.: Going down that road going into the farm there, where the church was, they lived on the Moler farm then.  He was doing the farming there. And he was driving a wagon load or corn or wheat, I don't know which it was, but anyway it hit a stone and threw him off and the wagon ran over him.  And nobody thought he'd ever live.  But he got over it all right. In fact, he lived to be ... 

Isabel Flanagan: Walter Flanagan's wife died of the flu -- Daisy. 

Q: There's a fellow in here called Preacher Montgomery, does that sound familiar? 

J.W.F.: I've heard of him, but I couldn't tell you what the details are. 

Q: November 22, 1917, Howard Hetzel hurt at quarry.  Do you know what relation Howard is to David? 

J.W.F.: Lowell Hetzel would know. 

August 2, 1917, Jack Barret was killed in the mine... 

J.W.F.: I don't remember too much about that. 

Q: John Welsh wrote this in three different places in his diary: January 23, 1917, Will Grim, Raymond Grim, and Dick Show drown in the river. 

J.W.F.: That was quite a bad accident. 

Q: Were they crossing the river? 

J.W.F.: Yes.  They had a channel, and the channel broke up on account of the weather getting warmer.  And the ice came together and just crushed the boats.  And a good many of them got out.  There was at least 40 or 50, maybe as high as 70 people crossed that river at one time to work at Bakerton. 

Q: Did they do that every day? 

J.W.F.: They did it every day, yes sir.  Had all those boats tied up on that river front down there.  That was near the old Flanagan Quarry was where they tied up. 

Q: Did you live down by Juanita Horn? 

J.W.F.: No, I was born and until 1972 lived in the same house.  My father built the house. 

Q: September 5, 1914, Mack Kidwiler drowned at Paul Jones Rock.  Do you have any idea where that was? 

J.W.F.: No. 

Q: May 27, 1915, Roy Summers drowned. 

J.W.F.: No. 

Q: 1915, Nick-the-Talley drowned 

J.W.F.: No. 

Q: December 22, 1914, Patty Kephart Killed. 

J.W.F.: No, I heard my father talk about it, but I don't know anything about it.  I was born in 1905, so I was nine years old. 

Q: Joe Cox was killed at Knott's Quarry 1914. 

J.W.F.: No. 

Q: In 1913, when you were 8 years old, Griggs Flanagan was killed by George Knott's team. 

J.W.F.: I remember it very well. 

Q: How old was he? 

J.W.F.: Sixteen.  He was going to Shepherdstown School.  And he jumped out...  his mother  was bringing him back home and there was a team of horses that was running away, and he jumped out to catch the horses and fell beneath the team and was killed.  And he was very well liked by everybody around Shepherdstown.  He went to school at Shepherdstown ... he never went to school at Bakerton as far as I know. 

Q: I was looking at an old deed, around 1913, and it was still talking as though Peacher's Mill was still operating.  Was Peacher's Mill still going when you were a boy? 

J.W.F.: I can almost visualize that mill, but it was on the north side of the underpass.  Peacher's Mill wasn't at Engle, it was right on that road. 

Isabel Flanagan: It wasn't right where the pumping station is now? 

J.W.F.: No, it was across the road ... railroad tracks from the pumping station.  That foundation, where they used to dump stuff. 

Isabel Flanagan: Where the gypsies were. 

Q: You're coming from Route 340 and you go over Elk Run and you go through the underpass [J.W.F.: Yes, only there wasn't an underpass there then.], and you start up the hill [J.W.F.: Yes].  And how far up there would you go then? 

J.W.F: Twenty-five or thirty feet on the right. 

Q: There is a little bit of a stone foundation there.  What you're saying is that it was part of Peacher's Mill. 

J.W.F.: I'm not 100% sure, but I think it is.  It's in that neighborhood anyway.  Either on one side of the road or where the pumping station is on the other side of the railroad. 

Q: Was there some kind of sluice there from Elk Run going there for water power? 

J.W.F.: Yes, it was a run. 

Isabel Flanagan: Is this the building Gilbert Perry built his house out of the stone, that he hauled from Peacher's Mill all the way up the river road and up Harper's Ferry Hill? 

J.W.F.: Yes, but I don't know whether it came from that mill or not. 

Q: Where is that house located? 

Isabel Flanagan: It's a stone house ... Do you know where Shugert's house is?  You know where the Hilltop House is?   Well, Hilltop House is on one end of Ridge Street and Shugert's house is on the other end, as far down almost as you can go on the river side, overlooking the river. And the stone house is just before you get to the Shugert house, right ... if you turn and go into Ridge Street, going into Harper's Ferry from  Allstadt's.  Right at the top of the hill, after you pass what used to be the old high school you make a turn to the left and go right straight back and that house sits right there on the river.  It's mountain stone, and he hauled, with teams of horses, stone from the Mill at Peacher's Mill. 

Q: Is this cut stone or rough stone?  Was it cut into blocks? 

Isabel Flanagan: No, it wasn't.  It was rough stone. 

Q: The area you're talking about was pretty close to where the old furnace was supposed to be [J.W.F.: Right].  Did you ever see a furnace down there? 

J.W.F.: No, I think I heard your dad talk about it.  He mentioned one time, I think, that it was still there. 

Q: Do you remember any other mills operating?  Was Knott's Mill still running?  Spring Mill? 

J.W.F.: No.  That's near the Grange Hall you're talking about.  The only thing I remember is my dad used to talk about they used to hold dances there at the Grange Hall.  Barn dances. 

Isabel Flanagan: There were saw mills around through the mountains. 

Q: One of the earliest stores was Millard & Engle, I think it was Mr. Jesse Engle. 

J.W.F.: No, but I know who you are talking about. 

Q: Do you know what relation that Jesse Engle was to ... the fellow who owned the store was named Jesse Engle, at least from the article I read. 

J.W.F.: Who was the one who ran the grocery store over in Charles Town in the Engle family? 

Isabel Flanagan: Was that Pierson's family? 

J.W.F.: Yes.  Kevin was the oldest boy, wasn't he? 

Q: Mr. Engle's obituary said he was Superintendent of the Harper's Ferry District for something like 20 years -- School Superintendent.  And that doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me because he was teaching during that time. 

J.W.F.: That's right.  I.N. Bonham was ... superintendent. 

Q: In Helen Mills' book, she has Mr. Jesse Engle as Sunday School Superintendent. 

J.E.F.: [I don't know] unless he was Superintendent of the little Presbyterian church over there. 

Q: Are you aware of any church records or church minutes, aside from the quarterly minutes, that would have any of this information? 

J.W.F.: None at all. 

Q: Do you recall any WPA road project coming through Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: No...  When they put the highway down from Bakerton to 340, that was (I forgot the contractor that did it) but before that was done, to prove that the stone at the Bakerton Quarry would work in that project, they laid the road down from the store out there on the corner to the plant.  That road has never been repaired.  It's got potholes and everything in it... 

Q: I understand Joe Capriotti's house was built on the foundation where Carter's Store was.  Is that correct? 

J.W.F.: Yes, that is exactly the location. 

Q: Can you tell me anything about Mr. Carter? 

J.W.F.: Well, he was constable of Harper's Ferry District.  He and two other men always hauled the payroll from [the Bank of] Harper's Ferry to the plant.  I don't know if it was Friday evening or Saturday evening, but once a week they paid the men at the plant in cash.  And they always went to Harpers Ferry, went the lower road.  And they always had to carry two guards with them and bring the money...  And he was Superintendent of the Sunday School there.  He was a leader in the church there.  His whole family was, and his son [Dick] went to Randolph-Macon, we wanted to make a minister out of him, but he didn't quite make it... 

Q: Were you a boy when they made that subdivision down there?  You know that land where Bakerton Elementary and all those lots in that area behind the Methodist Church. 

J.W.F.: Yes ... I thought Carter owned that. 

Q: It looks like he was planning on building a city in the middle of Bakerton. 

J.W.F.: I don't know, but I think he planned on building so many houses and there was to be a restriction placed on the builder, how he was to build.... 

Q: I have a plat of those building lots and one of the streets is named Carter Street and one is named Preston Street. 

J.W.F.: I don't know if Mr. Millard had anything to do with that or not. I think Carter owned that, though. 

Q: Do you remember a rendering plant? 

J.W.F.: Allen's Wonderland.  I don't know very much about it, only that they always ... I never liked to talk about it very much because they used to talk about the man that ran it, who was Mr. Gift.  And he was a mighty nice man, but he ran the rendering plant and whenever he came around everybody got away from him. 

Isabel Flanagan: Didn't Gil Perry own it? 

J.W.F.: Yes, he owned it. 

Isabel Flanagan: Let me tell you, one thing is worse than that.  On Saturday night, when I worked for Potomac Edison, I would take a turn as a relief cashier on Saturday night because people from the country all came in to pay their bills.  And when they got off from work at Miller Chemical ... I don't know what they did at Miller Chemical, but it smelled like dead fish that had been dead for quite a while.  You hated to put the money in the drawer with the rest of the money.  And that rendering plant was just about the same. 

J.W.F.: I don't know much about the operation other than Mr. Gift ran it, he and his son Bill. 

Q: Do you remember when that was running? 

I.F.: In the 30's. 

Q: Guy Moler was saying that there was a store down at the Orebank.  Do you recall that? 

J.W.F.: Since he said so, yes.  But I don't remember the exact location of it. 

Q: Two brothers ran it ... Boyers. 

J.W.F.: That's exactly right.  That Grace's father. 

Q: Jack Boyers, does that sound right? 

J.W.F.: Yes. 

Q: And I think there was another brother....  Do you recall when the Presbyterian Church became the Baptist Church?  In the '50's? 

J.W.F.: Yes, if not the '60's. 

Q: Do you know what church that one combined with? 

J.W.F.: With Elk Branch [at] Duffields on the Shepherdstown Road, the back road going into the race track, Flowing Springs Road. 

Q: I know an Engle gave them the church ground. 

J.W.F.: Mr. Billy Engle.  That's D.R. Houser's wife's father. 

Q: At one time, it sounds like there was Mr. Millard's store operating out at the plant, the brick building ... it burned and they built a brick building.  And at the same time Mr. Carter's store was operating, I think before 1917. 

I.F.: It was Knott's store, I think.  Was Knott's store also operating at the same time? 

J.W.F.: Yes, at one time. 

Q: Did you ever hear any reason why the Bakers sold the company? 

J.W.F.: Yes. I don't know how much I should talk about it, or whether it's true ... It was because of the Orphans' Court Settlement ... Most of the money was Mr. J.H. Baker's and Mr. Joe Baker and a Holmes Baker. They had the money, see, and of course when he died, I understand to take care of a tax problem or something, because of Orphans' Court in the State of Maryland, that they had to get rid of it, other than to give the money to a stranger, they'd rather sell it to another company, which was American-Marietta. 

I.F.: Did they start to have some union problems, too? 

J.W.F.: That had nothing to do with it. 

Q: The other rumor that I heard was that someone in the Baker family had sold some of the stock and they were afraid that they would lose control or that they had lost enough stock in the company so they were no longer sure they had control. 

J.W.F.: I think that's true.  That was Holmes I was talking about ... Another thing, I don't know whether they were tied in with Baker-Watts in Baltimore.  That's a big bank. 

Q: I think that was founded by Joe Baker, Jr. 

I.F.: That's a brokerage firm. 

Q: Right.  ...  The Bakers owned part interest in a cannery.  Did they sell their own products in Millard's store? 

J.W.F.: I think that was Monocacy Valley ....  I'm not sure they sold it in their own store, but if it was, that's their brand they sold in their store. 

Q: Do you remember anybody named Nicodemus who used to make ice cream? 

J.W.F.: Yes, I do. 

Q: Did they sell that ice cream in Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: Yes.  Robert Nicodemus.  And he worked in the little laboratory that you had the picture of ... I worked with him. 

Q: Did he live in Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: No, he lived at Frederick. 

Q: So he commuted from Frederick. 

J.W.F.: I don't know whether he commuted every day ... Yes, I think he did. 

I.F.: All the drug stores and candy stores handled Nicodemus ice cream in the loose containers, where you dipped ... and they also sold ... they delivered it right off the truck.  But do you know that the Nicodemus ice cream truck was on the last span, the only span of the river bridge at Harpers Ferry that didn't go out?  Thay boy, Roy Metzer was driving.  That ice cream truck went across that bridge and the span didn't go out till it went out behind him, in 1936.  It was the last thing across. 

J.W.F.: The Nicodemuses are related to the Bakers also.  That's the reason he came ... through Mr. Thomas.  Bob Nicodemus was boss of the Bakerton laboratory. 

Q: There were two people killed with Frank Thomas, the manager of the Martinsburg airport and a George Baker Treide. Was there anybody with that last name in Bakerton? 

J.W.F.: No....  He had just finished school and was going down to Kimbalton, Virginia, plant and it didn't get off the ground. 

Q: I talked to Charlotte Ramsburg and she gave me Daniel Baker V's address and telephone number....  He's the one they used to call Danny Boy? 

J.W.F.: Yes.  Now Danny Boy is Mr. Joe Baker's son. 

Q: Daniel Baker III never had any children. 

J.W.F.: That's right. 

Q: He's working with an engineering company.  She sent me out ten copies of the Accident Round Table. 


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1985 April 14.  Notes on Bakerton, by Mrs. J. William Flanagan 

Around the turn of the century there were tent meetings, revivals in Duke's Woods.  At one of these tent meetings Walter Flanagan met his wife the former Daisy Jones daughter of the minister. She died in 1918 with the "Flu", they had one son Walter Harold who was educated at VMI. He is deceased, has a son Michael living in N.Y.  Michael and his wife are both Artists. 

In the building across from the present store was a store that was operated by Jasper Manuel. In the basement was a bowling alley and the store was on the first floor with a barbershop in the rear and also living quarters for the Manuals. On the third floor was an opera house where movies were shown. 

The Bakers were instrumental in getting the present Methodist church, an exchange of land and financial help in building it. 

The old Oak Grove school house was bought by the late Martin Welsh and used in building his home where his widow now resides. It is located on the road past the store on the right before getting to Duke's Woods. 

The Community Hall was first used for a garage.  Rices had the dealership for Maxwell automobiles. Rice and Carters were in the Ford Agency business together there too. 

The Bakers who owned the quarry build the Church of God. 

A company store out near the quarry was operated by Preston Millard.  It burned, was rebuilt and then later turned into a supply house for Bakers company -- The Washington Building and Lime Co. 

Joe Capriotti and his wife Clarisse opened a restaurant that specialized in home made Italian spagetti and they had a soda fountain and a snack bar too.  It was on the road to the quarry on the right on the corner leading to the school house. 

In the 1920's there was a murder in Bakerton, a man by the name of Ralph Beckwith was shot and his body thrown into a pond with weights on it. He was shot by William Grey who was sent to prison where he died. 

An epidemic of smallpox broke out and the victims were housed out in shanties which were later burned. 

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Flanagan, Isabell.  Notes on Conversation with Mrs. Flanagan, March 23, 1986.  Interviewer unknown. 

Mrs. Isabelle Flannegan presently lives in Martinsburg, but grew up in Harpers Ferry. She has a number of living relatives that also grew up in town. Mrs. Flannegan is in her early 80's yet is able to care for herself and her husband. She is very enthusiastic about discussing Harpers Ferry and there seems to be no end to her recollections on the subject. Her memory is keen. She says, "I can remember Island Park distinctly, but I can't remember where I put Bill's socks this morning." She obviously has an intense love of Harpers Ferry and has several scrap books of her own poetry, newspaper clippings, post cards, and photographs all pertaining to the town. She has even written her own informal history. The walls of her house have several paintings and photographs of Harpers Ferry. She often talks about how hard it is to get old and be separated from dead friends. Yet she is not morose. She told humorous story after humorous story and was well acquainted with political developments like the proposed motel and actions of Dixie Killum. 

Mrs. Flannegan told me of reading for hours upon Jefferson Rack or upon the Harper Cemetery wall. She asked me if I knew that it was possible to almost be a part of a story or a different ti period when you are in Harpers Ferry. She talked of reading The Robe and almost seeing the characters come alive. She spoke of how wonderful Harpers Ferry was for a child growing up. She told of neighbors who were called grandpa and grandma and aunt and uncle, but who were not truly relatives. Her stories convey a real sense of community and texture. 

Mrs. Flannegan married Bill Flannegan when in her forties and eventually lived in Bakerton. Her maiden name was Kerns, and as will follow, she is the great-granddaughter of Frederick Roeder. At this first visit I did not ask for details like dates. I simply let her talk and we shared enthusiasm and love for the town. I did not have a tape recorder, therefore, what follows is from memory and notes made during our conversation. 

Mrs. Flannegan lived in the building that now houses the Buffalo Nickel Café, right down from the Spangler Inn Bed and Breakfast. She can describe the interior of the building when she grew up. She says when she was very young the front porch had fewer thin supporting columns than it now has. She said her father put in thick columns to block the view from the street of the house and the Kerns girls. Mrs. Flannegan wished the present columns had not replaced those of her memory. Mrs. Flannegan worked for Potomac Edison at one time in building 11. She also worked for Mr. Savory as a stenographer. Savory would send a driver and chauffeur for her and she would take shorthand. She said he was very nice and would call up people, give her the phone and tell her to write down what they said. Mrs. Flannegan's father was a foreman at the pulp mill on the Potomac. She also mentioned: sleeping on the porch on a glider in order to hear the sound of the trains' steam whistles, the river, and bullfrogs -- -the Red Cross setting up coffee urns on the porch during floods. Before the Red Cross would get there her mother would open a canteen. 

Mrs. Flannegan described the town as bustling and alive in those days. She talked of how safe it was to walk anywhere she wanted without an escort. [At other points she describes some pretty rough situations however.] St. Peters was never locked and had vigil candles. Mrs. Flannegan's father caught pneumonia almost every winter and was often near death. She talked of being so worried and getting up in the middle of the night and lighting a candle at the Church. 

When I asked Mrs. Flannegan about the Confectionary, she said her family had always referred to it as a bakery. She did mention family stories about Roeder making fancy wedding cakes, sweets, and taffy on large marble sheets. Mrs. Flannegan showed me photographs of her grandmother Mary Louise as well as her great-grandmother, Frederick Roeder's wife. She says that Harpers Ferry has similar photographs of them both stored in the Lockwood House. (She also said that Archie Franzan has a full genealogy of the family as well as many other things she gave him on the town.) Hilda Staubs took Mrs. Flannegan and her sister, the donator of the photos, to see them a few years ago. Mrs. Roeder was in a taffeta dress, dark hair, hollow cheeks, and looked thin. She does not look like an old woman, but seems gaunt and sober. Mrs. Flannegan said she had the impression that Mrs. Roeder died from having too many children too quickly. In the photo I saw, Mary Louise was a tiny women. She stands with several very young children and is no more than a foot taller than they. Mrs. Flannegan says that Mary Louise lived with her family on and off until Mrs. Flannegan was nine. In addition to caring for her six brothers and sisters after her fathers death, Mary Louise went on to have seven of her own children. Mr. Kerns was a German immigrant who had been working for Roeder for a fairly short time. Mrs. Flannegan also said that Mary Louisa was called "Aunt Louisa" by the community. Apparently, she was called to the bedside of any dying person and was often summoned. Mary Louisa was a very religious women and Mrs. Flannegan kept talking about how she was called an angel by those who knew her. 

Mrs. Flannegan told me how her grandfather Kaiser was a soldier in the Army of Northern Virginia (no details at this point). Apparently he lived in her house for a while as well. She talked of how she had been brought up to see Gen. Lee as next to God and the Confederacy as next to heaven. Later, when she found out that Roeder, her grandfather Kerns, and Roeder's son were all Union men, she wished her family had told her so she would have had a more sympathetic and balanced view of the war. 

She said that Roeder's son Augustus joined the Loudoun County Rangers. 

Mrs. Flannegan said that the confectionary had an iron porch on the first floor like the one presently on the second when she was growing up. She said that Tom Burley was the only other person, besides Kerns, to own the confectionary before the Service. Burley's daughter was Mrs. Flannegan's best friend when they were kids. She said the tavern had furniture in it while it stood empty. She said there was a big mirror behind the bar and she and Burley's oldest daughter used to dance the kan kan on the bar when they were in fifth grade. She said the place had the worst dust problem in the world. She asked me what we were doing with it and I told her. Then she asked me what we did with the upstairs room and I said "nothing". She smiled and I asked if she knew any stories about that room. She looked embarrassed, started to say yes, then said no, then said none she wanted to tell. I said I thought I knew what she was talking about and had heard a few stories myself. She then said the men used to play cards up there. She showed me a tiny photograph of the tavern. It looks like early twentieth century, two guys in front of an ornate bar with pint glasses and a bartender between them behind the bar. A lot like the bar photo Stan Hadden ran in the Eagle, but much smaller. There were several advertisements visible and a mirror behind the bar. The impression I had was that the photo was taken through the door with the photographer shooting from the street up at the bar. 

The Lockwood House had a family story as well. Somehow she claims to be related to Archibald Kitzmiller, who she said lived in the Lockwood House and worked in the Master Armorer's House. She said his daughter had made a special wedding dress and had left it on a chair. During a tea she was giving on the Lockwood House lawn, the fire in the stove caught the dress on fire and destroyed it. 

Mrs. Flannegan told me about the many and large crowds of people who would go out to Island Park. She said it had the clean sand for the children to play in, concessionaires, picnic tables, a well and a pump near the rear of the island, a carousel that she dearly loved, "wonderful swings that would swing way out", and the bandstand. She said the Gazebo was originally built for Jenny Smith, a railroad evangelist who held a service there. Apparently the railroad sent an excursion train down for this and many other occasions. Mrs. Flannegan also remembered cake walks on the island. 

Mrs. Flannegan had a couple of stories about Leo Byrne. She said he did indeed have an alligator. He also had a number of albino squirrels that used to run around on a treadmill. Leo's sister had two parrots who could swear. Mrs. Flannegan said she heard one say "son of a bitch" and that she sort of liked the sound of it. Later she called her Cupie[?] doll the same thing and her mother heard it. She quit saying son of a bitch, but she said the parrots taught her to say damn and hell. She says she never takes the Lord's name in vain but she's never been able to quit saying damn and hell. She says her mother tried to break her of it when she was about three. Her mom told her that her family could have no little girls saying such things so they would send her away. She was sent with a man that worked with her father but who was a stranger to her to Washington. The man was not supposed to let her know he was watching her. Her aunt would meet her in D.C., but Isabelle didn't know that. Still, she said she didn't mind because she loved trains. Her aunt described her upon reaching D.C. as dragging her little suitcase about two feet, sitting down to rest on it, and saying "I don't give a damn, to hell with all of them." 

She said Leo had a heart of gold, but got real mean when he was drunk. He would brandish a butcher knife and chase people around. Apparently the town would warn each other when Leo was on a tirade and everyone would lock their doors. Mrs. Flannegan says she got chased into building 10 one night by Leo and actually had to climb out the skylight with another girl and get a man to distract Leo so they could get away. She said Leo and her sister ended up getting murdered one night at the Salty Dog and their bodies thrown into the canal. She claimed that Leo had strangle marks on his throat. She wrote a poem about the incident. 

Mrs. Flannegan says that the 1924 flood really began to do the town in. Something began to change with that flood. The '36 flood simply finished it all off. She said nothing was ever the same after that one. The '24 flood though was the dirtiest and smelliest according to her. She said pulp wood from the mills, outhouses, and hog pens all added to the destruction and mess. She said Dixie Killum's grandmother's house, somewhere between the W&P tracks and the Shenandoah washed away in '24. 

Mrs. Flannegan said the fire on the most recent railroad bridge was quite dramatic. She agrees with the man who claimed to work on the bridge I talked to a couple of months ago. It was built by the Empire Construction Company. This guy thought the fire was in the Summer of '31 and claimed to have jumped off the end of the bridge with several others who were injured. Mrs. Flannegan doesn't remember anybody jumping into the water. She says the company had a perfect summer for building as the river was low and the trucks built dams and could drive most of the way across the river. She was on her way home for lunch from building 11 when it happened. She said the fire just raced along the creosote ties and that there was no chance to do anything about it. The story went, the same as the guy I talked to, that a hot rivet set the fire. Mrs. Flannegan says the air filled up with black thick smoke very quickly. A Mr. Cliff (she thinks) fell off the fire truck in Halltown while it was on its way to Harpers Ferry. He was killed. 

Mrs. Flannegan remembered Marmion Row. She called it by that name. She said Dr. Marmion's son, a lawyer, Miss Mary, Miss Bell, and Miss Annie all lived there. Miss Annie ran a private school with 2 Potts children, 3 Darns, 1 Huffman bay, and Margaret Kane attending. 

I asked her about people who were interested in the town and history. She said a good deal of people came to see the town. There were those who came in the summer for the Hotels. She said there were also lots of artists who came to portray the town. She said that those who came for history were dealt with by Shirley Johnson, a black porter at the railroad depot, and Colby Jones. Johnson was a graduate of Storer College and was nicknamed "Boomer" by the kids because he said the town would boom again even if they weren't alive to see it. Apparently Coby Jones was a self-appointed guide who showed people the town. Mrs. Flannegan says he was on the slightly retarded side. She also added that she knew no people who claimed to have seen the raid. 

Mrs. Flannegan was upset that the Service tore down the Scottish Castle. She said John O'Kane Rose was the castle's caretaker. With much dignity and reverence she then pronounced him a poet. She said only certain cliques were invited, but that Rose was constantly entertaining the young people. Some were given crackerjack and popcorn, while she intimated some were there for more serious activities. She says Rose played the piano and would recite poetry. He often recited "The Raven." There were stables and riding horses and a gym with exercise equipment like rowing machines. She says the house was set up with speaking tubes to each room and a field glass on the turret where they used to watch the "sham battle at Antietam" through. She said the owner [I forgot his name] kept a storage shed where he'd throw his clothes when they were dirty. He didn't do laundry , just threw his clothes in the shed when they were dirty. 

 Mrs. Flannegan has a cousin who is 91 and still active who lived in the Iron Horse Inn building. She says that she and her cousin have discussed Stephen Brown's and Shirley's ghost books many  times and think they are full of "crap."   She says that members of her family lived in that house for years and never had any strange experiences. She says she truly knew the engineers and  railroad people and never even heard the "Screaming Jenny" story. She did have another cousin, a young boy, who had his head cut off by the train though. 

The following is a list of miscellaneous subjects comments that came up during the course of the conversation. 

- Lon Murphy collected the toll an the bridge. 

- Bootleggers used to put packages in the hollow pillars of the bridge for pick-up. She was actually approached to deliver such packages. 

- She says they used to call Virginius Island Herr's Island. She said beautiful flower gardens and streets existed out there up until the 1924 flood. 

- She says troubadours used to play concertinas in town in the 1930s. 

- She says carnivals were held at "river bottom", the sandy area between the parking lot and the Shenandoah. She also said she remembers circus parades with elephants going up High Street. 

- She talked of how people respected the rivers. She almost drowned twice, once in a boat with a guy who didn't know what he was doing in the Potomac, and once trying to swim with some other kids from the boat ramp upriver to a bridge abutment. She got chewed out on both occasions for messing with the river. 

- She talked of Tom Lovett, a black man, running the Hilltop House and had nothing but praise for him. She talked of Woodrow Wilson sitting out on the porch and enjoying the view. 

- Her grandmother Kaiser, Adrianna. taught school after the war in the basement of the Lutheran Church. (Does the church have a basement?) 

- The house being condemned on Union and Washington Streets was owned by Blanche Wheatly, a novelist who taught Sunday School. 

- People used to keep horses in the vomitorium. The house covered with ivy on High St. 

- Associated with the train car now owned by Tom Thompson used to be the Marquette House, a large extended family. 

- She remembers the Braedys and the fancy furnishings of their house. 

- She called the Spangler Inn the Raleigh House.  She and her siblings often would take the train to D.C. They would do jobs like greasing pans for the bakery to make the fare. Her brother used to jerk sodas at both of the drugstores. 

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Gageby, David.  Interview.  March 31, 1987.  Interviewed by William D, Theriault. 

David Gageby: This quarry down here [Engle] was started by a man named Keller.  It was sold to a company in Pittsburg, and (I don't remember how many years back) they shipped to Pittsburg for steel.  That didn't run too long, then it shut down.  That's the one on the right, there.  And these two up here, they got ballast for the railroad.  There's two quarries up there.  They made stone for ballast and a little bit for roads. 

William Theriault: Did you know any of the Kellers? 

DG: No, he died before we moved in here.  He was one of the head men in the building of this church [Keller Methodist Church]. 

WT: Was this Charles or O.J. Keller?  The church was named after him? 

DG: That's right. 

WT: When did you move down here? 

DG: I'm 86 years old, and we moved down here when I was 13 years old [1914].  We moved from Shenandoah Junction. 

WT: Were any of those kilns by Engle Switch operated by the Bakers? 

DG: As you go down to the church, you know the big kiln down there?  Well, that's what they called a pot kiln there.  That was -- a man started that.  They had a little siding there. I wasn't living down here at that time, but I remember when it was running, see.  And they shipped stone from Bakerton out here to these pot kilns and made lime.  And this man (from what they told me) didn't have much money, and he'd load one car of lime, and he didn't have enough money to go through with it.  And the Bakers come and bought it.  They run it then for a while and they shipped the stone from Bakerton. I remember when that run. 

WT: They shipped it out by rail? 

DG: By rail.  They had a little side track there, I mean, right down below the church.  And they'd bring the stone from Bakerton out here and burn it in that kiln. 

WT: Was that wood-fired or coal-fired? 

DG: It was coke.  They used wood and coke -- that's what they used in them days.  Now the one up here, the one you can see from the road, that never operated since we came down here.  It operated before that time, and it wasn't never run. I don't remember it ever running, but I don't even know who it belongs to. 

WT: Did you go to school down here? 

DG: Yes, in the school house down here. 

WT: Can you tell me about going to school there?  What it looked like.  Who your teachers were. 

DG: Miss Ellen Reed was one.  Miss Jessie Cockrell and a man by the name of Mr. Knott.  He wasn't down here long....  It was a Knott from this side of Shepherdstown.  There were a bunch of them out there. 

WT: What did the school look like? 

DG: One room.  It had eight grades. 

WT: What did it look like on the inside? 

DG: They had a potbellied stove.  And Miss Cockrell, she taught there for a long time. 

WT: This was Rose Cockrell's sister? 

DG: Yes.  They were old maids.  They never married....  They lived on the road to Bakerton.  You come under the underpass and go up coming towards Bakerton.  They lived in a house tore down now.  It was on the right.  That's just a new house been built there on the right. 

WT: What was their father's name? 

DG: He Wasn't living. 

WT: Was that house still standing when you came here? 

DG: Oh yes.  They was living there....  I believe it was tore down.  It hasn't been too many years. 

WT: That school burned down, didn't it? 

DG: It was sold.  A fellow by the name of Tom Hale [?] owned that farm.  He give the county the land to build a school, but when it ceased to be a school, the land went back to him. And so when they closed all these little schools and they went to Harper's Ferry, they put it up and sold it.  And he bought the building because it was on his land, Tom Hale's land.  And there was a couple of families lived in it, but when it burned down it was empty.  Nobody was living there. 

WT: Do you remember when they closed it? What time they started sending kids to Harper's Ferry? 

DG: I don't remember. 

WT: Before WW II? 

DG: Oh yes....  I went to seventh grade.  That's as far as I went.  I didn't finish even down here.  There wasn't any automobiles in them days.  If you went to Harper's Ferry, you had to walk.  And then they got buses.  And the high school down around this part. 

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Hetzel, Lowell.  September 1980.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

L.H.: Some famous people lived in Jefferson county, John Swain(?).  Four generals of the Revolution -- Lee, Darke, Stevens, and Gates lived here and owned large estates.  Those estates, I believe, are still marked by roadside markers.  I'm sure someone in the historical society of the county can tell you more if you're interested in knowing where they are and what has happened to them.  Charles Town was one of the earliest towns in the county.  Shepherdstown is the oldest in the county, and there has been a discussion over the years over whether Shepherdstown or Romney [first] came into being.  And I think they came into being really on the same day.  Shepherdstown was first called Mecklenberg and on the right bank of the Cohongo River.  If any of you know anything about Shepherd College, there for years they had a publication, their school catalogue, was named the Cohongo River for many years, going back to that historical point.  James Rumsey supposedly made a run on the Potomac River in 1783 near Shepherdstown.  And the population of Shepherdstown in those days -- 1,600.  That's more than it is at the present time. 

Harper's Ferry in the early days, the population was much greater than it is today.  Middleway, another small town on the other side of Charles Town, was known in those days as Smithfield.  And there's a story about Middleway, where priests were brought in to offset the effects of witches which were supposed to be operating in that area.  And for doing that, those priests were given in lieu of money for their service a tract of land and a fine spring which still exists in that area. 

In 1883, there were 38 churches, 2 colleges, 1 academy, 1 institute, 1 seminary, and 37 free schools in Jefferson County.  The population was about 15,000.  I'm not sure of it, isn't about 20,000 at present? There's not much change.  There must have been a great drop off somewhere along the line because there's been quite an increase in recent years.  The area of the county is 250(?) square miles and the assessed value of land per acre in 1883 was $20.  The head tax on each person over 21 was $2.  All taxes to the state, county, school, and road were ...  per 100.  And the average yield of wheat per acre in 1882 was 23 bushels.  I'm sure it's many times that today. 

Now let me give you that background information.  I have a map of 1809 which shows Frederick, Berkley, and Jefferson Counties, and, the scale is so small that the only thing I can detect with surety is The Orebank down here at the river.  Right down the road.  Keep on going instead of making that left turn down there to Harpers Ferry.  You'll run into the Orebank property where Sullivan lives.  And there's a quarry down there. It's red.  It's iron ore.  There's limestone around it.  But that was an iron ore bank.  They quarried the ore there.  They must have started about 1840.  There is some evidence of that on one of these maps.  And it operated up until the 1920's, and I suppose the deposit was depleted by then.  But some of us older persons can remember very well. 

A railroad track coming from Engle came out to the plant.  You know the location of that.  A spur came down here on the other side of the road in the area over there right in front of the store and on out in front of these houses and went right on down and cut through the gap down here behind what was the Jones house and came back.  There's a concrete block house down there on the corner.  Who lives there?  Long?  The railroad went through there over to the Orebank property and they loaded the ore into hopper cars and brought it out through here to Engle and on to the B&O.  So one of the earliest things I can see on this map that I can identify is the Orebank. 

There were a few roads in those days, but not as many as there are at present.  And one of them went from the Orebank down to Engle, which was on the railroad.  And the main line of the B&O came along, I think, in the 1830's or '40's.  The C&O canal came along about the same time, and the canal operated up until 1924 when one of the big floods damaged it to the extent that they could not justify rebuilding it. 

So they had the canal on the other side of the river.  They had the railroad over here.  The railroad didn't come in [to Bakerton] until the late 1800's.  Probably around 1890 as far as I can find out.  And that railroad came down principally to serve the quarry out here, to get stone.  Now, the Orebank.  The ore was shipped across the river, and it was loaded on barges and taken across the river and shipped by boat in the early days.  And there were also several iron foundries.  One of them up at Antietam, across the river.  There was one up on the Shenandoah River across from Millville.  I think it has been restored to some extent.  So that these things were going on a long time ago. 

This map only shows a few houses, but I can ready the names of the persons who owned the property.  I have a later map which does, I think, show in very good detail the community, the area as it existed somewhat later around 1883.  That map shows the Orebank.  The quarries out here had not come into existence at that time.  But down here on the corner where the Ruritan club met until it started meeting at the church, there were no houses on that corner.  But there was an elementary school with two rooms, eight grades, four in each room.  And that's where I started elementary school in 1917 or 1918.  In 1921 the new school building was built over here, and that served until the new school was built over at Harpers Ferry.  But in this early day, that schoolhouse showed on this map as Oak Grove School.  That was in 1883.  So that school was built some time before 1883.  Probably not too many years before that.  That was one of the few buildings down here.  ... knowns where that is. Well, as you go down here towards the Shepherds and turn right, that was the Duke farm back there.  And there's a house shown on that property. A few other houses were here in 1883.  The names of property owners shown here were Molers, there were quite a few of them, Engle, Daniels, Flanagan, Merrit.  A great number of Engles [lived] between here and the main line of the B&O.  The Daniels property and some of the Moler's properties were the ones on which some of this plant was located.  And the earlier quarries.  I talked to persons who are now deceased who were here and opened the gate for the Baker Brothers, who opened the plant and bought the property from the Daniels and the Engles and the Molers and opened the quarry here in the early 1890's.  My grandfather started working for the company in the early 1890's. And of course the first operation here was a type of kiln.  There are remains of some of those still out here if you know what you're looking at.  It was just a verticle shaft, and the type the farmers used to burn lime for their farms back in the 1700's.  And it was just a verticle shaft, maybe 15 or 20 feet high, lined with brick.  I have a picture of one up here you can look at later if you wish.  And they had a ramp to the top of this kiln, and they hauled the stone up there.  And it was big stone, one man stone, in a cart, probably.  And they'd dump it. They took a layer of limestone, a layer of wood in the early days, a layer of limestone and wood and so on.  They'd light the thing from the bottom and, as it burned the wood, of course the wood burned away and the stone kept beating down until by the time it came out of the bottom it was lime.  That was one of the earliest types of kilns.  And that's the first kind they had here. 

I have with me a photograph of some of those kilns in the Martinsburg area which are identical to the ones out here.  Later on, the next improvements were verticle shaft kilns, but instead of fueling them as the early ones did, they had a verticle shaft, brick lined, and they had furnaces around the outside of that shaft at ground level.  Of course, they had a lower level where they drew the lime out.  Of course, those furnaces were coal fired, in the early days.  And it was a very, very hot job for a person to operate those old kilns.  I have a picture of one of those.  Of course, later on, some of those were fired by gas in some areas -- natural gas.  Or they were fired by oil.  Later, of course, came the rotary kiln.  That was the last type they had out here.  This rotary kiln in Bakerton.  And by the way, up here is an ariel photo of the plant just prior to its being closed down in 1957.  And that rotary kiln, which was used to make refractory and other limestone products, there pulverized coal was used as a fuel. 

I remember well when the kiln was installed.  They went first from the old, open pit quarry which you see out here to an underground mine in the early 1920's.  And then the lime from the stone from the open quarry and the mine were still burned in the upright kilns.  And then in '28, I believe it was, the rotary kiln was installed.  And the stone was crushed down to minus 2 inch in size to go through the rotary kiln.  And the coal that came in by hopper car was pulverized and blown into the lower end of the kiln.  The kiln sloped downward from the feed end to this discharge end.  The stone was fed into the feed end.  The hot gases from the pulverized coal firing were counterflowed, in the opposite direction, up through the kiln and out the stack.  And the product in the form of stone that came out the lower end of the kiln, was in the form of lime.  Of course, many other products can be made from the same matter.  Of course, later on, our company began making what they called standard refractory.  The company in the early days was called Standard Lime and Stone, later on Standard Lime and Refractory, then Standard Lime and Cement.  Through the years, all those changes took place. Actually, the original company out here was Washington Building Company, a sister company of Standard Lime and Stone, and the Washington Building was the lime end of the business, and the stone end of it was the Standard Lime and Stone.  And those names changed through the years. But the rotary kiln was a great advancement in the manufacture of lime and later on out here in the manufacture of refractory.  The big difference was that lime can be made either from high calcium stone, which is the type here in Bakerton, or from dolomitic stone, the stone that's over in Millville.  And in between Millville and Bakerton is magnesium stone, which is a kind of bastard that is neither high calcium nor dolomitic.  And it's not used too much in the manufacture if lime or refractory.  But Bakerton was basically a high calcium limestone deposit, and the lime burned here was high calcium lime which went into steel manufacturing, the chemical industry, and many others.  Now dolomitic lime can also be used for the same purpose.  In the steel industry, for the fluxing of steel, and for the chemical industry.  But that gives you a rough outline of the steps out here. 

