URBANNA — Kent Street along the waterfront in Urbanna was a one-lane gravel road when we arrived in 1984. One needn’t bother washing a car, because after just one trip to town on a dry summer day, a thick cloud of dust would cover the car.
The kick up of dust always reminded me of my childhood and our family’s long gravel driveway in Vermilion, Ohio, that led back to our home on the lake. Our cars were always dusty.
Father always said as we left the house for the main road, “We’re off, Mays, in a cloud of dust!” I could still hear Father saying those same words as I drove down Kent Street to downtown Urbanna 40 years ago. We all go off in a cloud of dust.
Joe Green ran the town in those years and there were no other town employees as far as I knew. Thus, our property taxes were low. He came over when we arrived and turned on our water. Our monthly bill was $15. Today I never receive a water bill less than $200. That’s called progress. I never saw anyone come over to measure water usage in those days and my bill never changed.
Our neighbors were Tootsie Mills on one side in her white rambling farmhouse and Tommie Blake on the other. They were both members of Christ Church and since they had heard we had transferred from St. Andrews Episcopal Church in Newport News, Tootsie noted I did not go to church. “I’m not much of a church goer,” I confessed. “You ought to show yourself at least once a month,” she advised sternly, “to cut down on talk,” she added.
Across the street were Christian and Fay Willaford, such lovely neighbors. He was the town barber and she helped prepare Wednesday night dinners at the Methodist church. Many people still miss those delicious dinners where the entire town showed up.
Joe Green was a kind man and in his spare time he worked with the trustees at the county jail in Saluda. There was a tragic murder of a storekeeper in a nearby town committed by a teenager who was found guilty and had received a life sentence. I felt so sorry for the boy that I wrote him a long letter and mailed it to him. The letter went to Joe and he came over to the cottage and said he had read it with the boy and that he had greatly appreciated my letter.
There was another double murder committed by a local 16-year-old boy that upset the community. This lad was given the death sentence but the state could not execute him until he turned 21. A month before he reached legal age of execution I wrote an editorial for the Daily Press that was published on Christmas Eve pleading for Governor Gilmore to spare his life and change the death sentence to life in prison.
It seemed horrendous to me that a 16 year old that committed a crime could be executed by the state when he became an adult. My editorial received neither comment nor positive result.
The county’s funeral director, Charles Bristow, came to welcome us to the county. “I’m the first person you meet in Middlesex County and the last person to tell you goodbye,” he quipped. His wife, Betsy, who did so much for Urbanna, sent me flowers when my mother who had left Ohio and was living in Kilmer’s Point died many years later. Odd how those memories of kindness live on despite the passing of years.
Having met the vicar of Christ Church and the funeral director, it wasn’t long before I began meeting the other “greats” of Urbanna, those special people who ran the town, offered professional services and provided food and other needs important to our existence.
I realized they were just like the very same people that I had known in Ohio, although carrying different names and coming from other backgrounds. I used to match the new person to the one I knew in Vermilion whenever I met a new face. It was my first lesson as a writer that we are all the same — just one big family.
I can still see the town characters that sat at the Marshall’s Drug Store soda fountain exchanging the latest news. Men sat at one counter and ladies at another. One day I plunked myself down on an empty stool in the men’s area. Everyone stopped talking in total shock.
The iconic “Doc” and Lucy Marshall were still at the store in the ’80s and already joined by their children, the equally beloved Pat and Richard. How grateful I am today whenever I see their daughter, Becky, behind the counter still taking care of customers.
Once I saw the chairman of the local Democratic Party, Ben Pollok, sitting opposite of the chairman of the Republican Party, Bankie Nuckols. She always wore a red, white and blue scarf or hat or pin to show her patriotism. I never witnessed conversation between the two, but I imagine the discussion would have been sparky.
Across the street was Mr. Taylor and his son Doug who ran the hardware store. Doug always took a special interest in everything I needed to find whether it was just the right tool or the exact nail needed to do the job. Such personal service is not easy to find today.
Bill Hight, long thought of as “the unofficial Mayor of Urbanna,” had an auto and marine shop in town. He was always available to help a customer no matter what was needed. Once he even helped Chip install a new engine inside our sailboat, which was quite a job. He never charged a dime.
It was with great sadness we learned of his passing this month. He certainly did qualify as an “Urbanna Great” and will be long remembered.
(To be continued).
© 2024.
