Homer Dick

by David Parmer

His real name was William Homer Skinner but he was known throughout the Orlando area simply as “Homer Dick.” There were other Homer Skinners in the history of Orlando, but there was only one “Homer Dick.”

Right William Homer Skinner

Draper Skinner

Homer Dick was born in 1882, the son of Draper John Skinner and Mary (Heater) Skinner. Draper John was the fourth child of Alexander Skinner and Phebe (Conrad) Skinner. Some records reflect that Draper John’s name was at times written as John Draper Skinner. The correct arrangement of his first two names may forever remain a mystery. The 1860 census has “John D. Skinner” and his wife Mary living on Oil Creek. The 1870 census has “Draper Skinner” and his wife Mary living on Oil Creek with their two children, Melinda, aged three, and Marsha, aged eleven months. Melinda was the daughter of Draper’s first wife, Margaret Ocheltree who apparently died in childbirth. The child “Marsha” also was known as “Martha.” She was followed in birth by Samantha, born 1873, Hattie W., born 1876, John C., born 1878, Nancy Idena, born 1880, and William Homer, or “Homer Dick,” the last child, who was born in 1883.

Orphans

Mary (Heater) Skinner, mother of Homer Dick, died in 1885 of heart disease, when Homer Dick, her youngest child, was less than two years old. She was but 41 years of age. Draper also died while his younger children were still yet to come of age. Although the exact date of Draper’s death cannot be determined it is believed to be around 1892. As was custom during the time, family stepped in to provide a roof over the heads of the Skinner orphans. Samantha (Draper’s daughter by his first marriage to Margaret Ocheltree), it is believed, lived with their Uncle Calvin Skinner; Hettie moved to the home of her cousin, Mary Ann (Skinner) Riffle and her husband John Scott Riffle; Nancy Idena and Homer Dick found a home with their cousin, Joseph Skinner and his wife Effie (Riffle) Skinner. It is unknown where Homer Dick’s older brother John C. found home. Martha Adeline, the oldest of Draper’s children by Mary Heater had married W. C. Mick of Gilmer County in 1887, but died of consumption in 1893.

Two Tries at Marriage

Homer Dick twice experimented with marriage. His first marriage came in 1905 when he married Lee, the daughter of John Jeffries and Margaret Jeffries, who lived on Oil Creek in the neighborhood of Kemper. That marriage lasted about the time of the moon’s revolution around the Earth. After this failed attempt at wearing the halter, Homer Dick gave up the married life for bachelorhood.

Those old enough to remember Homer Dick recall that he never seemed to have any fixed home. Working primarily as a farm laborer in his later years, he generally lived with whomever he was working for at the time, room and board, perhaps, being a part of his wages.

In 1930, when Homer was around 47 (although he gave his age as 44 to the County Clerk), he once again stepped into matrimonial waters with Hettie Riffle, daughter of the late Marion J. and Cora (Reynolds) Riffle of Posey Run. Hettie was 24 years of age. Whether it was love which brought about Homer Dick’s new-found affinity to the wedded life after twenty-five years of bachelorhood or the desire to have another place to hang his hat, we’ll never know. Homer was living in the household of his mother-in-law, Cora Riffle when the 1930 census was taken. After a short whirl, Homer Dick’s second attempt at marriage “didn’t take” and he again found himself to be on bachelor’s row.

Life as a Railroad Cook

In his later years, Homer Dick looked forward to going to the post office to pick up his pension check from the B& O Railroad. Socializing while waiting for the mail was a favorite pastime in Orlando. It wasn’t much of a pension but it did reflect Homer Dick’s years as a culinary chef on the railroad work cars. Tom Pumphrey, a friend of Homer Dick’s, said he could make “good beans and potatoes, and, of course, cornbread,” just the meal which would be appreciated by hard-working railroad trackmen.

Homer Dick started working for the B & O in December 1929 as a camp car cook for the railroaders working on Walker Woods’ carpenter and bridge crew. Uncle Zeke reported that Homer Dick gave up the trapping and fur-trading business for life as a railroader. At this time there were two B & O carpenter and bridge crews. One crew, headed by Walker Woods, served the Elkins to Charleston railroad line and the other crew, headed by Ed Nixon, served the Clarksburg to Richwood line. According to June (Nixon) Henry, daughter of Ed Nixon, the carpenter and bridge crews would stay away from homes for days-on-end, especially when there were accidents, wash-outs or floods which destroyed railroad bridges and would have to be re-built. Of course, the culinary skills of Homer Dick were much appreciated by the crews which usually numbered ten to twelve men, and sometimes as many as twenty, and all of whom appreciated a home-cooked meal.

Right, above: Camp Car for Bridge and Carpenter Crew, Ed Nixon under the B&O logo,
Left: Tressle and derailed cars, location unknown.
Right below: drawings of the B&O Railroad camp cars.

Life as a camp car cook suited Homer Dick, not only for the satisfaction he gained from cooking for hungry men, but also because it gave an otherwise homeless man a place to live. Cook’s quarters were furnished in the kitchen car, providing Homer Dick a place to rest his head and a place near to his work.

As with most railroad employment at the time, work was spotty and Homer Dick frequently found that he, like most railroaders, needed another line of work to tide him over the periods of unemployment. He was a hard worker and was a noted “brush clearer.” Many local farmers looked to him to clear a hillside or a plot for a potato patch. He also found work clearing rights of way for the power company, when electricity was extended up “kerosene light only” hollows. Dale Barnett recalls Homer Dick working with the sons of Joe Riffle on a job clearing a right-of-way for a power line in the Orlando area during the early 1940’s.