Now Bakerton, also in the '30's.  Some of the women here worked even in that plant.  It was back in the days when not many women worked in an industry like that, but it was during the Second World War.  And some of the folks here worked in a magnesia plant, as it was called.  In the '30's and into the '40's, where they couldn't make magnesium from high calcium stone, so they had to take lime from Millville from a dolomitic source and make magnesium carbonate, which was in shortage in the Second World War.  And that was shipped to the chemical industry, the rubber industry, where it was very essential, and even eventually in milk of magnesia.  First, they made magnesium carbonate, and later they installed an electric furnace and made magnesium oxide, which went into some of the same industries.  So that was some of the things that happened here in the Bakerton plant over the years. 

The railroad came in in the 1890's, but prior to the time, the railroad was installed, stone was quarried here and hauled to Engle by horse and wagon.  Engle had shaft kilns before Bakerton.  And the remains can still be seen down there if you know what you are looking at.  Right along the railroad track on the opposite side from here.  It's just a little toward Harpers Ferry, and when you go down this road to Engle to have to turn left at the railroad.  When you turn left and go down there, maybe a few hundred yards, over there on the right across the railroad you can see the remains of some of those kilns.  Mr. Bush, are there remains of some of those kilns on the other side of the railroad? 

Ken Bush: ......... 

L.H.: That's where the railroad came off and came into Bakerton.  The rotary kiln was installed in '28, and the hot gases going up the stack were lost, of course.  They gave off heat, carbon dioxide, a little carbon monoxide -- it wasn't very much, some sulfur.  And in the making of magnesium carbonate those stack gases were used in the process.  So it was not the heat, it was the carbon dioxide in those gases, that was used in the manufacture of magnesium carbonate. 

Now the company, Standard Lime and Stone, it was owned by a family from Buckeystown, Maryland, by the name of Baker.  There were three brothers in the family in the late 1800's and many children.  And of course all of them have gotten out of the business over the years.  And I'll tell you more about that later.  But the Bakers in Buckeystown, or Adamstown, were in the tanning business, and that goes back to 1875.  That's the earliest I can come up with.  And they needed lime for tanning, so they installed some of those shaft kilns I told you about.  Well, later on, they found out there was a market for more lime than they could produce down there.  So they came up this direction.  And I believe the first shaft kilns they build were at Martinsburg.  And, where the sign (?) plant is now located.  And they opened a plant here, and one at Millville around about the same time, early 1890's or 1900's.  At that time Washington Building Lime Company was the lime end of the business. Standard Lime and Stone was the stone end of the business.  And much of the early stone that they quarried and shipped was to the steel mills, or for other purposes.  But most of it was directed to the steel mills in Pittsburg at Stryer's (?) Point, at Harrisburg, and locations like that. 

The Bakers stayed in the picture until 1954.  The company was sold to American Marietta.  Now that Marietta name came from a company that was in the paint business.  And they bought Standard Lime and Stone and Washington Building Lime, the whole works, in 1954.  And later on the name was changed.  It's been changed over the years.  Our parent company became American Marietta.  In 1961, Martin, the manufacturer of airplanes, came into the picture, and the name was changed to Martin Marietta.  And today they have a number of divisions, including a chemical division which includes the company I retired from and some of these men retired from also.  But there are other divisions now.  There is an aluminum division.  There's an aerospace division, which was the old Martin Company.  There's an aggregates division, which includes hundreds of quarries all over the country, producing materials for highway or concrete manufacture.  So they're quite diversified, and I imagine those involved with the company are pleased with that diversification. 

The Capitol Cement Company, there's a plant in Martinsburg, one time along the line was Capitol Cement, and it's now part of the Northeast Division of the Martin Marietta Corporation. 

The plant at Millville was closed in the '60's.  And that was a lime refractory plant.  The quarry is still there.  The manufacturing facilities were sold during the past year.  I think they are being dismantled at present.  Now there are two other quarries at Millville. One of them was closed down within the past year, U.S. Steel.  And the other one was Blair Plant, which is operated now by Shenandoah Quarries.  And they quarry stone only.  They do manufacturing beyond the stone end of the business. 

Q: Where's the limestone for steel mills come from now? 

L.H.: Well, we have plants elsewhere.  Martin Marietta has a very large plant in Woodville, Ohio, dolomitic stone.  It's one of the largest in the country, where they manufacture dolomitic lime and standard refractory for the open hearth furnaces.  We have a plant in Michigan, at Manastee (?), that manufactures a high grade of refractory used in the steel industry.  It withstands temperatures that standard refractory will not withstand.  There are quarries, quite a few of them all over the country.  Our plant has plants in Maine, Pennsylvania, Alabama, Georgia, Iowa, Colorado, Oklahoma, and now they're building a plant in Utah.  The first one in Utah.  They have these plants in Michigan and Ohio. In the early days, we had these plants in Kimbleton, Virginia, and Knoxville, Tennessee, and Pleasant Gap, Pennsylvania, outside of State College.  These plants have been sold and are still operating, but by other companies.  There have been a lot of quarries that our company has closed down because of depletion of the deposit.  That's what happened here.  The quality of the stone quarried from 1890 to 1957 was pretty well depleted.  They'd used up what they could find in the open quarries and went to underground mining.  And that stone dips quite deeply, and there's a question of going ...  Well, actually, it ran out eventually, but usually when it dips like that it comes up someplace else. 

These limestone deposits were all laid down horizontally in the beginning, and most of them were under water, were sea beds.  The one in Ohio is a good example of it.  They were all laid down horizontally but, you know these mountains were formed by upheaval and earthquakes and such like that.  Well limestone in this area at Bakerton was a kind of unique deposit.  It was really like a dome that tapered down on both sides.  It tapered down toward the river on that side and it steeply tapered down toward the west.  So then the open quarries were in the top of the dome, but you can imagine the ledges going down.  They couldn't open quarry because there would be too much overburden.  So they went to underground mining.  But this one was pretty well depleted.  At Millville they never opened a mine.  They had an open quarry there, but if they had gone under ground they would have gone under the Shenandoah River, and I don't think that would have been such a good idea.  The other quarries down there were further from the river, and they don't have that problem. 

Q: How many acres did the company sell? 

L.H.: Well, it was about a thousand or so sold off ... 

                           END OF TAPE 

LH: ... completely surrounded the center of the tank.  And some of that property was never developed.  It was mined, leased to farmers, a majority of the land actually was leased to farmers and was farmed up until it was sold here in 1974 or 1975 to a developer.  And some of you, I believe, bought from him or his successors.  But there was 1,000 acres or so in this area our company owned.  Now, down at the underpass, our company owned land on both sides of the railroad, at that point, as you go down hill to the underpass, we had land on both sides of the road there on the other side.  We had land on both sides of the highway going down toward what is now [Route] 340.  But down there, there were 300 or 400 acres.  Then at Millville was something like 600 total.  They needed large acreages. 

What amazed some of us, back in the early days, in the late 1800's, they didn't do any core drilling, as we do today.  They found a geologist that was pretty knowledgeable, and he went out and sampled stone that he found on the surface that were outcrops.  Now a good geologist can do that. 

In the last 40 or 50 years, these companies went to core drilling, and I went through quite a few of those programs.  There was a drilling program here at Bakerton that covered practically most of the land that the company owned.  They had these machines come in, these contracted firms, with diamond core drills, and they'd drill these vertical holes and bring those cores out, and split them and analyze them, and you knew exactly what you had.  And that's generally speaking, the plan was, if they thought they'd need additional land, they would option to buy for a year or two.  During that period, it would be core drilled and analyzed, and if it looked promising they would close the deal and purchase the land.  And that's how that thing usually worked.  It did here, and they did it in other places, too.  It's done in many other minerals, too, but I was acquainted only with the high calcium stone and the dolomitic stone.  We did the same thing at Woodville in Pennsylvania, in Pleasant Gap.  I think it is the general practice in most all companies today to approve what's optioned before they buy it.  Otherwise, you're buying a pig in a poke and you might get something good and you might not. 

I mentioned that Orebank.  And the environment state geologist, Dr. Englebole (?), was our company geologist from 1920, maybe I guess a little earlier than that, up until the 50's.  And I knew Dr. .......... very well.  And I went out on some of those core drilling expeditions with him, or exploration expeditions.  And he was a very interesting person.  And it was very interesting to me how he could take these samples at the surface and decide pretty much in his own mind whether it was high quality stone or not.  Of course, then he'd analyze it to back up his thoughts.  But, somewhere along the line, I asked him one day how in the world that ore deposit got down there along the river.  And he said that it was his opinion that -- all limestone contains some quantity of iron, aluminum, magnesium, and whatnot, at least a fraction of a percent of iron -- and he gave me the impression that that iron deposit down there was leached out of the limestone up here over millions and millions of years because that, the unusual part of it was, up here was this solid limestone and down there was really a pocket of iron ore.  It was fairly hard.  I don't recall seeing it.  But they had to quarry it with steamshovels just like the did the stone here.  And then they crushed it and washed it, and only a fraction of that was actually shipped as high quality ore.  It wasn't really a high grade ore, but it was suitable for making steel.  I don't know where it was shipped. 

Charles Knott: ...................................................... 

L.H.: Can you picture this lake I see advertised in the paper, Crystal Lake or something, down here you can picture that lake and up here is another quarry.  Now have you already seen those two quarry holes? They're rather large.  That quarry hole up here is Crystal Lake, and the water level -- here's a picture that came out of a newspaper some years ago.  The water level was about 40 feet deep.  And I don't think it's going to change a great deal.  I think if it gets much higher it overflows and goes down the creek there.  But picture the quarry down here with the water in it.  Up here is the quarry.  As you're going up the road, up here where you make the left turn to go around that loop, if you get out of your car and walk straight up over, there used to be a railroad bank there, there's a quarry there -- a rather large one.  Now, the stone, as I said, was a kind of dome here, and it dipped westerly from that quarry up there, that's more or less west.  That stone dipped down here.  Well, when they started mining in the quarry down where the water is, there wasn't water there in those days, of course.  They went underground and came along, following that vein of stone, and came out in that quarry up here.  And it's like stair steps in that underground mine.  But each level, see the stone went down like this.  They wanted to operate horizontally, so they went in from the quarry up here, which is Crystal Lake, and went along on a horizontal plane and came out in the quarry up here.  Then they went back, down a little further from the dip, but on the same plane.  And, in the old days, they'd run an incline down in this direction and pull those old cars out with a cable, loading the stone at the lower level.  Later on, when they could get these horizontal runs of highway, they used tracks and hauled the stone out to the crusher which was up on the surface.  And, of course it was crushed with a primary crusher, which would take stone 2 or 3 feet in diameter. And the next one would probably take a stone 6 inches in diameter and crush it on down.  And there might be a tertiary crusher.  And the stones that we put in the rotary kilns were usually minus two inch. 

Milt Phenneger: How big are the tunnels and how far over do they go? 

L.H.: Well, the tunnel, the roof was usually up there about 50 feet. 

Charles Knott:  It's hard to believe, Milt knows, they cut through to one another and they'd leave these big pillars 20 or 30 feet in diameter. 

L.H.: To support the roof. 

Q: They're 50 feet high? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: And the rock up above them? 

L.H.: They're probably about the same. 

Q: That means they're going less toward the Flemmings' house. 

L.H.: Well, the Bakerton Quarry, the mine doesn't go that far south. There's a white house up there at the end of that quarry.  That's where we lived before we moved.  The quarry was out in front of that house, and the mine only goes as far south at that point, as that quarry does. Now the mine down here went further across that highway here and up near the Church of God.  And what's the name of those folks that live up there where the Molers lived?  Hickman?  There are some mines in that area underground.  There's no mining on the south side of that road out here and further west than that corner where we make a left turn to go around the loop. 

Q: What was the average wages they payed down there in the 'twenties? 

L.H.: Well, I can tell you about '33.  That's when I started out there. Do you go back beyond that Mark [Horn]? 

Mark Horn: 1932 or '33. 

L.H.: Twenty-six cents an hour.  That's in the '30's.  There was a period, under the National Recovery Administration, when you couldn't work over 40 hours.  And of course, these plants in the early days worked 10 hours a day 6 days a week.  And you had to run those kilns 24 hours a day.  They had either those shaft kilns or rotary kilns then. But back in the early days, somebody said 50 cents a day.  That's back in the early 1900's or 1890's through, say, 1910.  We were told by some of the older folks that that was the pay.  I know in '33 I think the minimum was 26 [cents an hour].  But is was surprising what you could buy with a dollar in those days.  You just can't believe it. 

Louise Talley: Eggs was 9 cents a dozen. 

L.H.: Milk was 5 cents a quart.  This was in the '30's.  So a dollar did go a lot further than it did today. 

Q: Didn't they make other things at the plant? 

L.H.: Yes.  In addition to burning lime.  Now the lime that came out of the kilns, the shaft kilns, was in lump form.  It was smaller in diameter than what went in because of shrinkage, but it was still big stuff.  And later on they found that by grinding lime and adding water to it they could make hydrated lime.  And that's, in the old days it was used in whitewash.  The company owned many houses here and were occupied by employees.  And most of those houses were whitewashed.  And the company gave the occupant enough lime to whitewash his house or his fence or whatever they wanted.  So they made hydrated lime and that went into water treatment and so on.  Later on, they found out there was a real market for pulverized limestone, and that's the raw stone.  And they had a department out here that crushed that.  I said the feed in the rotary kiln was minus 2 inch, and some of than went down to dust. So the finer stuff, say under a quarter inch or eighth inch, was pulverized even further.  Some of it was 200 mesh, we called it.  It was just like face powder, and various sizes above that too -- 16 mesh and so on.  And much of that went into the coal mines for dusting.  By dusting the coal mine, in the old mines, the walls, floors, and ceilings and everything was covered with coal dust.  And its quite explosive.  But they had machines that would take that finely pulverized limestone and blow it all over the walls and ceiling and would reduce the danger of explosion. 

Q: This gray rock that is all over the place.  Is it the same kind of rock that was taken out of the quarry or is it different from the rock on the surface? 

L.H.: Some of it would be fairly good high calcium limestone.  Most of it is what I call magnesia.  It isn't what I call dolomite.  High calcium stone would have over 97% calcium carbonate.  The other 3% is iron, magnesium, silica, and aluminum.  When you get above 3% or 4% magnesium carbonate, you're getting to magnesium stone, which is neither high calcium stone nor dolomite.  Dolomite would be 3% magnesium carbonate.  Most of the stone left around here would be what I call magnesium -- neither high calcium nor dolomitic. 

Q: Do you have any information on the people who settled here first. 

L.H.: Well, the plant brought people in, but prior to that, I think it's on this map indicated here, it was all farmland.  Now up the river, there were two quarries up the river prior to the opening of the Bakerton Quarry here -- Knott's Quarry and Flanagan's Quarry.  They were adjoining.  They were up the river here about 2 miles or less.  Those quarries, the stone there in the early days was hauled across the river and loaded on canal boats and taken to Washington.  And some of it, I understand, was burned into lime down there.  There were cement kilns up below Shepherdstown along the river.  And for many years the made cement for the Washington area.  And it actually went down the river by boat. If you know where to look down there, there's still a ring and a stone wall where they anchored the boats for loading stone at the Knott or Flanagan Quarry.  They also at one time had a quarry up at Kearneysville between here and Martinsburg.  And the quarry at Martinsburg was a quarry first and then an underground mine.  And now they're quarrying stone with low calcium lime.  They're able to use that stone to manufacture cement.  It's quite a large operation. 

Q: Did quite a few people lose their lives? 

L.H.: Yes.  It was a dangerous industry, no question about that. 

I have with me a couple of things I do want to mention.  I have here the diary of my grandfather from about 1900 to about 1928.  It's in longhand, and I didn't start preserving it early enough.  The latter part is still legible.  Some of the other sheets have gone to pieces. But in here, what amazed me was the number of incidents.  In the early days, many of the employees came from Maryland.  There were no bridges. They came across by boat.  I expect half of the employees out there at the plant came from Maryland.  And during those 28 years or so, dozens of men drowned crossing the river.  And I heard tell that, of course they came over in summer, winter, and everything else, and when the river would freeze.  And that's when some of them lost their lives trying to walk on the ice.  Then I think they got in the habit of pushing the boat in front of them across, and if they went in at least they had something to hold on to.  But this tells there were dozens of people, sometimes three at a time, were drowned crossing the river.  My grandfather wrote where they drowned in the river and where their bodies were found. 

Q: Why did the quarry fill up with water? 

L.H.: Well, there's still limestone there, and there's springs there. If you have a well, you're getting water out of that limestone.  Most places, if you drill in limestone country you'll find water.  So there's water coursing through that limestone.  And there's springs in this quarry, so whenever you did a hole, I'd say 50 feet deep, you'd find some water.  And it came from that.  Some from surface drainage, but it was mostly from springs. 

Q: Did they pump it out? 

L.H.: Yes.  They pumped continuously, 24 hours a day.  They pumped into the creek, the stream that goes down by Mrs. Thompson ................. down there.  It goes down to the river.  It's dry most of the time now. But in those days it was pumped into that creek.  If this Crystal Lake ever overflows, then it's going to run down into the river. 

Charles Knott: 

L.H.: I mentioned the shaft kilns.  Now they usually had a ramp up there.  Of course, in a plant like this they had an upper level, and they had a railroad track up there and railroad cars.  They'd load the cars in the quarry and then they'd pull them up an incline with a cable. Then a horse would pull them on the horizontal, and they'd dump those cars in the top of the kilns.  Well, this diary more than once tells about the cart or the little vehicle in which they were hauling stone, when they dumped it, it went in the kiln and pulled the horse in with it.  So some of the horses were burned in the top of the shaft kiln.  I guess there wasn't anything left by the time they got to the bottom. 

Q: Many of the wells around here are, like, 200 feet deep.  I've heard stories about underground lakes and underground rivers.  Does that ring a bell? 

L.H.: Well, not any major ones.  There's a lake under Charles Town.  At one time you could go down in the place.  It was open to the public, and you could ride a boat around on this lake under ground.  Of course, what you're finding is that the water level has dropped, and that's because of usage.  In the West, it's a real serious problem.  I read an article in National Geographic recently.  I don't know what's going to happen in years to come.  And water usage is increasing all the time.  So it's probably that over the years they had to go deeper and deeper to get a good supply of water and that's going to continue unless they cut back on the usage of water. 

Q: Do you often find any sand among limestone? 

L.H.: You don't find as much sand as you do what we call shale, which is an impure limestone, really.  At the cement plant in Martinsburg, they are obtaining their shale deposit from the same property they're getting their limestone from.  There's not much shale in this area. 

The company had its own stable.  They used a lot of horses.  Not only did they have their own, but they would employ horses.  On the old records of the plant, out here, on the time sheet, were the horses listed by name the same as the employees.  And they paid the owner of the horse so much a day for the horse, and in some cases the owner drove the horse.  Charles Knott's father's name is in this diary and Mr. Duke that used to live down here.  They had horses.  The company hired the horse, billed the horse, but they really paid for the use of the horse. So that, in the early days, there were livery stables and they rented horses to the company.  And also they had the old buggies and wagons, and you could go there and rent a horse and buggy, and when there was a fair with the Moler's Crossroads Church up here, some of these fellows would hire a horse and wagon or buggy and take their girlfriends up to the fair up there.  And they could even hire, I think, sizeable wagons from livery stables like that. 

The stores, several of them have burned in the meantime, but this building next door, of course, was a store and the one down on the corner long before Welsh's and the post office over here came into being.  There was a store out there where Mr. Bragdon lives .... 


I remember plenty of times, the stores here had their own trucks. They'd go to Shepherdstown or down to Engle and pick up all their supplies, including daily ice cream from the Hershey Company and things like that.  There were bowling alleys in the basement of this building and there was a store above.  And at one time, we played basketball in there.  And a movie house.  So, they passed from the scene later on. There was a garage up on the corner, which later became the community hall, and the community hall is where these events [picture], where the streamers were hanging down from the ceiling.  These several here were occasions when an employee had worked 50 years.  And the company entertained the employee and his family.  And usually the officials of the company were invited in to help celebrate. 

The roads in the area.  This first map I showed does not show all the roads we have now.  The, what was the Presbyterian Church on the corner, I think it's now Baptist denomination.  I think that's 1837.  There's a number right on it.  So that's one of the oldest buildings.  I think the oldest building in the county, as best as I can tell, is the stone house at the Orebank.  It's probably fallen down now. 

A: It's still there. 

L.H.: It's one of the ...  It looks like the oldest building in the county. 

A: It was used as a hospital during the [Civil] War. 

L.H.: I've got to close here, but, if you want to know something about the area back in the Civil War days.  The Civil War [a book] will tell you so much about the Civil War era, the entire Civil War.  But this I enjoyed reading.  But I do want to refer to a few things.  Here's a book that's on Jefferson County.  These boys tell me it's in their school library.  You'd find it interesting reading.  It was written by a citizen of the county, Millard Bushong, whom I've known very well over the years.  And Bakerton is mentioned here on a number of occasions. And if I may just take a few more minutes, I want to tell you what goes on. 

There's a limited amount of industry in the county.  In the regions around Millville, Engle, Bakerton, and Kearneysville are limestone quarries. 

"In November, 1890, a new town named Bakerton sprung up at Oak Grove School house.  The Washington Building and Lime Company bought 45 acres of land in that neighborhood and was developing the limestone deposit there.  At the same time, the Old Virginia Orebank (that's the one near the river) a mile northeast of Bakerton was operating after 14 years of idleness.  So you see, '76.  I think I found evidence that it was operating back as early as 1840 or 1850.  And there was another incident in connection with that Orebank down there that I think you'd get a kick out of. 

Q: Are you talking about the house out at Moler's Crossroads that had the hidden room in it? 

L.H.: Was that during the Civil War where they had slaves?  We were in that house a number of years ago, and the owners at that time told us about this area behind the stairway somewhere that they did that.  In Bakerton, it's mentioned here in '45 the last ... inducted by the local board into the service was Clarence Philip Moler a volunteer at the ... service station there in Charles Town.  The first baby born in the new hospital in 1948 was in the Fraley family that lived here.  Dr. John Reynolds, who was born in 1817 in Shepherdstown, is said to have performed the first operation in this section with the use of chloroform.  He administered the anaesthetic on March 1, 1848 to an Irish workman at the Virginia Orebank near Bakerton.  The chloroform was obtained from Baltimore by another physician, Dr. Taylor.  And Taylor's name shows on that old map 1809, and with his assistance and that of Dr. Butler, Dr, Reynolds successfully amputated the man's leg. 

I have a picture of the old kilns at Martinsburg. 


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Lowell Hetzel.  Interview. January 1985.  Interviewed by William Theriault. 

L.H.: You mentioned something, Bill, that raised a question in my mind, and I may be far out of the way.  Semple?  You know there's a little community right across the river, Sample Manor.  There might be a manor house over there. 

Well, Bakerton.  Maybe there are a few of you here that are older than I am, I kind of doubt it.  Well, I have an article from the Shepherdstown Register, which was one of the oldest newspapers in West Virginia, if not the oldest one.  And its been out of business for some time now. But, Bill sent me an article clipped out of that paper.  And I want to start with that.  And then a little later I want to tell you some things from a diary my grandfather kept from about 1900 to about 1928.  Of course, some of us remember what happened since that time.  But the article from the Shepherdstown Register, November 28th, 1890.  I'll not read it, but I'll quote you part of it.  "Bakerton is the name of a new town that's being build at Oak Grove School House."  Oak Grove School House.  Who knows where was the Ruritan headquarters right there on the corner?  Well now, that area right in there was the location of the Oak Grove School House.  It was a two-room building, four grades in each room.  I went there until the new school house was built around 1922, I believe.  But that was a two-room schoolhouse, and there were four grades in each room.  We had a potbellied stove in the middle of each room.  The pipe going up and over to the chimney.  And we carried water from a well, somewhere.  I'm not sure if there was a well on the property or not.  But that was the location of the Oak Grove schoolhouse that was referred to in this article. 

"It is two and a-half miles from the main line of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, by which it is connected with the branch road that runs in at Keller's." 

Now you [Bill] referred to Keller's Quarry, which is the one up west of Engle Station, and the quarry is something I'll tell you about later on. 

"The Washington Building and Lime Company"  Now, that was the original name of the company that opened up operations at Bakerton.  And the family was named Baker, so the town was given the name Bakerton.  And the Baker family that founded Bakerton came out of Buckeystown, Maryland.  And they had operations.  They had a lime plant down there, the old pot kilns, we called them.  Some of you may recall them.  There are very few of them now.  But there are pot kilns down here on the left as you go in.  There's a gate up there.  And off to the left are the remains of old pot kilns, and those were stone structures.  They were brick lined and in the top, they would fill the thing up with a layer, in the old days, a layer of wood, and you mentioned a shortage of wood because much of it was used in the iron ore factory.  Also they used wood in those pot kilns.  If you picture a big cylinder, brick lined, they would put a layer of wood, a layer of limestone, a layer of wood, a layer of limestone.  Then they'd light this thing at the bottom, and they'd keep adding a layer of wood and a layer of limestone from the top.  And eventually it was turned into lime.  And it would be drawn out the bottom into ...   There were big lumps.  Now some of the stuff coming out there was big stuff, we called it one man stone.  And that stone, it was quarried in an open quarry in those days, and it was hauled up to the top of these kilns in carts -- two-wheel carts pulled by one horse.  So the stone, they loaded them down pretty much. 

"They have opened up a large limestone quarry here and constructed four patent kilns for the burning of lime."  Now patent kilns are different from those crude pot kilns.  Patent kilns, somebody had a patent on them.  They were all over the country in those days.  And those were big wooden structures where they dumped stone in the top and they had furnaces around the outside.  About three of them around this cylinder. The cylinder was very much like the inside of one of those pot kilns, but these were steel structures lined with brick.  They dumped the stone in the top.  Around the cylinder were three furnaces.  In the old days they were hand-fired, and I have a photograph of one of those patent kilns.  And the firemen, as we called them, were mostly colored people from Virginia.  The company built what we called shanties in those days. They were just one-room structures ...  Those men would come up here from down around Rappahanock and that section of Virginia.  They would stay, they lived two, three, maybe four in one of these structures, and they'd go home three or four times a year.  But they were the only ones that could stand the heat from these furnaces, and those were hand-fired.  And the gases from the furnace went in the cylinder and up through the bed of lime, limestone, and as the stone was changing to lime, we kept drawing out the bottom of the pot kilns.  It wasn't a continuous operation.  They'd just draw the lime out at certain periods of time.  They knew how long it would take to burn from stone to lime, and then they would draw a certain amount of stone out.  That would mean everything inside would drop down, and they'd put new stone in the top. 

Going back to this for a moment:  "From 40 to 50 men are constantly employed.  A steam drill cuts the holes into the great beds of limestone, and dynamite tears the masses asunder." 

So they started quarrying from this ... out there.  I think the quarry up here as you go through town was probably the oldest, and later on they opened the one down by the other end right down this road. 

"... and dynamite tears the masses asunder.  Horses and carts carry the broken stone to the top floor of the large building containing the kilns." 

Now, that originally was the pot kilns and later on was the patent kilns. 

"Here men feed them into the iron maws from which, two stories below, the lime is drawn and put into cars that stand right in front of the kilns." 

That lime was drawn from the bottom of the kilns and dumped on the floor in that large building.  In the process, not all of the stone was burned into lime.  So there were men called pickers who went over those lumps of lime, and they could tell by hitting it with a hammer whether it was good quality or unburned.  And they would throw out the unburned.  And that could be taken back up and fed through the kiln a second time. When it went through the second time, it was completely calcium. 

"An inclined plane, to be run by steam, will shortly be put in operation." 

I said that all the stone came to the surface by horses and carts.  Then they built an inclined track.  And they had a track, a single track down in the quarry.  And horses would pull the cars to the bottom of the incline, and they had a cable that came from the top of the incline, and they hooked the cable on there.  And, in the early days, those engines that pulled the cars up the incline were operated by steam.  Later on, of course, the electricity took over, and I think in my history information later on I can tell you about when that took place. 

"The stone will then be drawn directly from the quarry to the kilns." 

Q:  The incline to the quarry.  Do you have any idea where it is? 

L.H.: Well, there were at least three. 

Q: There's, down a stretch through the bottom of that quarry, there's several cables run down still through it.  And at the bottom of the quarry there are cars that have four wheels on them. 

L.H.: We called them ...  Those cables you saw, I think, were actually temporary fences that have fallen over the banks.  These inclines, there were at least three of them that I recall.  One of them is right behind the remains of the pot kilns and they came down into the quarry here. 

Q: Like a road? 

L.H.: Like a railroad.  It had rails and regular ties, and a rather steep incline.  And the cable, the hoist was down at ground level, and the cable came up over the hill on top and down that incline.  And they ran that engine to pull those cars up on top.  And then horses would take over and dump the stone in the kilns.  When the cars were emptied, the horses would take them back over to the top of the incline.  They'd hook that cable on and run those empty cars back down to the ...  And when they got back to the bottom of the incline, horses hauled them out to the quarry face.  And there, in the earliest days, all of that, if you can picture, it says here they used steam drills.  Later on, they used compressed air.  But whatever they used, it wouldn't make a difference.  They would drill those holes and use dynamite to blast the stone down into a pile.  The breaking of the stone beyond that point was done by sledge hammer and arm power.  And those men would break that stone down into what I call one-man size, about a ... in diameter or something like that, and toss it into these cars.  And that was the size stone they burned in those kilns.  Any stone that was too mall to be burned, they used these forks.  They were something like pitchforks only the tines were very close together.  And they would pick up stone too small to feed into the kilns, and they would use that.  They'd sell it for roadways or something like that. 

"They erected a large, three-deck kilnhouse."  Now that's the patent kiln building.  And these were large structures.  And they were about 50 feet high.  And they were all wood.  And there were some very large fires out here where the whole plant burned and was rebuilt.  They built a cooper shop.  A wooden barrel.  You know what that looks like.  And all that time in the early days some of it was shipped by bulk.  Some of it was bought by farmers coming in with a wagon.  They'd just throw the lime in the wagon.  They'd weigh you when you came in, throw the lime in, and weigh you when you went out.  And then you'd be charged for it. But they used some containers to ship the lime in.  So somewhere a factory manufactured staves, which go together to compose a circular barrel.  They shipped those staves in here and they shipped hoops which go down over the staves to form the barrel.  And it's in here: 

"Five coopers turned out 200 barrels a day." 

They made the barrel, made the sides of it, put the hoop on there and they put a wooden bottom in it, and that went down to the lime room. And they used these forks to load a barrel.  And when the barrel was about the right weight, they'd roll it up on a pair of scales and put a little more in or take a little out and then somebody else would put on the top, the heads were in about three pieces.  And they had that upper hoop on to that thing.  They'd put that head in there and drive that hoop down on her and nail it.  And then they loaded those barrels onto railroad cars and shipped them all over every part of the country. 

"A large store building where Strider and Engle do a big general merchanside business." 

They were probably the first store in this immediate area.  And I remember, when I was very very small, I remember where that building was.  It was back there where you take that road running back there and you could go down, Mr. Shonk.  Well, right at that, where you turn off, it used to be the ... building but I don't think its there any more. You'd go down to this ...  That's where that store was. 

"Seven new dwelling houses were being erected."  I don't know what those look like, but in, I'd say, the 1920's, is when all these houses were built.  Not all, but these ones you see that ... by the 1920's.  And those were built for the employees.  It was the custom years ago ... 

"A tank filled from an artestian well, supplies water to the works and the houses."  Now that, I'm sure, preceded the present tank.  The present tank is a house, I believe.  So that concrete tank was built later on.  It was later to have water in later years after, I mentioned the pot kilns, and patent kilns, and then the rotary kilns.  That rotary kiln out there had such high temperatures that they always had to have a source of water.  In those days, there were a lot of difficulties with the power lines, blowing down or a storm or something of that sort.  So we had to have a supply of water if something went.  So that's why they built the tank up on the hill and, if the power went off, they opened that valve and had that water for emergencies from the tank.  But they'd run water through the feed pipe of the kiln.  Otherwise, they'd burn the feed pipe out. 

So that's about when things were started here.  The ... came a little later .....................  There were pot kilns at Engle.  There are the remains of some up here between Engle and Harpers Ferry.  And ... there was an old schoolhouse there, and there are photographs here of that building also.  I understand, back before the time of the railroad, that some stone from Bakerton was hauled down there because the Bakers did not have a quarry there at the time.  And burned in those kilns at Engle.  Of course, they could produce stone of their own. 

Q: What kind of fuel did they burn in the kilns? 

L.H.: The Bakers brought a rotary kiln in 1928.  And it was fired by gas.  There was no natural gas here.  So they had a piece of machinery out there that would burn coal, produce gas, the gas would be blown into the kilns at the discharge end.  Now, a rotary kiln is inclined just enough so that the stone added to the feed end will progress right on down the kiln as it turns.   And it's being burned into lime during the entire time.  So stone comes down from one direction, and the hot gases go up.  And that kiln was built in 1928.  I think the mine was started, the underground mine, about 1922.  Before that, all the stone came from open quarries.  And in the early days, all the work was done by hand, and then, and men broke the stone down to the proper size and loaded it into the little carts or cars and they were pulled up the incline and the stone was sent into the kilns.  Of course, later on, they had steam shovels, and there were steam shovels like you see these shovels all over the place now.  And those were the old-time steam shovels.  I remember one very well that was used up here in Bakerton for clearing dirt.  See, in the quarry, if there was a big deposit of dirt over the stone, it had to be removed.  So they had a stripping operation and a quarrying operation.  That's one of the reasons they went to an underground mine, so they wouldn't have to remove all that overburden on top.  And they just followed the vein.  Another reason was that the stone at first was on the surface, but then it began to dip.  It dipped down toward the river and it dipped in a westerly direction.  So they went down as the mining process followed the stone, more or less, in old times in the limestone business.  The rotary kiln, later on, in '34 we went to.  This is Washington Building and Lime Company, was the name I gave you first.  But another division of the same company was Standard Lime and Stone Company, and they were in the stone business, shipping to the steel mills, principally.  And they had a cement business.  The Bakerton operation was The Washington Building and Lime Company.  That was the lime end of the business.  The rotary kiln was gone by '34.  We converted to coal power.  The coal came in here about egg size and down to dust, really, and went into the pulverizer and crushed down to 200 mesh, so to speak.  Fine stuff. 

Charles Knott: They put this stone in the kiln, there was different kinds.  There was .... one, two, three.  One was a little bigger, like that; the other a little bit smaller, and the other was ....................  And like you say, when they fired that with coal ........................... 

L.H.: The rotary kiln out here was only about 175 feet long.  And 9 feet wide it was all, that shell was bricklined with six- inch thick brick all the way through that kiln.  Otherwise, with all that heat running through there the shell would have been broken.  So there are kilns in operation today in the Martinsburg Cement Plant, which is the sister plant to this and was recently sold by Martin Marietta.  They had kilns up there that were 500 feet long and 13-15 feet wide.  It was a massive thing.  It's probably the biggest piece of moving machinery in the world.  So as years went by, larger and larger kilns were installed. There were ... at Bakerton.  Millville had about five kilns over there and .... had 65.  I spent 10 years at Millville and about 3 1/2 years here before I went to Millville.  And then I was at Martinsburg for ... and then Baltimore in the office down there for some years.  But the rotary kilns were a big improvement in the lime business.  And Bakerton had a high calcium lime about 95% cancium carbonate in the stone, 95%- 97%.  And there were impurities in the stone such as iron, magnesia, and silica.  And those, of course, were undesireable.  The higher the calcium content, the purer the limestone.  And in the kilns, what happened was, the carbon dioxide was driven off and carbonate became an oxide, and that's what the lime was. 

At Bakerton, in the early '30's, an addition was made to the plant.  Up to that time, we burned only lime in one of the three major kilns.  In the '30's a magnesia carbonate plant was built.  High calcium limestone wasn't suitable for that product, so you had to bring dolomitic stone over from Millville after it had been hydrated.  And out here at that time until after the Second World War, magnesium oxide was produced for the rubber industry ........................................................ and that's the only thing that created a market there.  And much of that stuff before the war, though, went into Phillips Milk of Magnesia, into the making of that product.  And some of the ladies here worked in the magnesia plant during the Second World War.  It operated 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. And some of them and the girls worked in the plant.  We had quite a few around Bakerton in the hydrating plant.  Some of that was pretty rugged work, but they did a fine job. 

Q: How did you get materials for the milk of magnesia plant? 

L.H.: We took that hydrated lime from Millville, which was dolomitic, and remember that this lime here at Bakerton was high calcium, and the stone at Millville was dolomitic, and there about 40% of the stone is magnesium carbonate.  And the other percent is calcium.  It's a different animal and it's used for a different purpose.  We mixed that with water; we took gas from the rotary kiln stack, which was waste, and we had big blowers that forced that gas up through the mixture of lime and water and carbonated it.  And then we filtered it, and we got a filter paste which was a waste, which was a clear liquor that came out of these filters containing magnesium oxide.  We'd run that through a second filter and the pure ... came out ...  And it came out in great big sheets.  We had trays.  And they pulled this ...  off the ... presses it was a big cake of magnesium carbonate.  We had to run that to oxide.  We had to run that through an oil burning dryer to dry it out some more and that was pulverized and shipped.  That was magnesium carbonate.  Later on, they purchased an electric furnace, and they burned that carbonate to drive out the carbon dioxide and produced an oxide that was used in the rotary kiln.  It was quite an operation. 

Q: That big pile right there beside the big quarry and the other quarry, that was the waste you talked about?  That pile where nothing grows? 

L.H.: I would say so. 

Q: What is that? 

L.H.: It was unburned lime or ...  It's just a mixture of stuff. Now, in addition out here, in addition to the production of lime and magnesium carbonate and oxide, they had a pulverized limestone operation here, where the raw stone was pulverized.  And much of that was, there weren't too many uses for it.  One was, it was shipped to the coal mines for dusting, to prevent coal mine explosions and fire from progressing in a limestone [sic] mine.  Much of it also was used in the manufacture of glass.  And it had to be a high quality stone to be used for that purpose.  And this was one of the, I think the quality of the limestone here was one of the best in the country or in the world.  There were fewer impurities.  Of course, later on, the high quality stone was depleted.  That was the main reason for closing down the plant.  But before it was closed down, some stone from Millville was shipped over here and burned in that rotary kiln in the production of a refractory that was used, in those days, in the steel mill furnaces.  The lining in those furnaces had to be maintained.  Each time after they made a run and made a pour from a steel furnace, they'd have to make repairs to the lining.  And usually they blew that stuff in.  It's granular.  At least the dolomite was.  And stone from Millville was burned in this kiln up here for several years before the plant closed down.  That was a black product that came out because when the stone was added to the rotary kiln an iron powder was added also.  That was the refractory. Refractoriness (?) as we called it.  And that was made out here for several years before the plant closed down because Millville had all the stuff and we didn't have any. 

Let me tell you something more about the history.  By the way, the company in Bakerton became part of Martin Marietta Corporation as it is today.  They had an operations office up in Martinsburg for about 20 years. 

Q: What was their name? 

L.H.: Well, it started out as Washington Building and Lime Company, and the sister company was Standard Lime and Stone.  In 1954, Marietta Asphalt Paint Company bought our whole operation and it became American Marietta.  In 1961, Martin Aerospace ... and then it became Martin Marietta.  And it has remained that ever since.  The name has been changed several times because they wanted to emphasize the cement end of the business, so it became Standard Lime and Cement instead of Standard Lime and Stone.  And now it has been changed again this past year to the Refractory Products Division of Martin Marietta Corporation.  But the products themselves are still the same. 

