The
following are two short manuscripts (A
Brief History of Cass and East
Cass)
as submitted to Goldenseal,
the Journal of “West Virginia Traditional Life” (published by
the West Virginia State Department of Culture and History). To obtain a
copy, call Goldenseal at 304-558-0220.
A Brief History of Cass
A rather unsung
ingredient of Cass Scenic
Railroad State Park is its historical district – mostly
intact, partially preserved reminder of a socially stratified company
town. After taking backseat to the steam locomotive-powered main
attraction, “Company Cass” is the subject of some
deserved recognition on this, the occasion of its 100th birthday.
Despite the
legacy of its band saw and
planing mill’s output, the story of Cass actually begins with
pulpwood. The Luke family’s success with
“sulphite” papermaking and interest in expanding
business put the saga into motion. Upon forming West Virginia Pulp
& Paper Co. (today’s Westvaco), a plans for a new
production facility led to the need for massive quantities of red
spruce as raw ingredient.
Although not
its first choice, the paper
plant’s location was settled as Covington, Virginia
– on the Chesapeake & Ohio Railway’s
mainline. That carrier dusted off a plan for building into the upper
Greenbrier Valley when WVaP&PCo began eyeing the red spruce
forests of “Cheat Mountain” in Pocahontas and
southern Randolph counties. The only viable method for reaching the
area was via logging railroad from a point on the C&O branch
line. To coax the C&O into commencing work, the Lukes visited
its brass on numerous occasions.
In the
headwaters region of Shavers Fork,
more than 67,000 acres of (mostly) prime red spruce were acquired by
John G. Luke during 1899. Foundationally then, what would become Cass
met the industry’s requirement for a shipping center after
surveys of rail routes into the holdings determined that a torturously
steep grade up Leatherbark Run was best.
With just one
farmland buy – 136
acres in April 1899 – John Luke speculatively set the stage
for a community of some size. For just pulpwood in the quantity
WVaP&PCo required, basic needs of an operational base would
have included offices, company store and supply commissary, employee
housing (a hotel for singles, family homes for managers and laborers),
schoolhouse, and a interdenominational church.
Enlarging the
sphere beyond pulpwood
supply operation was largely the work of Samuel E. Slay maker. A land
acquisition, timbering and mill expert who had entered lumber
sales/brokering, Slay maker pitched the merits of a supplemental
involvement in dimensional lumber, flooring, laths, etc. There were
persuasive selling points. Because the Luke’s railroad would
be in place, capital outlay would be limited to mill and production
machinery (expanded only as profitability was shown) and some additions
to rail equipment (an additional locomotive and log cars). Slay maker
already had an initial market. WVaP&PCo accepted the plan
– deciding that capitalization and operation would occur
under a new subsidiary, West Virginia Spruce Lumber Co.
A pledge to
establish the railroad and
ship pulpwood post haste allowed Slay maker to implement his scheme
with occasional reminder from the Lukes about what was most important
to them. His plan to run a mill on two shifts meant an increased
company town size. Key to both the startup and the combined
operation’s long-term success was Emory P. Shaffer, a Slay
maker colleague who arrived to assume general manager’s post
in March 1900.
What would
become Cass predated the
C&O’s arrival by more than eight months. Startup
materials and provisions were tediously brought by wagon from Staunton,
Virginia. In terms of investment and commitment, it was not feasible to
wait until the C&O reached the site. Local portable sawmill
operators were contracted to provide rough cut lumber for some initial
structures; they then worked at capacity to cut ties for the railroad
grade into the timberlands.
A two-story
building (kitchen, dining hall
and lobby on ground floor, sleeping on top) accommodated Italian labors
for the railroad grade. Also erected was a small commissary; the
existing farm house was apparently used as a temporary payroll office
and managers’ housing. Camp No. 1, as it was called, served
its first meal on July 4, 1900. For most of the period prior to
October, when telegraph arrived (ahead of the C&O but along its
right-of-way), temporary headquarters were maintained in Green Bank
– about five miles away.
The town was
named in honor of Joseph K.
Cass, a successful Pennsylvania paper manufacturer who merged with the
Lukes to create WVaP&PCo in 1899; at the time he was the
organization’s vice-president as well as an incorporator of
W.Va. Spruce Lumber Co. Determining exactly when the Lukes announced
their choice of name is impossible. For a short time, Shaffer-Slay
maker correspondence continued their references to
“Leatherbark” (for years local folks had called it
Leatherbark Ford) despite a May 24, 1900 Covington Sentinel citing of
the place being named Cass.