Your Home is His Home

It is unknown whether Homer Dick ever had a home of his own. Perhaps his youthful experience of being an orphan and living in the homes of one or another relative led him to that manner of living.

Left: Hattie and her husband George Riffle, Center: Homer Dick,

Right: Idenna with her husband Roy Mertie "Boss" Riffle and their son Fred.

Bob Pumphrey recalls that Homer Dick would frequently stay with his family on Three Lick for long periods and his jovial company was always welcomed. At times he would stay with his sister, Idenna Riffle, her husband "Boss" and son Fred, who lived near Posey Run. At other times he would stay with another sister, Hattie Riffle, and her husband George, on Redlick.

All Life Must End

You never noticed the battered hat he wore because his elfish grin was the dominating feature of his wizened face. Until his death, Homer Dick always had a school-boyish look. Never one to wear out his welcome at any one place for very long, Homer Dick died on December 7 in 1964. As with life, he is not buried near anyone in particular, but was laid to rest between strangers in the Orlando Cemetery.

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Comment by Marcia (Heater) Conrad of Keyser, West Virginia.

"I grew up on Indian Fork, right across the hill from Orlando. For us, that was going to town, and the big town of Burnsville was a day in the city!
"Today I read with interest your article on Homer Dick Skinner. My dad always claimed Homer Dick as a cousin, and they were, although I doubt either of them knew that. I do not remember Homer Dick, but he lived with us when I was a little girl. For many years I had a teddy bear that he bought me when he lived with us. I kept it for years and my son slept and played with it until it became a shredded piece of fuzz with no eyes, a torn nose, and a missing ear.
"My dad told us stories about Homer. He (Homer) liked to listen to the Lone Ranger radio program. He once asked Daddy if the Lone Ranger was real, to which my father, ever the jokester, replied "Why, sure, Dick. I used to ride with him." At this Homer Dick was suitable impressed.
"While he lived with us, Homer Dick did the cooking, as Daddy worked and my mother was quite ill. One morning, he made biscuits and some very brown (well, burned) gravy. When Daddy didn't say anything, Homer asked if breakfast was allright. Since Daddy couldn't hurt anyone's feelings, he said, "brown's just the way I like it, Dick." Daddy ate the breakfast and all were happy."

Oh, for a Good Night’s Sleep

by David Parmer

“Gentlemen:
Why is it that your switch engine has to ding and dong and fizz and spit and bang and hiss and pant and grate and grind and blow and bump and hoot and toot and whistle and whistle and wheeze and jar and jump and howl and snarl and puff and growl and thump and boom and clash and jolt and screech and snort and snarl and slam and throb and roar and rattle and yell and smoke and smell and sputter all night long?”

“He sure had a right to kick.”

Uncle Zeke reported this complaint about the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad in his May 22, 1924, Buzzardtown News column. Uncle Zeke didn’t say whether the person making the complaint left anything out.

Left above: A steam train making its way along Oil Creek, in the daylight hours.

Right: The locations of the three sidings

Right, below: Examples of steam-powered switch engines are few. This is a photo titled "last steam switcher at Champaign, IL" from the collection of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers & Trainmen Division 602 - Champaign, Illinois

Switch Engines

During the heyday of the steam engines and railroading in the Orlando area, there were sidings at Posey Run, Orlando and Kemper. Sidings were used to switch rail cars in order to make up a train. A smaller steam engine was used at these sidings in order to switch the cars than are the engines used to pull a train. Some people called these smaller steam engines, “yard mules.” Oftentimes, rail crews worked all night at the sidings, moving around the separate cars to make up a train which would be leaving early the next morning. Needless to say, there was substantial noise in connection with the formation of the train, from squealing wheels to clanging of metal, and nearby neighbors might spend a restless night trying to sleep through all the noise.

Some of the noise created at the sidings was the result of the steam engine itself. In order for a steam engine to do its job, it was necessary to keep fire in the firebox, which in turn produced steam. The steam engine had pop-off valves to relieve steam pressure build-up which might become too great for the engine. The sudden release of steam pressure from a steam engine during a quiet night could easily have brought an end to what had otherwise been a good start to a good night’s sleep.

Another source of noise in train marshalling yards is the air brake system found on engines which constantly had to be pumped up. This was not a silent operation and of course, this added to the nighttime cacophony. It is no wonder that Uncle Zeke or Uncle Zeke’s neighbor may not have had a good night sleep when the rail siding was being used the night before.

The writer recalls that in Burnsville during the steam engine days, a pusher engine usually occupied a spot on the Burnsville siding near the mouth of Oil Creek. This engine was used to push heavy trains up Clover Fork. This steam engine never seemed to be shut down and was always letting off steam. Fortunately, there were few near neighbors to the siding, and complaints about the noise were rare.

From Tom Jeffries: [Diesel and electric engines began replacing steam engines in America in the 1920s and 1930s. ] The last steam engine was retired from the B & O Railroad in Orlando, around 1959-1960. By this time they were rarely used and then only as back-up to the diesels. I believe they were used until the end as pushers at Burnsville.

Uncle Zeke described railroad noises well. A steam engine has often been compared with a living being because of the noise that is given off by the nature of metal expanding and contracting due to the heating and cooling processes. The clanging of the air pumps, the intermittent blowing off of the boiler pressure relief valves, the whine of the steam powered electric generators and the noise of various valves and other accessories are always present. Those who worked around these engines were able to identify problems and assess the mechanical condition of the engine by the sounds, much as a doctor can diagnose the health of a person by using a stethoscope.

A Girl From Gip

Sylvia (Duncan) and Lloyd Hayward Groves- Merchants of Oil Creek

The small elderly woman sits in her living room in an easy chair with her telephone and walker within easy reach. Her hair is white and her hands are feeble, but her eyes are clear and her memory is sharp. She speaks without hesitancy about her life on Oil Creek. Now nearly ninety-eight years of age, Sylvia Groves recounted the early years of her life for this writer.