Coming back to the other things here, this church, the foundation was laid in 1916.  Prior to that, it was a church up on the hill right about where the quarry is.  If you go down the road here and instead of making a left at the loop where the road is right there now, years ago it would have been straight ahead.  Right on top of that first hill there is where the first Methodist Church was located here in Bakerton.  In 1916, this building was built.  I have a note right here in my grandfather's diary: "June 20, 1916.  First dirt was dug for the foundation." 

This diary tells a lot about, I think he covered every death that occurred in the general area.  I guess that was one of the few topics of conversation.  Some of the other things that occurred, believe it or not.  This lot on which the post office was located, now this was ... Kidwiler, is it?  That was an open lot back in those days -- 1916.  Hunt's show, and it was a big travelling show and animals and all like that came to Bakerton by rail.  If we hadn't of had that railroad, I guess we wouldn't have had a show.  I don't remember the one in 1916, but I do remember a little later on.  We lived in the house where, Taylor?  Well, that's where I lived.  And when a show came to town, they needed water. We had a cistern up there, so they carried water from there and we had tickets to the show.  I do remember that.  But they did have some activities like that. 

The building next door, at one time there was a bowling alley in the basement.  We played basketball in the high room -- it was two stories high.  A short time later on, it was divided into two stories.  And ice skating was a favorite thing back in that time.  I don't know what's happened to the weather, but back in those days we went out and skated every winter.  And there were more ponds around.  There was one out there just about where the gate is going out to the old farm.  A large pond in there and a big stable where the company had its own horses.  I remember that stable burned somewhere along the line, and quite a few horses burned at that time. 

In the article that Bill sent me from the Shepherdstown Register, it tells about a very bad fire here in Bakerton -- another stable, three stores, and they were rather large stores.  In those days, there were very few stores around and they kept everything. 

There was one time when there was 400 employees here at the Bakerton plant.  And many of them came from across the river.  There were no bridges up in this area at that time, and they came over by boat.  In the winter time, of course, the river would freeze up, and I am saying they would push the boat ahead of them so that when the boat went in, they had something to hold on to. 

But in this diary there are a lot of instances where people drowned in the river, and sometimes there were two or three at one time.  But many of those people from across the river worked in Bakerton.  I'd say, maybe half.  And when those stores were out here, they were out at the plant.  The last one burned down was the last store at that location. But in those early days, most of those men bought everything they needed to live on in the store out there.  And we had an old truck in the '20's and '30's.  They'd haul it to the river.  Even hog feed and cloth materials and most anything they needed they could buy at that store. And they ........... and got it home some way.  But one time, up there, it reached the point where the owner of the store had contracted with the company.  An employee could get anything he wanted, and the store just charged him.  When payday came along, the owner of the store, the company turned the payroll over to him.  He went to town to the bank and got the money and he payed the employees.  And of course he deducted from their pay whatever they owed.  So it was surely not a losing proposition.  But that, I'm sure you heard of that with coal, and it happened elsewhere to some extent, a limited amount. 

Charles Knott: Over the garage in front of the store, they had what you call a tipple.  They'd dump coal out.  My father would ... it to all around the community and to the kilns down in the hollow there.  And it's amazing the changes that have come through the years. 

L.H.:  The coal tipple was just about where the post office is now [Welsh's Store], and the coal was brought in by railroad cars.  It was an elevated tipple, and they'd unload it from the bottom.  And the coal could go on the ground or on the track.  And a wagon would come in, and later on trucks would haul it out. 

Q: Is it true that the company houses rented for $14-$15 a month and they furnished electricity? 

L.H.: Well, for a while.  Then they eliminated providing electricity and they had to pay their own. 

LOUISE TALLEY: We rented for $6 a month and we never had it. 

L.H.: Those were good employees.  They were very loyal, and the company apparently felt that it paid off. 

Q: Is there anything about the telephone company in your research? 

L.H.: The only thing I remember about that is in 19..  Does anybody have an idea when it came in? 

BILL THERIAULT: Yes.  In that article you were reading, it talks about the Orebank and it says that in 1890 the Orebank had a postoffice and one of three telephones in the area.  There was another telephone in Bakerton at the store and there was another one in Keller.  So it must have been around 1890 when the telephone came in. 

L.H.: Well, they had a telephone line from the plant out there to the railroad station at Engle, and that's how they made their shipments of stone.  The telephone we had in the '20's and '30's was the wall type that you'd ring and they'd be 10 parties on the phone.  And one Sunday night I was here attending service, and someone came in and said your house is on fire.  And my wife was trying to use the phone and with 10 people using it, it usually was busy.  And she had a terrible time trying to call the fire department.  But that old phone I remember better -- about '34 or '35 and later on. 

Q: Do you have any idea how large the mine was -- how long it was and how deep it was?  Approximately how many levels? 

L.H.: Well, the quarry.  Some of you, I know, are familiar with the fact that there are two quarries.  And they're connected by an underground mine.  And that stone, if you picture it dipping down in a westward direction.  Although they did do some mining in this area, that was horizontal.  But the stone going west dipped very deeply, and they followed it right along down.  In the old days, they had inclines right in the mine, and they pulled themselves up with them same cars.  Later on, they went to big dump trucks, and they built roads all around through there.  I think there are at least five levels in a ... and the stone is 50 feet thick in the mine.  The ceiling in those days on top was 50 feet high.  Now, we had a mine in Martinsburg where the ceiling was 100 feet high.  We had mines in Pennsylvania that were 100 feet.... 

                           END OF TAPE 

LH: It was a single ........................... process. .................................. And sometimes it turned out ..........................  The geology of this area, though, is very very interesting.  There are all kinds of information from the geological surveys.  I have quite a bit of information on the stone deposits.  There was a quarry at Engle.  There were really operations down there.  Up along the river.  Bill, I don't know whether you mentioned Knott's Quarry?  [WT: It's on that 1883 map.]  Well now, that's right along the river, and I understand that much of that stone was loaded on barges and taken across the canal.  It would go out to Georgetown and places like that.  There were two quarries there, Knott and Flanaghan. .............................  They brought stone, some stone came out of the quarry down there, the second quarry.  Some of it came up from the Flanagan quarry.  There was an old railroad track with a steam dinky.  They'd bring those cars, ................. on up to the bottom of the incline and pull them up by cable and dump them.  

In here somewhere is the ................. county sideline, but I suppose you heard, way back there in the early part of the century, they had what they called pest houses.  If a person had smallpox, they .............  they had to live in a place like that.  I was of the opinion it was over on what I call Bunker Hill.  Now Bunker Hill is that ridge West of you [Bill Theriault].  You're right on it now, Bill, or whether it was down on towards the river, but there was a building out here.  It shows under ....................  People who had smallpox, there were no hospitals apparently at that time, and they were sent to those places until they recovered or died. 

The new school house was opened November 28, 1921, and I was attending the old one down here, and we paraded over there, and I think that just a few years ago the old bell that we had in the belfrey down here at Oak Grove was used in the school house over there.  It's now in the Church of God.  And one other thing, Mrs. Jessie Houser was a Lynch.  Do you know who lives in that house over there now?  Anyhow, there's a stained glass window out of the old church which is up yonder of you all.  It's in the attic.  It's in the building structure of that house over there. It is in there at Engle.  I don't know who lives there now, but Lynch was there. 

Are there any questions? 

Q: What causes the sink holes that are all around here? 

LH: That is not uncommon in limestone country.  In many places, not many but sometimes in underground mines, they would be removing this high quality stone.  They would come to what we would call a "mud pocket" and from there to the surface was just what it said, a pocket full of mud. Well, you're all acquainted with caverns.  That's how they were formed. As water dissolved the stone, it was carried away and dirt from the surface filled it up.  And there's still water flowing underground, and, so there's always the possibility of sinkholes forming.  Of course, these were formed over millions of years, I suppose.  But that's how they came into being.  It wasn't unusual to find one when we broke in one of those mines.  When it was open quarried, it didn't make any difference.  You just removed the dirt. 

Q: Did you find caves in the process of going underground?  In this area, there is one where the railroad is going by to Jellystone Park. In Shepherdstown, periodically, there are natural underground caverns. 

LH: There's a big one.  You mentioned Kerfoot Moler.  There's a big cavern up there you can walk in.  That's one where several guyswere lost last year. 

Q: Where does Kerfoot Moler live? 

LH: Right at that intersection.  If you go up the river road to Moler's crossroads, his farm is on the right.  Right at the intersection.  And that schoolhouse is, if you go up the river road to Moler's Crossroads and turn right, the school house is the first building on your right. The latest schoolhouse.  Now the other one, there were several others. But that is a big cavern up there. 

Q: When you were mining this area, did you find caverns? 

LH: Small ones.  Up in Pennsylvania, it's the same vein of stone, really.  We had a big quarry -- limestone mine at Pleasant Gap, right outside of State College, and they had a rather large cavern that they ran into up there.  And that was the case where they were located near a mountain, and snow would form on that mountain in the winter time, and in the spring it would thaw and it would flood out the mine.  They would have to close down or go to an open quarry for a period of maybe a month while they could pump water out of this mine.  This mine over here, as you could suppose, it is filled with water now.  I say filled.  The lower end of it, now, may be up here.  Maybe you can see the openings in the side of the face there.  But everything below that is water.  There are billions of gallons of water in there. 

This happened about 20 years ago.  Well, limestone mines are very suitable for the growing of mushrooms.  And back about 20 years ago, the government, maybe further back than that, they were trying to find a place suitable for, you know, in case of nuclear attack?  The population could go there.  Well, they studied this mine for a while.  The government also had some other kind of project in mind, and they came in here and measured the degree of temperature, the amount of water pumped, and that type of thing.  I remember seeing in Kansas, an underground operation, an underground limestone mine.  I don't know how many acres it covered, but they stored thousands of carloads of products in that mine, and part of it would be refrigerated.  So that nothing ever came of this mine here.  But that's a big hole in the ground out there. 

Q: When did the quarry fill up with water? 

LH: The plant was shut down in the late fifties, and ... I don't recall exactly, but the open quarry is another example.  That water must be 50 or 60 feet deep.  It's an open quarry. 

Q: Was there water in the mine before it closed? 

LH: They pumped water continuously until they decided to close the mine. They pulled the pumps out. 

Q: Are there any maps of the extent of the tunnels and where they go? 

LH: Not to my knowledge.  I don't think that the company ... See, all that land was sold to that man from Hagerstown [Dan Sheedy].  He bought all the remaining land, which was about 1,000 acres and, as far as I know, the company didn't retain any records on this. 

The company owned all around the town.  The only area they didn't own was this area over here we call Poketown.  I lived here, so I can call it Poketown.  I think actually the reason it got its name was there was a blacksmith shop up here many years ago, about 1920 I guess.  There were a lot of pokeberries, and I figure maybe that was how it got its name.  Of course, in those days, the dirt roads got so muddy in the winter you could hardly travel at all.  Until the 1920's when the automobile came along, all these roads were dirt.  And we were very happy when they began hard surfacing.  And we didn't have this in Bakerton, but I'm sure in your research Bill, there were toll booths all over the place, in those days.  They had turnpikes.  There was one down here at the hill, the Allstadt's, as you turn and go up on [U.S. Route] 340 -- now the old 340 there.  And there were none in this immediate area, as I recall, but there was a toll bridge at Shepherdstown and there was a toll bridge between there and Sharpsburg, and I know there was one somewhere along 340 somewhere near Charles Town, at Middleway, all that area.  But farmers didn't travel any where.  They didn't travel very far in those days because of the bad roads. 

Then later they began putting stone on the roads to try and improve the mud situation.  The county had crushers.  The farmers picked up stone out of the fields and piled it along the road, and the county had a crusher they would bring around when I was a teenager.  And they would crush the stone and scatter it along the road.  And that was all the treatment it got. 

Q: When did they do that? 

L.H.: I'd say through the '20's, I think.  By that time we began to get hard surface. 

Q: Is the high calcium content in the hard water in this area a function of the high calcium content in the lime? 

I would say so.  It is hard; there's no doubt about that. 

Q: How many pounds of stone is a perch [?]? 

LH: I used to know that.  I don't know. 

Q: We're talking about the county ...  The county bought stone and so forth like it was piled up, sort of by the cord... so high.  I think they bought it by the perch.  It was a little over 2,000 pounds, I think. 

LH: There were times over the years, even after they had hard surface roads, they weren't too well equipped to handle snow.  And several instances I  recall in Bakerton, when the plant was still  operating, we had snows and sometimes they were 40 inches deep, and we'd help to clean the roads.  A man would break a .... 

I know Charlie [Knott] had a pickup truck one time, and we'd start out with shovels and shovel all the way to what is now 340 near Harpers Ferry. 

One time a lady fell up here and broke her leg, .......................................... 

I think it was ................................................................. ....... 

and we started out that evening with three or four pickup trucks and about 50 men ................................................................. ........ 

up the river, up near ....................................................... 

the ............................. near the Shepherdstown docks ...........................about 2 miles ................................................................. ... 

We picked him up and brought him back here.  He treated her, and then we took him back up there about 12 o'clock the next morning. 

When the snow was too deep in the road, we'd shovel when we could, but when it got too deep we'd cut a fence and go through the field.   If the snow was in the road, it probably wasn't in the field too bad............................ but more than once we dug out of here by hand.  And I mean sometimes those drifts were 6 or 8 feet in the road ............................. 

and we would have to shovel it out. 

C. Knott: And you got 100% cooperation. 

L.H.: Yes.  And the women of the church in some cases would bring out sandwiches and coffee.  It wasn't all hard work. 


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Hetzel, Lowell.  Interview.  June 1, 1985.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

Q: I found a newspaper article about Grover Mills.  About the rescue of somebody from the river.  There was a Hoffman boy with one arm and Mrs. Gross who crossed the river and the Hoffman boy's uncle, who was also in the boat.  And Grover Mills rescued him [the uncle].  I guess he must have lived near the Orebank? 

L.H.: No. The last place he lived, coming out here, after you make the right turn, with all those holes down there.  And then a little further you make a right turn.  There's three houses back in there.  The first one was log.  The next one was a smaller house.  That's where he lived until he died. 

Q: Grover Mills was easy to identify in the pictures because he always wore the same hat. 

L.H.: That's right.  His hair was albino.  His hair was as white as snow.  Roy Hoffmaster was a character.  He lived right there across from the school.  Margaret is still living.  His daughter. 

[Photo No. 5, Front Row, left to right] Oscar Flanagan.  Skeeter's father, Martin Welsh.  Brian Houser.  Sheldon Geary -- now that was my uncle and he was the brother to Christine Geary.  [Back row, left to right]  Now that one I don't know.  This is a Moler, I don't know what his first name was. 

Q: The first one you don't know.  The second one was a Moler. 

L.H.: I'm sure that [third one] was Roy Welsh.  Mack Moore.  The first one is Sam Bond. 

Q: That's Sam Bond, Mack Moore, Roy Welsh (L.H.: he was my uncle), Carrol Moler, Lawrence Welsh (L.H.: Another uncle) and Billy Mills (L.H.: Now that's Helen's father-in-law). 

Q: Do you think the date [1916] is about right? 

L.H.: I would think so.  This guy was in the First World War, and Brian Houser was in the First World War. 

Q: He [Martin Welsh] looks pretty young.  He looks like a teenager there. 

L.H.: It could have been earlier.  It wouldn't have been much later. 

L.H.: [Bakerton Baseball photo, ca. 1938]  Now one of these guys, Mumma, is now in Oklahoma.  And I met his brother a couple of years ago.  And the brother talked to him and he wrote me a letter.  I would like a copy of this.  I want to send him a copy. ...  He was pretty close to getting into professional ball and then he got into the government some way. And ended up in Germany or Europe after the Second World War, I guess, in athletics some way.  And then he got a job at the University of Oklahoma and now he's physically in bad shape.  Almost beyond driving. He had an accident. 

Q: I have a reference to a newspaper article in the Baltimore Sun about him trying out for the Olympic team. 

L.H.: He was an excellent ball player.  That was a good team. ...  I was here when they built those silos [for the magnesia plant].  They slipped on.  When they started, they built these metal forms at the bottom. They'd pour and jack the thing up and pour.  It was continuous pouring. 

Q: Where was the magnesia plant located? 

L.H.: Instead of my coming in the gate down there, if I'd gone straight ahead.  Gone straight.  You would have run into the magnesia plant.  It was over on the east side of the plant. 

Q: Where's the place they called Little Italy? 

L.H.: It was between there and up where I lived.  There was a fence row there and the little road went right up along that fencerow and up to where I lived at the end of the quarry.  So Little Italy was between Ten Row and the house where I lived.  The white house up there.  It's still there. ...  And there was a bunch of one-story shacks.  They might have had 2 or 3 little rooms.  And there were Italians and some colored folks. 

Q: Was Ten Row mostly colored? 

L.H.: Yes.  See, those kilns up there were hand fired, and it was so bloomin' hot.  They shoveled that coal in by hand, and they pulled the ashes out by hand, and then they'd wheel lime out the same way.  And the white people wouldn't take the job.  They couldn't stand it.  Those colored folks could do it without too much problem.  And most of them came from down in Washington and Rapahanock county, Virginia.  And not only did they have a bunch of them out there [Ten Row], they had a bunch of them along here.  Up along the ...  They weren't all black.  There were several white guys. 

Q: Bill Flanagan was telling me there was a store out there [Ten Row]. 

L.H.: Well, the original one was, Engle?  Strider and Engle.  Two families operated a store down there. 

Q: Was there a colored store or a boarding house down there [Ten Row]? 

L.H.: Not as far as I know. 

Q: Bill Flanagan said something about a fellow setting up out at the end of Ten Row a lunchroom, and it sounded like he must have had a boarding house. 

L.H.: I don't remember. 

Q: I could have been real early, too. 

L.H.: That must have been before my time.  Now there were stores up here [east of the plant].  The last building torn down, a brick building, was a store to begin with. 

Q: Was that Millard's store? 

L.H.: Millard's store. 

Q: That's the one that was rebuilt.  It burned down and the company rebuilt it? 

L.H.: Yes.  I remember the night.  I remember looking up there where Blanche Lewis lived before she died.  And I could see the flames.  And I was a little kid and, of course, it scared me.  And then that was rebuilt out there. 

Q: Do you remember Mr. Millard very well? 

L.H.: He bought the house where I lived.  About 1925.  And he operated that store.  And Martin Welsh worked for him, and Bill Flanagan worked for him.  I worked in there during the summer.  And Mr. Millard's first wife died and he married a Moler.  And he moved out of that house and it became the superintendent's house.  And I suspect Mr. Walter Flanagan was the first superintendent to occupy that house.   And then several other superintendents lived there.   Short-term superintendents.  And then I was assistant superintendent here in '34 and that's about the time he [died?] 

Q: Can you tell me what the store looked like inside?  What kind of stuff it sold? 

L.H.: Everything.  I mean by that, food, shoes, yard goods, shirts, trousers (not fancy shirts but work shirts).  Feeds of all kinds.  The men, many of the employees were from Maryland, came across the river. There weren't any bridges in those days.  And they came by boat.  And they even bought hog feed over here.  And many times, Mr. Millard had a little pickup, Ford Model T pickup truck, and during the summer when I was working there (and somebody else did the rest of the year) we'd load that, whatever they bought into the truck, and haul it down to the river.  That little piece that Skeeter owns where the creek comes out? And crossed the river.  And they must have carried it on their backs, I guess up somewhere.  But we sold a good bit of stuff.  Patent medicines, meats of all kinds, sliced meats.  Ice cream.  They used to bring ice cream by rail from Buckeystown.  Now those products came in by rail either to Shepherdstown or Engle.  Usually there was a truck to those places most every day. 

Q: Did you sell a lot of the Baker's goods?  I know the Bakers had a canning company.   Buckingham Canning Company. 

L.H.: Not to my knowledge.  I never knew about it.  He had all kinds of canned goods.  I don't think any of it came from there. 

Q: What kind of a man was Mr. Millard? 

L.H.: Very fine.  In think in some way he was related to the Bakers. 

Q: His half-sister married one of the Bakers. 

L.H.: He was a fine person to work for.  He never seemed to get disturbed about things.  Of course, business was pretty good in those days.  And not only did he handle the store, he handled the payroll. The plant office would tell him what the payroll would be, and he'd go to the bank and get the money and paid in cash.  Each employee would come up there and he'd pay them. 

Q: Did they have a system where the employees got their goods on credit and if there was anything left over at the end of the month they got paid? 

L.H.: Yes.  It was even possible to get cash.  If an employee got cash, they paid a little something for it.  It wasn't free.  There was some interest.  But each one could draw $10 or $20.  If his account was in good shape, they would give him the cash and put it on his account, and they would deduct so much each payday. 

Q: When you usually hear about company stores, there's not usually too much that's good.  What did you think of this operation? 

L.H.: I think it was fair.  Maybe the interest rate, I wasn't sure how much it was.  I'm sure there were times when the employees were overdrawn, but as long as they were working I don't think they had any problem.  For the necessities, at least.  Maybe they couldn't get as much cash as they wanted. 

Q: Skeeter's father worked for Mr. Millard, right? 

L.H.: Yes.  Now Millard had another store out on the corner. 

Q: Is that the building that's there now, where the Talleys are? 

L.H.: That's right.  Martin Welsh, Skeeter's father, worked out at the plant for many years, and Millard closed this one anyhow and came into the building on the corner out there.  And they had the post office in there.  And it was there many years before he [Martin Welsh, Sr.] built the one across the road. 

Q: I heard from various sources that there was a little something funny going on there with the goods from Mr. Millard's store.  Did you ever head anything about that? 

L.H.: No. [Laughs] 

Q: Well, that's one of those rumors that comes up around here. 

L.H.: [Laughs] I don't know about that. 

Q: Bill Flanagan was telling me the Welshes lived over the Millard store, or next to it.  Was there a house attached to the store? 

L.H.: I don't know about that. 

Q: He said that Mrs. Welsh burned her feet on the floorboards, it was so hot when she was getting out of the store fire. 

L.H.: Now that you mention it, I think that's correct. 

Q: [Referring to photo no. ___] This is Brian Houser, [then] you ... 

L.H.: Johnny Moler (they called him Red), Norman Clabaugh (he married Brian Houser's sister), Stoddard Routson, Bob Mahoney, Charley Farling, Carrol Moler (we saw him earlier on the baseball team). 

Q: Was he also called Cobby? 

L.H.: Yes. And Joe Capriotti. 

Q: I was talking to Mrs. Shade.  She said that Joe Capriotti was one of the boys from the Buckingham School that was placed here. 

L.H.: Yes.  So was Bill [Capriotti].  One of the Lookingbill girls married Bill Capriotti and Joe married a Kidwilder.  They both came out of the Buckingham school. 

Q: Were there any other boys that came over here that you know of? 

L.H.: No.  But somewhere in here is a photograph of our Safety Director who, Ralph Whitlow, became plant safety director when the school was closed in the '30's [1944].  And he came to the Millville plant.  He's the only one I know. 

Q: Did the Capriotti's ever tell you how they got over here?  Did the Bakers place them in the plant? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: Can you get me straight about the Welshes?  This [photo] is Norah Welsh. 

L.H.: She's a sister to John and Tom, who was Martin's father, and Pat was a brother, and a couple of other sisters that lived over across the river.  I think one married an Eichelberger, I'm not sure.  But this is, her [Norah's] family lived right down on the creek here where the Thompsons, no Horton, lives there now. 

Q: There was a Welsh that lived there until a few years ago in the house where Jimmy Horton lives. 

L.H.: Well, his mother was a Thompson, but she was this lady's [Norah's] daughter. 

Q: There was also a little stone foundation on the right hand side, coming in from Flanagan's Quarry.  Now, somebody, I think Bill Flanagan, said that was a house that belonged to one of the Welshes. 

L.H.: Coming in the way you said, the house on the right was the original Flanagan house, the older generation of Flanagans. 

Q: That's one of the ones that managed the quarry, then? 

L.H.: It was back in that time, back in the last century.  I can remember the house very well.  It hasn't been there for a long time, but the Flanagans lived there. 

Q: Do you remember when the railroad was running down there, the narrow guage? 

L.H.: Oh, yes. 

Q: Were they actually using it then, taking stone from Flanagan's Quarry? 

L.H.: That's right, and bringing it up.  The kilns that were down there got stone from either end.  If it came up the other way, it came from Flanagan's Quarry, and they had an incline from the deep hole over here and they pulled it up by cable from the Baker Quarry.  So it had to operate up until the 1920's.  I remember it very well.  And the railroad went down there, not the main line.  But there was a wye over here just before you go down in this deep hollow.  The track came down through the plant, and there's still probably some evidence there. 

[Referring to Photo]  There's Ralph Whitlow.  He and his wife both taught at the Buckingham School [Back row, second from the left] 

Q: Did any of the Bakers come to speak out here at any of these dinners? 

L.H.: Sometimes they came to the safety ralleys.  They didn't necessarily make a speech, but if they were there there were usually recognized.  And Mr. Thomas, who was general superintendent, usually attended those things.  Now this one, George Phelps, who was one of my boses, and I represented the General Operations Office in Martinsburg. The rest of the gang is all home folks (Photo # 19]. 

Q: Who are the young ladies out front? 

L.H.: This is Joe Capriotti's daughter, and I'm sure this is a Grim. 

Q: Did they work for the plant? 

L.H.: No.  Their fathers worked there. 

Q: This photo [#20] I got from Bill Flanagan.  I didn't know all the people in here, but there was a write-up in one of the publications that said some of the people who attended.  Across from the right is Brian Houser ... 

L.H.: Lee Muller, Phillips, Whitlow; these girls, this was an Eaton and this was a Thompson down here.  This is Mrs. Houser, Mrs. Brian Houser. 

Q: Charles Knott's Aunt? 

L.H.: Yes.  She's the last one to live in that house. 

Q: She's the one who was a teacher? 

L.H.: That's right.  It's funny, she and Blanche Lewis.  I don't know if they were married when they taught here before they were married or not. But there was a time in the school system when they couldn't hire married teachers.  This was a Presbyterian minister and his wife.  I wouldn't know their names. 

Q: Do you know any of these women in picture # 22? 

L.H.: I'm sure this one's a Rice, and another Rice.  They were sisters. Carter. [3rd row] Hoffman.  There's Jessie Houser [2nd row up in back]. That girl looks like Juanita Horn. 

Q: I think you've seen this one [photo] of Engle's Station. 

L.H.: That sure looks like it.  This old store over there, we knew the folks who lived over there.  And I'm telling you, Bill, we'd visit them and when those trains came the whole house shook.  It's a wonder.  They were pretty fortunate over the years.  They never had an accident.  On that curve as you are coming down, you would have gone in the other direction anyhow.  But I never felt too safe in there. 

Q: [Photo #33]  Bill Flanagan was telling me there were two stone houses down there [at the Orebank].  One that the Jones Family lived in and another one the Eaton family lived in.  Does that sound right? 

L.H.: Yes.  I'm not sure that one was a two-story.  It was closer to the river.  I think this was the Friend [house].  I think it was one story, maybe one and a half.  It wasn't as tall as this thing [the Friend house]. 

[Photo #34]  Lawrence Welsh, Garland Moore (Juanita's Father), let's skip this one for the moment.  This was my father, Dave Hetzel, James Houser, [2nd row] Charlie Hopper, Grover Mills, Richard Houser, Roy Welsh, Walter Hoffmaster, [3rd row].  Leave a blank there for the moment.  Carrol Moler, Roy Hoffmaster, Jasper Manuel, Claude Haines, and Billy Mills.  Oh, Jimmy Hoffmaster [1st row].  That was Roy's father. He used to teach Sunday School class. 

Q: Can you guess when that was taken? 

L.H.: In the '20's. 

Q: [Oak Grove School photo, 3rd row, Dick Carter 2nd from end]  Did you know Mr. Jesse Engle? 

L.H.: Well, I remember him.  Do you have a year on this [photo]? 

Q: 1913. 

L.H.: Well, see, I wasn't there that early.  I didn't start until '16 or '17. 

Q: Who was teaching you when you started? 

L.H.: Mr. Engle.  And I expect she [Ethel Moler] was still there at that time. 

Q: Can you tell me what the inside looked like? 

L.H.: Wainscotting.  It was just plain walls and ceilings.  The same thing.  Of course it had lots of windows. 

Q: Windows down both sides? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: Three windows down each side? 

L.H.: That was pretty good size.  There were two rooms there.  Each one had four grades.  I think the upper form might have been a little larger than the other one.  But there was a partition as you come in and doors you could walk right on through one from the other, and a door at the end of the building.  And there was a belfry right inside this door, and that's where the water cooler was kept.  They came down and rang the bell to open the school and for recess and dinner and whatnot. 

Q: Do you remember any incidents about that school? 

L.H.: The most amusing one.  We had a potbellied stove that sat in the middle of the room.  Each room.  And the one in the, I was in the upper four grades at that time, and the smoke pipe went right out the top of the stove and up near the ceiling and made a right turn and over to the chimney.  And it was held up there by wires, the horizontal run.  And one of the teachers decided to clean the smoke pipe of soot.  So he had an old shotgun of some kind, and he took the beebees out of the shell and left the wad and explosives in there, and opened the door and stuck that thing in the door and pulled the trigger and blew all the smokepipe down.  And had soot all over the place. 

Q: Was that Mr. Engle? 

L.H.: No. It was somebody else.  Also we had a flagpole, and some of the kids at times would sneak out and take somebody's coat, usually it was a boy taking a girl's coat, and run it up the flag pole.  Or an umbrella or something like that.  But usually the pranks weren't too serious. 

Q: And that school was sort of in a wye between the railroad tracks, wasn't it?  There was one set of railroad tracks going down to the Orebank? 

L.H.: No.  The former Ruritan headquarters, now.  Those houses were built about in the '20's or early 30's.  But none of them were there at that time.  That was the schoolhouse lot.  And it had a high wooden fence around it, and the school-building there with the belfry. 

Q: What kind of teacher was Mr. Engle? 

L.H.: Very well qualified and very strict.  Of course, those kids, you know, would try to pull tricks on him, but he ran an excellent schoolhouse.  I don't know about his training, but I'm sure the kids, for that time, I don't know when graduates of that school started to go to highschool.  But in the early days they didn't go any further.  I would say, probably, I started down there in '24.  There were a few ahead of me, but not too many -- Bill Flanagan.  Some of them chose to go to Shepherdstown.  We both went to Shepherdstown High.  Dan Link went with us to Shepherdstown.  They didn't provide any transportation, and I don't know when the buses started, but buses were operating when I started in '24.  And the buses were contracted.  A local operator supplied buses under contract to the school board.  And for one year, possibly one and a half, I drove a school bus.  I went home in the evening, dropped the kids off, come up through Engle and al along the way, and took it home at night.  So, I got pretty well acquainted with the bus. I even came through Halltown.  Of course, 340 wasn't much of a road in those days.  We came from Harpers Ferry to Halltown and then we started dropping kids off on the way back.  And in the morning, we picked up at Bakerton first and picked them up all the way into Halltown. 

Q: Do you remember the colored school in Bakerton? 

L.H.: No, I really don't.  There were some colored churches.  I remember two. 

Q: Where were they located? 

L.H.: One of them was over here in Ten Row. 

Q: Was that over where that foundation is on the corner?  There is a camper sitting there. 

L.H.: I'm not sure.  The other one was over there against ... 

                      BEGINNING OF TAPE II 

L.H.: ... coming up over that hill.  Probably the last dwelling ... to the old store. 

Q: Do you remember where the colored kids ended up going to school when the Bakerton Elementary School was opened?  Did they bus them out someplace? 

L.H.: Yes.  Page Jackson was the first colored highschool in the county. Because they used to come up there, the ones that lived in Ten Row, walk up that road I told you about to Little Italy, and come up around the corner down there, and that's where they caught the bus. 

Q: This is a picture of Engle Switch taken in 1903, and the fellow with the guitar is Mrs. Flanagan's brother [uncle] Fred Kearns. 

L.H.: It might have been her uncle.  I didn't know that generation. 

Q: I got photo #42 from Bill Flanagan, too. 

L.H.: There's Mr. Thomas, Frank Thomas. 

Q: In the back row, there beside Bill Flanagan? 

L.H.: I don't know about that. 

Q: Second from the right in the back row.  He does look a lot like his father. 

L.H.: He looks exactly like his father.  Now these were teams from various plants, and there was an annual competition.  And they selected winners, you know, first, second, third, and so on. 

Q: Did the whole family get involved in this?  It looks like the whole family is dressed up in white. 

L.H.: They were trying to generate the interest of the kids, so they were allowed to come to the ..., I think they even had teams of kids. I'm not too sure about that. 

Q: Do you have any idea where this picture was taken?  Was it taken any place around here.  Does this house look familiar? 

L.H.: Well, I'm looking at some of the kids, Herbert Moler.  No.  It may have been at Bakerton, but I can't recognize the house. 

Q: I got this one from Bill Flanagan -- Sam Knott's Store.  Maybe you can recognize some of these people.  Charles Flanagan.  Didn't know the next one ... 

L.H.: It looks to be like a Hill, Carl's brother.  Burns Trundle. 

Q: Then Bill Flanagan. 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: And then ... 

L.H.: Richard Houser. 

Q: Luther Bowman? 

L.H.: It could be. 

Q: We didn't know the next three.  And we didn't know the girl and the boy. 

L.H.: Well, that looks like Billy Mills back there.  This looks to me like Richard Houser.  There's Grover Mills.  I'd say this is Sam Trundle. 

Q: Sam Trundle, Russell Moler, Charles Kidwiler.  You don't know the lady that's on the porch?  That's pretty faint. 

L.H.: Well, I would say it looks like Mrs. Essie May, Jasper Manuel's wife.  They lived there. 

Q: They lived in back there? 

L.H.: Yes.  And he operated it. 

Q: Was there anything up over the store in those days? 

L.H.: I'd say yes because there are windows up there.  But I don't know that they were there to begin with, although they could have been. 

Q: Photo #44.  This is the one I got from Mrs. Shade, when her family ... 

L.H.: Oh, that's the one that taught me.  Mary Donley.  She married a Rinehart some years back.  I do recognize her. 

Q: I think we got everyone on this one.  The names are all written on the back. 

L.H.: Is that building still there? 

Q: I don't believe it is. 

L.H.: I know where it was. 

Q: Mrs. Shade also gave me a newspaper article, and there pictures were in it of Miss Henkle and Miss Shade.  And this article was in '49 -- a special article on the school.  And a picture of the lunchroom ...  How long were you on the school board? 

L.H.: Twenty-five years. 

Q: From when to when? 

L.H.: Forty four to '69. 

Q: Do you remember what happened to the Engle school? 

L.H.: No. 

Q: [Reference to photo of Daniel Baker V]  ... Daniel Baker. 

L.H.: It's not Daniel, that's Joe. 

Q: Well, the picture came out of the Standard Lime and Stone Accident Round Table.  It was in the same issue as Grover Harding's 50th anniversary with the plant and it was about a year before Daniel Baker [III] died.  Daniel Baker the third, I guess.  The last president. 

L.H.: Yes, that's right. 

Q: When I called Mrs. Ramsburg, she gave me his address and telephone number.  I haven't called him yet. 

L.H.: Did he work with us?  When I went to Baltimore in '69.  He, I'm sure he was in sales for '69, at that time Martin- Marietta.  And then he left us and went to Baker Watts, I think, an investment form. 

Q: Right, which was also run by the Bakers. 

L.H.: By the grandchildren.  And Baker-Watts, I think, is still a well-known investment organization.  Yea, that's the kid, yea. 

Q: I want to talk to him.  I thought it would be interesting to talk to him because they had a little write-up on him, and it looked as though, he graduated from Princeton with a degree in Engineering.  It looked as though if he had stayed with the company -- if the company had stayed with the Bakers -- he probably would have ended up being one of the directors. 

L.H.: He should have. 

Q: And the year after he came in, Daniel Baker [III] died I guess, and shortly before he sold the plant. 

L.H.: The fellow who succeeded Daniel Baker was Lewis Rumford, and Lewis still lives in Baltimore.  I saw him a few weeks ago. 

Q: He was president of American Marietta?  It looked to me from the newspaper article that Daniel Baker resigned and about a month later they announced that the company was sold. 

L.H.: Fifty-four is when it became American-Marietta. 

Q: Daniel Baker died in '56. 

L.H.: That may have been.  I'm not sure. 

Q: So he [Rumford] was president under American-Marietta? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: Charles [Knott] gave me this picture of David Hoffman.  He died in the Civil War.  When I went to Buckeystown, the lady [Nancy Bodmer] went upstairs.  She has all sorts of things up in her attic.  She's been doing this history of Buckeystown.  And she gave me this, which is a receipt from the Keller Lime Company to The Buckingham School and ...L.H.: It [lime] was sold in bushels.  That's the way it was sold in those days.  I don't know, 56 or 60 pounds a bushel, and 15 pounds of dynamite and 15 caps. 

Q: Was there any kind of competition between the Kellers and the Bakers? 

L.H.: No.  The Kellers were operating the quarries at Engles at the same time these other quarries were opening up.  The only competition would have been in aggregates because Keller didn't burn anything.  It was just quarrying and crushing and shipping ballast for the railroad or road use or something like that.  So the competition would have been purely in the aggregate business, not in the lime. 

Q: He also had a canning company in Adamstown or Buckeystown. 

L.H.: I learned that from what you said.  I wasn't acquainted with that. I didn't know the Bakers had a tannery at Libertytown in addition to Buckeystown. 

Q: The lady I talked to in Buckeystown said that all the things she looked at about the Bakers they never mentioned the Kellers.  And she thought it was a little bit funny. 

L.H.: Well, of course, later on, the Bakers bought that Keller Quarry, which was later sold to ...  I guess as you go to Engle its the last one on the right up before you get to the crossroads this side of the Job Core Center.  The Bakers owned that. 

John H. "[Baker] was the oldest Baker that I knew, and he came up here when we built that magnesia plant in '43 or '44, and I remember he visited the plant after it was in operation.  That's J.H.  He was the matriarch ... patriarch at that time of the older generation.  The other three boys, Joe, Dan, and Dave.  Dave Baker's son lives in Baltimore. And the funny thing about this, Bill, 6 months or so ago, I still do appraisal work, and my boss sent me.  There's a printing plant over there in east Baltimore which we had to appraise.  [My boss said] "I'll go over with you and go through it and then I'll leave you there.  And that's what we normally do.  He likes to see the property initially and then he might go back later, but he leaves me to dig out all the facts. So I got there and met the owner, and he was a Baker.  Well, I was interested in the building at that time and the next day said to my boss "What was his name?"  And he said "Dave Baker."  He'd be the next generation, but he sure looked like the Dave Baker I knew and he was with the company when I went to Baltimore. 

Q: What's the name of the plant? 

L.H.: Some Press.  I can't tell you today.  So he said "Ask him tomorrow."  It was the son of David Baker, who I had worked with when he was a vice-president.  And Daniel was president, Joe was vice-president, and Dave was vice-president.  And this was the next generation.  And then, we got to gabbing then next day for quite a while and I told him who I was and how long I had worked for the company.  But he's operating this printing company.  Nice building and apparently doing pretty ...  I don't know.  I don't know why we appraised him.  A lot of our appraisals are the result ... we do a lot of work for banks.  Somebody is operating a business and wants to expand, or wants a loan for some reason, and the banks want to know what's what.  So a lot of our business comes from there.  I don't recall the facts in that case, but anyhow they appraised it and I never got a chance...  I haven't been in touch with him since then, but what he would know I don't ...  His father, the reason I mentioned him, his father David, was vice-president for many years and our second son, we call him Denny, had asthma so bad we had to take him to a specialist in Baltimore in the '40's.  And Mary and I went down there with Denny this particular day and went to the doctor, and he wanted to run so many tests it would require staying over night.  And David Baker learned about that, and he invited us out to supper at his home to stay the night and we went back to the doctor the next day.  And we had a very pleasant visit with him.  All the Bakers were very fine people to know, I mean, they treated you well. 