When the
C&O reached Cass after
numerous delays on December 22, the company’s rail route up
Leatherbark and over onto Shavers Fork was near completion except for
rail-laying and spiking. Carloads of steel arrived five days later,
followed by the first locomotive – a 40-ton Shay. Shipping of
the red spruce for Covington began without fanfare on January 28, 1901.
The two-car shipment was a humble beginning to a cycling routine that
would quickly grow by leaps and bounds.
Passenger
service on the C&O from
its mainline depot of Ronceverte, Greenbrier County, began in January
1901. Prior to this, most of those who came to Cass “rode
shank’s mare.”
The Cass
Mill’s first cut
occurred in late January 1902. As with all band saw-equipped
facilities, it required time to really get up and running. Likely, a
night production shift was added by year’s end. Single band
saw production was joined by another such unit in 1910. There would
also be a planing mill.
The intention
was for the mill to cut all
of the timberland’s hardwood plus the larger red spruce logs
as Slay maker's sales efforts required. Slabs of red spruce were
processed through a pulp shed and loaded out. A considerable amount
flowed from the mill, but another facility established at Spruce
specifically to process pulpwood cords, opened in 1905, was the major
contributor for the large volume of carloads shipped daily via the
C&O to Covington (Davis was also supplied for a period).
Corresponding
with the pulpwood and mill
product peak years, Cass thrived between 1909 to 1920. Although
incorporated in 1902, Shaffer as the Boss maintained firm control of
what took place in the company-owned sections of town. In 1910, he went
to work directly for WVaP&PCo, after it absorbed the West
Virginia Spruce Lumber Co. An already bustling environment received
added dimension with the building of an extract plant south of town in
1914.
As it
developed, Cass came to include
unincorporated East Side and its outskirts (Blackhurst Addition) as
well as an area north of the company section called Bohunk Hill, and
several to the south, including Ralston Hill, Slabtown and the area of
company-owned dwellings built in conjunction with the extract plant.
The total population of this greater Cass is estimated to have been
between 1,600 and 1,800. For a long period, Cass grade school
enrollment hovered at around 400.
The company
town was comprised of three
basic districts. The large store/warehouse, meat market, business
office and railroad depot defined “Downtown.” Up
the hill, with its first row of houses hugging the river knoll,
“Uptown” came to include more than 50 nearly
identical two-story, weatherboard and wood frame family dwellings for
mill workers, railroaders, machine shop/foundry employees and clerks,
plus mayor’s office/jail, church and Masonic lodge hall.
North of Uptown
was the section
predominantly occupied by management families (there was also a
privately owned doctor’s house, a short-lived hospital, horse
barn and later a small doctor’s office). Apparently, it had
no official name. Non-occupants tagged the area with numerous names,
including “Big Bug Hill.” Those who
didn’t live there understood the unwritten rule: stay out if
you weren’t invited or didn’t have business. The
largest house in the managers’ section was built for Charles
Luke in 1916. After he left, the Shaffer family occupied the house for
19 years.
All company
dwellings were built with
running water – not taken for granted back in those days.
Never touted as model community, Cass was well designed and maintained.
Coal was delivered from the company store. A clerk visited each house
daily for grocery orders and the company store wagon subsequently made
deliveries. A doctor’s fee was deducted from each
worker’s pay.
Two-hole
outhouses and coal/wood sheds
were features of all backyards. For many years, residents were allowed
to let their cows wander around town between milkings. Picket fences
kept the cows out of yards while plank walkways served another vital
purpose – more often than not, the streets were a muddy,
sloppy mess. Once a month the outhouse-related “honey
wagon” would make its rounds and the prevailing odor of
fresh-cut lumber would be annihilated. Indoor toilets began appearing
in management houses in 1919. A high-pressure water line from the mill
pump house and valve houses with hoses were the backbone of
fire-fighting; there was also a hand-powered apparatus used to combat
blazes.
The company
store played heavily in town
life – a place to meet and greet. C&O passenger train
arrivals from the south were daily social events.
Cass had
neither a bank nor recognized
cemetery. An undeterminable small number of immigrant laborers had been
buried in a potter’s field above town, but the bodies were
later removed so a tennis court could be installed for some of the
managers’ children.