Left: Sylvia (Duncan) Groves. This picture was made from a photo of Sylvia on her 90th birthday.

The Trip to Oil Creek

“In 1922, we lived about halfway between Elmira and Gip in Braxton County. My dad read in the newspaper about a farm for sale which was near Arnold in Lewis County and he bought it. There was a little bit of furniture in the house he bought. We sold all of our furniture in our Braxton County home except for whatever good stuff we had which would fit in a wagon. I don’t remember who was driving the wagon but it started out for the new farm.”

Right: the trip from Gip to Peterson Siding. They walked the first 9 miles east to the railroad, probably at Gassaway. (The present day railroad is the grey line running west of I-79.)

“Cars weren’t heard of in those days. My parents, Jesse F. Duncan and my mother Bertha, my three older sisters, Reavith, Marie, and Vonda, my brother Henry and I started walking the nine miles to the railroad stop on the old Coal and Coke line located on the Elk River at Duck. We caught the train and arrived in Orlando late at night. To go on to Arnold, we had to change trains and go up Oil Creek on the B & O line. It was a noon train so we had to spend the night in Orlando. My mother asked someone at the depot if there was a place to stay overnight. We were referred to the home of Lee Morrison, the Orlando photographer, who had a big house on the hill overlooking Orlando and that was where we spent the night. Mr. Morrison also owned a restaurant at the foot of the hill and we went there for breakfast. Since all he had was apple pie, that is what we had for breakfast. We caught the noon train and got off at Arnold and then walked back toward Peterson Siding about a mile or so to our new farm.”

Right The Morrison home, that overlooked Orlando.

A New Life in Lewis County

“My dad was a farmer, and that was how he made a living. I was the youngest in the family,” recalled Sylvia. In 1922, almost every man and woman in the Oil Creek valley was a farmer except for those who were employed by the railroad, and most of them were part-time farmers. Sylvia and her farm family lived about like every other farm family lived in the Oil Creek valley. Farm life was hard work and with little recompense, except the food which was raised for the family dinner table. Her childhood was mostly uneventful, except for the excitement generated by the B & O railroad which sliced through the Oil Creek valley on its way to Weston. Farm work usually stopped as the train rolled by, whether it was a freight train with boxcars or flatcars, or a passenger train with passengers in the cars, returning curious stares at the men and women and children in the fields doing farm chores.

School at Arnold

After moving to Lewis County, Sylvia Duncan enrolled at the nearby Arnold School. This one room country school was located a short distance up the Jacksonville Road from its intersection with the Roanoke-Orlando Road. “I received a Free School diploma,” said Sylvia, meaning that she finished eight years of school. “My first teacher was Mary Holbert, my second was Lucille Cunningham who was from Burnsville. I then had Della Holbert, Mildred Sapp, Ercel (Groves) Spencer and Ruth Duncan. Ruth Duncan was from a different set of Duncans,” said Sylvia. “We never did figure out if she was related. Ercel (Groves) Spencer was the daughter of Frank Groves.” and the sister of the man Sylvia would marry, Lloyd Hayward Groves.

Reminiscence of a Train Tragedy

Trains were always at odds with the Oil Creek valley farms. They were a nuisance to farmers whose farms were split in half by the steel railed tracks. Livestock was often crippled or killed by the trains and many three-legged dogs attested to the one-sided ferocity of animal meeting train. Several deaths of residents occurred in the Orlando area over the years by virtue of a distracted or deaf walker on the rails who was overcome by the train coming around the bend. Sylvia Groves remembers one such tragedy which occurred in the Peterson area. In 1925, Matthew Lawrence Peterson was sixteen and lived near the mouth of Red Lick at Peterson Siding. Despite admonitions from his parents, Lawrence, as he was known, and his brother made sport of jumping onto freight trains which were passing, riding a short distance and then jumping off. Lawrence had become rather “expert” at this sport and began taking his skill for granted. In March 1925, Lawrence attempted to take a short ride on a B & O freight but as he attempted to climb aboard, his hand slipped from the handle on the side of the freight. His momentum slung his legs under the train. One was sliced off by the rolling freight and the other wasn't much better. Even in the face of such a grievous injury, folks held out hope for Lawrence. Sylvia recalls that Mr. McCord, a railroad employee who lived close by, put the boy on a railroad hand car and, pumping furiously, took him into Weston to the hospital. The boy lived through the night, but died in the morning.

Right: an example of a railroad hand car.

Sylvia Marries Hayward

“Hayward was a boy from the neighborhood,” said Sylvia, “and that was how I met him. Hayward was the younger of the two sons of Frank and Leah (Gay) Groves, his brother Wilson being the oldest. Hayward had three sisters, Ercel Spencer, Mary McCord, and Madeline.”

In 1934, Sylvia was twenty three and Hayward was twenty four. They had taken a shine to each other and decided to go to Burnsville, look up Preacher Donahue at the M. P. Church South, and get married. For the next fifty years, until Hayward’s death in 1984, Sylvia and Hayward lived on Oil Creek.

Left: Burnsville's Methodist Epsicopal Church, South.

Right: Lloyd Hayward Groves and Sylvia Duncan, two years before they wed.

The Early Years

During the early years of their marriage Sylvia and Hayward rented a small house on Oil Creek from the Weston National Bank. After a while, Sarah and Hayward bought a small farm on Bear Run from Sarah Scarff and settled in. Meanwhile Hayward worked at various jobs. Hayward’s father Frank had the contract to deliver mail from Roanoke to Burnsville and he subcontracted the job to Hayward. Since this wasn’t a fulltime job, Hayward worked at various other jobs including the State Road, Louie Glass in Weston, and the Little Swiss Oil and Gas Company. Hayward also raised cattle and farmed the Bear Run farm.