Q: Can you tell me some more about John H. Baker? 

L.H.: No.  My only recollection of him was that in those days he would show up and visit the plants.  And he wanted to see right down to the detail what was going on.  And I remember seeing him in that magnesia plant in the '40's.  I don't know when he died. 

Q: Did the Bakers come up here very often? 

L.H.: No. 

Q: Most of the day-to-day work was the Thomases? 

L.H.: Yes, the General Superintendent.  Then later on, about the time I went to Martinsburg, the General Superintendent's Office in '47.  They had begun to build an operating staff.  There was a time when there was only the General Superintendent, secretary, and one engineer.  That was back in the General Operations Office.  Then they began expanding until they got maybe 15 or 20 on the staff.  Specialities in Safety and Maintenance and Operations, an Electrical Engineer and a Mechanical Engineer.  Then they brought in a drafting department.  We did our own designing.  They they got a construction crew to do our own construction of what we had designed, including power plants, rotary kilns, crushers, and everything. 

Q: Do you remember anything about the unions in Bakerton? 

L.H.: I think they had a company union for many years.  So-called company union.  It was organized by the employees, but there was no contact with outside union management or organization.  I suppose this plant was unionized later on.  I know most of the other plants were. But I can't tell you when this one, I'm not even sure if it was.  Those change so much that it's amazing what unions some of these operations got into.  I'm sure our company had at least three different unions operating with people doing the same work at different plants.  They relations usually were fairly good.  There were some problems.  I don't recall any serious ones at Bakerton. 

Q: Here's another Thomas -- Stephen A. I think he was out in Buckeystown. ...  This is Joseph D. [Baker] and William G. [Baker]. 

L.H.: William G. was the one that got into banking business in the Frederick area. 

Q: Daniel was the third, the last one that was president.  ...  Were you around here during the influenza epidemic, in 1918? 

L.H.: Yes.  I was a very small kid, but Dr. Knott at Molers Crossroads was the chief doctor of this area at that time.  He was present when I was born, I understand, and he travelled by horse and buggy.  His son-in-law, Dr. Johnson, who set up business inHarpers Ferry, I don't know whether he was in business that early or not, but Dr. Johnson was in business in the early '20's when I started highschool at Harpers Ferry so he could have been back that early.  But, goodness, people were dying, there were so many we didn't know what to do.  I remember very well.  Mr. Roy Hoffmaster's first wife.  Of course as a kid I was pretty scared about the things going on because I didn't understand.   I hadn't seen anything like that before.  A lot of lives were lost because of this.  They couldn't control it. 

Q: Were there any other epidemics coming through here.  Typhoid, dysentery? 

L.H.: Well, no.  But we were talking about the small pox.  Sometime earlier, when they had, somewhere back in these hills what they called a pest house.  And the person who had smallpox was just separated from everybody else and somebody was looking after them.  But apparently that was the custom.  I don't know whether that building was over here.  It seemed to me my mother used to think that it was on the other side of town, between the plant and the river.  I can't be sure. 

Q: Where was Bunker Hill? 

L.H.: This ridge back here [in back of Theriault's house]. 

Q: Do you know why they called it that? 

L.H.: No.  It was there when I grew up.  I don't know if the battle of Bunker Hill had anything to do with it.  I don't know.  I never heard of anybody around here by the name of Bunker. 

Q: Do you remember the first telephone coming in? 

L.H.: Well, I don't remember when the first one came in, but on something I think you had, in connection with the Orebank ... 

Q: They had one.  They had one at the plant and at Engle's Station. 

L.H.: And that phone that was in the plant here and at Engles Station stayed in there many years after the regular phone system came along. It was the contact communication between the plant and the railroad.  So they didn't have to go outside if they wanted to talk.  So that was there, I'm sure, before telephones in general came into the area. 

Q: Were the Bakers pretty progressive about bringing new developments out to the plant? 

L.H.: Yes.  Of course, apparently from way back, the early part of the century, they had a geologist, a consulting geologist, not on the staff but consulting.  And for many many years, the Maryland State geologist, which was their geologist.  And then as we looked back on what they had done, the selection of lands for the mines.  I suppose, before they had a consulting geologist.  It amazed us how they did it.  They did an excellent job.   And somebody knew limestone or knew somebody who knew limestone because they were ... See, they came up with high-calcium limestone, which is the basic raw material for high-calcium lime.  And later on they got into the dolomitic limestone business and the making of refractory products.  And then, of course, they got, about the same time, into the cement.  And then, as the General Operations Office, as that staff was built up, they eventually had a geologist on their staff. And they had all their engineers on their staff.  And I can understand then, but back 50 years before that, in the late 1800's and early 1900's, they were buying up lands.  The maps.  And I was pretty well acquainted with all the maps in the General Operations Office.  [They] covered all the plats.  And many of those properties were bought between 1900 and 1910.  Not only local around here but out in Ohio.  And they came up with excellent limestone deposits for dolomitic lime. 

Q: These were ...   Did the Bakers and the Thomases actually do that or did they hire a geologist to help them? 

L.H.: I know that they had a geologist as far back as the early part of this century.  But they were buying up lands.  They may have had one. I'm not sure.  They bought these properties in here prior to that.  And I don't recall hearing anywhere that they had a geologist working for them.  But they may have had.  I really don't know. 

Q: When I was reading the material I sent you about Buckeystown, and some of the other material, it seemed as though, at least, in Buckeystown, the Bakers really ran the town.  And everybody deferred to them.  The minister deferred to them as far as their religious views. The town was pretty much a dry town, and the Bakers did not drink.  And the sister, as a matter of fact [was a Temperance leader] ... 

L.H.: That came out in what you sent me the other day. 

Q: Did you ever have a feeling that the Bakers were trying to influence Bakerton?  The way it was built?  The way it was run?  The way the community grew up?  I know, Bill Flanagan said there was a beer joint across from his house.  ...  There was a pool hall.  Those things, I would think, were not things the Bakers would have approved of. 

L.H.: I have no reason to feel that they tried to influence the community.  Now, the employees knew how they felt, I'm sure, but there was no direct influence that I can recall, as far as the community was concerned. 

Q: What was the relationship of the superintendents out here to the rest of the community. 

L.H.: Excellent. 

Q: Did they sort of serve in the Bakers' place as far as good works, community projects ... 

L.H.: They did, yes.  We even had a management picnic, a company picnic party down in Duke's woods.  And, of course, the company furnished everything for that.  And other times, I don't know if anybody has any photographs of that or not.  It would be interesting to find ...  I'm sure I've seen some somewhere.  And I think I told you on the phone last night those company picnics ... 

Q: This [photo] isn't a company picnic is it? 

L.H.: It seems to me, if it were a company picnic, there'd be more men. See how there are more women?  I would say that wasn't a company picnic. Bob Nicodemus, and you said Nicodemus was in the picture somewhere in Buckeystown, and I believe there was some connection between Bob and the Bakers.  He had that ice cream factory there in Frederick, and for years he would supply the ice cream for the picnic.  I knew Bob very well.  I don't know if he's around there any more. 

Q: I'm not sure.  There are still Nicodemuses out there in Buckeystown. When people usually talk about a company town, it's usually not a very flattering term. 

L.H.: I know.  They couldn't compare Bakerton with a coal mining town. The only similarity, really, was that the company owned many of the houses, which were occupied almost without exception by employees.  And in some cases, at least, if an employee died, the family was permitted to stay on for some time.  There might have been a few cases where they were asked to move or decided on their own.  But they looked after their employees.  And, of course, the houses were built for employees.  I suppose it got to a point later on where most of those houses were occupied by supervisors, that you almost had to be a supervisor to qualify for one.  But by that time transportation had become such that they could drive.  And they paid, comparatively speaking, good wages. 

Q: What was it like out here in the Depression?  Were you around here then? 

L.H.: Yes.  As business fell off, some people were laid off.  But surely, there was a plant management and I think the Bakers themselves tried to give them employment just as long as they could. 

Q: Bill [Flanagan] said something about going to part days instead of laying people off.  Three-day weeks or something like that so most people were partially employed. 

L.H.: I'd say they did try to share the work that was available.  And more employees could have got by that way than if they had employed them full time.  It would have meant some would have done fairly well while others would have had nothing.  And in those days we didn't have all of these welfare associations and departments that you have now.  So that unless some other member of the family looked after them there wasn't another source of income. 

Q: When you were talking about the stores, you said Mr. Millard owned the store on the corner, where the Talley's live. And the one out at the plant.  And Skeeter Welsh's father built the one across the street where the store is now. 

L.H.: Knott built that one. 

Q: Was there anybody in that store after Sam Knott left? 

L.H.: Yea, Jap Manuel.  Then Luther Bowman, who married Jap's daughter. She's still living in Martinsburg.  Her name is [Bertha] Cole now. 

Q: Were all the stores open at the same time?  The Knott store and the Welsh store and the Millard store? 

L.H.: Yea, now I don't know how long the Millard store out here and the one on the corner operated simultaneously.  They all three operated for some period of time. 

Q: Did Mr. Millard just go out of business?  It sounded to me from what Charles Knott was saying thay he might have got hurt in the stock market crash, when the banks were closing. 

L.H.: That was a rough period, and some who were in the banking business killed themselves.  Committed suicide. 

Q: I know there was one [bank] in Charles Town on the corner. 

L.H.: That was one.  ...  I knew nothing about that [Millard].  Millard still worked at that store out on the corner after this one was shut down out here.  How long after, I don't recall. 

Q: Was Manuel's store pretty much the same as Knott's? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: What about the car dealer? 

L.H.: Rice.  Then he was followed by my uncle, Roy Best, who operated that garage.  I worked in there as a kid somewhat during the summer. 

Q: The garage was the place that was originally turned into the community hall? 

L.H.: I was in on the design, or conversion, from the garage to the community hall.  And you have photographs there of the community hall. 

Q: Tell me what it was like working in the garage. 

L.H.: Well, it was just ...  They had an open pit, you know, for oil changes and it was just a plain old garage.  One end of it they had a little office in there.  Another room was a parts department.  They didn't carry very many parts.  And my earliest recollection was working on Model T's.  And one of the worst jobs about that was changing bands in the transmission.  The low and the reverse and the brake band.  And those things ... that was one of the worst jobs, trying to get those bands in place.  After you pulled the metal part out and put a new lining in, then you had to wind it.  I remember we had ...  my uncle had an old car there.  I don't know where he got the thing, but it wasn't anything but chassis.  There wasn't any body on it.  And the gas tank in those days was under the front seat.  So it had a gas tank, and he finally said "If you can get that thing to run, you can drive it around here a little bit."  So, finally, I don't think I ever went any further than the Orebank, but, sitting on top of the gas tank without any body [laughs].  But the Model T was the first one that I recall.  And of course the Model A came along.  And I don't know when that [garage] was converted.  It had to be after '34. 

Q: Did a lot of people around here have cars back when you were working at the garage? 

L.H.: Well, Carters' at the same time, even before that, had a livery stable up there in Poketown.  And he had horses and carriages for hire. And he had one of the earliest automobiles that I recall.  It was an Overland with the gearshift outside the body, out on the fender?  And there was a man up there around Kearneysville by the name of Marshall who came down here every weekend to visit, I don't know whether it was a lady or a family down here on the Moler farm near the plant.  He'd come down by train to Engle, and Mr. Carter would go down and meet him and bring him out here on either Saturday evening or Sunday morning and take him back on Sunday evening.  Sometimes he'd allow us to ride down the Engle with him, and that was one of the earliest automobiles I recall in Bakerton.  And they had some old Maxwells and Chevys I guess.  I don't know what proportion had automobiles, but I remember taking really only one ride in a horse and buggy, and that was to Sharpsburg to a butchering.  We left home about 2 o'clock in the morning, hung a ladder back on the back axle, and had to pay a toll when we crossed the bridge at Shepherdstown and they had toll gates between there and Sharpsburg. And we went to that butchering and got back late that evening.  That was the only ...  Well, my uncle had a horse up there in Bakerton, up there across from Carter's, but I don't remember much about that. 

Q: They tore down the community hall.  Was there a sink hole under there? 

L.H.: There's one right behind it.  There's a lane went up right beside that.  And, also, then the plant was closed down in '57 and we lost company support for the thing.  So, I don't remember exactly when that was.  They, back in ...  I'm not sure if the Methodist Church did, but the Church of God used to have baptisings down in the river.  And those were usually great affairs and would attract a lot of attention. 

                       BEGINNING OF TAPE 3 

LH: That was that older Daniel [Baker] that was president until 1921, and J.H. was president until 1944.  It was up there in the 1930's that the magnesia plant was built.  And then he [Daniel] was president.  That was the last Baker to be president.  Then Rumford became president. 

Q: What can you tell me about Frank Thomas? 

L.H.: I was in the office in Martinsburg when I got word [of the plane crash].  I had been there about a year.  He and another officer of the company, out of Baltimore, and the pilot took off out of Martinsburg flying down to the Kimbleton, Virginia, plant.  I don't know what happened, but apparently soon after they gained some altitude that thing crashed. 

Q: It crashed in the Martinsburg area? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: Did he live in Martinsburg? 

L.H.: West of the city. 

Q: Was there a quarry out there called Thomas Quarry? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: And he lived out by that? 

L.H.: Well, he wasn't too close to that, but he was out in that general direction.  And I'm sure it is now part of the water supply for the city of Martinsburg.  I really didn't know much about him. 

Q: Was he in charge of safety? 

L.H.: He was general superintendent.  He was in charge of everything until such time as we began to employ specialists, like a safety director or various engineering guys.  At one time, the General Superintendent's Office was about a two-man operation, the General Superintendent and an engineer. 

Q: Who became general superintendent after he died?  Mr. Garvin? 

L.H.: Right. 

Q: Do you remember who was general superintendent before Mr. Thomas? 

L.H.: Joe D'Aiuto.  Is that name familiar?  I heard my father and grandfather talk about him. 

Q: Was he Italian? 

L.H.: I presume he was.  See, so many Italians were in the stone business.  And many of them came over from Italy.  They became quarry foremen.  This was true at the plant in Ohio.  Blacksmiths. Stonemasons.  They learned their trade back in Italy. 

Q: It seemed strange to me, going through the people who had been superintendent, there was W.C. Bratt, who was related to the Bakers; there was C.F. Thomas.  I think D.R. Houser was one of the [plant] superintendents, Bryan Houser, and Mr. Flanagan. 

L.H.: Plant superintendents. 

Q: It seemed that everyone who was  plant superintendent or general superintendent, except Joe D'Aiuto, was either someone from the area from a well-established family or was related to the Bakers. 

L.H.: I don't know.  But I do know that in the early part of the century many Italians came over here.  The Millville plant had a number of them. One was quarry foreman over here, one was head blacksmith.  And they had learned their trade before they came over here. 

Q: Did some of the Italians that came over here live in Little Italy? 

L.H.: Yes. 

Q: Bill Flanagan said there were also Yugoslavs and Czecks. 

L.H.: I don't remember. 

L.H.: This is a history of Martin, American-Marietta, American Ashphalt Paint, Martin-Marietta Chemicals.  That's the division I retired from. This is still in business.  Paint has been sold.  Master Builders has been sold.  All the cement plants except one, and that may be gone by now. 

Q: What reasons were given for the Bakers' selling to American-Marietta? 

L.H.: Well, I wouldn't want to be quoted on this.  I heard, back in those days, that one of the family sold his stock to a firm in Chicago. And what portion of the stock he owned I don't know.  And I think that may have been it.  And they were getting up in years.  So I don't know all the details, but the rumors at the time were that they didn't want to go that route.  They were afraid that somebody else would gain control without their consent.  And of course today that happens quite frequently.  I know there was a considerable amount of stock involved. They were losing control over it.  It was pretty much of a disappointment to them. 

Q: Do you think they knew before they [the Bakers] sold out that Bakerton was just about finished?  The plant was shut down about 2 years after they were bought out. 

L.H.: They knew that the high-quality limestone here was limited. 

Q: I have a newspaper article telling about American-Marietta taking over all the plants, and they said they were going to increase cement production.  Did the emphasis on increased production lead to Bakerton and other plants just using up their resources faster? 

L.H.: No.  Baketon's deposit was limited.  They knew that in the mid- '40's I guess.  They knew the extent of the high-quality stone.  And the operation at Bakerton was dependent on the high-quality stone, not this medium-quality stuff that's still here.  There's plenty of what they call magnesia stone around here, but they only use that for the steel mills.  Not high-quality lime.  This limestone was one of the highest purities in the world.  There was kind of a pond of it in here.  And they came in and opened these quarries, and quarried as much as they could from the surface, and then the stone began to dip.  So they went underground and followed the seam, and there's only so much here. 

Q: Did American-Marietta start to do anything different when they took over from the Bakers? 

L.H.: No.  The transition was very calm, and they didn't make any drastic changes.  People sort of lost interest and didn't question it at all.  We continued to grow, really.  The General Superintendent's Office was increased.  They didn't go down. 

L.H.: My grandfather lived down along the river, and they lived down there in 1889, in the Johnstown Flood time.  And aunt used to tell me that they tied a cable around the house and tied it to a tree to keep it from washing away.  You know the little piece of land Skeeter [Martin Welsh] owns?  It was right downstream a short distance, or it might have been right on that land. 

Q: Bill Flanagan said that one of the Flanagan houses washed away. 

L.H.: [Referring to the diary of John Welsh]  Anna Mary's baby born Sept 9, 1916.  That was my sister Helen. ...  Pearl Welsh, that's my aunt. ...  This is some spelling.  I don't know if he [John Welsh] went to school at all.  ...  Hunt's show.  Right where the post office is now. None of those houses were there.  Knott's house was up there, the only one in there.  And we were back there where Lewis lived, and we were the only houses in there.  So there was a big lot in there.  And I remember the show came in by rail.  They had the elephants and lions and all that stuff. ...  "Dave Carter burned up."   He was in one of those old shanties over at Ten Row.  And I was just a kid, of course, in '23.  I remember going out and seeing the remains.  The building was just an old shed, was all burned up and the remains were still lying there in the foundation.  That was the first dead person I saw. ...  And back in that period, the company had its own stable or barn for years.  I remember when one of them burned.  It was out there just about where the gate is now coming into the property.  There was a big pond there that supplied water to the horses, and a big barn.  And that barn burned.  And after that, instead of having their own horses, they would contract with a farmer to supply the horses and they'd drive.  And as far as I know, they paid something for the rent of the horse and driver.  I know Mr. B____ had some horses up there and I think Charlie Knott's father did the same thing because he lived right next to the plant. ...  When he [John Welsh] was at the river up here, he bought a little piece of land and built a house on it almost exactly on the spot where the magnesia plant was built.  That's the house he built. 

L.H.: [Reviewing Accident Round Table]  I had two experiences at Millville that I'll never forget.  I was assistant superintendent at that time.  This man was on top of a covered hopper car and he fell off and his head hit the rail and he was killed.  And I had to go to Harpers Ferry and tell his wife.  And then later on, this blaster at Millville, we had an open quarry and there was a high cliff of stone there.  They drilled a hole and put the dynamite in and out in the middle of the quarry was a section of a kiln, a steel rim.  And the end nearest the quarry place was covered with stone, so anybody inside was really safe. And this blaster had lighted fuses and had gone in that building, or steel shed, and for some reason stuck his head around the end to look back.  And that thing went off and caught him in the throat.  And I had to go down to Harpers Ferry and tell his wife. 

Q: It seemed from the reports that I read that they really had a pretty good safety program. 

L.H.: It was really emphasized, I'll tell you. 

L.H.: Knoxville.  That quarry was right next to Georgia marble quarry. They were quarrying beautiful marble.  Some of it was pink,some was grayish, and some was white.  Any of the broken pieces that they couldn't use, that were too small, they would throw over the bank to us and we'd burn them into lime. 

Q: How did people feel about Daniel Baker when he sold the plant? 

L.H.: I guess they were shook up at first, a small community like this, there weren't too many other opportunities for employment.  And it wasn't too many years after that the Millville plant was closed down. The company had built facilities elsewhere and they were replaced.  They didn't have a ...  They had a high-calcium lime plant down at Kimbleton, Virginia, and that's still in operation by somebody else.  I was down there a few months ago. ...  There was another [high-calcium plant] up in Pennsylvania, at Pleasant Gap.  So there were some other plants elsewhere.  In fact, this plant in Millville, the one in Woodville, Ohio, have a reserve a dolomitic limestone, and its going very well. They've put in three new rotary kilns. 

Q: Did any of the people from Bakerton move away to the other plants? 

L.H.: No. Some went to Millville and a few to Martinsburg.  I expect the average age was getting up there.  I don't know much about the plant at that time.  They had social security, but the average age of the employees was pretty high.  And of course they owned all this land around here, and there was a question of what was going to happen.  Of course what eventually happened was what you'd expect sooner or later. If nobody could afford to operate the plant, they couldn't afford to keep this land and pay taxes on it.  Of course, taxes weren't too high, I suppose. 

                          END OF TAPE 3 

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1984 April 23. Interview with Juanita Moore Horn 

Juanita Horn's father, John Moore, originally worked for John Flanaghan, who owned a quarry on the Potomac River below River Bend. Moore boated stone down the river and lived on board the boat with his wife, Nora Welch Moore, and their two children.  Nora Welch's mother came to this country from Ireland as a girl. 

John Moore was hired by Joseph E. Thropp to be superintendent of the Orebank in 1896.  The Orebank operation, then called Antietam Mines, was owned by Thropp, who also owned the Earlston and Saxton iron furnaces in Eariston, Bedford Co., Pennsylvania.  His son, Joseph E. Thropp, Jr., was General Manager and George W. Hughes was Assistant Manager of the furnaces. 

The Moore family first lived in a house owned by John Flanaghan, but during the 1896, Moore bought 25 acres from Adam Moler and built the brick house still occupied by Mark and Juanita Horn today.  Juanita Moore, the youngest of eight children, was born in the house in 1904.  She remembers seeing the quarry owners as a girl, for her mother used to make dinner for the Thropps whenever they came to the Orebank to inspect the operation. She said that the Thropps owned the Orebank while her father was superintendent and until the mine closed. 

The Orebank had a store, a post office, and a telephone (one of three in the area), and several houses. The store and post office were run by Duke and Jack Boyers. Three small frame houses and a barn were located on the property, the houses for workers and the barn for stock used in the quarrying operation. George Gay and Grover Hardin lived in small houses at the Orebank during this period. Approximately five shanties had been built on the property to house workers who stayed at the quarry during the week and went home on the week ends. 

Jones had previously worked with John Moore, moving stone from Flanaghan's Quarry down the Potomac. The Jones', like the Moores, had lived on one of the river boats. G.W. Jones came to work for John Moore at the Orebank when Moore became superintendent. 

The stone house on the property was first occupied by the Eaton family when John Moore was superintendent.  When Juanita Horn was young, the had two usable entrances, one on the ground floor facing the river and another on the third (top) floor that was reached by a drawbridge from the bank behind the building. She remembers being told that it was use as a hospital during the Civil War. The house was later occupied by George Washington "Pappy" Jones and his family; they were the last people to live in the house. 

The Orebank was an open quarry operation in which ore was scooped out of the river bank with a power shovel, loaded into dinkys, and pulled by mules and horses  to the washing plant. At the washing plant (located at crest of the Cool's property), water was pumped out of the river with a steam-driven engine and used to separate the ore from its clay base.  Bud Huff was in charge of the washing plant while Moore was superintendent. The mud residue was channeled off  to the bank on moveable flumes. As a result of the washing operation, mud deposits accumulated on the land adjoining the riverbank; this area is now approximately 20 feet higher than it originally was. Ore was not crushed here. Instead, it was loaded onto hopper cars and carried out by rail to the Earlston furnace.  About 40 people were employed there around 1900. 

Joseph E. Thropp had offered to buy the Moore property in 1909, not for its supply of Iron ore but rather for the dolomite limestone deposits underneath.  Juanita Horn didn't remember the precise year the Orebank closed, but she knows it was several years before she was married (1928). Her father died in 1933.  After the quarry was shut down, orebank property and stone house was owned by the Savior family from approximately 1940 to 1960. The parcel now known as Glen Haven was then owned by the power company. The stone house is now owned by the Sullivan family of Bakerton, and the site of the ore-washing plant is on an adjacent lot now owned by Mr. and Mrs. Walter Cool. 

The land and brick house south of the Moore/Horn property was owned by J.S. Moler, and the land below the Orebank was owned by the Engles. 

Juanita Horn has lived in Bakerton all her life, and attended the Oak Grove School.  She recalls that the two-room school was sheathed in weatherboard and paneled on the inside. The school sat near the corner diagonally across from the Bakerton Village Store. The surrounding area was covered with gravel, a nda pond was located in back of the building. Inside we re separate coat moms for boys and girls, a classroom for grades 1 to 4, and another class for grades 5 to 8.  The classrooms each had a long bench at the front on which students sat when reciting or being disciplined. Students has individual desks and benches. Juanita Horn remembers having Rose Cockrell, Jess Engle, and Ethel Moler as teachers at Oak Grove. Her classmates included Lowell Hetsell, Charles Knott, Julia Moler, Lena Hauser, Catherine Link, Mabel Rice, and Christine Geary Shade (Mrs. Charles Dougherty's sister, now living in Charles Town).  Mrs. Horn recalls taking the county school examination in the 7th grade, she and Christine Geary being the only ones who passed.  Passing the examine entitled students to enroll at Shepherd College. Christine Geary attended Shepherd. 

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Knott, Charles R.  Interview.  Bakerton, West Virginia, September 23, 1986.  

[Interviewer's Note: Charles Knott was born and raised in Bakerton, West Virginia.  He worked as a welder for most of his life and worked at other construction jobs throughout the country.  He died in 1995.] 

William Theriault: When were you born? 

Charles Knott: I was born in 1914. 

WT: You were born in Bakerton? 

CK: I was born right up here at the Reinhart place below Moler's Crossroads.  It's a farm now.  The girl that runs the store out here [Sandra], she has a place in there.  Right back on that farm. 

WT: Your father was ... 

CK: Olin H. Knott and my mother was Anna Pearl Houser Knott.  I had one brother that was one year and one month older than I was, Olin Knott, Jr., then Calvin Siler Knott was 364 days behind me.  Then we didn't have any for another 3 years, and then my sister was born the first of April.  And then we went on for a long while, and I've got one brother Harold who is 11 years younger than I am.  I'm the oldest one living now.  My brother Calvin died of multiple sclerosis, my oldest brother.   He was down in Florida at Ft. Myer and getting along pretty good.  I don't know whether something bit him or what, but he swelled up -- ankles and everything.  He died from it, but another person came in a month later with the same thing and they gave him medicine and cured him. 

My grandfather on my mother's side was David Raleigh Houser, and he married Norah Engle. The Engle who owned all this ground around here was her father. 

WT: Did you start working for Mr. Houser? 

CK: I started working for my grandfather when I quit ninth grade and stayed home one year and helped my daddy.  After we left here, he lost all his cows to TB and we moved up to Zoar where Walker has a place now.  We stayed there one year.  After he got on his feet, then I come back and lived with my grandad and plowed all these gardens with two horses and a plow.  My grandmother used to say I plowed all day and plowed all night. 

When I got older, enough to go to work in Bakerton (18 years old), my grandfather had retired and they put a man in by the name of Walt Flanagan.  I went out to Mr. Flanagan and said "I'm 18 and I'd like to have a job."  "Well," he said, "do you have any references?"  I said, "Well, my grandaddy could give me a reference.  I've been working for him for a couple of years, and you know my daddy and mother."  "Well," he said, "I'll inquire about you."  So about 2 days later, I went back to see him.  "Well, Charles," he said.  "I'd like to give you a job, but I talked to your grandaddy and he said 'If you can get any work out of that boy, it's more than I've been able to do."  Well, I was sort of disappointed, but before we got done he said, "You come out tomorrow and go to work."  Which made me feel pretty good. 

Then I worked with Mr. Flanagan about 3 years as assistant to a truck driver, helping him -- a fellow by the name of Harv. Kidwiler, and the big Eukes.  Working cleaning out between the tracks.  And then they had a fellow by the name of Tack Welshans over in Shepherdstown who run the magnesia plant.  He asked "Can you give me some help?" and Mr. Flanagan come up and he said "Charles, this job you're on will eventually run out.  Tack Welshans wants a man.  Would you go over and work for Tack Welshans?"  And I worked over there for three days and he said "I'd like to have that fella."  He said "He's all right."  So I worked for Tack Welshans for about 2 years.  And Tack went down to Knoxville, Tennessee, as superintendent. 

Then a fellow by the name of Herb Moler, he started out in the magnesia plant and advanced up on the job.  He stayed there 2 months and Tack called him down to Knoxville, Tennessee, to work for him as foreman.  Well then, a fellow by the name of Gildy Shultz in Shepherdstown took over.  And he said "Charles knows this job here.  I'll break another man in on the job it's easier to break in on."  And they held me back.  I told him that was a dirty deal.  I should have had that job.  I was in line for it. 

So that guy was on a water hose under 120 pound pressure.  And they washed these pipes off in the magnesia plant after they went through a filtering process and got all the magnesia out of juice.  You loosened them all up.  They had plates, and you got up on top.  And I worked one way and he worked the other and washed that side off.  And you pulled on another one.  They had about 20 of them things.  We got along pretty good.  And finally one day I wasn't feeling too good and he throwed that thing right along the edge--120 pound pressure--and he just grounded me.  About 10 o'clock in the morning I said "This is it.  I just want to get out of here." 

So I went up and I run into a fellow by the name of Cobby Moler.  He said "What's the trouble, Charlie?"  I said "I'm going back to the farm.  I'm fed up."  "Well, " he said, "I need a man down here on the rotary kiln oiling."  I got a job over on the rotary kiln and stayed there for 7 years.  From the time I started in 1933 at 33 cents an hour, I stayed there until 1940 when I was up to 56 cents an hour.  But yet the man that was ahead of me was only making 58 cents an hour.  So see, I couldn't complain.  Then I went to the shipyard. 

WT: When you were farming for your grandfather, were you farming Baker land? 

CK: Well, I worked mostly gardens.  Everybody that worked in Bakerton and some below me, all that ground my grandfather sold that to the Bakers for $1,000.  They had the stone rights, but he could farm it as long as he lived.  So he farmed it.  And he had all around Bunker Hill.  He plowed all these bottoms up in here where Lee lives -- all that there ground on down through there.  And we had corn up on top of this hill.  My grandfather one year had corn and I hauled fodder down out of that hill working for him in the 2 years that he had it.  But he had a lot of colored people that cleaned that all off one year.  After I went to work, we hauled timber that was cut, piled up so into cords.  And we took two horses, locked the wheels, and drug it off there.  We had corn up the top of the hill and a colored fellow was hauling fodder at one time.  The colored fellow had locked these two wheels with chains and somehow or other they came loose and down that hill I come.  And at that curve down there, I come on around the back.  I was lucky I didn't ever upset.  I don't know how. It was a miracle.  I come on out through the bottom about where this road is here now, and I looked back and I could just see the colored fellow's head.  And he was scared so bad he could only stand.  He just stood right there.  He froze, he was just so scared I had piled up down the bottom somewhere.  When I come out the bottom he said "Boy, you really had me scared." 

WT: Didn't your father almost get killed in an accident? 

CK: Well, when I was about 3 years old, me and the little ones was following along behind the wagon.  At that time he had to take his wheat to up at Duffields to have it cleaned.  Well, he was coming back and we was following on along behind him.  And they had these seats up on the wagon, and he was looking back.  And this sloping rock come up out of the ground, and the wheel hit and throwed him.  He fell down on the traces, and he had two young horses.  As soon as he hit those traces, he held on as long as he could and he slid down.  They hit him.  They were going so fast, they pulled up over him so quick, see.  He got up and he had bust everything in through his [ribs], and he went about 15 feet and fell over.  Well, there was a lady -- Mrs. Moler -- the Bakers bought the farm from.  She stayed there and rented a room there for a year from my father and mother.  She saw it all.  She went and told my mother, and my mother got down on her knees and prayed before she ever called the doctor.  My daddy was laid up for a year, and he outlived her by about 23 years. 

WT: Who was the doctor that came? 

CK: Doctor Johnson.  Dr. Knott's daughter married Dr. Johnson down in Harpers Ferry.  It was Dr. Knott's son-in-law.  He took over Dr. Knott's practice after Dr. Knott retired.  Dr. Johnson, his son-in-law, took over all the practice in Bakerton.  And my daddy didn't make too much money, I can remember back, and when he come down he would have a meal and pay off with hams, shoulders, and feed him a good meal every time he come to Bakerton.  And that's how they payed the doctor bill.  When he had gone over this rock, he had seen Dr. Johnson passed him.  It was hard for him to believe that an accident could happen that quick, but he come out and he fixed him up.  And I don't know exactly how long he was tied up and who done all the work.  He finally got all right.  Then back in the old barn down there they had a square hole where you'd throw the hay down.  They didn't have no lights in the barn.  They had a fellow name of Bob Moore, he would get all loaded with whiskey and get in the hay mound, and my daddy would stumble over him up there and many a time almost stuck him with a fork.  But one time we was hauling hay or wheat in there and the horse on the right side's foot went down that hole and she was in there about 2 hours before they could round up enough men to pull her out of there.  They got jacks underneath the legs some way.  Jacked her up so they could get a rope around her and pulled her right up out of there. 

WT: The horses that worked at the quarry... 

CK: My Daddy, he had four, sometimes five, and one time six horses that he worked.  They didn't have the shovels and all that stuff.  They dug everything by hand.  They had these carts, and one horse and the man would come down and get the horse in the mornings, and take him up.  And my Daddy had one horse cart.  They dug out from up there in front of the office down around there.  They moved the railroad track over so they could build another spur in there.  They had to dig all that out by hand.  I remember one time my Daddy said "I'd like to know what that fella's  feeding that mare."  It was a black mare.  He had that thing, all he had to do was go over and that mare would run right to him.  She was just as slick as could be.  I don't know if he fed her soybean meal or what, but he kept that horse just as pretty... And he come back and he said "This is my horse."  And he could get that horse to do anything.  Of course, my daddy, he had a horse that was a little hard, and after I worked there a little while and it got a little slack, I have actually pulled the horse along the dump on top of the kiln where they used to dump the stone in.  Well, I would pull the stone up and they had a fella that would fill the kilns.  And then that horse would take it off and he'd go back and pull another one up.  Then you got up there so far, and they had two tracks, and he'd push this one back in empty, push it on that track, while I'd come up the other track.  One time the horses had shoes on and I stumbled.  And I got my finger down here like this, and this horse come right down so that the metal part come right between my fingers but it didn't hurt me.  It scared the tar out of me.  But I was on the right side. 

This limestone that would come out the bottom [of the kiln] would be in great big chunks.  Some of it would burn all the way through, and others would leave a unburned spot on the bottom.  Well, they would take and knock that off as much as was burned limestone, and they'd throw the other over to the side.  And you'd haul that back up and dump it. 

WT: Were you in the first school class in the new school? 

CK: I spent 6 months out at the [Oak] Grove school, the first year I went to school back in 1920.  Then we walked in a line before the year was out over to the new schoolhouse.  Back at that time we had a lady named Mrs. McSkimmonds.  She's still living down at Harpers Ferry.  She must be way up in years.  And Miss McSkimmonds was in the first, and second, and third.  Then I believe Aunt Corine Houser come in there, but I don't know whether Aunt Corine was over there at first.  By the time I got over there, she was there.  One had the first and second, and Aunt Corine had the third,  fourth, and fifth, and Miss Rose Cockrell she had the sixth, seventh, and eighth.  Well, that went on until I got up to sixth grade ...  That's when they done away with the eighth grade and they moved it to Harper's Ferry.  So I went down to the old school where you go up the hill on the right.  That used to be the high school.  So I went down there in the seventh and eighth grade.  Then they build the new grade school down there, the junior high.  And then I was in ninth grade up at the junior high.  And I quit in the ninth grade. 

WT: Do you remember a colored school in Bakerton.? 

CK: Well,  the colored in Bakerton that I know, they used to go to Charles Town.  They bussed them to Charles Town.  They might have had a colored school in Bakerton, but I just can't remember.  I know they had two churches.  They had one out on Ten Row, but they had another one right across from Brian Hoffmaster's house.  That was a right good size church.  Now whether they had two preachers and had services both places, I don't know....  I guess that church was 30 by 40 or maybe 50.  It was just a building where you went in, and had windows on it.  But they had just an aisle and pews on each side.  And in the summer time, they'd open it up.  Well my daddy, they had some real good colored preachers and he would go up.  And we were just kids, you know, and didn't have no business doing it, but we could look in the window and see our daddy in there.  We'd peep our heads up and then we'd run because we didn't want anybody to see us. 

WT: That was the Methodist Church? 

CK: Yes, that was the Methodist Church. 

WT: Did it have any particular name? 

CK: Methodist Church South was what they called it, I guess. 

WT: That's the one Preacher Burrell was at? 

CK: Preacher Burrell was at that.  Now whether he preached over here at the same time, I don't know....  When I was still young and Ralph Beckwith got killed, they had a fellow by the name of Bowman was Justice of the Peace, and I can remember them pulling him [Beckwith] across.  I don't know how we kids got hold of the stuff so fast, but you could see the bullet holes.  The road went this way, going out just like you go and right there where they built that old log house, there was a road that went up around this way, and a pond was in between.  And the woman and the man was given away.  They stood down there, separate, talking.  They didn't go up.  And that's what brought the suspicion.  He had a brother by the name of John Henry Gray, and they went down there.  Back at that time, just before you go down the hill here, if you go down there straight, they had about four houses.  They went down there and they found blood on their clothes where they had drug him, put him in over there, and burned them [clothes], and they didn't quite burn them all.  And they finally got up to where they confessed.  They sent them both to prison and both of them died of TB. 

WT: She was one of Preacher Burrell's daughters? 

CK: One of Preacher Burrell's daughters.  Ralph Beckwith had two or three children, but I guess Preacher Burrell raised them. 

WT: What can you tell me about him? 

CK: Well, they tell me he was a real good Christian man.  He came out of Washington like George Dozier's father.  He [William Dozier] was a very polite man and yet you could tell he held himself different from the other colored people.  He always was clean cut.  They called him "Reverend," you know.  Ed Cox would love to get him and say "What are you doing?  You been in somebody's chicken house?  You got chicken for lunch."  All he could say to Ed was "Go on, Ed.  Go on, now."  He never kicked up no trouble, but they loved to get George Dozier's daddy. 

WT: Did you say that they liked to play tricks on Preacher Burrell? 

CK: If you go back where this fellow had his garage and swing up the top of the hill.  You went around so far and you come up.  The road was about 30 or 40 feet from the fence.  Then it would come around and go right up beside that fence all the way clear on up there, say 200 yards.  Then it would come back out.  Then this land, that was called "Little Italy."  And there were these houses setting in there.  And every once in a while they'd have card games and shoot craps and stuff like that.  I don't know how this colored woman was in there with them, but they [Sam Bond] payed her so much to stand in the door naked.  And the old colored preacher when he saw her, he says "Dear Lord, give me strength enough to turn my head."  They could hear him say that. 