The expansion
of the woodland cutting in
relationship to accidents (the nearest medical facility was in
Ronceverte – 83 miles from Cass via only two daily southbound
passenger trains) brought establishment of the small Pocahontas
Hospital in 1903. It lasted a decade, then the needs were handled in
Marlinton
In the
mid-1920s, the Covington
plant’s needs turned to other species. Cass retained
WVaP&PCo’s favor despite not shipping pulpwood. The
mill remained profitable, but a big draw for status quo was coal.
Mining had been a side endeavor since 1908 – steam coal
requirements solely of the Cass job, including town coal, was the
original mission; WVaP&PCo instituted production at various
sites in its 178,000-acre holdings and began shipping more and more
coal to its paper mill locations; by 1930, the Baldwin mines (served by
rail out of Slaty Fork) were important to the company.
Fire destroyed
most of the Cass mill
complex in February 1922. New, higher-capacity band saw and planing
mills, as well as a large flooring products warehouse, were soon
erected. Tallying the production of the first and second mills, one
estimate is that during 58 years of activity about 1.2 billion board
feet of lumber was cut.
Emory
Shaffer’s retirement in
1933 marked the beginning of the end for WVaP&PCo at Cass. A
tribute to his all-round management and production acumen, Shaffer was
irreplaceable. The end had just about come for virgin timber; the last
coal mine segment played out in 1939. In failing health, Shaffer
departed Cass in 1940.
Apparently,
WVaP&PCo had such
respect for Shaffer that it got past notions to sell only after he was
gone. Ed Mower entered the picture in 1942. There is no way of telling
how things would have gone without Mower’s involvement with
the Cass job, but likely a buyer would have been found to continue
things.
One of the most
interesting aspects to
Cass is its longevity as a mill town. Although there were operational
cutbacks, everything structure-wise remained essentially the same for
almost 40 years after the boom period. All dwellings remained occupied
until the mill went down.
For the 14
years prior to his death, Ed
Mower and wife Dorothy spent time at Cass during summer months. The
former Shaffer home was also his accommodations for inspection trips.
After Ed
Mower’s death, the
operation was reportedly visited by several prospective buyers. The
June 30, 1960 closure of the band saw mill and rail-logging came as
somewhat of a surprise to even the firm’s Cass-based general
manager. Fred Weber received a call at his home from a company
principal and, following instructions to drive out of town and place a
return call, soon learned that announcement notices were to be posted
the following day. A buyer had been found, but there was no interest in
the mill or town – just the company’s undeveloped
landholdings.
It’s
not hard to imagine what
things would be like today if not for the preservation of the old Cass
logging railroad; the ravages of time (and fire) would have claimed
most of the former company sections. Already in declining condition
when the mill complex closed, structures and their lots would have
fallen into private hands. As the result of a miraculous turn-of-events
in 1960-61 which saved the railroad, its three remaining Shay
locomotives and assorted essential equipment and facilities, our
marking of the Cass Centennial is framed by living history of the iron
horse variety.
Events leading
to the scenic
railroad’s creation directly stem from the mill sawing its
last log 40 years ago this June 30. Service began in 1963, but the
unproven nature of such an attraction, combined with expensive
rehabilitation required to reopen the line all the way to Bald Knob,
thwarted incorporating company town sections into the plan despite
their obvious historic value. Two years after Don Mower’s
death in 1964, this property and the Cass Mill fell into the hands of
an out-of-state speculator. Instead of splitting it all up to attract
buyers, the company town sections remained intact, but suffered
considerable neglect.
Florida
attorney J.W. Harrell recognized
sizeable profit potential in the property. He bought it and almost
immediately jacked rents beyond what the market would bear. Within a
short period of time, there was an abundance of vacant houses. To lower
tax assessment, he tore down the 1902-era company office building; the
structure was sound and – due to its proximity to the
railroad depot – would have made a wonderful park facility.
Lasting through
one season of scenic
railroad excursions, the former hospital, then Shaffer residence
welcomed overnight guests as a boarding house. Bertha Haislop then
operated the old company hotel (apartments later) and offered room and
meal to town visitors. After Bertha closed, Kyle Neighbors rented a
house and hosted train and history buffs. It was known as the
“Johnny Pulp Club” (after a term for
WVaP&PCo employees).
