A Country Rag Vintage Lines

"FOLLOWING COUNTRY ROADS" -- July, 1999

A cliff along Interstate 64 near Beckley, W. Va. reveals geological history in its layers

We left Luray about 11 a.m., stalled by some last-minute packing. Down the familiar strip of tractor-trailer-glutted I-81, we were pleasantly surprised that the weather prognosticators had been wrong -- there was no rain, just a pleasant cloud cover. At Lexington, we turned onto I-64, characterized by fewer diesel behemoths, especially after we crossed into Wild, Wonderful West Virginia at White Sulphur Springs.

Lunch time. What better place to stop than The Greenbrier, luxury spa resort which has attracted the rich and famous since 1778. It was that early year in the life of the new American Republic when Mrs. Amanda Anderson, long crippled by rheumatism, jumped up from the sulfurous waters exclaiming, “I’m cured! I’m cured!”

Despite the imposing grandeur of the rambling hotel, the atmosphere is relaxed -- in a genteel way. (A sign warns that men must wear jackets and ties and ladies short or long evening dress after 6 p.m. Please no swimming togs in the lobby and hallways. Nudity, no doubt, is seriously frowned upon, not to mention illegal.)

The main dining room is a gigantic space of formal grace that would have done the Titanic proud. More informal but no less elegant is Draper’s Cafe, where even the casual drop-in guest is treated like family -- rich uncles and aunts, perhaps. Attentive matronly waitresses with brisk faintly British accents take orders from the extensive luncheon menu of appetizers, soups, salads, sandwiches and expensive entrees. A modest luncheon for three of soups and sandwiches with light desserts ran $74.25 including a 17.5 percent service charge with a space left on the credit card receipt for “tip.” But it was arguably worth it for the rare splurge -- a creamy New England clam chowder, delectable chicken, ham and shrimp concoctions each in separate pita breads and a classic Caesar salad, all washed down with an excellent imported beer.

Back to I-64 and real life. The dual-lane road swings through the spectacular panorama of densely forested mountains, a downward grade that must terrify neophyte truckers. Past Lewisburg, site of the West Virginia State Fair. Past Green Sulphur Springs (there’s a Red Sulphur Springs way down near the southernmost border.) Past Rainelle and Sam Black Church. Our destination was Beckley, a good-sized town dating to pre-Civil War days. It became something of a center of commerce and culture during the coal mining boom of the early 1900s. Although the boom days are long over, the heritage of that era is preserved in the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine and the Youth Museum of Southern West Virginia & Mountain Homestead.

Also at Beckley is Tamarack, a sprawling display of West Virginia arts and crafts with many of the creators working among the displays and in glass-enclosed studios around the outside perimeter. Quilts, baskets, furniture, carved figurines ranging from the miniature to the heroic are justly presented as works of art -- and priced accordingly. A medium-sized table, hand carved of several woods seamlessly inlaid and polished to a natural sheen, might cost $2,500. A bit overpriced for a souvenir to take back home to Iowa. Still the site, the only one of its kind sponsored by a state government, is well worth the visit.

The attractions of Beckley justify several days of exploration. Accommodations range from moderately priced budget motels to over-antiqued Victorian bed-and-breakfast inns. You may dine at Shipwrecked, the city’s only seafood restaurant, or at Dirty Ernie’s Rib Pit, which, despite its name, looks pretty clean from the outside. The Greenbrier supervises the tasty food service at Tamarack.

While Beckley preserves a nostalgic and somewhat idealized coal country heritage, the nitty gritty of “King Coal’s” decline resides a little further south. Welch, once the biggest producer of coal in the world, is now mostly a residential town with little industry. The small settlements, like Gary and Pageton, are all but closed down.

With me on this trip were my wife and mother-in-law, who is active and well at age 91. She was raised in the small coal-mining town of Pageton from about age one until she graduated from high school in nearby Gary. It was her first return to the southwestern hills since 1926. She found, of course, great changes.

Somewhat saddening was the fact that the old "company store" which her father once managed is now a brick shell, as is the old Gary High School where she received her diploma. But the single narrow street through the town is still flanked on either side by duplex frame houses, now painted in various shades of white and yellow. Even 73 years later, my mother-in-law was able to identify the house she lived in for 15 years or so in her youth. At the end of the street, was a large brick home which she identified as the residence of the coal mine superintendent.

One of the village's oldest residents told us that the mines stopped producing in the 1960s and now the few working men in town commute to other mines or work in nearby cities.

We left Pageton and the mostly unspoiled countryside of West Virginia with the idea that we will return one day soon. There was much more to see and do: great fishing in the trout streams, whitewater rafting for the more adventurous, hiking through miles of mountain trails and the other strenuous pleasures of the spectacular outdoors.

Tamarack at Beckley, W. Va. is the only wholly state-supported arts and crafts center in the U.S.
Interstate 64 is a smooth and easy trail through the West Virginia mountains