Above: Hayward Groves on the job. Left is Hayward at the Little Swiss Oil and Gas Co's well on the Currence property on Bear Run. Center and Right show State Road work.

The Store Business

Over the decades several general stores operated at Peterson Siding. Traditionally, the first retail sales in a railroad community would begin with the work gangs which prepared the land and laid the tracks. The wokers' demand for milk, bakedgoods and pretty much anything edible, and other goods as well, would be met by the farmers in the area. The Keiths and the Groves family are known to have had stores at Peterson Siding.

Right: George I Groves (1870-1949) stands in the entrance of a store which was probably located at Peterson Siding in the early 1900s.

When Sylvia’s family came to the Oil Creek area in 1922 the only store in the area was owned by Hugh Keith. It was situated along the B & O railroad tracks, below the curve of the present road through Peterson Siding. Hugh was the son of Albert and Rosella Keith and the husband of the former Maggie Perrine. During the early 1920’s, Walter Foster bought the store from Keith who moved to Clarksburg. But, shortly after, the store burned.

Foster re-built it and continued serving the upper Oil Creek area. From time to time, Frank Groves helped out in Foster’s Store and learned the store trade. Around 1932, Frank decided to go into the store business. He borrowed money from a nephew who was in the United States Navy and built a small building, about twenty feet wide and thirty feet long, abutting the Roanoke -Orlando Road. Part of the building extended over a small branch coming off the hill behind the building. At this time, Frank was around sixty years of age. For the next twenty seven years, Frank served the upper Oil Creek valley as a merchant and was occasionally helped by his son Hayward and daughter-in-law Sylvia. Late in his life as he became feeble, Hayward and Sylvia moved into the house located adjacent to the store building and Hayward's parents Frank and Leah. Leah died in 1954 and Frank in 1959.

When Frank Groves died in 1959, his will provided his store business, known as Groves Store, would go to his son Hayward Groves. Since Sylvia and Hayward had been operating the store anyway, the operation barely skipped a beat. For the next twenty five years, Groves Store became synonymous with Sylvia and Hayward Groves.

Left above: Sylvia and Haward in front of their store.

Right: Hayward's dad Frank with his great grandson.

Left: Sylvia at the Veterans' Hospital.

The Oil Creek Auction

Another sideline business in which Sylvia and Hayward became involved in their later years was the auction business in the former Walnut Grove schoolhouse at the mouth of Red Lick on Oil Creek. Hayward served as auctioneer and Sylvia served delicious hot dogs to the auction clientele.

End of an Era

By 1984, many of the residents of Oil Creek were passing by Groves Store at Peterson Siding on their way to the Kroger Store in Weston. Many of the customers coming to Groves Store were those who needed credit or some items too few to justify a trip to Weston. Late night customers who needed gasoline knew all they had to do, regardless how late, was to blow the horn and a sleeping Hayward would get out of bed, put on his trousers, and pump gasoline for the appreciative customer.

In December 1984 Hayward Groves passed away. Sylvia sold what she could of the store inventory and closed the store a few months later. Today, Sylvia sits in her easy chair and recalls with vivid memory all of the Oil Creek residents who are buried in the cemetery above her home, or those who chose to be buried in Orlando. She remembers the children who came to her store and bought candy, grew to adulthood and then moved away. Many people have come and gone during Sylvia’s almost ninety-eight years. She sits in her easy chair each day and thinks of them fondly.

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Note- The Mr. McCord who tried to help young Lawrence Peterson would have been David McCord 1868-1947. He was a track foreman for the B & O. This was the McCord farm near Peterson. His daughter Virginia mentions her dad as she tells about her marriage to Luther Mitchell at Virginia McCord of Peterson's Siding

Comment by Tom Jeffries:
My dad, Coleman Jeffries, was a friend of Hayward Groves and frequently visited the Groves Store at Peterson Siding. When I was a boy growing up on Oil Creek, I usually went along because I was interested in listening to the conversations of the adults. Hayward was very colorful and used a lot of interesting expressions which I have never forgotten. An expression I remember Hayward using in referring to a particular person was that “he could lay down in the shade of a corkscrew and never be sunburned.” Another expression I heard Hayward use was that someone was “so crooked that he would have to be corkscrewed into the ground.” I attended Walnut Grove School and would visit the Groves Store to buy penny candy. Sylvia and Hayward were always very nice and I enjoyed visiting their store.

B & O Freight Train Meets Amos Henline’s Cow

An addition to the Jun '07 entry, The Buzzardtown Tongue Twisters
by David Parmer

Click to the left to hear Jackie (Henline) Bowser sing her dad's, Charlie Henline's, parody taken from real life on Oil Creek. Thanks to Jackie's cousin Joyce Brannon, the daughter of Charlie's talented sister Olive Mae (Henline) Brannon, for her encouragement & assistance in getting this recording.

On the Rails of the B & O Line1

The Story Behind the Song

When the railroad was put through the hardy little farming communities along Oil Creek/Clover Fork they were changed forever. Charlie Henline’s words, which he set to the tune of “On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine,"1 reflect something of life in this changed and changing community.
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To the right is Charles Heline, below left is Charles and his wife with their daughter Jackie, who is the singer in this recording of her dad's song.

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By the early part of the 20th century, many of the men had taken jobs with the railroad and other industries in the area but small farms still dotted the Oil Creek Valley. Families still grew feed for their animals, some grains and table vegetables. Farm animals, including cows, horses, mules, sheep, chickens, ducks, turkeys provided transportation or food for the dinner tables and could supplement their incomes.