It was really an interesting thing for me as a boy.  See, I was only about 19 or 20 when these old timers were talking about that.  They must have had their way of entertainment back at that time.  They would get together.  See, the kiln, when you set a certain coal feed and you got a certain rotation on your coal, when you got that lime going right and your flame right, you wouldn't have to change the speed on that kiln.  If the man on the other end kept that stone going at a certain speed, you wouldn't have to turn it for an hour, maybe an hour and a half.  And then the tester, they'd come out on this opening, and I was oiling.  And we'd stand and talk for maybe 10 or 15 minuites.  I learned more as a boy from some of the experiences that happened....  Sam Bond was a great ball player, watching ball player.  And his boy was just young, and he used to go up to Shenandoah Junction and take that boy with him.  That's where Flicker Bond turned out to be a good ball player.  He just loved baseball.  And one time I remember he went up there they got in a free for all.  They had some men up there that was really rough and tough at that time.  They got in a free for all and they got to shooting.  Man, he got that boy of his and out they come in a hurry.  But you had to watch yourself when you went to Shenandoah Junction.  I don't think there's anything to it now.  If you went up in there and nobody didn't know you, they'd get something sharp and puncture your tires.  You'd come out ... say if you had a date with one of them girls and you didn't know somebody, when you went out you had four flat tires. 

WT: What can you tell me about the colored Baptist Church on Ten Row? 

CK: Well, they had a side door.  They went in the side door and up in that building there.  And right above that church they had a big grandstand.  And that whole lower end there was a ball field for the colored.  Well, the whites and the coloreds and everything, but it was really considered the colored ball field.  They had some good ball players.  That was their enjoyment and entertainment.  The company furnished them seats, made them seats, bleachers.  Hollering and hooting.  You never heard such carrying on.  They were just a happy bunch of colored people. 

Now my daddy farmed down there, and it wasn't nothing for as many as ten people to come down there and get the straw.  They had a straw fork.  They took that straw and that's what they made their bed off of, tick straw.   When we were kids we though, my gosh, that must be awful.  But yet, they had cots, see.  And every so often when it got tight and my daddy would thresh again, they'd come down and change it.  Or maybe they'd get it in the early fall and before that straw got away from there, they'd come down and fill it again.  And then they had a softer place to sleep.  But see, they come down from Rappahannock, Virginia, and spent the whole week in these shanties.  They had these shanties over next to the plant over there.  They had about six or seven shanties there.  And some time there'd be as many as four colored people would stay in them shanties.  They'd do their own cooking and everything.  And over on Ten Row they had a bunch of colored, and on down this way, most of these over here was sort of like little houses, and they had their wives and kids.  Once in a while one of them would get in there and mix in with Little Italy.  That was mostly Italians.  And when the Italians and the colored gets together you always had a little trouble.  They were just that different from one another. 

WT: Did they have their own ball team? 

CK: The coloreds had their own ball team.  Now the whites used to have a ball team, but they was up behind where Fox lives now.  Back up in there.  But this other one was a colored ball team.  And once in a while the whites would play the coloreds.  The whites had their ball field over behind where Buddy Hollis lives now.  And the head plate was up there where that fella has that new house now.  Then that piece of property after 30 or 35 years, Frank Kidwiler managed the ball team in here.  They had the bleachers.  And then they put the head plate down the other end and knocked the ball up this way.  That was when Joe Capriotti had it.  This was a baseball community at that time -- back when I was young.  When I was young, they had a fella name of Moler who used to coach. I used to pitch a lot.  And we would play a competition back there.  We went to Engle, Dargan, Bakerton.  When we played at Engle, we would go down to the Catholic ground.  That was their diamond. 

WT: Where was that? 

CK: Right above the fella that's in the Ruritan [Viands] when you come up from Engle right over there on the left, that used to be the Catholic ground in there. 

WT: The colored people had some rough characters over there, didn't they? 

CK: Oh yes, they had some real rough characters.  They had a fellow by the name of Shorty Evans that everybody was scared of.  He had respect in Bakerton.  There was no man in Bakerton, in the coloreds, that would ever dare get up next to Shorty.  But when I was real young, where you come back, on the left, there was, where Benson has his house now, you'll see a road that bears off this way.  Right in that center, there was a house there.  And when I was just a kid, they had a fire there.  And I remember him say they burned a man up in there.  Whether he was black or white I don't know.  They never could prove nothing. 

WT: What was the story I heard about Bill Flanagan's brother and Shorty Evans? 

CK: Well, that was out in the old store out there.  Sandy Flanagan when he was young was the most athletic man.  These four or five springs that they'd put on, he could pull that out ten times.  And he wasn't afraid of nobody.  And then, when Shorty would come in to buy groceries, Sandy would be back in the postoffice helping Mr. Millard, and he'd come back out.  But he always had a pistol on him.  And he'd look at Shorty, and he'd say, "Shorty, how you doing?"  "Fine, fine, Sandy, fine."  "Well, let's see you dance a little bit."  "No, I ain't in a dancing mood."  Pow!  "Oh, I'll dance!"  And he'd dance, and he'd leave a hole right there in the floor.  After he walked out a couple of times, he said "You have to watch that fellow."  He liked Shorty and Shorty liked him. 

WT: What did Mr. Millard think of all this? 

CK: Mr. Millard, he wasn't around.  They put some kind of stuff in there, and he didn't know it at that time.  See, Mr. Millard was postmaster.  He was a politician, and he had this store and out to the big store.  See, they had the big store out here where, you might say, the office building was.  That used to be the main store.  And that was where you had Mr. Martin Welsh.  Miller Moler, and Pat Welsh, and Mr. Millard spent most of their time out here.  And Sandy, he had him as postmaster out there.  He was really doing the job that Mr. Millard should have done for a long while.  Back at that time, the Baker brothers had this store, and Mr. Millard was their brother-in-law, and they went on for years and years and didn't even get a paycheck.  So they just paid Mr. Millard and he just give them everything.  Well, then they passed a law down there that he had to get his paycheck, so that hurt Mr. Millard because they couldn't cut the corners.  See, you had to give a man a receipt, and he only payed so much on the bill.  But you could go in that store and buy anything you wanted....  A lot of them back then, they had what they called a piece. It was nothing but a coffee break.  And you would go, and I could remember seeing them stand up, and they'd get cheese and crackers.  And the first money I got was back when Jap Manuel had a store and I was working for my grandaddy, and when I got a little bit of money ahead I went up in that store.  And they had a potbellied stove and benches where you could sit down.  And I went up there and said "I'd like to get 10cents worth of cheese and crackers."  I though I was a real man then.  That's what made me a man. 

WT: Do you remember the first or the second company store out on plant property? 

CK: Well, I guess the oldest building was out to the other store.  That's where Hunter Tally lived.  Now they had this fellow Miller Moler. The first I can remember about that.  When Billy Snyder come into this section, he had a ... when you walked in the door to the right, they had a counter in here.  Then you could walk back there about half way and they had a revolving stairway that went upstairs where this Jamison boy lives now.  And that's where Mr. Miller Moler and his wife lived when they adopted Billy. And when they moved over here next to me, that was Miller Moler's property where George Kidwiler lives now.  He run that store for Mr. Millard for a long while and had that post office.  Then when they come out here, they built this store bigger.  Now I don't know, the office at that time was right down from the store.  It was a wooden structure, come down and it had three separate compartments right off the floor at ground level.  That's when this Beckwith got killed, that's where they held this [inquest] right in the main office.  So therefore, the big store, Mr. Millard, I guess it belonged to the Bakers or else he sold it to the Bakers.  But then, they finally got down to where they wanted to expand and he finally got out of that store business, and then he went out and worked the post office out there.  And that was where Sandy Flanagan was.  And Sandy Flanagan got a job running the air compressor.  And when he blowed the whistle that morning, pulled down, he just went right on down.  He had a heart attack, 21 years old and died.  That was a big shock to this community.  They tried everything possible to bring him back but they couldn't do it. 

WT: Who did your uncle sell his store to? 

CK: My uncle Sam Knott sold that store of his to a fellow by the name of Manuel.  And W.L. Manuel run that store for years and years and lived in the back.  Jap Manuel.  They run that for years, and that's when they had the moving pictures.  They had that concrete out there.  And you went out there on Saturdays, and they had moving pictures for the young kids.  Down on the bottom there, on the one side, they had a bowling alley.  They stayed there until Martin Welsh came in.  They had him working out at this store.  Well, when that store closed up, Martin come out there.  He had the seniority over Charles Flanagan.  Charles Flanagan got a job at the plant.  I know he took care of the greasing of the air compressor, and that's about all he done.  And then Martin Welsh come out there.  And Martin Welsh and Mr. Millard, just them two, Martin took care of the store and Millard took care of the post office.  But then, they run into complications.  During that time, the race track come in over at Charles Town.  And I don't know if Mr. Millard got into a situation in the horse race business or whether he gambled or what happened to him. But anyhow, the Bank of Charles Town used to have a fellow by the name of Dick Russell in there.  And by golly, there was two or three of them connected with that horse racing and they closed her up.  And that's when Mr. Millard, all of his money must have been tied up somewhere.  Miller Moler had got a job at the plant, and there wasn't nobody but Martin and Mr. Millard in there.  Well, what they done, Mr. Millard had borrowed a lot of money from Mr. Roy Best.  Mr. Roy Best had to get a leave of absence from the company to go out there to protect that store, what he had invested.  Mr. Millard, I don't know whether he took a bankrupcy.  He went on down to Harper's Ferry.  And Martin and Mr. Manuel never got along.  Because Mr. Manuel married Martin Welsh's sister.  He was watching.  He told Roy Best, "That fellow is taking an awful lot of stuff home there every evening."  He said, "You better get out there and see what goes on."  And he had to get a leave of absence.  Then they missed Roy Best so much, they told him if he would come back they would build him a house up there where Mrs. Eaton lives.  They built that house there just for Roy Best if he would come back and work for that company.  And he worked for that company then until he retired.  But just before that he went to Martinsburg after his wife died. 

WT: When did the restaurant start up in Bakerton? 

CK:  Jap Manuel used to sell stuff over the counter, like cheese and crackers.  But later on, Joe Capriotti, Herbert Irvin got this through Mr. Roy Best who owned that property. Russell Best, he owned where Bill Kidwiler lives now.  They called him "Reverend," but he was a Jehova's Witnesses.  Then they had Nellie Best. Well, Nellie Best married Herbert Irvin.  Herbert Irvin was timekeeper out here, and he got that house where Mr. Best lived.  I come back here from the shipyard about '45 when Mrs. Best died.  When she died, that left Herbert there by himself.  He started going with Miss Annie Welsh and he married her.  So therefore he had his house.  And he sold it to Joe Capriotti.  Joe Captiotti bought that whole piece there.  And he opened a restaurant up on the east side.  You used to go out there and get chocolate milk shakes and hamburgers, and he run a pretty good restaurant for about a year and a half, two years.  He was foreman out here, and his wife run it.  They only had one girl.  That stayed in there at least until '50, maybe '53.  Joe used to specialize in chilie.  He would make this chilie sauce, this whole big pot of chilie, and he had these feeds every once in a while at Bakerton.  That's what they'd give you -- this chilie.  And it was out of this world.  People come from Charles Town out here just to get that chilie.  He was going to town one time, and he was running a little late, and he got over there where Wit used to have that restaurant, the Wit Club.  He fell off to sleep, and he hit that pole, and it didn't hurt him too much, but he had this spagetti sauce that got all over him.  And they said "My God, the man's bleeding to death!" 

WT: There was a lunch counter in Welsh's store, wasn't there? 

CK: Martin got his store started about '42.  Mr, Millard, even though he knew that Roy Best had it, they had to get somebody to take over the postoffice.  So, Jap Manuel turned around and bought that building to get Martin out of there.  Well, Martin didn't do a thing but contract to put up this little old building.  Mr. Millard helped him get the post office, see he had worked for him.  So he put him in the post office.  That's what he was going to live off of.  And he had the groceries on the side.  And yet he had enough groceries to get started in the garage up there.  Jap Manuel was the one that put him wise to that.  He said "The man's got enough to start the store with."  That kicked up a right smart stink for a while.  Then, Mr. Bob Williams, he come from Strasburg down here and he was a pretty good carpenter.  Well, then they made a little counter down through there and they had about five stools in there.  Dottie went to work.,  Skeeter was going with Dottie.  Skeeter used to work over at Millville, and Dottie was assistant to Martin in the store, and Dottie was the one that served the meals.  And you could go in there and get a good meal.  You could get most anything....  And that stayed in there a long while. 

But Martin Welsh had a way about him.  If you went in that store.  I don't care where you was at, once you came in that store and set on that stool, if you was over here, he'd come round and say "Is there anything I can do for you?"  You could stay there if  you want to, but he was always there with "Anything I can do for you?"  And he had a pretty good way.  He always paid me, but they always called him "Good Number," and I could never figure out why.  Well, one day I went down there to get something, and I said to my wife "What do you want to pay for it?"  She said "Don't pay over a certain price".  So I went there and I said, "Martin, do you have this thing?"  He said, "Yes."  I said "What's the price on it?"  He said "A dollar and a quarter."  "I said "That's too much," and he said "What did your wife want to pay?" "Well, she's been getting it for 90?."  "Oh, wait a minuite, now, I can give you a little cheaper brand here for 90?."  And that's where the "Good Number" was.  You didn't get out of there but where he would sell you if he had to come down in price, or whether he had three different prices, I don't know.  He was right smart of a business man and yet he was slick on the pencil. 

They had a big thing that they would flop up and maybe they had two rows of names here in little hoppers, and then they'd fill that up.  And if you went in there and you were "K" he'd pull it down.  But then, instead of using "Knott," he'd use "Charles."  And right above it he had Charles Hoffmaster.  Charles Hoffmaster would get my bills and I would get his.  So my wife watched what she got.  She would check these bills and then I'd go down on the week end I'd pay up.  And she'd say "Here's about five or six things I never got down there."  I'd go down and say "My wife said she didn't get these articles."  And he'd look and see Charles Hoffmaster, he'd got it in the wrong box.  So I said, "Charles, do you ever get any of my bills on your bill?"  He said "All the time."  So finally, I said "Martin, I wish you would put my name on another sheet besides Charles  Hoffmaster.  Get them Charles separated."  He said "Charles, that's a good idea. I'll do just that."  I heard from some that they never got their paycheck from him because they got so far behind.  And he'd loan them money and he charged them 10% interest.  And Mr. Millard used to do that years back.  You could go out there when we was boys, before I got married.  If I needed $5, you could go out there and he'd loan you $5, but he'd charge you 50cents for it --10cents on the dollar for 2 weeks. 

WT: Was there anybody named Brill that owned the store? 

CK: After Spooney Manuel died.  When Martin moved out of that store, Jap Manuel bought it.  He set up that one for Spooney [the one on the corner], then he set the other store up for Bertha.  And Bertha run that, and she married a fellow name of Bowman and they got divorced.  And then she married a fellow that brought the food in, Cole.  He married her and they had one child and after about 7 or 8 years they separated.  Then she got a job with one of these insurance companies up in Martinsburg and worked out of that insurance company for a while, and finally she moved to Martinsburg.  Spooney stayed there until he run it so far in the hole that he couldn't make it.  He could make it, but he just lived too high.  When he got out and his wife left him, and he married another woman.  They had one boy.  He married another girl and he lived about three months.  Then he died and she sold everything to Bunk Brill. He bought all his goods.  And Bunk Brill run a store there, and Martin run a store over here.  Then June Miller come in from Shepherdstown and he run a store.  He built a little store up there and cut his own meat. He done his own butchering.  That little old building there.  He had a regular meat market.  And the state tax man come in and he got them all.  Martin, he balked.  Well, he said "Mr. Welsh, I'll tell you what we'll do.  Starting Monday morning we're going to put a man in here to check this cash register for 30 days.  Then we'll check you out."  Martin said "That's all right.  You don't have to do that.  How much do I owe you?"  Then he payed off.  Bunk Brill stayed in there for a good little while, but the people got so that they wouldn't pay him.  They'd run the bill up on him and then they'd move out of Bakerton out of the plant out here.  One guy run up a bill with Bunk for $200.  He said he finally got his money, but he had to spend almost $200 to get it.... 

WT: Some people tried to trick Mr. Millard into charging stuff when they weren't supposed to? 

CK: They could never pinpoint Mr. Millard.  He always stayed pretty much in the post office.  It was Martin that done his conniving.  The only thing was that Mr. Millard, when the store bills got too high, he would look.  And if you had, say, over $100, that was a lot of money back at that time, and you wasn't working, he would cut you off.  There was a fellow by the name of Charlie McDonald down at Engles come up one time.  He said "Charlie, are you working?"  "No, sir."  He says, "Well, I'm going to have to cut you off for a while until you get a job back.  I just can't carry you no longer."  "Well, Mr. Millard, I got eight children out there and they keep right on eating.  What am I going to feed them with?"  "You'll have to take care of that, Charlie."  Well, it wasn't but a couple of days went by, Charlie come out.  He couldn't get no work.  So he was dressed up a little bit, and he just got down in the lime and got lime all over him.  And he went out and he walked in, and Mr. Millard was so glad to see him cause he made a lot of money off of Charlie.  And he walked up and he says "Charlie, what can I do for you?"  Well, he got a great big bag of groceries.  I mean as much as he could carry out of that place.  And when he walked out, he said, "By the way, Charlie, you're working, aren't you?"   "No,"  he said, "I'm hoping to get back."  "Wait a minute, I can't let you have that."  "Too late now, Mr. Millard."  And he was out the door.  He was honest.  He finally paid up. 

WT: There was a beer joint in town too? 

CK: That's back where Wayne Jamison -- near Louis Lloyd's house is where Bud Rowe lived.  He owned that property.  Right off to the side there, where Wayne Jamison has his garage, there was a bulding in there and they tore part of it down.  But the garage was just in one end of it, and they had a beer joint in the other.  Well, he started a beer joint in there.  He sold beer and made a lot of money.  See, people in Bakerton, they did finally get back and they liked beer.  But they had a fellow who used to work out here at the plant.  He was related to the Engles.  He had a bunch of kids, by the name of Lay Files.  All of a sudden, one time they had a big to-do up there and Lay Files he come in and set there.  I guess he didn't have too much money.  He just lowed himself so high and somebody said something.  And he just cleaned the house out.  He just throwed everything out.  That was the talk of the town for a while.  Well, Mr. Files wasn't that kind of a fellow.  He married into good people and everything, and he went back and told him he was sorry.  But Bud, he closed up and went to Shepherdstown at Morgan's Grove fair and had a building out there.  And he had a beer joint out there for a long while.  And then Mark Carter came in and he sold out.  And then he came back down then when Jap Manuel sold.  Before Bertha took over and Jap went on the farm, he rented that store to Bud for about 6  weeks.  And he run a store there for a while right across from Martin.  He stayed there for a while and then he bought that farm back in here.  That big red farm.  Bought it for $6,000.  But he sold that one over by Harry Gray.  That big house, he bought that for $4,000 and sold it for $6,000 and come over here and bought this for $6,000.  

The Bakers, back at that time, used to have a fellow here named Johnny Red Moler.  When you go in the mines, when they come back in here, they come over this way a good bit.  Maybe a little bit more than they should have.  Anyway, this Johnny Red Moler, when they crushed this stone, they'd have screenings.  Bud would go over and get a load of screenings.  And as soon as Johnny Red Moler would see him, "Bud, " he said.  "What are  you paying for these screenings?"   And he'd tell him.  "That's a shame.  They're getting the stone off of you, and you're buying it back."  Finally, Bud got tired of that and he'd get so mad he said "I'm going to get 'em.  I'm going to get a core drill and drill down and see if they're under my property."  He said, "You can't get 'em that way.  You go around so far, and they got a 50- foot pillar out here in the middle to hold the ceiling up.  If you get in that, you could drill and drill forever."  So finally, they got wind of it that he was going to core drill, and it was so close there.  Right on that creek where that little water runs down.  It wasn't too far there before their property took over.  They were under that creek and they could have been under him.  They gave him a good price.  He got $65,000 or $70,000 for that farm and went right over to Charles Town near Rippon and invested it again.  But when he sold that out there he got three or four hundred thousand for that. 

WT: There was also a pool hall, wasn't there? 

CK: Harold Hardin run that pool table right in the store after Bud Rowe went out.  Bertha left, and Harold Hardin run that place where the post office is now.  And they opened that whole thing up in there, and Harold Hardin had five or six tables in there.   And then Jake Hollis, he worked in there for a while.  But there wasn't enough money.  And there wasn't too many that knowed how to shoot pool.  And they'd do more damage to the table if they didn't know what they're doing.  And they finally got out of that., 

WT: Was there a barber shop in town? 

CK: Years back, when I was a boy, Mr. W.O. Bowman, he took one part of his house, and he had a stool.  My daddy would send all three of us out to get a haircut in the spring of the year.  He'd cut all of it off and you wouldn't have to have another one until fall.... 

WT: Who was running the garage when you were growing up? 

CK: What I first remember, they had a fellow named Albert Rice.  He was a good mechanic.  And back at that time they sold high priced cars.  They were a Buick Dealer.  That's where Roy Best got started in there.  And after they found he was pretty good, the Bakers got him.  Then Mr. Rice retired and went to Shepherdstown.  I know one car, when they first got it.  Somebody got one of them high priced cars, like a Cadillac.  And the fellow had a right smart amount of money, but they only got three or four miles to the gallon of gas.  And it was costing him too much.  And he said anybody that's got enough money to buy the car ought to have enough money to put the gas in it.  Then they had a fellow named Warren Demory, was a good mechanic, and I think he come up under Mr. Rice.  And then he come out to the plant and he was head mechanic.  But Mr. Warren Demory was a fellow that would never show you nothing.  Back at that time, they wouldn' show each other their trade like they do now.  The Baker brothers told him, "There's a fellow down there who's going to be working on these automobiles.  Go down there and watch that fellow.  See what he does."  Well, he was a pretty good mechanic, and he would go down there.  And about the time he'd get ready to set the time, the most important thing on it, he'd say "I need something from up to the supply house."  When you got up to the supply house and come back, he had it all done.  He could make any part for an automobile that you couldn't buy. 

WT: Did they have a machine shop there too? 

CK: They had a machine shop out at the plant.  That was old man Fraley that married Warren Demory's daughter.  He run that machine shop there for a long while.  They had two or three big lathes and cutters.  But then, when WWII come, he went in the Navy Yard.  Well, down there you only done one thing.  He didn't want that.  Then they put this fellow named Albert Eaton on.  They took him off the water pumps and he just took right over. 

WT: When did they close the garage and turn it into the community center? 

CK: After Albert Rice went to Shepherdstown, then Roy Best come out here.  I don't know whether the Company owned that building.  Then they took that building.  It was a concrete floor, and they put a wooden floor in and changed the back end.  And they made a loft, and they had steps where you could go up in the balcony.  That's when they made a community hall out of it.  They had basketball and everything like that. 

WT: Was that after the Second World War? 

CK: That was just a little bit before I went into welding, around about 1940. 

WT: You were telling me the other day about a cavein at the mine. 

CK: They had a couple of caveins right up where Mrs.Eaton's house is.  After Mr. Best's wife died and he went to Martinsburg, my aunt and uncle, Lena Clabaugh, lived in that house.  It was practically a brand new house.  They had two boys and they were playing.  They had a right good sized tree in that yard there, a little bit from where you go into Mrs. Eaton's driveway.  They was playing out there all evening long, and they got up the next morning.  That cavein, you couldn't even see the tree.  Just covered it up completely.  My uncle [Brian] was Superintendent out there then.  Oh, my aunt [Lena], she really got shook up.  She thought the house was going in and everything else.  She gave my uncle a fit.  So he had to go to work down Harpers Ferry and buy a place down there and get her out of there.  She wouldn't stay there.  But they took that hole and hauled big rock in there and filled it up.  Now, way back over that far side, when Jake Hollis was in there, they was working the 4 to 12 shift and while they was eating there was a 2 or 3 foot layer...  See, that stone, you have to watch it pretty close.  Limestone, you go so far and you can tell if it's good limestone.  Somehow or other, they must have come up about three foot further, and it must have cracked and they couldn't tell it.  And when they came back, there was all that stone laying there and they had worked just to supper time.  Well, Jake Hollis, it wasn't too long before he come out of there, and Tanner Houser, both of them had been in the service during WWII.  Well, the Korean War was coming on, and they knew they could get a job, so they went back in the Korean War.  They said at least they could get out of the road.   Mr. Albert Jamison, many a time you would have a certain amount fall, and he could tell.  When you heard little rocks falling, you better get going.  And he would start to move, and all of a sudden the pressure would push him out of the way. 

They had people get killed among the pumps, electricity.  You go working around down there and the darn thing was grounded out and killed one fellow.  Then one time lightning struck the dinky track about quarter to 4, and they had already put the caps and everything in, but they had never hooked it up, I don't think, or maybe they had hooked it up but they hadn't pulled the switch.  But the current jumped the switch.  And it killed one and messed up two or three of them.  One guy, he was laid up for over a year.  But he ended up for a long while in maintenance.  He wouldn't go back in the hole.  And finally he got enough nerve, he went back in the hole. 

WT: Could you hear it out in Bakerton when they were blasting? 

CK: Oh yes, man, it shook everything.  They had a fellow, when my grandfather died, at that time they fixed you up in the home.  Well, my grandfather died in my house, and they had a fellow over here at Melvin Strider's by the name of Davis.  Guy Davis.  He's still living.  And he done the embalming.  He was there in the upstairs room over my kitchen.  He was embalming my grandfather, round about 4 o'clock in the evening.  They let off one of them shots and he thought the world was coming to an end.  He come down and said "What's the trouble?  What's the trouble?"  And I said "Oh, that was just a blast out at the plant."  It scared him so bad, he talked about that for a long time....  Yes, you could feel it, but the worst part of it was, the shock up here was bad enough, but up at Martinsburg, I was down in there one time when they made the shot at Martinsburg.  I was in there at quarter of four.  We was supposed to get off at 3:30, but we didn't get out of there one evening.  They let off one of them shots, and that scared the tar out of me.  I said, "Just let me know what time that thing goes off, and let's get out of here."  That sound carried so far, you'd think it was five foot from you.  At that particular time, they were half a mile from where I was at. 

WT: Your said Walt Flanagan became superintendent after your grandfather? 

CK:  Yes, then after Walt Flanagan left there, that's when they put in a Fellow named Jack Frost.  Well, Jack Frost was an engineer.  He was just starting.  He was a smart IQ, maybe.  Maybe he was a good engineer.  But Mr. Roy Best had mastered the job on the kiln.  He had grown up there.  When they had put it in, the factory man was there and they told him what to do, and he knew what would make that thing work.  Well, Mr. Frost come in there and he didn't know, and he told Mr. Best "I'm going to make some changes here."  In the way the coal would feed into the kiln, you had to have one of them coal things ... it fed up to the top of your coal mill.  They had little peddles in there that come around and grid that up into dust.  Well, when it come around, it would blow right in there, and they had a big sack put over the burner.  You light it with kerosene and sick it in that hole and start that fan, and all of a sudden that kerosene and that flying coal would explode.  If you had the draft right at the back end, that's what lit that kiln off.  And that would get hot enough, and that's how that kiln run.  But he made a change in there, and the kiln was down for ten days, maybe two weeks.  Well, when they started back up, it wouldn't work so they closed it down.  My uncle [Brian] was office man then, and he just called and said "The kiln's down, Mr. Thomas.  We just can't get it going."  So he come down and he couldn't find Mr. Frost, and he walked down to the plant where the kiln was and he run into Roy Best.  He said "Roy, what's the trouble?"  "Well, you got one of these engineers that knows it all.  I told him beforehand it wouldn't work.  But I couldn't tell him nothing.  Now we got to change it all back."  He said "Where is Mr. Frost?"  "I don't know.  He went away from here."  "Well, he said, "we'll just fire him right now."  And he fired him.  And then he says "Can you manage?" "Yes, just put Herbert Irvin in the office, let Brian Houser be the superintendent. He can take care of the office stuff.  You got Cobby Moler for the lime handling.  I can take care of the maintenance.  You got Pimmy Waters to take care of the mine.  We don't need that man."  And that's what they done.  That's how come my uncle got the job. 

WT: He was superintendent until the plant closed? 

CK: He has superintendent until it closed.  If he had been there just a little bit longer, he would have been there 50 years.  Of course, he started as a young boy.  As soon as he got out of  high school, he went out to Woodville and worked out there. 

WT; When did the unions come in? 

CK: They got that union in there about '44.  They had a fellow named Dimmie Jones down at the Orebank, and he was a welder.  He was a hard worker, but he raised a whole lot of kids.  He had a lot of good in him, and he lived in that house across from Phenneger.  But they would meet over in Dargan.  They didn't know anything about it until they got ready and got everything lined up.  And then they decided they wanted to take a vote....  When the war come along, they sold this stuff to the unions and somebody said "Let's go into the union.  We need some changes made."  They had a fellow named Earl Engle.  In think he was related to Miss Rene Engle down there.  Earl and Mr. Best had a little run-in and he quit. I don't know whether that started the thing or not.  But anyhow they decided they needed a union, and they got the union.  And when I come back up in '45 for about 3 months recuperation because I was down from welding.... 

WT: Was that an employee's union or a national union? 

CK: They had what they called a ...  [committee] they went along with.  Mark Horn was the head of that.  It was a company union, for grievances or something like that.  But it didn't amount to nothing.  It was run by foremen.  If you thought you had a complaint, if they thought it was legitimate they would take it up.  If they didn't, they didn't.   But when they got the big union, that was around '44.  Because when I come up here in '45 and I asked Uncle Brian if he needed anybody, he said "Yes, I need a man right now.  I can put you on labor three days a week and let you drive a Ford truck one day and a dumpster one day.  We're paying time and half right now for that."  He said "I believe they're going to pay as much as a dollar an hour."  Well, see that was a big jump from 56 cents to a dollar an hour, but yet things were going begging.  So when I started out there then I made about 88 or 90 cents an hour, because when I went over I guess I had been working there about 3 months.  I was beginning to feel pretty good.  So I asked Ray Lewis about a job over in Millville.  And they was paying a dollar and three and a half cents an hour for welding.  But I was only getting about 80 cents an hour for it when you came back over here for a job. 

WT: And you quit when... 

CK: I quit them two or three times.  I left on a leave of absence back in '40.  I went out to see Mr. Thomas.  He give me a leave of absence to go to the shipyard for one year.  Well, I went down and I didn't come back.  Then I come back in '45 as a new man.  Then I went over at Millville, and I'd work there for a little while and then come back and work a couple of days and then I'd go back over.  Finally, the union got to kicking over there.  And they said, he's either got to work one place or the other.  So they called me in the office and said, we'll give you a maintenance job third class and then we'll give you a welding job first class when you're welding.  He said, we'd like to have you.  I said, well , I believe I'll just go back and if you need me over here, just call me.  So I went back and I was back here 2 weeks and they called me back again.  So I went back over and he called me in the office and said, "Now, construction is coming down here, and there's going to be two construction divisions, one for the east and one for the west.  It would be between Martinsburg and here."  And that's how I got back in construction.  But when I first come up here from the shipyard I went up to Kimbalton, Virginia, and worked on the construction of the plant.  I only stayed up there three weeks, and I quit them that time.  And then when I come back out here over at Millville, well then I had to quit over here and I got back into construction.  And I stayed there until '45 and then went up to Martinsburg and we did some road travelling.  And I finally got a little peeved, and Mr. Cherry got mad at me and said I want you to wear that hard hat.  They had a big crane swinging out with a big thing on it.  Well if anything would break, you wasn't in the safety rules.  And I didn't have a hard hat.  And it was just the way he said it, so I quit again.  And from '50' to '55 I worked over at Dixie Narco and they shut that plant down.  Then I started back at Martinsburg and stayed until I retired out of construction.  And when I come back I started at 90 cents and got up to $1.48.  I come back up here to Standard then, and they was paying $2.56 an hour and working 6 or 7 days a week 10 hours a day.  And the money was rolling in fast. 

WT: Did they bring in a new union when Standard sold the plant to American Marietta? 

CK: It was the same union.  I was at Martinsburg then.  I went up to Mr. Muller and said "What is the difference?"  "Well, Charlie," he said, "you used to work in the minors for Standard.  Now you're up in the majors."  The money kept coming on up.  There was a big difference.  Well, the first thing you know, they knew I guaranteed my welding.  They had a little job down here.  They was putting a partition in the coal bin and they didn't have no welders.  So Mr. Cherry said we'll send Charlie down there and get Ray Lewis from out of Millville.  They had Dick Houser, and Dimmie Jones was working in the shop.  They put me in there.  And they had a welding job on a cooler, and Dick Houser had been welding and he didn't know what he was doing.  And I was working 11 to 7 there for two nights.  Well, I got in there and did the whole thing.  They got in there the next morning and I said "You're ready to go."  They couldn't understand that.  They didn't want me there because they wouldn't have no work.  So it was on a Wednesday they called me back to Martinsburg.  And Ray Lewis stayed and they got Dick Houser, who was all the time griping.  He said "You go over and take Charlie's place this morning".  "I'm not going to take his place."  So they told Rob Waters, Pimmie's brother.  He said "Dickie, are you going to do that job?"  "No."  "Well I'm going to see Roy Best then."  Roy Best said "You either go in that job or hit the clock."  I went up there then and welded all this pipe, and Mr. Cherry said "Son, how many leaks you going to have?"  I said, "If I have any leaks I'll give you $10 for every leak I got."  He didn't say nothing.  He kept on walking.  When they started them pumps up in that hole, they never had a leak.  Next Tuesday, he says, "Charlie, what do they pay you for welding?"  Well, I said they started me out at first class and then cut me back. They said they could only have two first class welders.  Well, he said, they're going to have three.  Because they can't guarantee nothing and neither one of them can weld. 

WT: Were you up here when the plant closed? 

CK: No, at that particular time we was building a kiln at Pleasant Gap, Pennsylvania.  And I went into the restaurant in the morning at Bellfont.  And it was 2 weeks before these fellows got their notice.  And Ken Bowles said "Charlie, have you heard the latest?  Bakerton plant.  Permanent.  Closed down."  So my uncle was superintendent, and he just couldn't face it.  So he told Mr. Muller, "You go back to Martinsburg and I'll give you all these names.  Send each of them a letter.  I was raised with these people. I just don't have the heart.  I'll break down."  He said "They fought me to a certain extent, but it wasn't my fault.  They was making money but they wasn't making enough."  They was still making money when they closed down.... 

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Knott, Charles R.  Interview.  Bakerton, West Virginia, December 18, 1986. 

[Interviewer's Note: Charles Knott was born and raised in Bakerton, West Virginia.  He worked as a welder for most of his life and worked at other construction jobs throughout the country.  He died in 1995.] 

William Theriault: What can you tell me about the Maddex store? 

Charles Knott: They used to have a post office in there and a grocery store.  The Bakerton mail, the small stuff, they'd pick up down there, at Maddex's.  They'd put it in the bag, plus what they'd get off the railroad.  But ..................., he must have been the postmaster that brought it from Maryland down to the store.  Mrs. Lucretia Moler went down there and got it.  She hauled mail from there out to Bakerton for a long, long time until Martin [Welsh] opened up.  I don't know who hauled that mail up when Mr. Millard had it. 

WT: Did anybody live over the Maddex store? 

CK: Yes, Maddex lived there over the store.  And it was a busy place.  Engle Switch at one time was a busy place.  It was something like Shenandoah Junction, a railroad town.  Shipping that would come out to Bakerton, freight and stuff, you'd come down there and haul it.  Now stuff for the Standard Lime and Stone plant, it was shipped to Engle.  When I first bought my place in '45, when I had something down there, I went and got it. 

WT: Did they have a colored section down at Engle? 

CK: Yes, they had a colored section on the left, where you go down and turn left.  That whole section back up that hill was colored.  One fella named Law lived there. He had a son named Ned Law (I believe it was John Law), and he had four or five boys.  He was a good colored fella.  He was well liked. 

WT: Did a man named Holden used to run the farms around here for the Bakers? 

CK: That's right.  When I came up to Bakerton around '45, Mr. Holden was manager of all the farms then.  Heath Holden.  Before he took over that job, he was Jefferson County Farm Bureau man, agriculture man for Jefferson County.  And he was living on the Baker property.  They had a fella down at Engle by the name of Tryman, and he had a tendency to steal chickens, and Mr. Holden was losing a lot of chickens.  He had an old horse, and he used to wrap cloth around the wheels so it couldn't make any noise.  And he'd go up there at night and steal the chickens.  So Heath Holden layed out there in wait for him and shot him in the foot.  And they took him to court.  They had a whale of a time over that thing, but I believe Mr. Holden won out.  They caught him on his property.  It wasn't too long after that Mr. Holden picked up and went toFlorida.  His wife's mother was a lawyer in New York, and she had a lot of land down there.  So he went down there and managed an orchard ranch for apricots and all kinds of stuff like that.  He's still down there.  He's got about 40 or 50 acres. It's out of Homestead.  When my daddy first went down to Florida, he went down to stay with Heath Holden.  The doctor told him after my mother died, he couldn't get straightened out, so he went down to Florida.  And he went down there and stayed with Heath Holden.  And he milked the cow.  Then, the first thing you know, Heath had him out there and says "I'm going to make a foreman out of you.  Just take these men and go out and plant these trees."  And he done that.  Heath Holden's wife's father had a big place down there with roses.  They were crazy about flowers.  And this fella said, "Mr. Knott, you come out every morning and I'll work you 4 or 5 hours, and I'll pay you enough so you don't have to work no where else.  Just keep the weeds out of my flowers."  At that time, when Mr. Holden changed from Methodist Church over to Presbyterian, my daddy did.  And that's where he met his wife.  There were three old maids down there, and they were pretty friendly.  And one of the old maids got sick.  So the two said "Mr. Knott, will you take us out to see the other one?"  So while they were back in the room visiting the old maid, this lady come out that was acting nurse.  My daddy go to talking to her, and she said she was a farmer and her husband died and she lived by herself.  He fell in love with the woman and married her and lived with her almost 20 years. 

WT: Was Heath Holden someone you dealt with when you were renting land from the Bakers? 

CK: No, when I came up there, my grandaddy had rented this after he sold 19 acres below me there.  He sold that to the Bakers and gave them the stone rights, but he could use that land the rest of his life.  After he died, my daddy took over that and he kept running it for $100 a year. Well, after he went to Shepherdstown, he says "You can't get it no cheaper," so he just turned it over to me.  Well then, I kept that ground for a long while.  And finally down through here, where that creek runs down there, Mr. Bud Rau was down there.  And he didn't have no fence across there, so they put me up a fence and that's when they put me under contract.  Then I had to build all the fence myself and keep the fence in good repair.  I kept it for a long while.  We did have a little dispute one time.  I was subrenting it out to Johnny Red Moler and a few of the guys that worked out at the plant.  Each one had a cow.  Mr. Albert Jamison and all these people had a cow.  I wasn't making a whole lot of money out of it, but they had worked for the Bakers.  Finally I got that ironed out and got a contract signed.  They wanted me to sign a contract that I couldn't subrent it.  I didn't want all that ground those people had, and I didn't have the heart to take it away from them because they'd had it for so many years.  So they had a fella come down from Martinsburg by the name of Bob Davis.  And Bob Davis was assistant to Uncle Brian for a while, and he come up and asked me, "Charlie, what seems to be the trouble?  You won't sign the contract."  And I took him up there and I showed him where these guys was renting and who I was renting to.  Johnny Red Moler and Mr. Jamison.  And Harry Martin got a cow down there.  I said "All those people work for the company, and I just rent it for $5 or $6 a year. And I'm not making a whole lot of money off of it.  But they keep it clean, keep the fence up and everything."  And I said, "If I can't rent it to them, I don't think that's right." So he said "I'll take care of it."  And he said, "Forget it.  Just rent it like you had been." 

WT: Was Heath Holden taking care of tenant farmers? 

CK: He would.  When my daddy had it for a while, Heath Holden painted everything all up.  He left then, and they rented this farm down where my daddy lived.  See he was out milking 6 or 7 cows out where I live (they had a barn out there).  That's when Bud Stewart rented the farm down there and farmed for a right good while. 