Don Mower
Lumber Co. under
Harrell’s control experienced marginal success in renting
some of the “cottages” to tourists. A 1975
newspaper advertisement touted weekend (Friday evening to Monday
morning) rates of $100 – other days $25 per night; full weeks
for $150. Harrell initiated a plan to reopen part of the mill, but
didn’t get very far. Numerous local residents reasoned that a
tax write-off was the motive; others guessed the gentleman was a bit
touched in the head.
Renovating the
town was only an ambitious
dream until Federal funds opened the way for inclusion into Cass Scenic
Railroad State Park. West Virginia Hillbilly Editor Jim Comstock,
writing about the State’s acquisition (in December 1976 at a
cost of just under $700,000), described the affair as a midnight hour
rescue and lamented how the owner had allowed most of the company
property to deteriorate to the point of collapse.
In 1981, 96
structures were added to the
National Register of Historic Places, but the renovation process was
slow ; efforts first centered on stabilizing the town. Then a water and
sewage system was installed. Three years passed before five of the old
dwellings (four in the old Uptown and one in the manager’s
section) were suitably repaired for rental as Park
“cottages.”
Replica plank
walkways and picket fences
came into the picture during 1986-87. Over time, 10 additional
dwellings were renovated for rental by visitors. Last year, several
other houses received new porches and other repair. A considerable
amount of work is yet to be done, but the company sections offer lots
of old-time atmosphere.
In particularly
sad shape are two
structures in the old managers’ residential area –
the doctor’s home and latter logging-era boarding house. Just
south of Uptown, the big schoolhouse fell on hard times years ago.
Today’s
visitor can not only
explore an old company town, but enjoy accommodations in one of the
refurnished family dwellings. Year-round, the State Park offers houses
(all built prior to 1909) for up to a week. Several times daily during
train excursion season, CSRR SP provides free interpretive walking
tours. There has been recent discussion about renovating the Clubhouse
as a bed and breakfast.
Cass reverted
to unincorporated status in
1985; although a few of the houses are still occupied as residences, it
really is more of a museum/park than actual town. Cass Community
Center, spearheaded by a group of townspeople, survives. Lefty Meeks
still offers haircuts and shaves in the space he first rented from
Mower Lumber Co. in 1950. Although its congregation is tiny, the
Southern Methodist church remains active. The Masonic lodge hall
continues in service.
There are no
surviving citizens of the the
town’s heyday, but old-timers can only lend first-hand
accounts to what followed. But still, they testify to the pristine
conditions of the company sections, the frequent carousing and brawling
that occurred across the river and two shifts of band saws and whistle
signals. Family life, church and civic activities, special events and
simple pleasures are offset by memories of hard work on the
company’s behalf.
East
Cass
Heavy drinking,
incredible brawls, sudden
violence and lurking danger: old East Cass was this and more. Located
across the river from the company town, the district earned notoriety
that rivaled infamous Keystone and Davis. Effects of the east side
situation were broader than law and order on West Virginia Spruce
Lumber Co. and West Virginia Pulp & Paper; more than a few
skilled laborers got cold feet about venturing to Cass because of the
reports.
In sum, Cass
was not the peaceful,
pleasant environment that management envisioned. Origins of what might
best be described as the pleasure zone are rooted in failure to secure
enough east side land to prevent the rise of such a place. The
company’s presence was limited to a “pest
house” (quarantine) and housing for African American families
– eventually joined by one lot in the business district.
Several early
letters exchanged between
Shaffer and Slay maker lament over the woeful influx of intoxicants and
upswing in lawlessness. By January 1901, both men firmly recognized
their dilemma.
Known as
Brooklyn until at least 1906
– when fire decimated everything except a few dwellings
– the area came to be called East Cass. The
district’s location was originally defined by the Green Bank
Road’s route to Leatherbark Ford. Early on, the Company
helped finance a new road that approached the river from the opposite
direction, past the livery stable. Thus, the old road deteriorated into
infamous “Dirty Street,” while numerous stores
sprang up past the new intersection. A wire suspension footbridge
linked Brooklyn to the main part of town, followed by a one-lane
vehicular bridge.