The Amos Henline family lived about midway between Orlando and the mouth of Posey Run from the early 1910’s until around 1935. Amos worked at the Gowing Veneer Mill in Burnsville and later for the gas pumping station in Burnsville. Like many employees in those early days, Amos walked or rode a horse the three miles or so to work from his Oil Creek home. At home were his wife, the former Charlotte Blake, their oldest child, Olive Mae, and Olive's younger brothers, Jim, Charlie, “Jake” and “Pat.”

The family had the usual small farm, keeping chickens, ducks, and a milk cow to help feed this growing family. This small farm on which the Amos Henline family lived abutted upon the busy right of way of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad.

When farm animals escaped their fenced lots or fields and wandered onto the busy railroad tracks the animals invariably came out second best in collisions. Uncle Zeke 3 in the Buzzardtown News often reported on the deaths of farm animals which resulted from an untimely rendezvous with the cow-catcher of a fast moving freight or coal train. In his January 18, 1923 column Uncle Zeke mentioned that the southbound Passenger Train 35 killed a “bunch” of sheep belonging to J. F. Posey at the Orlando junction. Later the same year in October, Doc Henline’s favorite fox hound fell victim to a B & O train. Undoubtedly, many a lowly cat or chicken also fell under the wheels of a locomotive without even the barest mention by Uncle Zeke. In July 1924, a westbound double-header3 freight killed George Riffle’s only cow and Passenger Train 65 in June 1926 snuffed out the life of Pat Brennan’s cow.

Of course farm animals were not the only victims of rail traffic through Orlando. Many, many people died or were maimed by the trains.

~ In November 1936, Beulah McPherson, an Orlando area teacher, forgot to observe the cardinal rule to stop, look, and listen at railroad crossings, and failed the test with a B & O passenger train. To the right is young Miss McPherson.
~ Phebe (Posey) Riffle lost her arm but not her life one day in the 1940s. See the footnote about Phebe and her husband George "Short" Riffle in the Aug '07 entry About 'Coon Hunting.
Other stories of flesh vs. the iron horse can be found at

~ Feb '07 Death Rides the Rails Wayne Skinner & Roscoe McNemar
~ Dec '06 The Ballad of Eugene Butcher Gene Butcher
~ Nov '06 Another Death On The Rails Homer L. Skinner
~ Nov '06 Railroad Tragedies Warren McCauley

So, Amos Henline’s milk cow decided to take a stroll on the B & O Railroad line. Unfortunately the cow didn't know that a B & O freight train always has the right of way and the poor cow was milked and filleted at the same time. Charles Henline set the tale to music, and now, its history.

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The Musical Henline/Blake Family

Amos Henline's and Charlotte Blake's families were both noted musical families. Many musicians emerged from both branches of this family. Amos was a budding musician himself until a planer in the veneer mill at Burnsville removed his musical aspirations along with two fingers. His cousin, Red Henline, was champion fiddler. On Charlotte’s side, the members of the Blake family from Clover Fork were the premier pickers of the banjo, the strummers of the guitar and the coaxers of the fiddle strings from an early date. Charles, his brother James and his sister Olive formed a popular musical group known as the The Buzzardtown Tongue Twisters which began performing as early as 1932 when they entertained at the Charlie Knight Store in Orlando. At this time, Charles Henline was but 13 years of age, James was 14 and Olive was 18.

Footnotes

1. Charles Henline composed words to the tune by Harry Carroll, On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine. Original words to the song were written by Ballard McDonald.

2. Uncle Zeke was the pen name of Patrick N. Blake, born on Clover Fork, lived on Posey Run. Many of his articles and poems are published in this 'blog.

3. A "double header" was a coal train so heavily loaded that it required two engines to move it up the grade from Burnsville to the tunnel at Chapman.

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Below are cousins Jackie (Henline) Bowser (two photos on the left) and Joyce Brannon (two photos on the right), the daughters of two of the Buzzardtown Tonguetwisters, Charles Henline and Olive (Henline) Brannon.

“The Orlando” -A Railroad Buffet-Parlor Car

by David Parmer

In the early years of the operation of the Coal and Coke Railroad, criticism arose about food service which was available in Orlando for passengers who were changing trains at the Orlando depot. Alan Clarke, in his book, “West Virginia’s Coal and Coke Railway,” reported that in 1910, a columnist from a Charleston newspaper, the Kanawha Citizen, complained about the food service in Orlando and gave it’s a “thumbs down” review. Apparently, the Orlando restaurateurs’ culinary skills did not suit the palates of Charleston newspaper men. Clarke identified the Orlando restaurant in question as a lunch counter operated by the man who also operated a hotel in Orlando. At that time, the Dolan Hotel was yet not in operation, so by elimination, the only other hotel in operation in Orlando was the Rush Hotel, operated by Michael Rush. It is unknown to this writer if Michael Rush operated a lunch counter in Orlando. Therefore, the identity of the lunch counter which raised the hackles of the city newspaperman is not positively known.

Clarke has suggested in his book that Henry Gassaway Davis, the President of the Coal and Coke Railroad, in response to the food critic’s complaint, decided to cater to his passengers’ culinary comforts and ordered that a food car be put into service on the Charleston-Orlando run. Although this directive did not come about until 1914, a full four years after the initial complaint by the Charleston food critic, Clarke believes that Davis responded to the complaint, albeit a bit tardy.