WT: Do you remember the store at Moler's Cross Roads? 

CK: There used to be ......  I've forgotten the fella's name.  He lived down here along the river.  Sager.  He had a farm down here, and he run that store up there for a long while.  And that was a big business.  There were farmers coming in there all the time.  And then Sager moved from there to Charles Town (Ranson) and run a place.  You can still see the sign on the side of the store.  On towards the last, Jack Donley (Fred's brother) opened up that store there. 

WT: That's the building that's there now. 

CK: Yes, near Sam Donley.  See, the other place burned down.  The old store burned down.  People used to live in behind it.  They had a big store, and they went in there and told tales and sometimes stayed open until 10 o'clock at night.  That was when the old store was open.  Same way with Reedson.  It was a gathering place.  The old fellas had a lot of time, and they'd go down there.  They didn't have nothing else to do.  They didn't have television and radio like you do now.  They'd all gather there, and if something happened, the news spread.  They'd go back home and tell. 

WT: Do you remember the names of any of the Italians that used to live in town? 

CK: That was a little before my time.  I remember they called it Little Italy, but I don't remember any of them. Most of the Italians ended up over at Millville.  My grandaddy had dealings with that place over there.  And he'd ride over every day and back.  The Bakers depended on him to take care of that plant, too.  They had a superintendent, but he was, I guess, a kind of general superintendent.  And he'd ride horseback over there. 

WT: When you were growing up, did you hear any stories about gypsies down by the Old Furnace? 

CK: Oh yes, I heard my grandmother say that they had some gypsies down around the Orebank.  And they had a fence around their yard at that time.  And when the gypsies would walk up, they'd run all the girls in the house and close and lock all the doors because they would kidnap you and hold you for ransom, I guess.  There was a lot of gypsies around there at that time.  Yes, I heard them talking about that, "Don't let your kids out in the yard unless there's someone out with them."  I guess they would probably come up to the store....  They had a tendency to steal a lot.  And they had a way, if you stole something and got caught at it, they'd cut so many fingers off.... 

WT: Did the Trundle family come from Buckeystown? 

CK: I don't know exactly where they came from, the Trundle family.  Mr. Rion Trundle.  When I was a boy, we delivered milk, and there were three houses in behind where Mrs. Eaton's house is now.  And Mr. Rion Trundle lived in the second house.  Rion Trundle had an accident and he got some fingers cut off, down the cooper shop, or something or other, and he was wrapped up for a long while when I was a kid.  He was a good worker and well liked.  He lived right in behind my place, and one day when I was about 14, he and I was hauling fodder out of the field right behind me there.  And we see this car running up and down the road with a bunch of colored people in it.  Well, I was a young boy, and I hollered "What are you doing running up and down the road?"  They was a bunch of colored people, see.  And I didn't think too much about it.  So they went up the road and come out at the plant to get some air in their spare tire.  Well, they firgured they was hauling whiskey, so they called out here to get the game warden, which was Cop Shipley's father ... Shipley School out here?  They called him Cop Shipley.  So in the mean time, after they got air in their tire, they went back down the river.  That's when they picked the whiskey up.  Well, I hollered at 'em again.  So finally they come up where that break is where the one-armed man [Shepherd] lives, and about that time those fellas jumped out of that car and started running.  And I yelled "Mr. Rion, I need help!  Here they come again!  They're coming after me!"  And come to find out, Shipley had come out and backed up right there where Shuff's lane is, below Pete Daugherty's house.  And he backed in there and he was coming out to get 'en, and they seen him.  They jumped out of the car and the car run down.  That was full of whiskey.  They never caught a one of them. Come to find out they were big fellas over to Halltown. Of course, they got the license number and everything and tracked it down.  But you talk about a scared boy.  I thought they were running after me.  And Mr. Shipley, I can remember him yet.  He was shooting up in the air, and those fellas was running clear on up where Mrs. Newton lives now.  They never did catch them.  But they got them through the car.  That was loaded with whiskey.  I guess they run it across the river, maybe that night, and then hid it.  That was around 11 o'clock in the morning. He was on the ball, this fella Shipley. 

John Loudan told me about a time.  We were sitting on the porch where Hunter Tally lived.  We got talking about Mr. Shipley, and he said, "Let me tell you one."  Well, he lived down the road here, behind Ken Bush's house.  That old building up there, that's where John Loudan lived for a long time.  Bertha Loudan -- Bertha Harding -- was raised there.  Jack Loudan, Bert Loudan was all raised up there in that old house.  He was walking along by the river and this one time he was carrying a sack along on his back. And Mr. Shipley was riding along, and John Loudan saw him and he started running.  And finally he run in down there right in front of where Mason has got his house.  That used to be a lane to the river.  John was played out.  This other fella parked his car and jumped out and ran down there.  He was all out of wind. He had a bad heart, too.  And he got up there and found out it was Mr. John Loudan.  "John, what are you running for?"  "I didn't know who it was."  He got a big kick out of it, but his wife give him heck for it. But anything to get a laught out of Cop Shipley.  They named that school after him. 

WT: Was there anybody making whiskey over here? 

CK: Oh, my goodness, Dargan one time of day was really ready for whiskey.  Ray Lewis told me one time.  He was just a young boy.  He was off from school one day, and they had filled this wagon, two horses, full of corn.  But yet they had filled it full of whiskey and put corn all over the top of it.  And they said "Would you drive this load of corn down to Harper's Ferry?"  Well, the game wardens was set up all along the road, see.  And when they approached him, they said "That's Mr. Lewis' boy.  Just let him go ahead."  And he took two loads down there.  But he said after he found out what was in it he wouldn't do it no more. 

I was talking to somebody recently of a case where they were making whiskey over there, and this woman had a little old house set back in there.  And she told the game warden, "I'll tell you, it's dangerous up there.  You better not go up there.  Because they're making whiskey up there."  So somehow, they surrounded the place and they got them.  And it wasn't more than 3 or 4 weeks later they got a barrel of gasoline or oil, set it on fire, rolled it down, and burned her house down. 

Pemmy Water's brother got caught a few times.  But he said, after he got religion and got straightened up, that kind of money wouldn't stick with you.  It don't pay.  I was over at Millville one time and they had a bulldozer.  And that thing run over the bank and come on down. And I asked him if he was scared.  He said no, he'd been scared so bad a couple of times, so that he just run her on down. 

WT: Were there places in Bakerton where the coloreds weren't supposed to go? 

CK: As a general rule, the coloreds around Bakerton was always friendly.  You never saw too many colored folks out round Bakerton, but they had a store right there where Jake Hollis' boy lives now.  That was a big store.  A fella named Cobby Moler run it for years and years.  They had a vault down in the cellar, and they had aluminum siding all around there.  And when we were kids, you could go up there in a rainy season and it would shock you.  It was shorted at somewhere.  We used to go out there and get something and you could see the colored people walking from Ten Row out there.  My oldest brother and I were walking out there one day.  There used to be a big stable out there where they kept the horses, and it wasn't lighted too well.  These two colored fellas were walking down the road there, and one fella says "I'll get the little one and you get the other one."  Well, I was the little one.  You talk about running.  I could almost feel him touch me, but I was going real fast.  I never did find out who it was.  And I said to Shorty Evans after that scare, "I can't go out to Bakerton no more."  He said, "You let me know who it was and he'll never be the same."  They was a good bunch of colored people.  Oh, there was two or three of them, maybe. But I always depended on Shorty Evans.  He was a nice fella, in one sense of the word.  He wasn't industrious about working, but he always worked for my daddy.  My daddy asked him one time, "Shorty, it just looks like every winter you get into jail."  "There's no better place.  You get a full course meal and a place to sleep.  And they let me out in the spring." 

WT: They didn't go out to the beer joint or anything? 

CK: Oh no.  They never went past that one store....  Of course, they come through town because I know Mr. Dozier, his family would come up from Washington, some of them.  That's the first time we noticed some of them was white.  We couldn't get over that.  Some of them had spots on them.  They claimed that mixing did that.  But that's what we always hated. You mix races like that and you would come up with a spot.  That made it look bad.  Mr. Dozier always held himself so good, you could tell he was a city colored fella.  And he'd let them, know.  He kept cleaned up, and he wouldn't back down from none of 'em.  He'd always hold his own.  He never caused no trouble, but you could always tell he was a little different class. 

WT: Was there any Ku Klux Klan around here? 

CK: My uncle [Brian Houser] told me about the Ku Klux Klan one time.  They had a Ku Klux Klan out at Harper's Ferry, but yet they had 4 or 5 fellas at Bakerton that belonged to it.  So the colored fellas at Duffields got out of hand one night, and they was just really controlling everything up there, doing things they didn't have no business.  So the KuKlux Klan got together, and they had about 15 or 20 in white suits and walked up the track.  They rode so far and they walked up the track to Duffields.  From that day on, you never had any trouble with the colored people from Duffields or Shenandoah Junction.  They just calmed right down.  They were scared.  My uncle told me, "They never cause no trouble.  But a colored fella, if you scare him good, he'll straighten out and behave himself.  But if you give him an inch, they'll take a mile.  That's what they were doing up there."  They got together and just scared them.  They had a headquarters at Harper's Ferry. 

WT: Were you around there when the Church of God started up? 

CK: Yes.  A fella by the name of Preacher Kipe, he come over here from Dargan.  See, they had a Church of God up there and a lot of them would go there to go to church.  Across the river.  And they'd have baptizings over there.  And this little short fella, Preacher Kipe, he wanted to know if the Bakers would give him a piece of ground to build this church on.  Mr. Thomas said yes, it would be all right.  They give him this piece of ground to build his church on.  And this Preacher Kipe, before the retired and died, they had about 50 or 60 people out there.  And it was a great thing.  The Methodists and the Church of God would get together every year and have a picnic.  Up at the Church of God.  They had a band.  They'd take all the young kids and meet there, and march down into Bakerton, come up; by my place, turn around, and go back up.  You'd get 50 or 60 people.  Then they served suppers and ice cream, and they stayed open from 2 o'clock until 10 o'clock at night.  And anything they had left over they'd hold a little auction and sell off.  And they used to have one over at Dargan.  They had a lot of good preachers.  Mr. Frank Grim was one of the backbones and Mr. Albert Jamison, Albert Eaton, Charlie Kidwiler.  They dropped out of the National Church of God.  Right now, the people in the community control it.  They pulled out of the conference....  Reverend Kipe would lay it on.  He didn't hold back nothing.  They'd get to shouting.  The only trouble is, when they prayed.  Lowell Hetzell was up there one time, and ... they said, "Mr. Hetzel, would you lead us in prayer."  He said, "All right."  He started out and the rest of them began talking together.  And he said it was so confusing, he didn't care to go back there.  He said, instead of listening to him pray, they all wanted to pray at the same time.  And they still do that.... 

WT: When did the Presbyterian Church close down. 

CK: The Presbyterian Church closed down about 20 years ago.  They got down to 6 or 7 people, and they couldn't furnish them a pastor, so they went down and got a little guy from Harper's Ferry.  He came out and preached on Sundays, and then a preacher from Shepherdstown would come out and preach for a while.  They'd alternate.  They just closed up.  They only had 4 or 5.  They worked it so, the conference wanted to get it.  They said no.  The land was given to them in a way that it didn't belong to the conference.  Now they have Brian Hoffmaster, the Forsythe girl....  When I lived over there, there was a fella named Siler preached in there.  He was really a good preacher.  He preached at Duffields, Shepherdstown, and Bakerton. 

WT: What can you tell me about the church picnics up at Duke's Woods? 

CK: They used to have what they called harvest time.  And the church and the plant would get together.  And we had 200 or 300 people.  It would be an all day affair.  Games and everything ... eating.  That went on even when I went to Baltimore.  I believe that thing cut out about '42 or '43. 

WT: Was the Methodist Church any different when you were a boy? 

CK: Oh yes, I can remember a time when I was a boy when all the classrooms was full.  There was no place to set down. 

WT: Did it go into a decline before the plant closed down? 

CK: Yes, it happened before that.  I'd say something happened to the churches some time in the early 40's. 

WT: Did they have different kinds of Christmas celebrations when you were growing up? 

CK: Oh yes, they had all kinds of Christmas celebrations and everyone took a part... 

WT: Who do you think the best preacher was at this church? 

CK: When I was a kid, there was a fella by the name of Russell.  He had Shenandoah Junction, Millville, and Bakerton.  When I was a boy, after we moved up where Walker is now, we went up there and this fella Russell would really lay it on.... 


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Millard, Frances.  Interview.  April 13, 1986.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

Frances Millard: I knew John Baker, and I knew some of the older ones.  I knew Mr. William G. Baker, John's father, and a cousin of mine, married Joe Baker, the young Joe. 

William Theriault: That was Ellen Baker? 

FM: Ellen Baker.  She's my first cousin.  And she had a sister named Elmira. 

WT: You mother's name was Moore? 

FM: Yes, Mary Jessie Moore. 

WT: And she died October 11, 1918? 

FM: Yes. 

WT: And when was she born? 

FM: She was 47 years old [when she died]. 

WT: Your uncles were named Harold and Charles? 

FM: Momma's brothers, I think there was one named Charles, and there was one named Harry Moore.  And she had some sisters.  Florence [who married] William Hubbard.  And Mrs. John Link; that was Aunt Lu.  And Aunt Fanny Bratt; she married Sam Bratt, Sr.  He was a brother to one of the  ... Lillie Bratt. 

WT: John Baker married ... 

FM: Lena Millard.  It was Millard instead if Millard then.  That was Aunt Lena.  John became president of the company after Dan (I think the third) died. 

WT: One of the Baker brothers married a Bratt.  Lillie Bratt married Daniel Baker II.  Preston Millard was Lena Millard's ... 

FM: Brother. 

WT: So that John Baker ... 

FM: John Baker married Daddy's sister. 

WT: Joseph Baker, Jr., had a son named Daniel. 

FM: I think so.  He also had a sister Susan. 

WT: I also have as sisters of Lena Millard, Ellen Millard and Margaret Millard.  And Margaret Millard married Dr. Clyde Routson. 

FM: Right. 

WT: Stoddard Routson is ... 

FM: Dr. Routson's son.  And he just ... My first cousin just passed away March the 31st of this year.  That whole family is deceased.  He had a brother Clyde.  And Aunt Maggie and Uncle Doctor.  We always called him "Uncle Doctor." 

FM: I'll show you what pictures I have.  This was Daddy when he was a younger person.  He attended Eastman Business College at Poughkeepsie, New York.  Uncle John attended there.  And this is Aunt Lena and Uncle John Baker.  This was taken as a souvenir of Atlantic City.  This is our house in Harpers Ferry where Daddy died.  They painted it a hideous blue or something.  They evidently think it looks very authentic or something.  When we lived there, we had flower boxes and awnings and shrubbery and all. 

WT: When did your father die? 

FM: 1959.  ...  This is an older picture of him [Preston Millard].  It was taken in our home in Harpers Ferry.  ...  This is taken ... I have an idea that when he married my step-mother, Hilda Moler, that this was taken after that, probably in the '20's.  I'm not sure.  Many people may remember him like that rather than in the older picture.  I don't know if there are any around that still remember him. 

WT: Yes, there still are.  Did he remarry in 1920? 

FM: I think so.  Momma died in 1919, and I think he was married 3 or 4 years later.  It could have been 1920. 

WT: Do you remember when he moved to Harpers Ferry?  You used to live in the big white house [in Bakerton]? 

FM: Yes, where Lowell Hetzell lived.  I lived there as a child.  And when Dad and Hilda were married, we lived in Washington, DC, for a year.  And I graduated in '28 from Harpers Ferry High School.  And I believe I went there in the 7th grade.  So it must have been 1920 or '21 when we lived in Washington.  Then we moved into Harpers Ferry in 1922 or '23.  ...  This is Daddy... I don't know where it was taken.  That's Daddy and, I think, Kenneth Moler and Roscoe Rowe.  ...  This is a Shriner picture.  It was taken at the Jefferson Hotel.  ...  This was taken at Christmas, when he was older and had a stroke a couple of years before that.  ...  This is when they were married.  ...  This was the wedding party. 

WT: Sam Bratt is in the background. 

FM: Yes.  This is my uncle Hines, who was a minister.  That's Hopkins; he was a Presbyterian minister in Charles Town.  He is my Uncle Addie.  That's Daryl Koonce.  And Daddy.  Aunt Margaret Routson. That's Sam Bratt in the background.  I never saw Sam Bratt.  [From the family Bible]  ... Aunt Lena and Uncle John were married July the 14th 1892.  Preson S. Millard, 1874, Daddy was born. 

WT: Your father lived in Buckeystown before he moved to Bakerton, didn't he? 

FM: Yes, I'm sure he did. 

WT: What was he doing?  Was he running a store then, too? 

FM: No, I guess he ...  I don't know anything about his schooling.  He was young.  I think he was either 17 or 19 when he went to school in Poughkeepsie.  But I have a feeling that from Poughkeepsie we went to Bakerton because I don't remember having anything else.  They say he was gray when he was 21.  Now, whether he was a full gray or was turning gray, I don't know.  But I never knew him without gray hair.  ...  That's Stoddard Routson's brother [baby picture].  And this is just a picture of Daddy and I at Harper's Ferry, with the dog.  ...  That's Daddy and my stepmother and my brother Preston.  ...  A lot of people called her [my mother] Bertie -- Bertie Moore, although her name was Mary Jessie....  I had one [photo], and I just happened to think of it before you came, but I have no idea where it is.  It was taken as a little kid, and I used to play with Geneva Carter.  She wanted me to do something, and I didn't want to do it.  And so somebody was taking a picture, and I had my hands on my hips and my back towards them....  My Aunt gave me this.  This is the old schoolhouse that I went to. 

WT: That's Oak Grove? 

FM: I don't know the name of it. 

WT: The one in Bakerton? 

FM: Yes.  I used to be ... Daddy's store was on the corner, and the school was over here.  And there was a road -- the main road -- here.  Because I remember, I guess it was the first day I was at school.  At one of the windows, I got up (somebody went by) and I got up and waved to them.  ...  This is Ethel Moler.  Miss Rose Cockrell was one of the teachers.  I don't know who these people are. 

WT: Do you remember your teachers very well? 

FM: Ethel Moler was my first teacher, who later became my aunt.  And I remember one time, for some reason or other, I was having a reading class all by myself up at her desk.  And I came to the word "bird" and I did not know the word.  ...  Well, she asked me about every question she could, I guess, and finally she said (my mother's name was Bertie) "Frances, what does your Daddy call you mother."  I looked up and I said "Old woman."  And then I had Mary Donley.  Those were the only two.  See, I can only remember being in the first room -- it was a two-room school. I was in the third grade when Momma died in October and I went to Buckeystown....  I knew the Links -- Dan Link and Cruz Link, and Kathy Link, his sister.  She's married, I think, to a man named Seibert.  As you go out from Bakerton, over towards the Zion Church, there was a big stone farmhouse on the right, and that's where the Links lived. ... 

When I lived in Bakerton, I was a child, and I was a little devil.  I was into everything, and my mother wasn't too well.  And as I look back on it now ...  Although I never thought ... I always had lots of attention, but  as a child maybe I wasn't getting it.  But I was just mischievious, I guess.  There used to be a man by the name of Mr. Johnny Moler who lived right next to us.  He had a little house there.  And he used to talk to me a lot.  And I remember one day, he was out somewhere and I went in and got his coffee pot, and took it outside and emptied all his coffee out. 

And another time, we were playing outside in our yard and I had long, thin hair.  And we had these little burrs.  I decided it would be nice to have a crown of them.  We had a housekeeper, Annie Grim, I think was her name, and she had a time getting these out, because I had a very sensitive head. 

And then, there was the old church.  Our house was here and the old church, as I recall, was catty corner.  I've forgotten the name of the church. 

WT: It was the Methodist Church? 

FM: I think it was.  It wasn't the one by the store.  I don't know who my playmates were, but we decided that we'd go into the church.  And I don't know whether I was preaching or playing the organ, but who should look in the window but my mother.  So that ended that church service. 

And then, up the road, there were houses and there was a family by the name of Strides, I believe.  Just ordinary people -- I mean they were all right.  But they had a goat.  And I used to have a little sled with sort of a railing around it.  So they would bring that goat down, hitch the sled to the goat, and take me for a ride.  And I came down with the measles, and they always told me that I got the measles from the goat.... 

WT: You said that your father bought some land in Millville and opened a store there. 

FM: Well, whether he bought the land or not, I don't know.  He had a store there.  Now he could have been running it for the Bakers. 

WT: Did he ever say anything about working with Mr. Jesse Engle? 

FM: I don't remember ....  There was Mr. Jake Moler -- Millard and Moler.  And then, I think, Daddy bought him out ... 

WT: The original store that your father owned was back on the company property.  And one of the people working there was Martin Welsh, Sr.  And then that store burned down. 

FM: I don't know.  I remember that, as a child, going there. 

WT: Can you tell me what the store looked like? 

FM: I remember it was on the side of the road that went down, I think on the left.  And it had a wide front on it, I believe.  And my aunt says that she can remember that at Christmas time he always had such a nice display of Christmas things....  I remember the one on the corner the best. 

WT: I have that Mr. Jesse Engle, apparently the one your father was in business with, sold the land that the house was built on-- the white house--to your father in 1907. 

FM: I was born in 1909.  And I had a brother by that marriage.  I mean, actually he was born and died.  I can remember that house at Christmas time.  We would always save our Christmas tree and put it out on the side of the house so that the rabbit would know where to put my basket....  And the first car Daddy had was a Chalmers, and I think we had a car before that, but I'm not sure. 

WT: Do you remember a car dealer in Bakerton? 

FM: No.  I think he got it from someone in Shepherdstown. 

WT: Can you tell me about the store on the corner? 

FM: I know it had a cement front to it, the porch.  And the post office was on the left as you went in, and the store part.  And the candy was on the right.  There was a door in back of that that went out into a sort of ware-room, I guess.  I remember there was an upstairs to it.  Someone lived over there. 

WT: Do you remember the smallpox epidemic?  You would have been about 4 or 5 years old? 

FM: The only thing I remember, my stepmother Hilda was a nurse.  And I believe someone came in (the circus or something) and came down with it.  And she nursed him.  They used to put them out in houses or somewhere. 

WT: Do you remember Hunt's show coming to town around 1916? 

FM: No.  I remember something coming where they had Little Eva -- Uncle Tom's Cabin.  That could have been a chautauqua.  But I don't remember the circus. 

WT: Did you go see that? 

FM: Uncle Tom's Cabin?  Oh yes.  I remember Little Eva died.  (I think it was in Bakerton or Shepherdstown.) 

WT: There used to be a hall in Bakerton. 

FM: I would say Bakerton. 

WT: Do you remember what the [Oak Grove] school looked like on the inside? 

FM: Well, I can remember going in the side door on the road.  As I remember, it had a fence around it. You went in the door, and then the small room (the one I was in) it seemed to me there was a stove back here and the teacher's desk was up here.  There was a sand box [around the stove?] and just ordinary desks.  I think my first one was on the left as you go in by the door.  About the second or third from the front.  I remember there was a boy called Half-Penny.  He was getting into mischief all the time.  I remember that.  And I also remember (it must have been Ethel because she was my first teacher) she asked us to count to ten in Roman numbers and I didn't know how to do that.  So I just got up and said "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10." 

WT: Do you remember the train going by to the Orebank? 

FM: Yes.  That track was up near home -- by my house.  We used to have a dog named Don.  A Newfoundland dog -- a big black dog.  Mommy used to send him down to the store to get meat or something, with a note in it.  And he'd only give the basket to the clerk (I don't know who it was) or Daddy.  And they would put in meat or whatever it was.  And he'd bring the basket back.  And if another dog tried to get him, he'd put the basket down, go after the dog, and come on home with the basket.  At least they tell me about that. 

He was a very good watchdog.  I was out in my carriage one day and my aunt came, and he didn't recognize her.  And he bit her.  I do remember that when he got old, he got down in the basement and couldn't get up the steps.  And finally we had to put him to sleep.  And Daddy took Ma and I for a ride while somebody from the store came up and shot him.  I told Daddy he could have him killed, but I wanted a white poodle dog. 

WT: Did your father ever tell you about any things happening in the store? 

FM: I can't remember any, if he did ... 

WT: Bakerton didn't seem like the average company town. 

FM: No.  It was more of a personal or a family....  I think Daddy had a great deal of compassion for people, and so did Momma. I think they were both very well liked. 

WT: Do you remember when he sold the store on the corner? 

FM: It could have been in the late '30's.  It was after the depression. 

WT: In 1917, Mr. Carter's store burned down.  Do you recall that? 

FM: I'm not sure whether I do or not. 

WT: You don't remember anything about Mr. Carter, do you?  I know around 1917 he was in partnership with your father in developing the land behind the present Bakerton Methodist Church. 

FM: I don't remember that, no .... 

WT: I have a reference to your father's store burning down in 1917.  And it also said that there was only one other store in town.  And your father moved into that store temporarily and bought the man's goods and started another store.  His name was Amos Kibler.  Does that sound familiar? 

FM: No. 

WT: You mentioned the old Methodist Church.  Can you tell me what it looked like? 

FM: I hardly remember, except it had steps and I think it was red brick.  That's all I remember. 

WT: You don't remember if it had a basement, do you? 

FM: No.  I remember going in on the first floor, but I don't remember the basement.  I don't know whether he was a minister there or at the new church -- Mr. Erin. 

WT: Around 1910 or 1920, around half of the population of Bakerton was black.  Do you recall any blacks who lived there? 

FM: I recall some blacks there.  We had two working for us.  Kate Burrell was her name.  Annie Grim was sort of housekeeper and Kate Burrell took care of the cooking end of it.  Then when she couldn't come, I think she had a sister by the name of Rose.  But I loved Kate because she used to take me over some time.  And after Daddy and Hilda were married, we lived in Washington.  We had a maid's room in our home, and Kate would come down and stay at least a month at a time.  And every Sunday she'd take me to the zoo, and then on the way home, I guess, we'd stop and see some of her friends.  And boy, she wouldn't let me out of her sight.  She kept me on her lap all the time. 

WT: Was she a daughter of Preacher Burrell? 

FM: His wife. 

WT: Can you tell me about Preacher Burrell? 

FM: They were man and wife. That's all I remember.  I don't even remember what he looked like. 

WT: Do you remember any black churches in Bakerton? 

FM: I don't think so, unless they were way down the road by Daddy's old store.  But I remember Ten Row and there were also some Italian people there.   Although in school I never went with any Italians.  There were never any in of my classes.... 

WT: At one time there was a black school in Bakerton.  It was probably after you left, in the early '20's. 

FM: I don't remember. 

WT: Can you tell me about the influenza epidemic? 

FM: That is when Momma died.  And Daddy and I were both in bed at the same time.  Momma had chronic nephritis.  She did not have the flu.  And I remember the morning that my mother died that my Aunt Fanny Bratt was there, and she came in and said to us (Daddy and I were both in the same room) "Bertie's gone."  And I remember turning over and crying.  Neither of us attended the funeral, which was in the home.  And I remember someone bringing in some flowers to show us. 

WT: She died of chronic nerphritis rather than the flu. 

FM: That's right. 

[Looking at photos] 

WT: Here's the Oak Grove School House. 

FM: Yes.  And my room was over there on the left.  There's Ethel,  She was my first teacher....  That's Nina.  That's Ethel's sister, and that's Mary, her sister.  And she is the only one that's living now (she's 85) out of a family of eight.  And this is Geneva Carter, I bet you....  Jesse Engle.  That's Uncle Jesse, I mean my aunt's uncle. 

WT: Do you remember anything about him? 

FM: I never knew him, except from what they said.  He was an uncle to Ethel....  Charlotte Houser and I graduated, from the same high school, in the same class. 

WT: I don't know when this was taken [photo of Knott's store].  It could have been taken when your father owned it. 

FM: Yes, I remember that.  I don't think he owned it when I was there, because the Knotts had an apartment back there.... 

WT: This is Molers Crossroads [Schoolhouse] and ... 

FM: There's Mrs. Mary Donley ....  Charles Derr was in Shepherd when I was there. 

WT: Joseph Baker I. 

FM: Oh yes, I don't remember him, but I remember seeing his picture.  "Uncle Joe," they always called him. 

WT: William G. Baker I. 

FM: Yes, William G.  He was the father of Uncle John, unless there was another one. 

WT: Yes.  You said you remembered him?  He died around 1922. 

FM: I guess so. 

WT: You don't remember anything particular, do you? 

FM: No.  You don't have [pictures of] Joe, do you? 

WT: No. 

FM: Joe and Ellen were two of my favorites. 

WT: That's the Zion Church. 

FM: Oh, I can tell you a story about that.  I went to communion there one time.  And I was small enough to be standing up on a seat.  And they passed the bread and a piece fell off, so I just reached down and got it.... 

WT: Otho Keller.  Do you know anything about the Keller family? 

FM: I knew John, but I didn't know Otho.  There was a young Otho that I knew.  This must have been his father, I guess. 

WT: The Kellers lived in Buckeystown too. 

FM: Right. 

WT: What relationship was there between the Kellers and the Bakers? 

FM: I don't know that there was any blood relationship.  They may have been in business together....  There was a tannery in Buckeystown, but I don't believe there was any blood relationship....  Oh he [C.F. Thomas] was nice.  Now, in Buckeystown, my grandparents house was here, and "Uncle Doctor" Routson's house was here, and the Thomas house was here....  William Thomas.... 

WT: I think he moved to California. 

WT: Oh, he wasn't in good health, I don't believe.... 

WT: There's William Baker. 

FM: Yes, that's Uncle John's father, Billy Baker.  Uncle John's house was right across the road from grandma's house, a big house.  And the after Mr. William Baker died, they moved up into his home place....  This is Sarah [Baker Thomas].  She was nice....  There's Mrs. Thomas. 

WT: Do you remember anything about her? 

FM: I remember when I knew her she wore black a lot.  And they sat up in the  church there in Buckeystown.  I think grandpa and and grandma's pew was the first, almost the first one.  And they sat over in there. She was very sweet and very likeable. 

WT: Do you remember Mr. Charles Thomas? 

FM: No. I can't recall if I knew him.  I must have known him. 

WT: He died in the early '20's too. 

FM: I remember when she died, because Uncle Doctor was taking care of her. ...  There's the Knott family.  This was taken at the Houser family house.  There's Charlotte and that's Lena.  That's Kate.  That's Eleanor....  Frank Thomas, he was a wonderful person.  As a child he was very kind, and a nice personality.  And that's about all I remember.  I didn't see him too often, but he would come home, there in Buckeystown.  And he was a very fine man.  His wife's name was Helen. 

WT: Mr. Carter? 

FM: I don't remember him. 

WT: Here's a photo of Millard's store. 

FM: Yes, this is the one I remember.  The post office was here.... This must have been a warehouse back there because because there was a door back here that went into a room.... 

WT: There's a baptism in the river.... 

FM: I can remember my aunt telling me about, she was supposed to go to Sunday School.  And someone along the way said "Let's go to a baptism."  She didn't know what it was, so she went.  And Ethel was her oldest sister, and she sort of took her under her wing, and she got back in time for church, I guess, but she still had her nickel in her hand.  So her sister Ethel wanted to know where that nickel came from, and she didn't want to tell her she hadn't gone to church.... 

WT: What do remember about Mr. John Baker and his wife? 

FM: Uncle John was a very good Christian man.  And they did a lot with their money, giving it to various charities and so forth.  And he was superintendent of the Sunday School there in Buckeystown.  I as a child, it was more of a formal basis, sort of.  Rather than hail fellow, well met.  I mean you just didn't go up and pull his coat tails.  He was more dignified.  And Aunt Lena was very sweet.  They used to, out there (they were at Mr. William G. Baker's house then) they took an apartment (a suite of rooms) at the Hotel Belvedere in Baltimore.  And they would come up on Saturdays, I guess, and attend church on Sundays, and then come up on Wednesdays for prayer meeting.  And oftentimes they'd take me back with them. 

WT: Did they come up on the train? 

FM: No, they had a chauffeur to drive.  They had money. 

WT: I understood that they had their own railroad car at one point. 

FM: I believe they did, because I know Uncle John used to take friends.  Well, he took my Aunt Margaret Routson and Uncle Doctor on a trip, and they also gave a trip to the minister and his wife. 

WT: Did anyone ever tell you why they decided to call Bakerton "Bakerton"? 

FM: Well, I assumed after the Baker family. 

WT: There were other areas they moved into that didn't really have names either, and I didn't know whose idea that was or if it just naturally happened. 

FM: I don't know how it got its name.  Have you read the book on Buckeystown? 

WT: Yes.... 

FM: I have a picture of the schoolhouse where Daddy went.  It was a two-room school in Buckeystown 

WT: Do you recall anything about the Buckingham school? 

FM: Oh yes.  It was a mile outside Buckeystown.  And when I knew it, there was a Mr. Gardner and his wife who was the administrator.  And I think they had about 50 boys from the lower grades up to, I guess the equivalent would be high school.  And they used to walk to Sunday School and to church from Buckingham to the Methodist Protestant Church there in Buckeystown.  The little ones they brought by bus.  And I can remember some of them singing in the choir, and they were trying to make eyes as we were sitting down in the pew.  Of course, we looked the other way, you know.  Pretend we didn't see them.  But it was a very well-run school, and a lot of the boys (they were either from broken homes or couldn't make it financially), and they would place them in the company somewhere.  I remember one boy, Joe Capriotti, came to Bakerton. 

WT: And the Bakers financed that all themselves. 

FM: They financed that. 

WT: That's something else that're pretty unusual. 

FM: Yes.  They were pretty generous with their money.  However, I think, if they thought you could make it on your own, you did it.  But if you needed help, they were there.  I don't know how the younger ones made out.  I still write to Ellen.  In fact (she's an older woman), I have a picture of her.  [When I went to her] wedding I was surprised because I pictured her as a younger person....  She lives in Monktown, Maryland. 

Copying photos 

WT: This is Mrs. Charles B. Moore. 

FM: Right. 

WT: And her first name was ... 

FM: Ella ... 

FM: Mr. and Mrs. Charles H. Millard 

WT: And her first name is... 

FM: Lucy Ann 

FM: [The photo of P.S. Millard was taken] some time in the '60's. 

FM: Preston Millard, 1949. 

FM: Mary Jessie Moore Millard, wife of Preston S. Millard. 

FM: Hilda Rutland Moler Millard....  Roscoe Rowe, P.S. Millard, and Kenneth Moler....  P.S. Millard abolut 17 years old at Eastman Business School...  P.S. Millard, Hilda Moler, and Preston Stoddard Millard, Jr., ...  Frances Millard, P.S. Millard, and dog, taken at Harpers Ferry about 1925...  P.S. Millard's house at Harper's Ferry, taken in 1930's...  J.H. and Lena Baker..." 

                                     END OF TAPE 

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Moler, Guy M.  Interview.  July 8, 1985.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

[Interviewer's note: Guy Moler was born and raised in Bakerton, and he held various positions at Standard Lime and Stone throughout his life.] 

Q: This, in the safety picture, I think, is Mr. Thomas, Frank Thomas.  Did you know him very well? 

G.M.: Oh yes.  Yes sir.  He was general superintendent for a long time ... He was a distant relative of the Bakers, and Mr. J.H. Baker, who was president while most of this was going on, he was Mr. Thomas' cousin. Mr. Thomas always called him "Cousin John."  J.H. Baker -- John Baker. And after he retired and got out of the picture, Dan Baker was made president. He's in some of these pictures.  I guess you've seen him, though. 

Q: Dan Baker? 

G.M.: There he is right there [Photo #  ].  He's the one who was made president after Mr. J.H.  He served for a long time -- years. 

Q: That's the 1951 victory dinner and he's third from the left. 

G.M.: His people originated the Standard operation. 

Q: He's the one who died about '56.  Just before the plant changed hands. 

G.M.: That's right.  He was president at that time. 

Q: Can you tell me anything about him?  Did you know him very well? 

G.M.: Oh yes, sure.  I don't know other than he was one of the Bakers and he used to come around the plant quite often.  And he's the man who started the safety program before he was president of the company.  Back in the early 30's.  When the safety program was just getting off the ground.  He was the originator of the safety program.  And after he died or got out of the picture, there was a man by the name of Louis Rumford. I guess you've heard of him, [he] was made president.  Then after him was Bob Rook.  Bob Rook is president now. 

Q: Of Martin-Marietta? 

G.M.: Martin-Marietta. 

Q: I haven't been able to find out too much about the Bakers themselves from the people who worked here ... 

G.M.: He [Daniel Baker III] was, stayed single for a long time.  And, when he was made president, he got married.  He married a lady, I never knew her.  I believe she had about three children, but they were all grown and I don't think they were ever a part of his family.  But then, he was president for a long time.  He was very ... he wasn't too outgoing, but he was a nice man.  He'd come around the plant and stand and talk to people -- talk to the employees.  He was a good fellow. 

Q: I think John  Baker died in 1944. 

G.M.: I would say around that. 

Q: Daniel Baker became president.  He was vice-president through the '30's, wasn't he? 

G.M.: Yes. I believe he was.  There was Dan, and Joe, and Dave, and Holmes.  They were all sons of these older fellows who started the plant.  Now Holmes, he was never active in the operation of the plant. He run the bank down in Frederick.  The company had a bank, and he run the bank down in Frederick. 

Q: How about John H., did you know him? 

G.M.: J.H. Baker?  He was a nice old fella.  He was, well when I went to work for the company he was elderly then.  That was in March 1939.  And he'd come around to the plant, come to the different parts, and I was working in the laboratory.  He'd come in and stand and talk.  He was always with Mr. Thomas whenever he'd come there.  And on down through the plant.  A nice old fella.  He sent me out to McCook, Illinois, one time to prospect a piece of land.  Mr. J.H. Baker, he did church work. He was on his way out to Indianapolis, Indiana, Minneaoplis, or some place, to a church conference.  And he stopped by Chicago, and he had leased the property.  And he sent me out there to supervise ... well not to supervise, but to be out there while he was core drilling.  I took the cores and made any kind of comments, and put them in a core box and sent them back to the Bakerton plant.  And when he was going out to this conference, and bought that piece of land.  And afterwards they built a plant on it.  The plant's still running, but I believe they sold it. And I remember one time Mr. Thomas and he come into the laboratory.  He was making a visit to the Bakerton plant.  Mr. Thomas led him in and introduced me.  I'd met him before, but he'd forgotten.  And I told him I was the fella who went out and did the prospecting for the plant to McCook.  And we talked a little bit about it. 

Q: Was Daniel Baker the one who was responsible for developing the Safety News? 

G.M.: No.  That was done local at the plant.  Joe Capriotti was more or less responsible for that. 

Q: When did that start up?  It must have been in the early 30's, wasn't it? 

G.M.: Well, I'd say ... it must have been the middle or latter part of the '30's, I guess. 

Q: I've got some copies from 1935, '36, and '39.  I don't have any before or after that. 

G.M.: It wasn't too far ahead of that.  It wasn't in existence when I started working at the plant in 1930. 

Q: Do you have any idea when they stopped publishing it? 

G.M.: No. It didn't operate for too long.  But I wouldn't have any idea of when it stopped.  Joe Capriotti was the brother to Mildred Capriotti's husband.  Joe and Bill were brothers. 

Q: I was talking to Christine Shade, and she said that Joe and Bill Capriotti came from the Buckingham School for Boys, which was the school the Bakers ran over there in Buckeystown.  Do you know if there were any other boys who got placed over in Bakerton? 

G.M.: Yes, there were three other boys from Bakerton.  Joe and his brother, Bill was in Martinsburg when their father went down there. Their father got killed up there in the quarry.  There was a stone slide.  It killed their father, and they took Joe and his brother down there to Buckeystown to the school. 