East Cass
catered to the 1,000-plus woods
force. Hotels, restaurants, dry goods stores and barbershops served
essential needs. Amusement options ranged from pool halls, shooting
galleries and sparring ring to saloons and speakeasies, gambling
joints, houses of prostitution and opium/drug dens. Dirty Street was
the place to go slumming. At least to some, this strip (the Riverview
Hotel and shack clutter) was called “Hell’s
Acre.” (Many boom towns, it was said, had a half acre of Hell
but Cass was larger.)
Considerable
alcohol (beer in bottles,
whiskey in barrels) flowed into Cass via the C&O. One early
freight agent recalled how days without at least one whiskey shipment
were few and far between. Additionally, liquor and narcotics were
smuggled into town aboard passenger trains. There was also a prolific
element of local moonshine peddlers.
After extended
rigorous labor and camp
life, a trip to town was in order. The majority of “wood
hicks” arrived with a serious appetite for carousing. Whether
relatively sedate or ready to “blow her in,” the
first step after drawing pay was hotel check-in and getting civil
– a first bath in months, shave, haircut, new clothes and
perhaps a new pair of “caulked” (spiked soles for
logging agility) footwear.
Shaffer
described his labor pool as
perpetually divided into thirds – coming, going and working.
Some of those cycling through drew only part of their pay and spent
limited time in town – perhaps a day or two. Others were
predisposed to drawing everything and spending until it was gone (or
“getting rolled”). There were murders, shootings
and knifing incidents. Among themselves, the wood hicks were inclined
to fistfight for no good reason.
East Cass not
only attracted wood hicks
but hustlers, flimflammers, thieves and hangers-on. The presence of
females was limited to soiled doves, speakeasy attendants and
merchants’ wives. (Men from the respectable side of the river
might sneak across in the dark, but ladies kept their distance and
ensured their children did the same.)
After the
company section incorporated, a
town sergeant was appointed. His presence had little impact on the
explosion and adding two “special policemen” in
April 1903 likewise brought marginal effects. The Company’s
strict stance made clear that intoxication and disorderly conduct on
its side of the river was not tolerated; even the mayor got involved
with arrests. The small overnight lockup stayed busy; those caught for
more serious offenses were transferred to the county jail via the
morning passenger train. The district itself saw occasional raids, but
it essentially remained wide open.
Fire was a
threat during winter months
because of all-wood construction. The first blaze, in early 1902,
leveled a grocery/feed store. Surviving Company records include report
that men and boys from the west side responded, thus saving other
structures. “There was no air stirring or it would have been
‘goodbye Brooklyn’,” the boss noted. The
mother of all fires occurred in late 1906. Other multi-building blazes
dated 1913 and 1915. There were also five crippling floods between 1908
and 1932.
Prohibition put
only a slight damper on
proceedings; the big show continued until about 1920, when timbering
relocated to distant Elk River. From the mill’s startup,
there had been other, albeit smaller, crowds that patronized the
district, so activities shrank but didn’t die. The last of
the rough drinking establishments closed well into the scenic railroad
era.
Several
ventures attempted to attract park
visitors; all attempts failed. Concerns that the historical value of
Cass would be sullied by a wild West motif peaked after the old Alpha
Hotel was bought by a flamboyant individual with intentions to
spearhead development. Thankfully, the owner’s attention
wandered and until it burned in 1972, the structure’s only
frequenters were a few winos.
Granny’s,
a pizza place/game
room located in the old 1940s-era church on the north side of the
former main block was the last business; three structures on the other
side of street – all vintage commercial gems –
served as reminders of times gone by. The 1985 flood brought unexpected
closure to the long, colorful story. Lacking buildings, the area then
lost definition to highway realignment. For most, it’s
impossible to picture such a place ever existing.
A sidebar submission ...
The late Kyle Neighbors
–
“dean of Cass true history” – contributed
most to our accurate understanding of Cass. He rescued a wealth of
company documents from the town garbage dump and vigilantly sought out
other sources. Growing up in town, then working for the company, he
also possessed vast personal knowledge. Mostly in novelized form,
long-time resident W.E. Blackhurst left us with images of old Cass from
various social perspectives. Cass native Dr. Roy Clarkson is author of
a comprehensive historic study “Beyond Leatherbark: The Cass
Saga.” Local resident Dr. George Deike has contributed to the
public’s better understanding through “Cass, A
Brief History and Guide To A Lumber Company Town” as well as
considerable behind-the-scenes research.