In 1914, the Coal and Coke Railroad purchased a used buffet chair car originally called the “Larchmont” from the Pullman Company, a builder of railroad cars. Clarke reported that the rail car was originally built in 1890 by the Wagner Sleeping Car Company. The buffet car was re-furbished at the Gassaway shops of the Coal and Coke Railroad and was put into service in June 1914. The new luxury dining car was re-named the “ Orlando,” in honor of the town of Orlando. Clarke reported that the “ Orlando”, as it was designated, was 78 feet long overall and with an inside area of 70 and one-half feet. The car was lined in oak and mahogany “with revolving parlor chairs covered in green plush and fitted with folding tables.” The car included a smoking area and ladies restroom, according to Clarke.

This is The Orlando's floorplan.

The marketing department of the Coal and Coke Railroad advertised its “ Orlando ” buffet car with great pride and touted that it “furnishe[d] special accommodations for which there seemed to be quite a demand.” An advertising brochure of the railroad announced that service included “meals a la carte” with “excellent service” in a “beautifully equipped” dining car at “popular rates.” Presumably, the original critic of the standard Orlando restaurant fare, was on the “maiden voyage” of the “ Orlando” luxury buffet car and that his “tony tastes” were ‘en avoir plus qu’assez.’

It was heretofore a little known fact that the town of Orlando was thus honored with a railroad buffet car named in its honor and perhaps thanks to an early Orlando lunch counter operator with nothing on the menu that appealed to a particular reporter's tastes.

"Daily Parlor-Cafe Car Service Between Charleston and Orlando"

below is detail from the map above

Death Rides the Rails

from David Parmer

The Story of Wayne Skinner & Roscoe McNemar

Roscoe McNemar and Wayne Skinner were first cousins and grew up together in Orlando. Where you would find one of the boys you generally would find the other. The two boys had something else in common as well: they both were enchanted with the railroads which crossed in their hometown.

Before the days of airplanes and video games many youth of our country were fascinated by trains. As a boy growing up in Burnsville I idled a great deal of time watching the trains clank through Burnsville, counting the number of cars and looking for the unusual logos on the cars such as “Lake Erie and Pittsburgh”, or perhaps the “Nickel Plate Road”. A cereal company in the 1950s put railroad logos in their boxes of breakfast cereals as an inducement for parents to buy that particular brand for their railroad crazy children. I eagerly opened each box. Boys would also walk the tracks, heads down, looking for the strips of lead, left over from the torpedo flares, which were the line sinkers of choice for many a Burnsville boy who decided to go ‘a-fishin’.

There were other fascinating sights on the railroad line. There were steam engines, and later the diesels, water tanks, signal lights, switches, trestles, hand cars, freight cars, flat cars, depots, passenger cars, box cars, refrigerator cars, coal cars, engineers looking very important high in their perches, conductors hanging on the rear of the cabooses, track gangs laboring in the sun and many other aspects of the rail industry to fascinate youthful fancies.

Some youths carried their fancies a little too far and sought adventure by riding the rails and hopping freight cars. These ‘Huck Finns’ of the rails often started just by looking into empty cars or sitting on flat cars that were stopped at the depot or at a water tower. Sometimes the game was carried even further by riding short distances on the cars as they were starting to move and then jumping off. Emboldened by minor successes in the game some boys took the next step and fancied themselves as ‘hobos’ of the rails by taking ticket-less trips on the train to the next town. Such adventures often led to tragedy. Such was the fate of Wayne Skinner and Roscoe McNemar.

Wayne's father Charles Skinner, born in 1867, was a farmer, miller and a storekeeper, the son of Perry S. Skinner and Emily Posey Skinner. Charles was a grandson of Alexander and Phebe (Conrad) Skinner. Charles married Margaret “Maggie” Cosner. Maggie's folks were Abraham and Mary Elizabeth (Roby) Cosner, who came from Hardy County to settle in Lewis County.

The Charles and Maggie (Cosner) Skinner family of Orlando was the typical Orlando family of the early 1900s. There were five boys in the Skinner family. The oldest boy, George Wesley, born in 1890, had died in California in a motorcycle accident in 1913.

Right: Lee, Ethel (in front), a friend (unknown), another friend (unknown), Charles Skinner, Necie, Wes (standing behind), Burt and Frank on Maggie's lap. Wayne and Nora were not born yet when this photo was taken.

Alfred Lee, known as “Lee”,1 was born in 1892, Clarence who went by “Burt” was born in 1896, Sylvester Frank, who understandably went by his middle name of “Frank”, was the fourth son and was born in 1902, and the youngest boy of the family, Wayne, was born in 1907. The three girls of Charles and Maggie Skinner were Necie who was born in 1893, Ethel born in 1895 and the youngest child of the family, Nora, was born in 1911.

Mary Skinner, a sister of Charles Skinner, was 27 when she married David McNemar, almost 30 years her senior, when they wed around 1900. Mary and David were the parents of three children, a daughter Vergie, and two sons Alpha “Ed” and Roscoe, the latter of whom was the youngest, born in 1907.


Roscoe's mom, Mary (Skinner) McNemar is on the left .

Roscoe McNemar and Wayne Skinner were first cousins and grew up together in Orlando. Where you would find one of the boys you generally would find the other. The two boys had something else in common as well: they both were enchanted with the railroads which crossed in their hometown. As all the older citizens of Orlando will recall, it was difficult to get to other places in the early 1900s. There were no automobiles, roads were little more than cow paths, and there was too much work to do to even think about going somewhere other than church on Sunday. But then the railroads came to Orlando. Now there was a bustling depot, several trains a day crossing in Orlando going north to Buckhannon and Weston and south to Burnsville, Richwood and Charleston. And riding a train was much more comfortable than riding a horse if you had one, and, if you were clever and a risk taker, you could ride for free on the trains by simply hopping a freight and staying out of sight of the conductor. The two boys had previously been warned by the railroads of their freight hopping.