Q: Do you recall when that was? 

G.M.: No.  That was prior to ...  Well, Joe had ... About a year or so before I went to the Bakerton plant, Joe came from the school up there to Bakerton.  About '28 or '29 when he come up there.  And that was just eight grades down there.  And he come up there about '28.  He'd been there a year or so before I went there in '30.  And there was three boys down there.  Mills.  Three Mills boys -- Grover Mills' boys.  His wife died, and they had three boys and one or two girls.  I guess one girl was maybe married. And he had three boys and one girl at home.  And his wife died and he needed help, so they took the three boys down to Buckeystown.  And the girl, I think she stayed with Grover.  He had a sister that lived in town.  Claude Haines' wife was Grover's sister, and she helped to raise this girl. 

Q: Are they any relation to Billy Mills and Eddie Mills? 

G.M.: Grover was Billy's brother and Helen's [Hetzel Mills] first cousin.  Well, now, by marriage.  Eddie Mills, his father and Grover (the father of these three boys) were brothers.  And they were down there.  I was down to the school with Joe Capriotti one time after he had come up to Bakerton, there.  And of course he still had an affinity for the school down there.  And he hadn't gotten a car yet then.  And my wife and I took him and his wife down to visit the school one Sunday and the superintendent down there.  Nice.  Nice school.  It wasn't nothing elaborate, but it was very nice.  And he took us all around the school and all around the grounds.  These boys, they worked in the garden. Some worked in the garden.  Some worked in the dairy.  Some worked in the poultry.  Actually, everything they ate, you know.  They had a big farm and it was almost self-sustaining by the help of those boys. 

Q: It sounds as though that was sort of the company way of taking care of the families of most of the men who got hurt. 

G.M.: Oh, yes.  There wasn't any one in there, only the relatives of company boys -- sons rather -- of employees of the company.  I don't think there was anyone else in there as far as I know. 

Q: Can you tell me anything about Mr. Thomas? 

G.M.: Well, that thing there [Millville safety news] is full of information. ...  But anyhow, he was the man that ... He was an outstanding leader, and outstanding supervisor.  He'd come around the plant, and he'd walk around with the superintendent.  He'd come back up to his car and he'd say "Well now, Brian, do this" or "Do that" or "We're going to do this" or "We're going to give you money to do this or going to do that."  But he had an advantage, see.  At that time, it was a closed circuit in the Baker family.  And he was on the Board of Directors.  And he went to Baltimore every Tuesday.  He knew what was going to happen and what could happen ahead of time, see.  He'd come around to the plant and walk around and talk to the superintendent and this and that and get his problems and so on.  And before he left, he'd give him answers.  I mean right then and there.  He didn't have to wait for the corporate office and this guy and that guy and wait for somebody's answers and get back, you know, in a week or two, or 10 days. You know what I'm saying.  And he'd give the answers right then and there.  And whatever, as a rule, whatever rope he'd give the plant, the Board of Directors in Baltimore went along with.  Because he was closely associated with them.  Now you take a company, in a case like today. The General Superintendent or Plant Manager, they don't have that advantage.  They have to go through Robinhood's barn to get some kind of an answer.  But he'd come around, and he was very serious and very fair, you know what I mean.  And his word.  Boy, I'm telling you, he'd tell you something and that was just the same as a lawyer drawing up a contract and signing your name to it.  If he told you something, that was it.  He had that reputation.  I talked to him, knew him.  He's the one who sent me to Chicago on that thing.  Sent me out to Kimbalton one time for the company.  Sent me out to Springfield, Missouri, to check a kiln out there.  Check the parts.  They gave me a list of everything they bought.  They bought a kiln for a plant.  Everything from one end to the other.  All auxillary equipment and everything.  Give me a list, sent me out to see that it was all loaded, made out a bill of lading, and sent it down to Kimbalton, Virginia, and set it up down there.  And things like that.  And I knew him fairly well.  And just as an example. They had a plant down on Capon Road, just a stone plant -- a stone crushing plant.  And the plant went out on strike.  A fellow by the name of Barr was union representative at that time.  He thought he was going to bluff Mr. Thomas into something, you know.  And Mr. Thomas had two or three meetings and at a meeting he said "Mr. Barr and you gentlemen, I've given you my final offer.  You either go back to work or we're going to close ... start moving equipment out at a certain date."  Well, Barr said "Ah, he's bluffing.  He's not going to close the plant down. They need the stone."  You know, business was pretty good.  "He's not going to close it down.  Don't let that worry you."  When the day came, he started moving equipment out.  He had a truck there and started moving equipment.  He closed the plant up.  Barr called him up and asked him if he would reconsider.  And he said "No.  I told you what I was going to do.  Now, when I tell you something, that's what I mean."  He closed the plant up and built a fence around the property.  He was really something. 

Q: When did the unions come into Bakerton? 

G.M.: Well, I don't know exactly what date.  I guess I'd been there ... oh, I imagine close to 10 years. 

Q: 1940? 

G.M.: Somewhere around in there.  That could be off, but I was working there a good while before. 

Mr. J.H. Baker used to call Bakerton "His plant."  Brian Houser, his daddy was superintendent there for a long time.  And Mr. J.H. and Mr. Houser used to be real close.  I mean they were real good friends other than from a business point.  At that time, when anybody out of the Baltimore office would come to Bakerton, they'd come to Harper's Ferry on the train and hire a horse and buggy, a team of horses, and drive out to Bakerton, and they'd go to Mr. Houser's house for lunch.  He'd entertain them, you know.  And occasionally (I don't think this happened too often) someone might want to stay overnight.  Maybe they didn't get up till this evening and wanted to be there the next day, and he'd go out to Mr. Houser's.  There wasn't these rooming houses and motels and things at the time.  And Mr. J.H. and the late Brian Houser did that.  They were very good friends.  And Mr. J.H. always used to call this -- Bakerton -- his plant.  And when Mr. Baker was in the hospital one time for some operation (I don't know what) and Brian got a card and took it all around and got everybody in the plant's signature on the thing and mailed it down to him.  And the day he got out of the hospital, he come back to the main office and went from one office to the other and showed them the card he got from his plant.  And he really got a thrill out of it.  But then they say when they were notified that the Bakerton plant had voted to join the union, they say that just about killed him.  He was very disappointed that the Bakerton plant would join the union. 

Q: What kind of reasons did people give for joining the union? 

G.M.: Well, this fellow called Barr was a representative.  He started coming in around the fringes of the plant.  He wouldn't go into a plant, see.  And he'd meet these guys in the evening after work and get a couple in his car and go on down the road someplace and pull off the road and talk to them.  I remember one time they was telling me about. Earl Jones -- they used to call him Dimmie -- he was working out there at the plant.  He lived down there in that old stone house at the Orebank. He lived in that house, and Barr met him down there in the corner.  You know where those two houses are down there, as you go out of Bakerton? You turn.  One goes to the right and one goes to the left down there at the orebank?  And there was a little flatiron place, and they pulled in there and set there for an hour or two and talked to Dimmie Jones one evening.   And told him how much more he'd get per hour if he joined the union.  And he just kept talking to different ones, you know, just kept brainwashing them, brainwashing them, brainwashing them.  And finally they decided to take a vote.  They couldn't stop them from taking a vote, you know.  And they had a vote and they voted to join the union. There wasn't nothing they could do about it. 

Q: Did the union really make any difference in Bakerton? 

G.M.: Oh, no personnel difference or nothing like that.  But you had to be careful to try to keep from having grievances and keep everybody satisfied and like that, you know.  Which we did before. 

Q: So it sounds like it was basically pay.  It wasn't accidents.  It wasn't company policy or mistreatment of employees.  It was for money. 

G.M.: Yea.  It was up to them to weed out what they wanted to believe and didn't want to believe.  But they finally persuaded enough of them to vote for the union.  But they didn't have no trouble, no labor trouble before that.  It was more or less, you might call it, a family affair because the community grew up around the place and fathers and sons lived there.  And brothers and uncles.  That's the kind of workforce they had. 

Q: You grew up in Bakerton, didn't you? 

G.M.: Yes.  I was born and raised right outside of Bakerton.  Know where the orchard used to be?  Know where the little stone church is?  Well, off to the right where those new houses are being built?  Well that orchard, that farm right back up to the south of that is where I was born and raised. 

Q: When were you born? 

G.M.: 1907 

Q: Did you go to the Oak Grove School? 

G.M.: Yes.  I went to the Oak Grove School until the 6th grade and moved over there to the other school, over there where the one is now.  When I was in the 6th grade, they planned on having it finished by the first of September.  And they didn't get it finished until October.  And the principal -- we had two rooms -- Miss Rose Cockrell was one teacher and a girl from up here in Martinsburg by the name of Ellen Ricketts was the other teacher.  And she had us all out there in the road.  Lined us up two by two.  One teacher in front of us and one behind and marched over to the new schoolhouse.  And that was in October. 

Q: Can you tell me what the Oak Grove School looked like on the inside? 

G.M.: Just two rooms, bare floors, one room was a little larger than the other.  I think they had from the first to the fourth in what we called "the little room" and I guess the fifth, and then the sixth, seventh, and eighth in the big room.  They had one of these big, old pot-bellied stoves sitting out in the middle of the room with a big, long pipe going over to the chimney.  Another one in the other room going back to the chimney on the other side.  Just windows down one side and no pictures, no nothing.  Had a desk up in front that elevated the teacher up about so high.  Sat on a chair behind the desk.  Had a big long bench down front.  And you would be called up in class.  You would line up along the bench in front of her, you know, to answer questions.  There were two blackboards along the side.  The same on the other one. 

Q: Who was teaching there when you went there? 

G.M.: Miss Rose Cockrell and Ellen Ricketts. 

Q: So Mr. Engle wasn't there then? 

G.M.: Yea, he was there.  When I first started in the little room, he was principal in the other room.  Before I had got up into the upper grades, it was either the fourth or fifth when you went over into the other room, I had Miss Rose Cockrell.  He'd gone.  I don't know what happened, whether he died or retired or what.  But then Miss Rose Cockrell was made principal, and she was there when I got into the upper grades. 

Q: Is Ellen Ricketts the same as Ellen Webb?  Is that her maiden name? 

G.M.: No.  Ellen Webb, she never taught at Oak Grove.  She never come on until she went over there.  See, when they went over there they had three teachers.  Here at Oak Grove they only had two.  And when they first went over there they had three.  But then later on they cut out one teacher and put a cafeteria in that room.  Jessie Houser in Bakerton, you know?  Do you live in Bakerton? 

Q: Yes, I live up behind the quarry. 

G.M.: Jessie Houser was cook over there, in charge of the cafeteria, and her husband Ernest Houser took care of the furnace and did the cleaning toward the last.  I don't know how long. 

Q: Can you remember any instances about going to Oak Grove or Bakerton Elementary?  Do you think the education was pretty good for the time? 

G.M.: Well, I think it must have been comparable with others around the county because at that time you used to take what they called a county examination.  The eighth-grade students at the end of the year had to take a county examination.  You'd go to Charles Town.  All the kids in the district, you know, would assemble into Charles Town.  We took it in the old Wright-Denny grade school over there.  And they would have the questions prepared on each subject.  And it was usually a two-day affair, and if you didn't pass the county examination, you washed out. And if you did, you went on to high school or whatever you wanted to do. So I think the percentage of students who passed in Bakerton was comparable to any of the others around here.  At that time, they had all these little one-room and two-room schools all around here -- Millville, Kearnesyville, Leetown, and all around. 

Q: There was one at Engle wasn't there? 

G.M.: Yea, there was one down at Engle, right across the railroad there from the church, on the right as you go east out of Engle.  After you pass the church there on the left, right across the track on that little knoll right there. 

Q: Did that get burned down or torn down or what? 

G.M.: It burned down.  Brian Houser's sister used to teach down there, Elizabeth Ross.  You know Juanita Horn?  When she was in the seventh grade, anybody in the seventh grade had the privlege of taking the eighth grade county examination.  And she took this county examination at the end of her seventh grade year and passed the thing and quit school.  Never went to school after that. 

Q: Do you remember the murder that took place in Bakerton? 

G.M.: Well, I don't remember too much, only he [Ralph Beckwith] was missing.  I believe this one boy, the boy that got killed, used to live with Charlie Hopper over there on the hill across from the plant.  I believe he used to live there with him.  He was a black boy and Hopper, of course, was white.  But I think they had outside quarters for him or something.  I don't remember how it was, but I think he stayed out there.  And it happened out in the hydrator building, in the warehouse, in the hydrator building.  And I think, as well as I remember, well I don't think it happened in there but they found some blood in there when the boy come up missing.  And it was, I don't know how long afterwards Grey, well he was convicted, killed him and tied his feet and legs, put twine on them, tied them and threw him in the pond out there.  I think it was around his feet he tied the weight on with wire, and the one around his neck, around his upper body, he used a rope or twine.  And after so long a time that decayed or something and the body, or head and body, come up and they saw his head.  And that was some time, I think, after he was killed. 

Q: Was that hydrator plant a noisy operation? 

G.M.: No, well, it didn't operate then at night.  I think this happened at night. 

Q: I remember seeing a newspaper article, and he'd been shot something like four times. I figured Bakerton must have been, unless it was really noisy around there ... 

G.M.: No, not at night it wouldn't be, because at that time it wasn't running at night.  Even if they was running, it wouldn't have been all that noisy.  It must have been that time of night, in the morning, 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning, when everybody was in bed and sound asleep or something, you know, and if they did hear some noise they might have thought it was down at some other part of the plant. 

Q: Do you remember the colored school in Bakerton? 

G.M.: Yea ... no wait a minute now.  There was a colored church there in Bakerton, two different churches, colored churches, there in Bakerton. Maybe they had school in one of the churches, I don't know. 

Q: Was there a colored church on Ten Row? 

G.M.: Yea, there was one down there later on, but there was another colored church in Bakerton.  When you go out in Bakerton, out toward the plant, when you pass where Elizabeth Eaton lives, you know where Max Irvin used to live and Helen Capriotti lives right behind it.  Well, you go on out the road, and on the right, you go up a little grade, and there's a company house there.  Right on the left.  that's where the colored church was.  You know where the old pond was?  After you pass the pond, going towards the plant, you go up a little grade, right on the left there was where the first colored church that I knew was right there. 

Q: That's Ten Row, right? 

G.M.: No.  Ten Row was on over on the other side of the plant, where Hunter Talley used to live.  On the west side of the plant.  There was about three of those houses, what they called Ten Row, then the road went down between the houses to the other, north end.  And the church set right back in behind that.  Right between the third and fourth house, only it wasn't parallel.  It was behind it a little bit.  And there was a road come in between and down and the church was straight ahead between those houses. 

Q: Was there a preacher there named Burrell? 

G.M.: Yea, he lived there at the plant, worked there all the time.  I don't know whether ... they called him "Preacher Burrell."  He used to preach.  But as far as he credentials, I don't have any idea.  It might have been ... just get up there and talk, I don't know. 

Q: What kind of work did he do? 

G.M.: I believe he fired kilns.  When they had all those upright kilns, you know, they they had the rotary kilns.  I think he was a kiln burner. 

Q: Was there also a restaurant out there or a boarding house? 

G.M.: Yea, there used to be a fellow by the name of Grigsby.  There was two or three of those Grigsby boys, and I've forgotten which one had the boarding house.  At that time there was a whole bunch of colored fellows there that fired these kilns.  A lot of them from down in Rapahannock, Virginia.  And they'd come up here and live in these little shanties and places like that.  And this guy run a boarding house down there.  And they'd take their meals there, down over the hill from the plant, on the west ... north side of the plant.  You know where the ravine goes down around there?  I don't know whether that old building is still there.  I don't guess it is.  Used to be an old magazine over there, used to store dynamite. 

Q: That's still there. 

G.M.: The powder house there.  Right down ... right along almost parallel along that ridge there, before you went down over that ravine. That's where the boarding house was.  And later on, the state condemned that magazine and they built a new one on out east of the plant.  Over there on the other side of the quarry. 

Q: Do you remember any of the accidents that took place there at the plant? 

G.M.: Oh, yes, some of them.  Juanita Horn's husband got hurt bad. There was a man killed in that same accident.  It was a rotary screen, and the plant was down and the mechanics was repairing these screens, putting new sections in the screen.  And at the same time, when the plant went down, you did your repair work and mechanical and electrical work -- you tried to dovetail it all together to have everything ready to go when they were ready to start the plant.  And two electricians were working on the switchbox, and they had pulled the breaker down, just opened the box and started working.  Well, it turned out that when they pulled the handle down to break the circuit, the mechanism on the inside was faulty and it didn't break the circuit.  It was still alive.  And as they started working in there it started the screen.  One man was in there on top, a fellow by the name of Bill Williamson from Charles Town. It flopped him down around the side and killed him.  And Mark, he come over to the side, and Dimmie Jones, he was standing there and he grabbed him around the top of his body and held on to him.  And these wires that held the screens on, rotary screens.  Every time one of these steel bars that held the screens would come around it hit him in the back and broke his pelvis in about seven places.  But they did save his life.  I went to Martinsburg.  The ambulance took Mark to Martinsburg.  And I went up there that evening after supper and the company doctor, Dr. Martin.   (He's retired but still in pretty good health.  He doesn't doctor much.)  But being the company doctor, he'd come around there once a month and inspect the first aid cabinets.  And at that time I'd gone out of the laboratory.  They'd taken me out of the laboratory and put me out in the plant under Brian Houser.  And I went up to Martinsburg.  I took Bill Williamson's car.  The car was still over there in the shed, and took his car and somebody followed me to Charles Town in my car (I don't remember who it was) and took his car over to his wife and went on to Martinsburg.  And Dr. Martin gave me a look at [the X-rays of] Mark's pelvis, and he had seven fractures.  A couple were very pronounced and the others were just hairline.  But there were seven fractures.  He was a very long time getting over it. Another time, we had an accident down in the mine.  They was drilling at that time -- I say at that time because there have been a lot of changes, you know.  They usually did the drilling in the daytime and they would shoot around quarter of four or something like that.  It was the last thing.  They drilled, loaded the holes, hooked their wiring, and as they come out they'd pull the switch, which was a safe distance away from the shot, see.  And then they'd wait a while.  There was usually two men in the mine after the smoke settled down and things quieted down a little bit and they'd go back and inspect -- see if it looked like the shot was all gone, all fired.  And they had the shooter and his helper loading the holes.  They had just about finished up loading, and they had hooked up their lead wire from one hole to the other and cap wires, like that. And hooked on to the main line and there was a storm outside, come up. And they was bulding the plant at that time, a magnesia plant.  And they had four saturators, which was heavy metal, just like silos, and they were sticking up there in the air about 35 or 40 feet.  In fact, after they finished the building they were out through the roof anout 10 or 15 feet -- tin building.  And lightning struck on top of one of these saturators and went through the switch.  There was so much charge on it, it jumped the switch down in the mine, the switch they would have thrown to put the shot off.  It put the shot off and killed one boy, the Griffin boy from Dargan, Maryland.  And there were some fellows running the grift up beside the wall.  And they were in there, and it killed this one boy and hurt the other, Bill Johnson.  He was in the hospital, I don't know how long.  It pulled his ribs loose from his spine and mashed his nose in.  His nose was always flat with a big scar across. He was in pretty bad shape for a long time.  He finally got all right and came back to work and worked for years and years after that. 

Q: About when did this happen? 

G.M.: Oh, I don't know.  Late '30's, something like that. 

Q: Were there any accidents with the railroad coming in here? 

G.M.: Yes, I think there were, but I don't ...  It seems to me there was a fellow got run over with that engine before I went to work there.  I remember them talking about it, but I'm not too enlightened on that. 

Q: Was the railroad track to the Orebank still going by the school when you were there? 

G.M.: Oh, yes. 

Q: So there was a train making a run once a day or something. 

G.M.: Not once a day.  No doubt about it.  I've been reprimanded many times by the teacher.  Here comes something up the track and we'd straighten up and look up out the window to see that thing, you know, and the teacher'd be rapping on the desk, you know "You stay after school" and "You stay in for recess" and like that.  I was caught for that more times than once.  But it was a little old steam engine -- small -- it wasn't regulation size.  And it had a little water tank on the back; the water tank was tapered off in back.  And they'd haul one or two loads of ore up there and bring it on in and push it out on the main line -- well, the line that served Bakerton, the plant, you know.  And then the plant would come in off the main line and pick up Bakerton shipments and would take those out and bring in empties -- gondola cars. But every couple of days, two or three times a week, they'd bring a couple of loads of iron ore up.  you know, in connection with that plant down there, I was small then, but at one time, there was a little store down there at that Orebank, that ore mine.  I don't think it sold much, but only just things for the people that worked there, like shoes and gloves and overalls and things like that.  But I know right where it was.  And the mine, when you go in around there, you go past that old stone house, and you go in and you go in up there off the road past that house where Gene Gift lives, turn left and go down about halfway between there and the top of that hill where you start down, you go back into this orebank property.  Go on down and come around to the right and here was this little store and this little one room office.  Just one room and a desk in there for the superintendent, and you go on down past the washer, and that was about it.  And all that iron ore was washed before it was loaded. I guess they pumped the water up from the river and then there must have been a revolving screen or something, I've forgotten now.  And they'd wash water over this thing and they'd wash the clay on back down to the river, and this clay would drop out and these, what you call "mud dams" were all down along there.  Of course, you can't seen them now, but there were big mud dams down there.  And they'd direct the return flow, they'd dam it up here and run it over this way when this gets too high and move it around. 

Q: Do you recall who worked there? 

G.M.: I don't know a soul who worked there and I only know one superintendent who worked there.  My uncle, you know the house down there right before you get to Mark Horn's on the left?  It used to be a red brick house and in the past few years they painted it white.  My mother was born and raised right there and after she got married my grandfather (her father) had two farms.  He had that one and the one that I was born and raised on over in Bakerton.   And when she ... he died, he had two children, my mother and she had a brother.  And when he died, he gave each of them a farm.  And my uncle got that one down there and my mother got this one over here--outside of Bakerton. 

Q: Your mother's name was...? 

G.M.: Ada Moler.  She was a Moler before she was married. 

Q: And your uncle? 

G.M.: Albert Moler. 

Q: And your grandfather? 

G.M.: Jacob.  And I'd go down there - -they had two boys.  And I was a year or two older than the oldest boy.  The other one was a year or so younger yet.  I'd go down there in the summer time before I got big enough to work.  When I got big enough to work my daddy put me out working.  But anyhow, I'd go down there in the summertime and play. [I was] maybe eight or nine years old.  And this fellow who was superintendent over there was named Sagel, and after supper they sat on the porch -- Uncle Albert and Aunt Mary, and we kids would be moseying around, you know, and sit down awhile and get up.  You know how kids are.  What I remember distinctly about this fellow, he had one of these old-time big old pipes, you know?  And it had a big long stem.  And he'd hold this thing down there in his lap and on up.  And he'd fill her up every now and then.  That sort of amused me -- watching that big long pipe.  My daddy smoked a pipe, but he smoked a conventional one, you know.  And they'd set there after supper and swap stories.  And his name was Sagel.  He was superintendent over there atthe plant at that time. 

Q: Was he superintendent after John Moore? 

G.M.: I've heard that he was superintendent, but that was before Sagel was there. 

Q: Did you ever hear of anyone called Thropp?  Joseph Thropp? 

G.M.: I may have heard the name years ago.  I know we used to go down there during the winter and cut Christmas trees up in that property there. 

Q: Was Flanagan's Quarry still operating when you were growing up? 

G.M.: No. 

Q: Were any of the kilns down there over the hill where the Flanagan ...? 

G.M.: No. 

Q: There wasn't any narrow guage railroad there? 

G.M.: I think I can remember the railroad track was there.  They hadn't taken that up.  I think I can remember that, but I never remember the kilns, you know.  It was a little bit before my time. 

Q: Do you remember Millard's store? 

G.M.: Well, now Millard's store.  I think the Millard's store you are referring to, it was out there at the plant where the office later was. Only it was a different building because Millard's store burned down. And it was Millard and Moler at first.  He was in partners with John Moler who was a cousin of mine.  And Jake Moler lived down there on the farm right East of where the office was.  You know, down there where Olin Knott used to live?  That was where Jake Moler lived at the time when he was partners with Millard and Moler.  They did business as a partnership for a good while and then Mr. Millard evidently bought him out.  And then Jake Moler went to Shepherdstown -- moved to Shepherdstown -- and Mr. Millard continued to operate the store.  [END OF SIDE ONE]  The store was facing west.  There was a little old porch there.  It wasn't very big.  And when you go in, there was your store part to the right. Off to the left was a warehouse -- wareroom.  And you'd go in the door here and there was a desk.  And you'd come in here to the store part and there was counter all the way around here, all the way around.  There were things in back of the counter.  And there was one back here.  And there was a little swinging door there, and you went in and there was a big desk, one of these big roll-top desks.  That's where they did their ordering.  Everything that was done -- paperwork -- all was done from there. And you went in the door, right in from here into this room here.  And my mother was over there, and I don't remember if one of my sisters was along or not, but it seems to me as I was the only child.  And it was Christmas Eve.  That's when this store burned down.  And in this wareroom here, they must have cleared it out or something, they had it packed with Christmas stuff -- Christmas toys and all hanging from the ceiling.  And I remember I fell in love with an air rifle.  I'd carry that thing around and I'd sight, you know.  And I wanted Santy Claus to bring me that thing.  My mother discouraged it.  By that time I think they had spent all the money they had to spend for Christmas at that time.  I didn't get my air rifle.  But anyhow, there was all this Christmas stuff in there.   And I don't know if the fire started in there or what.  But that night the thing burned down, and that was Christmas Eve. 

Q: Skeeter Welsh's father worked there, didn't he? 

G.M.: I don't think he worked there.  He worked for Millard when he moved out there where Hunter Talley is now.  That burned down and then Mr. Millard ...  By the way, Mr. Millard was John Baker's brother-in-law.  John Baker and Mr. Millard were brother-in-laws.  They married two sisters down in Buckeystown.  And then Mr. Millard moved out on the corner where Hunter Talley's store is now.  And, of course, Mr. Millard had the post office when he was there.  Charlie Hopper used to carry the mail -- used to ride a horse down from Bakerton to Engle Switch, an old gray horse, and he used to go right by our house, right by the yard when we lived up there on the farm.  And he moved out there and had a store for a long time.  And then I guess Jap Manuel had it after that. 

Q: Knott's store was where the post office is now, right? 

G.M.: Yea, Knott had a store there.  That was before Mr. Millard.  That was when Mr. Millard was still out there, I guess must have still been out there.  Sam Knott. 

Q: Did Manuel buy him out?  Sam Knott went to California. 

G.M.: He did.  It seemed to me that when Jap Manuel first went into the grocery business, he went in that other store up there. 

Q: The one one the corner. 

G.M.: No, the one above it.  The one right across from the store.  And he run that for a long time and that was during the first WorldWar. And then later on his daughter took it over, Bertha, and then her and her husband Bowman, Luther Bowman.  And then Bill Cole appeared and she married Bill Cole and they run it for a while.  And Mr. Millard got out there on the corner.  And then later on Jap Manuel bought that store down there too.  And his son run it after Mr. Millard got out.  But Bertha was running the upper store and Spooney was running the lower store.  Brother and sister, and Martin Welsh was running the other store over there, and he was their uncle. 

Q: When did Welsh's store open? 

G.M.: That started up when Mr. Millard sold out.  I don't know exactly just what date that was.  But it must have been in the late '30's or early '40's.  Maybe a little later than that.  But I know when Mr. Millard closed up -- sold out -- when Martin built that store over there. And when Spooney come down, of course the post office was still there. Well, Spooney was going to take the post office, but he couldn't pass the civil service.  And Martin applied for it and they give Martin the post office.  That's how the post office got over there.  Martin had it up until a few years ago.  Dotty never passed the civil service.  She couldn't sign any reports.  Her monthly reports had to go through the Harpers Ferry post office for years.  She took it two or three times, and one of those other boys, Jamison boys took it one time. 

Q: I heard some kind of rumor about goods disappearing from Millard's store before it closed down.  Do you remember anything like that? 

G.M.: No. 

Q: Where was Carter's store? 

G.M.: Carter's store was out there ... know where Joe Capriotti lived? Right there.  That was the first building that was there ... that store. Know that concrete porch around it?  Well, that was part of that store. That was part of the store structure, the foundation.  And when they built that house, the house wasn't as big as the store and that made that porch out there.  Carter run that for a while, and after he got out Cobby Moler run it. 

Q: Were most of these stores going at the same time?  Were there three or four? 

G.M.: Yes, like I say, out there Spooney was running the one and Bertha was running the one above there, and Martin was running the one across the road.  All three at the same time, for a long time.  Years and years. 

Q: There must have been an awful lot of business there in Bakerton. 

G.M.: Well, I guess they were just satisfied with a small profit.  I don't think there was all that business, but they were making a living, I guess. 

Q: I heard Bill Flanagan say that the Millard Store was called the Company Comissary. 

G.M.: Yes, that's true.  He had an arrangement with Baltimore that they would take a man's store bill out of their pay -- Baltimore would -- and mail it to Mr. Millard.  But the employee had to agree to that.  It wasn't like some of these comissaries that you deal with me or you don't work.  It was nothing like that.  It was your choice.  But if you didn't want to go along with that deal, if you got behind and Mr. Millard thought "All right, you've had enough" he'd cut you off and it was up to you to get along the best way you could.  But there was no pressure, I guarantee that.  I lived in Bakerton 50 years -- there was no pressure whatsoever.  When a man was hired out there and the plant, well I won't say it wasn't mentioned.  They might say "Now, if you're slow getting started, you might make arrangements with Mr. Millard to carry you along" but as far as them saying "You deal there or you don't work" -- nothing. 

Q: From what I understand, the Bakers in Buckeystown pretty much ran the town.  Maybe it was just influence. 

G.M.: Well, I think it was with the resources they had and their civic-mindedness they were willing to be part of the town.  There's a park down there named after a Baker. 

Q: After Joe Baker. 

G.M.: That was the old Joe Baker, I think.  There was an old Joe and a young Joe here.  An old Dan, I believe, and a young Dan.  But the old ones were, I believe, John, William, Joe, and I believe Dan.  There was a Dan that was president and then Joe Baker had a son named Daniel, and they called him Danny -- Danny Boy.  But he was the son of Joe Baker. 

Q: I know that the Bakers were members of the Anti-Saloon League and they didn't approve of gambling, and anything like that.  I know there was a beer place in Bakerton and a pool hall.  Did the Bakers ever give people any kind of message that this wasn't the kind of thing that they liked? 

G.M.: No.  They didn't approve of anything like that, but they didn't interfere with anyone in Bakerton's property or what they did.  But everyone in Bakerton knew what they stood for.  I think that was made pretty plain. 

Q: But they did actively support the Methodist Church. 

G.M.: Yes, see the Methodist Church used to be up there across from where Lowell Hetzel used to live.  Well, that quarry come right up there.  The Methodist Church used to stand in the end of that quarry.  I was going to church there.  When I was a kid, we used to have what they called the Epworth League in the Methodist Church.  Used to ride a pony over there Sunday afternoons to the Epworth League there at that church. Right over there where the end of the quarry is.  When the Bakers wanted to bring the quarry on up there, they bought that property there where the Methodist Church is now from Mr. Houser and built that church and tore than one down. 

Q: How was church different in those days than it is now in Bakerton? 

G.M.: No different....  They used to have festivals and things like that to raise money, you know.  The transactions of the church and the way ... I haven't been there for a while ... but I don't think it's that different....  When I was first growing up, I went to the church over there at the little stone church.  I lived right across the corner there, you know.  And then later on, when I got married and moved over to Bakerton and went to work at the plant ... You know where that house is right across from Talley's store?  Right there on that corner?  Well, that's where my wife and I went to housekeeping in 1931.  And it was the latter part of that year, the first of next year, I joined the Methodist Church over there.  Went to the church there until 1957.  The church has been fixed up some. When I went to church there, when I left there, there between the Sunday School room and the sanctuary there was these canvas curtains you rolled up.  They put those sliding doors in and they put the bathroom in, dug the basement out, put in a new furnace.  I helped handle the procedure to obtain those stained glass windows.  A fellow by the name of Dodge was there and he carried the ball, but I was treasurer and chairman of the Board of Stewards of the Methodist Church. At that time in the Methodist Church there was a Board of Stewards and in the Presbyterian Church there were decons and elders and so on. Anyhow, we bought them from some outfit in Pennsylvania.  They had a representative come over and we had several meetings with him.  And those stained glass windows are all set in lead -- every one of those pieces is set in lead.  And that was Rev. Dodge did that.  That was about ... [46 years ago]. 

Q: Do you remember any church picnics in Duke's Woods? 

G.M.: They had plant picnics.  I don't remember having any church picnics up there.  The plant, when I started ...  Walt Flanagan (Bill Flanagan's uncle) was superintendent.  They would go around and talk to the men and ask the wives to bring a basket, you know.  And all employees, their wives, children, everyone was invited.  If they wanted to come.  There were a few who wouldn't come, you know. And then they'd invite some of the officials from Baltimore, the General Superintendent's Office in Martinsburg, invited guests.  And the ladies always cooked enough to feed the whole bunch, you know.  And they'd have a little entertainment -- maybe someone had a quartet or something.  But it was more to eat than anything else. 

Q: Do you remember the garage and the automobile dealer? 

G.M.: Oh yes, Albert Rice. 

Q: What kind of cars did he sell? 

G.M.: He started out with the Maxwell -- Maxwell cars and trucks.  And then later on he started selling Fords.  The first car I ever had was a 1923 Model T Ford Roadster that I bought there.  And I drove that for three years and I bought a 1926 Ford Roadster then.  They'd come in a boxcar all torn down.  The body was just a frame and engine, and the fenders and body was all strapped against the side of the wall.  And when they came in, you'd take two or three fellows and go around and unstrap these things and take a fender out at a time -- front fender and then a hind fender and then body -- and bring her down and set the body on.  Put on a few bolts (there were only a few bolts) and they were all together. 

Q: So they shipped them right into Bakerton by rail. 

G.M.: They'd come right in on the side track and unload the boxcar. 

Q: That's the building that became the community center.  Do you remember when that community center was torn down?  Was that after the plant shut down? 

G.M.: Yes, it was after the plant shut down.  It was after 1957.  Well, I'd say that thing was there 6 or 8 years or more.  After we went to Pennsylvania, we'd get the local paper and we'd see in there where they had different functions in there.  The plant closed down in March 1957 and we moved up there in May. 

Q: People talk about "company towns," and that doesn't usually have a very good meaning.  Do you consider that Bakerton was a company town? 

G.M.: Well, not as it implied in a lot of cases.  That town was run as each individual saw fit to govern his family and his property and so on. There wasn't no interference: "Well now, you're living in Bakerton, you can't do this or you can't do that" -- nothing. 

Q: But there was a good deal of support for community functions. 

G.M.: Oh yes, sure. 

Q: Do you remember the influenza epidemic?  Around 1918? 

G.M.: Yes.  There were lots of people that died with that thing down there. 

Q: Do you remember the smallpox epidemic? 

G.M.: Yes, they had a shanty built out there in back of the plant.  Out there north of the plant.  And they had some people out there. 

Q: Out by the hollow, where you go down the hill? 

G.M.: Before you get to the hollow.  Right on that hill there.  Straight on out north of the plant. 

Q: Did many people die from smallpox? 

G.M.: I don't remember how serious that was or how many people were out there, but I remember going out there when, I guess, I wasn't even supposed to be there.  But some of us kids, you know how they run around.  We went on out there and peeked through the bushes at this building out there.  And I knew that that's what it was -- a smallpox colony or whatever you might call it.  But I don't know how many was in there or the extent of the thing. 

Q: Who was the doctor back in those days?  Dr. Knott? 

G.M.: Dr. Knott and after him was Dr. Johnson.  Dr. Knott lived down there towards Molers Crossroads, between Molers Crossroads and the river and Dr. Johnson lived in Harpers Ferry.  Dr. Johnson was much younger than Dr. Knott.  In fact, Dr. Johnson married Dr. Knott's daughter.  Dr. Johnson was married to Edith Knott.  I think her name was Edith.  But he had a son named Sam and one named Bob. 

Q: One of the sheriffs was a Moler, wasn't he? 

G.M.: Yes, that was Jake, the one that was in business with Millard down there.  He come to Shepherdstown and was later on sheriff and I think he was director of the bank, or something.  And his brother was named Reynolds, had a brother named Reynolds, and he was President of the Jefferson Security Bank in Shepherdstown for about twenty or twenty-five years. 

Q: What was it like here during the Depression? 

G.M.: Oh my, it was bad there during the Depression.  It was bad.  I mean, people were on hard luck.  That was before the union days, you know.  And you had what they called a boss in those days.  You didn't have a foreman -- I mean they didn't call them that.  They were about the same thing to a certain extent.  And every morning there'd be a group of people assembled down there around the plant office, you know, looking for a day's work or something to do.  And you'd need three or four, or maybe five.  That was all you needed that day.  You'd look around and call out this man and that, and the others would turn around and go home.  I've seen them leaving with tears in their eyes.  There wasn't social security, no relief, no nothing. 

Q: Did the Bakers try to do anything to help them out? 

G.M.: Well, they tried to give them as much ...  I remember at one time they had a whole bunch of men out there going over the fence around the property, repairing fence, which wasn't necessary.  You didn't have to have that done.  But they did whatever they could do to get as much work as they could.  And they would start the plant up and run for a week until the silos were filled up.  And there wasn't much business.  That would last for three weeks. 

Q: Was there a WPA road project that came through Bakerton? 

G.M.: No, I don't recall.  I don't know if that hard surface road was put in down there through Bakerton down around the Old Furnace during WPA or not. 

Q: Where was Little Italy? 

G.M.: Little Italy was up here on the west side of the quarry, up where I was just talking about.  You run along in there where the church was but on the left.  Right on out that property line, between the quarry and that farm line.  There were six or eight one-or two-room shanties right out along that fence. 

Q: Were there a lot of Italian families in Bakerton? 

G.M.: Yes, most of them [in Little Italy] were Italian.  They had a fellow there by the name of ... had two boys that come to grade school the same time I was there ... Joe and Leonard Flatigo [?].  He was a blacksmith out there at the plant -- big robust fellow.  And I didn't remember who all was there, but then later on there was enough of those families in there that they got the nickname "Little Italy."  And in later years they moved on and then several colored families moved in. 

Q: I think Bill Flanagan said there were some Czeckoslovakians or something? 

G.M.: I don't recall.  I don't remember them. 

Q: Do you remember the names of any of the colored people who lived in Bakerton? 

G.M.: Dozier and Burrell, McDonald, Grigsby. 

Q: Are there any still around the area?  The Doziers are still around, aren't they? 

G.M.: The Doziers are in Charles Town.  McDonalds are in Charles Town. I was talking to Jim McDonald and his wife here within the last three weeks.  And George Dozier ... that's Jim McDonald's wife's brother; he's in Charles Town.  And he had two brothers that worked in the plant. Both of them were drillers in the mine.  He worked on top and he was a bag loader for a long time.  And Jim McDonald, he was a bag loader.  He was on the second shift and George was on the third. 

Q: What was happening around World War II?  Was the company doing anything special? 

G.M.: Nothing, only we had blackout drills and civil defense programs. They'd blow a whistle out at the plant and everybody would go and put the lights off.  And the people out at the plant would see what lights and switches could be turned off without interfering with the machinery, and tried to see how dark we could make the plant and make the community and so on. 

Q: Weren't there some women working there at that time? 

G.M.: They didn't come in until after they built the magnesia plant. That was later on. 

Q: Do you remember which women were working there? 