In the summer of 1923, Roscoe McNemar and Wayne Skinner were both 16, and full of vinegar and wanderlust. After a July day of cutting “filth”, the cousins decided a little recreation and adventure would be a cure-all for the aches left over from the day’s labor.

In a re-creation of the day’s events reported in the newspaper of the day, it appears that Roscoe and Wayne hopped a south-bound freight on an early Tuesday evening. The whereabouts of the two boys after hopping the freight was a mystery. No witnesses were found who saw them after leaving Orlando.

Early the next morning at Gilmer Station, a busy little coal tipple town on the Coal and Coke Railroad, about four miles west of Burnsville, a track walker came upon the grisly scene of two mangled and completely severed corpses near a water tank. The authorities of Gilmer County were called to the scene. Sheriff J. H. Hall and Prosecuting Attorney B. W. Craddock secured identification of the two bodies and determined that Roscoe McNemar and Wayne Skinner had met their untimely and terrible fate by riding the rails. The official report determined that it appeared that McNemar and Skinner had been waiting on a north bound freight to stop at the Gilmer Station water tank and were intending to board a freight back to Orlando. The official report surmised that the two boys had gone to sleep on the rail tracks waiting on the 1:15 a.m. north bound freight. The engineer of the freight did not see the boys sleeping on the tracks and was unaware that the train had run over them.

Lee Skinner, older brother of Wayne Skinner, went to Gilmer Station and made the official identification of his sixteen year old brother. It is reported that the bodies were so mangled that it was difficult to reconstruct the body parts which were scattered along the railroad right of way. The severed head of Wayne Skinner was awaiting identification in a five gallon bucket. Lee later related that he reached into the bucket and lifted his brother’s head by the hair to make the identification.

Horrible deaths that occur sometimes cause speculation about the cause of death. Some members of the two families surmised that the two boys had been murdered by persons unknown and that their bodies had been placed on the tracks to be run over by the train in order to cover up the crime. Contrary to that theory, the authorities attributed the deaths as accidental and as the result of two unfortunate youths seeking a thrill by riding the rails.

The grief stricken families buried their sons in the Skinner Cemetery in Orlando.

1 For more on Wayne's brother Lee see the entry in Jan '07, Lee Skinner Rode His Bicycle

Comments
comment 1 from Marilyn (Cole) Posey
My great grandfather William Rufus Blake died on January 22, 1937 from fractured ribs, chest and skull. His daughter (my grandmother) Alta (Blake) Bee, always told me they found her dad on the railroad tracks. She said he had kind of retired from the railroad and was given some kind of gold watch in honor of his retirement. When they found him on the tracks, the only thing missing was the watch. It was never found and she as well as others in that area felt he was murdered simply to have that gold watch. Since he had worked on the railroad they felt it highly unlikely that he would walk on the tracks, lay down etc. as he knew what time the trains came through daily since he had retired from there.

Picture of the railroad retirement pocketwatch is from ebay.

‘I Hear The Train A Comin’ It's Rollin’ ‘Round the Bend. . . Childhood Reminiscence of Trains in Orlando

By Tom Jeffries

My first memories of my early years in Orlando involve the sights, sounds and smells of the B & O Railroad whose tracks and trains passed through the town of Orlando.

To the left is a steam locomotive coming into Orlando.

I recall lying in bed on a foggy night in our home on the hill in Orlando when the sound would travel well and hearing the sound of a coal freight train lead by three large steam engines, whistles sounding, for each of the five road crossings between Burnsville and Orlando. At the crossing at the Rush Hotel the engine whistle would repeat its two longs and a short warning. I could smell the coal fumes as the engines huffed and puffed their way on the upgrade run to Frenchton.

The roar of the exhaust from the stack and the hiss of steam along with the clack-ity-clack of the rail joints was somewhat scary and yet somewhat comforting as the train made its way through town. Soon I would hear the huffing and puffing of the three drag engines as they pushed against their heavy load of coal cars. As soon as they passed by, I could hear the clicking of the rails joints fade away and see in my young mind’s eye the green and red lights of the caboose fade into the distance.

To me, a four year old, they seemed like monsters that were alive. Fierce, scary, but somewhat inviting as they came from somewhere I knew not and were going to somewhere I knew not, I just wanted to go along!

As I looked from our house which stood on the hill above the home of my grandmother, I had a good view of every passing train. Most of the trains were laden with coal from mines in Webster, Braxton and Gilmer Counties, but occasionally there would be logs and sawed lumber, boxcars containing who knows what, and once I remember, army tanks! I have yet to understand how they appeared on a dead end branch line. I never missed an opportunity to watch the train and see what cars it was pulling.

Sometimes, as with machinery, there were accidents and derailments. While I don’t personally remember any of them happening in Orlando, I was told one crash that happened in the early 1960s was so severe the concussion knocked down the old red garage in which Mike Moran kept his funeral car.

About once a day a “local” mixed freight would run, and sometimes stop at the short siding next to the wholesale building to set off a boxcar of feed or to set off a flatcar for some of the local sawmill operators to stack crossties for shipment.

At noon the passenger train would arrive. Most of the time it would stop to discharge passengers and mail. Usually there was a mailcar and a passenger car pulled by a smaller but faster locomotive. The engineer seemed to always be in a hurry because he would invariably spin the wheels on the engine as he pulled out of the station.. I loved to see the sparks fly off the drive wheels. One of the engineers was Mr. Groves from Gassaway who had the nickname of “Rounder”. Years later I learned that he was the father of Dr. Blaine Groves of Martinsburg.