G.M.: Yes, my wife worked there for about 18 months or so.  Bill Flanagan's wife worked there, and Eva Cox -- George Cox's wife and Bertie Jones -- I guess Dimmie Jones' niece and Helen Mills, she worked there a long time until the plant closed down and my sister-in-law at that time lived in Bakerton and she worked there for a while.  And Jessie Houser, she worked there.  Dick Forsythe's wife. 

Q: Was there any resistance to having women work there at the plant? 

G.M.: There was at first, but it didn't amount to anything.  In fact, I got a letter -- an anonymous letter when my wife went to work out there. Something about she ought to be home where she belonged.  I had some idea who sent it, but the person never knew that I suspected.  And it all died down and nothing happened.  They only worked there so long a time because they closed those electric furnaces making magnesium oxide. When they first started up, they were making magnesium carbonate that was used in synthetic rubber during the war, you know.  Then they started making magnesium oxide -- for medicinal purposes.  And they didn't operate too long after that. 

Q: Did you see any changes in the way the plant operated when J.H. Baker died and Daniel took over?  Did he do anything differently? 

G.M.: No, because all your upper eschelon remained intact.  And our plant wasn't run direct from Baltimore, it went through the General Superintendent's Office -- the General Superintendent and the Assistant General Superintendent and your Plant Engineer, who served all the plants, and the Safety Director, who served all the plants.  So everything come through there.  There wasn't very much change.  A lot of people at the plant, if they hadn't been told, wouldn't even have known. 

Q: So Mr. Thomas was still General Superintendent when J.H. Baker died and Daniel took over. Do you remember who was General Superintendent before Frank Thomas? 

G.M.: I think it was a fellow by the name of Joe D'Aiuto.  There could have been one between Joe D'Aiuto and Mr. Thomas, but I don't think there was. 

Q: Mr. Thomas must have been General Superintendent for quite a while then. 

G.M.: He was.  He started school at Western Maryland, and he only went to school 2 years and he got restless.  And he went out and went to work.  And because of his contacts, he was given a job at one of the plants, some kind of job, and they very soon saw his potential.  He was just full of grit and it come out early.  And before long, he was General Superintendent, and he got killed in that airplane accident. 

Q: Mr. Garvin was Superintendent after him? 

G.M.: General Superintendent.  He was Assistant under Mr. Thomas for a while, and then when Mr. Thomas got killed, they made Mr. Garvin General Superintendent. 

Q: Did things change at all when he became General Superintendent? 

G.M.: No, not at the plant level. 

Q: Was there any big change when American-Marietta took over? 

G.M.: There could have been in the General Superintendent's Office. Maybe they had different rules and maybe they didn't get as much money for the plant, or something like that.  But the plant didn't have any big change. 

Q: What kind of reasons were there for the Bakers selling out? 

G.M.: They run out of good quality stone. 

Q: They closed down in '57 because they ran out of good quality stone, so what you're saying is that the Bakers saw they were running out of good quality stone in Bakerton and they sold the plant? 

G.M.: No, they didn't sell the plant.  They just closed it down but they still owned all the property down there for quite a while after they closed the plant down. 

Q: I thought they sold the plant to American-Marietta. 

G.M.: Oh yes, that was before they knew they were going to sell out.  I don't think that had to do with the sale, not just one plant.  But what happened was, they ran out of good quality stone.  The last couple of shifts that we operated down there ... part of my responsibility was checking the mine.  And the last couple of shifts that we operated ... See, the way that stone was, that bed of stone there was something like an inverted saucer.  and they just followed it around, see, and kept going down, as far as you could go to.  You had magnesia in the roof and silica in the bottom, and you stayed between that, see.  And the last couple of shifts we operated down there, there was a black streak come up from the bottom -- carnivorous [?] limestone, we called it, come up from the bottom about 18 inches and the roof dropped off so fast that you couldn't even get the shovel under it.  We shot what good we could get out of that little streak and we took a bulldozer and pushed it out so a shovel could pick it up.  That's how close they had the thing timed. 

Q: That's why the plant closed down, but how about why the Bakers sold to Marietta?  Did you ever hear any reason? 

G.M.: No, unless some of these older boys knew there was a time coming when they were going to drop out and there wasn't enough of the younger boys for them to continue.  Danny boy, he was the only younger boy. There was another boy by the name of Jack Wolf.  He was related to Holmes Baker, and he was Safety Director for the plant.  He had the same job that Ralph Whitlow had for a long time.  But then he got out of the company.  He didn't care to remain in the company. 

Q: What was the reaction when people found that the plant was going to close? 

G.M.: Very little.  We got notice at the plant.  Brian Houser, the Superintendent, he called and told me that the plant had changed hands as of a certain date.  And the quarry, as far as he could understand, there would be no change in personnel.  Everything would go along like it was.  And he said "You arrange a meeting with the mine and I'll arrange a meeting with the fellows on top.  I went down to the mine office and left notice to meet me outside at quitting time.  And I talked to the guys and told them that the plant had changed hands and that, told them that American Marietta was buying the plant and tried to assure them there would be no change in personnel.  Everything would go along just as it was.  We expected the same cooperation we had in the past, and so on. 

Q: Did people pretty much expect it when the plant closed? 

G.M.: Some of us knew it long before, several years before, but the rank and file in the plant, they wouldn't believe it.  I had a fellow down in Harpers Ferry wanted to sell me a house.  And I said "I'm not going to buy no house or nothing now because they're liable to close the plant down most any time."  He said some of these people have been working there since he was a boy -- they're not going to close down that plant. And I said "I'm not interested in buying a house."  And just like that -- they couldn't believe it.  But at that time I was out in the plant with Brian Houser, and we had notice not to stock equipment, you know.  Just stay with what you use from day to day.  And I was told by the superintendent "If you need this or you need that, you either go to Millville or Martinsburg."  And then they was instructed, if we needed so-and-so, we were to get it.  And you could see the writing on the wall. 

Q: I'm surprised a lot of the people working below ground couldn't tell you were running out of good quality stone. 

G.M.: Well, you know how it is.  They'd figured they'd get through this break and they'd go into another 20 years of good stone. 

Q: Did many of the people go to other plants in the area? 

G.M.: Well, some of them did.  A lot of them went down to Grove in Maryland, down to Limekiln.  There were two plants down there,  Grove and there was a cement plant down there. 

Q: Are you talking about the one around Buckeystown? 

G.M.: Yes.  And Hunter Talley worked down there.  Louis Lloyd worked down there.  And Eddie Mills, Helen Mills' husband, went to Point of Rocks to that Todd Steel Mill and some fellows were to Dargan.  Some of them went to Hagerstown.  Some come to Martinsburg.  Some got jobs up here at Martinsburg. 

Q: Did one of the tunnels go under the house behind Hunter Talley? 

G.M.: Oh yes [Laughs].  Well, it's no secret now.  It used to be George Houser's house, Brian Houser's uncle, and they had four or five boys and Margaret.  She never got married.  And she was living there and the mine come underground under that section of Bakerton.  Margaret died and a fellow bought it, and they were drilling a well and the bit went down into the mine.  They didn't know that the mine was under there. 

Q: So that area from the corner, in where the Methodist Church is now and down that side wasn't Baker property, right? 

G.M.: No.  And you know up there where the community hall used to be? There was a house just right beside that.  You know where the house is now?  Well, there was a house between that and the community hall.  The community hall was right there on the road.  And there was a house in there.  That was a privately owned house for a long time till the Bakers bought it later on and began moving the mine around.  And I lived in that house for 15 years, and the mine come around there and went under one corner of the house, between the two houses.  The house that's there now is where Cobby Moler used to live.  And it went right between -- here's the two houses here and the mine come around in the chicken yard of the house that I rented.  And there was a hole there that went clean down into the mine. 

Q: Was it the mine there, or was there a sinkhole that caused that problem? 

G.M.: Yes, there used to be a low place.  I remember when I was a kid there used to be a pond in there.  But it never went down where you could see down in or nothing like that.  Then, later on, they filled it in when they built that road.  The road used to go, when you come out from the store, going west, it went right on straight up past that house there where Mack Irvin lived.  Right in the corner of that yard, there was a hole that went through there one evening.  And they hauled dirt from the plant and dumped it in there and filled it up. 

Q: Someone was telling me about a dirt seam that caused some problem there ...  It was Lyle Moler.  I think he said when he was a boy ... 

G.M.: Oh yes, there was a hole went through right in back of his house, right in the back yard.  It wasn't any further from his back door than from here to the edge of that ...  You could look right down there and after the plant closed down and the mine filled up with water you could look right down in there.  The last time I was out there, you could look down and see water down there. 

Q: The lawyer who died in the plane crash with Mr. Thomas was Something Baker Treide.  I saw a picture of a boy from Bakerton Elementary School with that name. 

G.M.: I don't remember that at all. 

Q: I was wondering if some of the Buckeystown people had moved over. 

G.M.: I don't remember anyone other than Joe Capriotti, and he came from Martinsburg and went to school down there. 

Q: Did you know any of the Kellers down at Engle? 

G.M.: No, not personally.  I know there were Kellers down there back years ago. 

Q: They were from Buckeystown, too. 

G.M.: They operated a kiln down there, didn't they?  Didn't there used to be pot kilns down there? 

Q: I'm not certain who those kilns belonged to. 

G.M.: I'm not sure either.  I know there was a fellow that worked here at the Bakerton plant for a long time that used to work down there at those kilns and used to live at Engle Switch.  But I'm not sure they belonged to the Bakers.  He might have been working for somebody else. 

Q: What was his name? 

G.M.: Clabaugh.  Norman Clabaugh, his son, run the office there at the plant. 


G.M.: [Reviewing Photographs] There's Bill Garvin.  Have you seen a picture of him? 

Q: No. 

G.M.: There he is right there.  You've heard of Tom Cherry. 

Q: No, I haven't. 

G.M.: There's Dan Baker. 

Q: Right in the corner.  Can you name these, go across from right to left? 

G.M.: Marshall DeHaven, Superintendent of the McCook plant out there at Chicago.  Oscar Wilt, Superintendent of the Millville plant.  Archie Houser, that's Brian Houser's first cousin, he was Superintendent of the Manastee plant.  George Phillips, Superintendent of the Kimballton plant.  Brian Houser, Superintendent of Bakerton.  Bob Davis, Superivsor of the Pleasant Gap plant, that's where I was transferred to.  Buddy Henderson, Superintendent of the Knoxville plant.  Arch Stein, Superintendent of the Woodville plant.  .... Potts, Superintendent of the Martinsburg plant.  [Second Row]  Olin Knott, Charles Knott's Brother.  Jerome Kneisel, used to be Superintendent of the Martinsburg plant for a long time; when that picture was taken, he was in charge of plant maintenance -- all around the plants, you know.  Willie Miller, he was in charge of kiln operations.  Ed Waters.  Paul Specht, he was in the General Superintendent's Office up here -- he was Mr. Frank Thomas' personal secretary.  ........., he was company accountant out of the Baltimore office.  Russell Williamson, he was in charge of personnel. Chris Johnson.  ....................  Dave Baker.  Lacey Rice, he used to be the company lawyer for years and years before he died.  Clarence Becker, he was a civil engineer.  Lloyd Chandler, he was in charge of all the plant laboratories.  Russell Williamson, Safety Engineer. Lowell Hetzel.  Tom Cherry, he was Superintendent of Construction for years and years -- they'd go out and buy a 25- or 30-acre field and build a plant from the ground up.  Mr. Garvin. 

Q: Isn't there a Daniel Baker V that came there ... 

G.M.: That's Danny Baker.  He never worked in Bakerton.  He worked out of the Baltimore office.  There were always some of those guys from the Baltimore office attended these meetings.  There's Mr. Garvin, and there's Dan Baker, the president.  He could bring anybody along he wanted to, to give him a little experience or add something to the meeting....  There's Louis Rumford, he was president after Dan Baker.... [Methodist Men's Sunday School]  That's Sam Potts, he worked on the B & O Railroad for years and years on the track -- track repairman.  Cobby Moler, he kept store here for a while.  You know that Carter store out there?  After Carter went out, he run that store for a while... 

Q: Was Sam Potts killed in a railroad accident? 

G.M.: Yes, killed on the railroad.  You know these little handcars that used to go up and down the track?  They were moving this thing off the track and I think there were some tools or something still laying along the track.  And somebody told him to look out for number so-and-so (they all went by numbers, those trains, you know) that was about due.  And the doggone train come along and killed him.  That's Roy Hoffmaster. Jap Manuel.  Claude Haines.  That's Willie Mills, Helen Mills' father- in-law. 

Q: Did he work at the plant too? 

G.M.: Oh, yes, he worked at the plant for a long time.  All these fellows did. 

Q: Can you tell me what they did? 

G.M.: Cobby Moler, later on after he went out of the store, was loading supervisor at the plant for a long time.  This fellow was a tester on the kilns -- tested lime every so often -- flake test.  Jap Manuel, I think he worked out at the plant back years ago, I don't know, as a laborer or something.  Claude Haines was a hydrator operator.  Willie Mills had a number of different jobs -- worked in the lime room, picked lime... Charlie Hopper barrelled lime.  Back when you had all those shaft kilns, you'd draw the lime out onto the floor and let it cool and then shovel it up with shovels into wooden barrels and so on.  Charlie Hopper, after he stopped carrying mail (I was telling you he carried mail for a long time).  Grover Mills, that was Willie Mills' brother, he worked in the limeroom, barrelled lime.  Dick Houser, he worked on the machine gang for a while and then when the plant closed down he was truck repairman. And Lawrence Welsh took up lime in the lime room and he was also ... he and Roy were brickmasons.  When brick come out of a kiln, those fellows could brick a kiln.  Walter Hoffmaster, he was a kiln burner.  Garland Moore, that's Juanita Horn's brother -- I don't remember him ever working at the plant.  Of course this was the Sunday School class.  That's Mr. Jimmy Hoffmaster, he's Walter's and ...... daddy.  And he was Sunday School teacher for a long time. 

Q: Did he work out at the plant too? 

G.M.: Well, he might have, back years ago.  I don't think he was active then.  And Dave Hetzel, that's Helen Hetzel's daddy.  He was in charge of lime loading before Cobby took over.  When he got sick and couldn't work any longer, Cobby Moler was made superintendent.  And after Cobby was Joe Capriotti. 

Q: Do you remember when David Hetzel died? 

G.M.: No, I don't.  Ernest Houser, that's Richard Houser's brother -- they're both Jessie's brothers.  He was a bulk limeloader.  They used to send different grades of limestone to glass plants, loaded in bulk, in boxcars, 16, 20, 8, and 4 mesh -- different grades.  They loaded it in bulk in boxcars.  Ernest did that for a long time. 

Q: What did John Welsh do out at the plant? 

G.M.: Old Mr. John Welsh?  Well, when I knew him, he was air compressor operator. 

Q: Were Lawrence, and Martin, and Roy brothers? 

G.M.: No.  Roy and Lawrence were brothers.  Martin, he was another family; his daddy was named Tommy Welsh. 

Q: And Juanita Horn's mother was a Welsh -- Norah? 

G.M.: Norah Welsh. 

Q: Do you have any idea when that photo was taken? 

G.M.: No. 

Q: Mrs. Welsh, Skeeter's mother, what was her name before she got married? 

G.M.: Lewis, from over in Dargan. 

Q: There were a lot of people from Dargan worked there, weren't there? 

G.M.: Yes.  Back years ago, they used to come down to the river on the other side and come across the river in rowboats and walk up to the plant.  And then later on they all got cars and would drive around through Harpers Ferry....  Lowell Hetzel went to Harpers Ferry [High School].... 

Q: What kind of things were they teaching in high school? 

G.M.: At that time, mostly the basics -- mathematics, English, history, geography, and some social studies, civics, agriculture. 

Q: When you finished at Shepherd, did you go right back to work? 

G.M.: No, I went to business school at Martinsburg, then went to Bakerton 

Q: You started at Bakerton in 1930. 

G.M.: Yes. 

Q: Do you remember what kind of wages they were paying at Bakerton? 

G.M.: Twenty-seven and one half cents an hour when I first worked out at Bakerton.  The first was during the summer when I was going to school. I got 27 1/2 cents an hour for 10 hours.  Nailing barrels.  They used to have coopers out there.  When they had all these shaft kilns, they shipped a lot of lime in wooden barrels. They had a cooper shop.  Staves would come in bundles, hoops would come in separately.  And they'd set the barrels up down on the ground floor and put the head hoops and the bull hoops on and they'd shoot them out a little conveyor and come up to what we called the loft.  We had one fellow up there who drove the hoops down tight and sent 'em up to two boys who were nailing barrels.  They put these little hoop nails over the bull hoops, you know, and nailed about three or four around and put about six penny nails around the head. They had hatchets, and they'd nail a spike on the blade, and they hit this hoop and punch a hole in it and set the nail in there and drive it in, and turn it around and punch a hole, and drive the heads in.  Then they'd go down on the floor.  They had a big lattice cart, two-wheel cart, and horse and the hauling fellow would roll 'em out and haul 'em down to the lime room.  Then they'd fill them up with lime -- shovel the lime in -- and take a big wooden maul, pound it down tight.  And then they'd put the head hoops in, the head by hand.  And then they'd nail those down there.  Then take a whitewash brush and dip it in a bucket of paste and smear it all around on the head and put a label on there -- Company label. 

Q: Did the company make whitewash too? 

G.M.: No, they didn't make it.  Everyone around there would get lime in the spring and whitewash their posts and gates and stuff outside, but they never made it. 


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Shade, Christine Geary Shade   Interview.  May 1985.  Interviewed by William D. Theriault. 

[Interviewer's notes: Ms. Shade was a teacher in Jefferson County and a resident of Bakerton.  Portions of the tape recording are inaudible.  The following items were reconstructed from memory several days after the interview.] 

Mrs. Shade recalls that the Oak Grove School had two rooms, each with a stove.  The desks had two seats apiece.  Discipline was strict, and Mr. Jesse Engle often whipped students he thought were misbehaving.  Mr. Engle had taught there for many years, but she did not know how many. Mrs. Shade said that her brother Norman was once whipped for asking a classmate for a penpoint.  Ben Stunbow, one of the boys in the Oak Grove School picture, was an orphan who lived with Mr. Jesse Engle, but he did not stay in Bakerton long.  Mrs. Shade did not know where he came from. The subjects taught at the school were the basics -- reading, writing, and arithmetic.  Miss Ethel Moler, the other teacher at the Oak Grove School, inspired Mrs. Shade to become a teacher. 

Mrs. Shade's father was an orphan.  The family moved to Moler's Crossroads from Bakerton and rented land there to farm.  The effort was not successful. 

Mrs. Shade graduated from Shepherd College and then spent 5 years teaching in Harpers Ferry before coming to teach at Bakerton Elementary School.  Teachers were not required to take examinations when she was hired.  Initially, women were not allowed to continue teaching after they were married, so several of the women who taught school in Bakerton were able to teach only a few years.  She received her first teaching position from Preston S. Millard, Superintendent of the Harpers Ferry District of the Board of Education.  During most of her teaching career, she lived in Martinsburg and commuted to Bakerton.  She recalled several occasions when this trip was extremely dangerous because of snow.  Ms. Shade does not remember seeing any school for black children in the Bakerton area, although she heard that there was one in a black church.  The children were probably bussed to another school. 

Mrs. Shade recalls that both Joe and Bill Capriotti came to Bakerton from the Buckingham School for Boys.  She did not know of any other orphans from the same school who had been placed in Bakerton. 

Concerning the 1949 newspaper article on Bakerton Elementary school published in the Jefferson Republican, Mrs.  Shade said that it caused some discontent among teachers at other schools when Bakerton was selected as the subject of Mr. Rentch's article.  However, only one school could be selected. 

A transcript of the audible portion of this interview follows. 

Q: The names of the teachers listed in the Board of Education Minutes for 1933 were James M. Moler and Audrey Elizabeth Engle.  Their salary was supposed to be $69 per month.  And they have you down for a salary of $74 a month.  Was that a good salary at the time? 

C.G.S.: In those days, I guess it was.  Now that's when I was single in Bakerton.  Because I had 5 years experience and they wanted one experienced teacher.  And James Moler, that was his first year of teaching and Audrey Engle's first year. 

Q: Did they graduate from Shepherdstown too? 

C.G.S.: Yes.  I know Audrey did.  She married a Gageby.  I don't think she was there but one year. 

Q: How about James Engle, did he stay more than one year? 

C.G.S.: I think he stayed more than one year.  I think they sent him to Millville.  Of course, he kept on going to school. 

Q: You mentioned Ms. Willis not wanting to come back to Bakerton after her first year of teaching.  Was Bakerton thought of as a mining town -- noisy, dirty, and dusty? 

C.G.S.: I don't think so.  I was more at home in Bakerton than any place else. 

Q: Do you remember what it was like there during the Depression? 

C.G.S.: I don't remember much about that. 

Q: What was it like teaching here around World War II? 

C.G.S.: Well, the teachers had to take first aid. 

Q: Some of the women in Bakerton worked in the plant during the war. How did people feel about that? 

C.G.S.: I never heard comments on that. 

Q: Were you there when the mine closed down?  You retired in 1962?  The mine closed about 1958. 

C.G.S.: I guess some people moved because that's one reason they changed that into a two-room school.  We had enough, I had 15 in the first grade.  To really teach them, I could have spent the whole day with just 15. 

Q: Were you there when they first started using school buses? 

C.G.S.: The seventh and eighth grades were taken by bus. 

Q: Do you remember the circus coming to town when you were a child? 

C.G.S.: I have heard Margaret tell me about that.  I probably didn't go. 

Q: What did you find different about teaching in Bakerton? 

C.G.S.: I learned to drive my brother's Model T.  And my brother Bud [Norman] used to take me out to Uvilla to meet the C.... girls and he said it took up too much of his time.  And he taught me to drive, but I would always say "I have a headache.  I don't feel like driving."  Or something like that.  I hated to drive.  And he knew I could drive.  And one day he took us to church and he got out of the car and said "If you want to get home without walking, I'm leaving and you'll have to drive the car."  Well, I thought that was cruel, but it really wasn't.  And I drove, and I got almost home and the car slid over a little bit. Nothing to hurt anything.  But I went up and I said "Will you put the car in the garage?"  And he said "No.  You put it in the garage yourself."  So I did. 

Those Model T's were high off the ground.  I wasn't driving fast, but this little pig ran out in front of the car, and I was too close to it. I couldn't stop.  And that did scare me.  And when I got the car stopped and looked back, the little pig was running on up the road.  And it was such a relief to know that I hadn't hit it. 


JUNE 25, 1985 

I was born in Bakerton, W. Va. 

My first teachers were Miss Ethel Moler and Mr. Engle in the Oak Grove School.  Miss Ethel was the first teacher who influenced me to make up my mind that I wanted to become a teacher.  I think everybody loved her. 

When I was in the eighth grade we moved to a farm in Molers Cross Roads. In the meantime we didn't finish the year but started back in the fall. The teachers were Miss Agnes Reinhart and Mr. Clayton Myers.  He also encouraged me to go to Shepherd College. 

Since I was young and shy I repeated the eighth grade with Miss Evelyn Maddox as my teacher.  Mr. Myers had transferred to Bakerton.  He had a talk with my mother so she agreed to let me continue my education. 

In 1922 I finished the ninth grade in the Shepherdstown Elementary School so I was on my way to becoming a teacher. 

Shepherd College had a Short Course and Standard Normal at that time. One of my friends sent an application to Harpers Ferry but they said they were hiring experienced teachers.  I didn't think I had a chance. There was a vacancy in the third grade and the eighth grade.  I preferred the third. 

The third grade teacher was getting married. 

Mr. Preston Millard was on the District Board and he said the last time he saw me I wasn't any bigger than a cake of soap after a hard days wash and a few of the children were hard to manage but he agreed to let me try. 

There were some problems with a few the first year but nothing I couldn't handle. 

After five years I was asked to take the third and fourth grades in Bakerton for one year and if I didn't like it I could return to Harpers Ferry.  James Moler was the Principal and Audrey Engle the first and second grades.  Neither one had experience. 

I loved the Harpers Ferry children and their parents but it was more convenient in every way to stay in Bakerton as we lived within walking distance.  I taught there thirty years. 

Later one room was changed to a lunch room and I had the first three grades.  Miss Ethel Henkle had the fourth, fifth and sixth grades.  The other grades were transported by bus to Harpers Ferry. 

When my brother married there wasn't enough income for two families so we moved to Charles Town.  I had to drive but not alone.  Miss Henkle rode with me.  One morning we were stopped at the underpass by soldiers. Miss Henkle told one of them we were teachers.  He said the President was coming through by train and even if we were late he had to follow his orders.  He said, "Give the kids a break." 

To get back to the children one of my first graders said he was going to marry me when he grew up.  He was just five years old. 

For seat work while I was teaching another grade one day I gave the first grade colored sticks to make something and tell me later about their picture.  The sticks on one desk didn't look as if they had been moved.  He said he made a battle ship and a submarine blew it to pieces. I think he pulled one over on me but I just said, "Let me see your picture the next time before you blow it up." 

In January 1947 I married Gilbert Shade from Martinsburg.  That made too much driving.  After working with children all day I had a time keeping awake.  My doctor said I relaxed and while I couldn't draw my Social Security until I was 62 I could draw my Teacher's Retirement after 35 years teaching at 55 years of age. 

My husband and I decided that would be better for me and the children as I missed so much time because of illness. 

I have so many good memories of the kindness of the parents, the Principals, our good cooks and the teachers I worked with as well as the children. 

The shower when Gib and I were married and the reception when I retired will never be forgotten.  Nothing makes me happier than to have the children I taught come up to me to say hello. 

Then there were the times when one child cut her head and we couldn't get in touch with her parents.  The cook held a compress on the cut while I took her to the doctor.  It was a freak accident. 

One little girl was crossing the bars, fell and broke her arm, one ran asplinter from a see-saw and a doctor had to remove it. 

When we were studying pioneer days all the roads into Bakerton were draited shut and the electricity went off.  Fortunately my sister had a range in her wash house.  Her son and grandchildren were without heat. When we were carrying food to the house the children were thrilled. They said, Grandma this is like Pioneer Days." 

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Stevens, Martin, Interview, December 27, 1987. 

Interviewed by William Theriault 

William Theriault: I've seen that picture many times before, but I didn't know you were in it.  [Mule-drawn canal boat on C & O Canal with train going in opposite direction].  You said you were a policeman on the canal? 

Martin Stevens: No, not on the canal.  Here in Shepherdstown and a few short spells...  I went to police school a couple of times.  Then I was county for a few years. 

WT: What year did you start as a policeman? 

MS: '31.  And then I was elected constable for several different years. 

WT: So you were a policeman down here during prohibition? 

MS: Yes. 

WT: Can you tell me what was going on? 

MS: The mayor of the town and the council would not let the town police have anything to do with any moonshiners or anything like that.  We were restricted to, well, we had very little to do.  They never even bonded you.  You couldn't even carry a gun.  I did in the later years, but not then.  That was when I arrested Norman Geary for driving drunk and they let him go. 

Now, there was a medical doctor, Dr. [Harry] Morris.  I was standing on the corner and saw him go down the street, and I knew he was drunk.  And he pulled into the curb and he backed right out into a boy named Shade's car and mashed the side in.  And he got out and cussed the boy out.  I went down and got him.  I was 21.  And I put him in the jail cell.  The mayor came right up and let him out, and he ain't been tried since.  He used to drive drunk all of the time.  He would run into things.  Really, I was glad when he died.  He caused more trouble. 

He sat on the street with a little pen knife, sharp knife.  Blind man, now, couldn't see.  Had a cane.  He'd trip him.  And old man John Wells [?], his legs were all crippled up.  Harry had him pushed up against the wall, chopping at him with a sharp knife.  One of them sharp blades.  And the town police would stand right there on the corner and wouldn't say a word to him.  I grabbed the doctor back of the neck.  (I was doing a lot of boxing.  I never drank in my life.  Never smoked.)  And I grabbed him back of the neck and jerked him out and grabbed him, hold of his wrist, and twisted his arm around and took the knife away and the mayor raised the dickens.  I wasn't an officer.  He raised the dickens.  I said "Well, I wasn't going to let him cut that man with a knife."  A couple of councilmen jumped in to help the mayor out too.  So the police here didn't do anything. 

The police here was an old man.  This ...,  he was about a third or second cousin.  He was also a relation to Norman Geary, but he was... 

[Looking at Tom Hahn's book on the C & O Canal]  There are pictures.  I've got a flock of them.  You can see the old boats. My name's in there, too.  I gave them to the man that wrote that book.  His name's Hahn. 

WT: Who was responsible for catching the moonshiners if ... 

MS: The revenue officers, Pickette and Gates.  And Bob Shipley was the county police.  Later I worked for him.  And Merle Alger was constable.  I guess you've heard about Alger.  He was constable.  And him and Bob used to chase them.  Albert Moler was the justice of the peace.  And then they had a town police here. 

They'd catch this moonshine.  That was before my time.  I wasn't police then.   That's before I was.  And a man named Winters, we had him as police here.   They'd put this moonshine jug back in the cell and Winters would take his cane and pull it over and drink a little.  I worked in the garage at that time. 

WT: What relation was this Shipley to Cop Shipley? 

MS: His daddy.  That was Walter. 

WT: He's the one the elementary school was named after?  C.W. Shipley? 

MS: C.W.  Yes.  He was a very good friend of mine, and he had a brother named Kenneth who died a few years ago.  He worked around the garage, too. 

WT: When you were on the canal, did the boats have named or numbers? 

MS: Numbers.  They listed the names on them, but the numbers were on the boats. 

WT: I know at one time they switched over. 

MS: I think it was in 1902.  I just read that.  They had names.  There was a picture of a boat in there way back that had then name on it. 

WT: Do you remember anything about the Orebank? 

MS: I knew about the iron at the Orebank. I knew about people out there.  Yes. I've been out to it.  They had a big, steep incline down to it.  I never went down there because I couldn't have got back up.  It operated years before my time. 

WT: I think it closed around World War I. 

MS: In World War I, I was only about 4 or 5 years old.  I was born in 1908. 

WT: 1918, 1920.  It closed around then. 

MS: Yes. That's right.  We were living at Shelltown.  I believe my daddy got notice... 

WT: Who did you know who used to live down there? 

MS: At Shelltown? 

WT: No, down the Orebank. 

MS: A whole lot of people.  One lived on the corner.  You turned to the left.  One on the right.  An old fella lived down there.  I remember what they looked like. 

WT: Do you remember the Jones'? 

MS: Oh, yes. 

WT: Do you remember George Washington Jones? 

MS: Not by that name. 

WT: I think he's the father of Demmie and Hodgie ... 

MS: I knew two of them from down there.  I knew ... I can't remember their names, though.  I remember the one girl used to hang around Bakerton.  There was a man named Boyer.  Jones married a Boyer.  The old man drove mules and Press Boyler, the son.  And Flo was ... 

WT: Was there a rendering plant down there when you were around?  [No response.]  It must have been later.  After you left. 

MS: I remember a whole lot of people down there.  See, my uncle lived around the corner ....  Let's see.  Flo Jones was one of them.  Lefty Jones. 

WT: There was Demmie.  He used to be a welder out at the plant?  Hodgie?  Cedric Sullivan's mother? 

MS: I know where everybody lived around Shepherdstown up to 15 years ago. 

WT: Do you remember the Grange Hall down by Knott's Quarry? 

MS: They had a big trough ... for horses to drink.  And down the end there they used to dump all the trash and fill...  I know about Knott's Island.  I used to fish down there ...Charles ... lived down there and his father.  He lived in Bakerton.  He went in World War I.  I was real small.  And he died not too many years ago.  He married a Gray.  The Grays lived down on Knott's Island.  He worked in Bakerton, too.  Pete Springer and Bill Springer lived on the corner.  Clayt Huffman... Frank Hill, he belonged down there and worked at the garage...  He was there a good many years, too. 

WT: Was there a movie house there in Bakerton when you were growing up?  Over Knott's store? 

MS: Not that I know.  There could have been.  Used to have a place they used to have plays in. 

WT: Where was that? 

MS: Right close to, across from Millard's store.  Jap Manuel sold it. 

WT: Was it upstairs?  A hall upstairs? 

MS: It was upstairs.  They had slot machines out there beside the door. 

WT: This was next to the store? 

MS: In that building. 

WT: Next to the church? 

MS: Yes.  They used to have plays down there once in a while, and my uncle down there used to pay my way in.  Dan Shell.  He lived there all his life in a shanty.  Then his wife died. 

WT: What other stores do you remember when you were living there? 

MS: One store was owned by Jap Manuel and Pres Millard.  Millard had the post office. 

WT: Did they have a blacksmith shop back then? 

MS: They had one somewhere. 

WT: They were supposed to have one at Poketown ... 


MS: I built this whole house myself, except lay the block.  I worked days and worked on it nights for about 2 1/2 years.  The frames around the doors are wood from airplane crates, parts come in.  Put the floor down at night.  Never seen it done before.  I lived in my uncle's house for 26 years ....  I knew I had to get out quick.  He lasted until I got the house done.  Then I went in and shaved him every Sunday... 

WT: There's still a bunch of Jamesons down there.  Louise Jameson .... Hunter Talley, her husband died about a year ago. 

MS: I knew Hunter from the time he was a little bitty kid. 

WT: Hunter died about a year and a half ago. 

MS: And Sam Talley.  I knew him well.  And Hilda, she died.  And ... married Bill Snyder....  I knew the Jamesons....  This Italian married  a Jameson girl... Bessie.  Her brother, James Jameson and his brothers was moonshiners over on the mountain. 

WT: Did you know the Waters? 

MS: I don't recall.  I didn't stay at the mines. I went to work at the garage.  My daddy drew my pay when I went to work, except when I worked at the garage and then he couldn't get it.... 

WT: What did Cobby Moler's store look like? 

MS: It had a porch on the front of it out toward the pond.  It had a concrete porch and they had a little porch upstairs and it went back a ways.  And it was all tin on the outside.  His door was in the side.  But for the store, you went in the front and then you went up the steps.  There were four or five apartments up there and a hall right down the middle.  After we left there, it burned down.  You'd get a shock if you touched the side of the building. 

WT: Who else lived up in the apartments? 

MS: This Italian who married a Jameson girl...  They didn't have any children.  And he was some kind of boss out there. 

WT: Do you remember a restaurant? 

MS: Cobby Moler didn't. It was him and other two stores. 

WT: What did it look like on the inside? 

MS: Well, it had a pool room in back of it.  It was a very big room.  Of course, he had shelves on both sides. 

WT: Everybody hung around there when they were off work? 

MS: Yes.  They used to do a lot of relaxing down there.   That's where that old man, Moore's daddy used to go there a lot, and he'd sit around a lot, but he'd talk to you.  He wasn't mean.  That's where I got ... and then she worked at ... a while and then she married Martin...  And then for some reason, she always brought her car in there, but I thought her husband was a mechanic.  She brought in there, in the Ford garage where I worked. 

WT: So back before prohibition, they sold liquor there in the store?  Or did they bring it in with them? 

MS: They brought it in.  Moonshine.  And John Henry Gray, he was the boss, black boy, boss out there...  And Shorty Evans, he was a black fella.  Mean as all getout.  There was a big, heavyset black fellow named Johnson and he liked everybody.  And he was the only one who could beat that Shorty Evans up.  Eventually, someone shot him and killed him. 

WT: Shorty Evans?  Yes, he got killed in a dice game in Martinsburg. 

MS: I remember his car. A Model-T Ford, like a sports car.  He used to go up and down the road there about as fast as it could go.  Dust flying! 

WT: Did he work out at the plant, or did he just hang out around there? 

MS: He worked there sometime.  I think he came from somewhere down in Virginia.  He had a shanty out there. 

WT: Do you remember a black school out there?  It might have been in the Methodist Church? 

MS: No... 

WT: There used to be a black Baptist church back on Ten Row ... 

MS: I knew that preacher who had that.  I was down there one time....  He built one down there.  I don't think it lasted. 

WT: You said you went to the Methodist Church in Bakerton. 

MS: Yes. 

WT: Was going to church any different than it is now? 

MS: No ... I went most to the Sunday school class. 

WT: Do you remember who you had for a Sunday school teacher? 

MS: Not there.  I know here in town, Miss Betty Rentch, when I first come here....  I had to walk over a mile to school each way.  I only finished 5th [?] grade....  My daddy figured it was more profit to him for me to cut corn and shuck corn in the fall.  And make hay, except in the spring.  He kept me out of school and I never got much education. 

WT: There wasn't any law in those days to make you go to school. 

MS: No.  There wasn't much law about where you worked, either.  I know a colored boy, 18, went in the garage here.  And my daddy and I were working up at Blair quarry.  I was loading a truck of stone and the superintendent come down and told him I had to get out of there.  I was glad.  I might have lost my job over there.  I was working for Carter and Rice, and they wasn't giving my daddy my check, so he figured he'd get it some way.  I was only getting $9 a week, and I was giving him $5 of it. 

WT: You knew Jap Manuel?  Tell me about him. 

MS: Well, his boy used to get on the school bus when I drove the extra school bus....  We didn't deal with his store much when we lived there.  It was in the '40's when I drove the extra school bus....  I drove it out of Bakerton.  I knew a lot of the children then.... 

WT: So you drove to Bakerton from Harper's Ferry? 

MS: Harper's Ferry.  I was an extra.  I drove all of the buses.  And then when I was laid off at Fairchild, I tried to get on driving a school bus.  I was over 50.  They said they wouldn't hire anybody over 52.  Here a guy moved in from Utah.  You're supposed to be here 6 months.  Here he got a job driving a school bus, and the guy is almost 65 years old. 

WT: Did you go to Halltown and Engle and Bakerton and then up to Harper's Ferry? 

MS: I'd stay down there all day, too. 

WT: You only made one run in the morning and one run back, and you had to stay there all day. 

MS: Had to stay there all day. I didn't know where to go and didn't know anybody.  I had a couple of cousins that lived there, but I never saw them, really. 

WT: Where did the black kids go?  To Harper's Ferry? 

MS: They didn't ride on that school bus. 

WT: Was there another bus that you know of? 

MS: The bus belonged to Lee Emory.  It didn't belong to the schools. 

WT: I'm trying to find out where they went to school. 

MS: They didn't ride on that bus.  There was a man named Fraley, lived on the corner.  Had a limp.  He had a boy named Johnny.  His name was Johnny.  Right across from that church, they called the Zoar Church.  We went there one time, too.  I think from there we came up to Shepherdstown and stayed a couple of years and went to Moler's Cross Roads.  Then he ... down to Halltown ... moved back to Bakerton again. 

WT: Did you know John O. Knott?  Reverend Knott? 

MS: Well, the one I call Olin Knott was kind of a preacher. He wasn't an ordained preacher, but he was a preacher.  He was old when I knew him.  He farmed down there right near Bakerton.  And then when I worked at the Ford garage for Ed Johnson, he was late in years.  And this fella Knott, Johnson had ... a Ford tractor there.  And this Knott, he didn't just work on the motors, but he took care of the shop. 

WT: John Knott said that when they were collecting money for an organ at the Moler's Cross Roads Church he went to see Mr. Shell.  Your grandfather?  Mr. Shell, the blacksmith? 

MS: He was my great grandfather. 

WDT: When he went to collect money for the church organ, I guess Mr. Shell didn't approve of having music in church.  And he said that he used to have a fiddle, but he threw it in the chicken yard.  He didn't have any use for it. 

MS: I don't remember.  I remember my grandaddy Charlie Shell because he had asthma real bad and he burnt some kind of stuff and inhaled it and stunk the whole house up.  This was his daddy. 

WT: Some of the Methodists back about 1910, 1920, didn't approve of having musical instruments like organs in the churches ... 

MS: [Plays tape recording of his daughter preaching.].... 


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