I don’t recall when the last passenger train ran through Orlando but it had to be in the mid 1950s. I do remember that some of the older men were somewhat upset at the passing of that era.

There was a fairly long passing sidetrack which began just north of the railroad bridge over Oil Creek and ended just north of the home of Homer Mitchell on Clover Fork which was about a mile and a half from downtown Orlando. This sidetrack was removed in the mid 1950s.

I used to walk the old B & O railroad grade that was removed in the early 1940s to downtown Orlando from my grandmother’s home to get the mail. I remember that some of the ties were still present and the path was not level because of the imprint of the ties in the ballast. I suspect that rails were removed and the old ties were left when the Company abandoned the track. Over the course of years thereafter many of the ties were removed for fence posts and firewood. The pilings from the old abandoned railroad bridge over Clover Fork were still present in the early 1950s. John Gibson who lived on the hill, or perhaps someone else, had built a walkway across them for foot traffic.

Several people in Orlando worked for the railroad including many of the people mentioned in the Orlando website. Most of them were trackmen including my father, Coleman Jeffries. The section gang had a shed and garage for their motorcar located just south of the Fred Bee residence. At one time a water tower was also there. It was torn down in the 1950s. I can still remember the trackmen starting the motorcar and its strange singing noise as it made its way down the rails.

Arden Thomas was a brakeman or fireman, I’m not sure which. He often worked the “local” between Burnsville and Grafton. I can remember at least once the train stopped in front of the Matthews house so that Arden’s wife could bring his lunch down the hill to him.

My mother Helen and my dad Coleman did not share my interest in the railroad. To mom it meant a lot of soot and dirt that she had to clean. She complained about not being able to keep the family laundry clean as it was drying on the clothes line.. She was glad to see the coming of the diesels. To dad, who worked for the B & O, the railroad was just a dangerous place, a lot of hard work when he worked, and layoffs when times were slow.

All too soon the steam engines were replaced by General Motors diesels. Slowly the breathing monsters of the rails wee replaced by FA7’s, GP7’s and GP9’s. I think that by 1959 or 1960 all the steam was gone. I still enjoy watching the new diesels push their way up the hill from Burnsville to Frenchton and Buckhannon, but it is just not the same!

Today, I and many others travel long distances, such as to Colorado and New Mexico, to ride and experience once again the sights, sounds and smells or the steam engines as they demonstrate what was so commonplace in my childhood and in my hometown of Orlando . Perhaps we are trying to recapture a time when life was much safer and simpler. I take my grandchildren to explain to and to show them a little bit of history that passed in my lifetime so they might also experience the thrill and scariness of a steam locomotive.

Once in the early 1970s the B & O Railroad ran an excursion passenger train from Grafton to Cowen. I did not become aware of the event in time to join the passengers in this once-in-a-lifetime experience and I was so disappointed. I hope in my lifetime another excursion takes place so that I can ride the train through my hometown of Orlando and I can look out the window to the place on the hill where my love of railroads began.



The title of this entry includes a line from the song Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash

Grandma Lena's House on Oil Creek

Dave Hyre was kind enough to share his memories of visiting his grandmother's place on Oil Creek in the 1950s. His grandmother was the widow first of Dave's grandfather Frank Lake and then the widow of Frank Fisher. For the memories others have of this time and place, go to Five Remembrances of Orlando, WV

I remember staying a summer with Grandma Lena Gay Fisher's house after [her second and last husband] Frank Fisher’s death . . . what can I say other than “Rail Side Shanty?” It sat on stone piers with a crawl way beneath. I am sure that was a purposeful design for when Oil Creek overflowed it’s banks. It had a front porch, with rocking chairs and chain suspended slat settee swing for two. My sister and I would sit there and watch the never ending coal trains rumble by just yards away.

Thanks to Jim Reese for permisssion to use the photo below. The description accompanying this photo reads, "In the days before AC locomotives, the Chessie System often relied on several six and four axle units on the Burnsville Helper. Just east of Orlando, Western Maryland GP40 #3798 is the trailing unit in the helper as it shoves a loaded drag upgrade in the summer of 1985."

Grandmother Lena lived in an asphalt shingle sided house about a half mile downstream from downtown Orlando. To get to the house, one walked down a dirt road, and crossed over the B&O tracks, stepped down the rail embankment stile (steps) to a house lot eight feet below the tracks and the house 20 feet from the tracks. Huge mile long coal trains would rumble past. Indoor water was a kitchen sink mounted manual pump. The water smelled of sulphur. Baths were heated pots of that smelly water on a kerosene stove. Sixty feet back was the two hole outhouse sitting on the edge of Oil Creek. And yes, it had a Sear's Roebuck catalogue for paper!! Hey, EPA was 45 years away into the future. I would prowl the creek catching crawdads, never considering the outhouse issue!!

Inside was a modest sized living room, eat-in kitchen and two bed rooms. No closets, just free standing wardrobes. The beds were crude but comfortable, hand stuffed sack mattresses, sitting on bare wire spring sets on wood slatted cast iron frames with cast iron head boards. Linens were fresh and hand sewn quilts topped the beds. Washing was in a tub. Stove heated water from a hand pump....Saturday was “Bath Night” and Monday was “Laundry Day” with tub and scrub board.

Furniture in general was modest and typical of period. I do remember the enamel/ceramic topped kitchen table with red trim about the edges. First time ever experiencing grits and hominy for breakfast. Heat was a coal stove in the living room. Plenty of shake loose coal along the tracks to guarantee a ready supply . The kitchen stove was kerosene. Refill of the kerosene dispenser can came from a hand cranked Bung Hole pump mounted on a 55 gallon drum to the side of the house. A delivery man refilled that drum with jerry cans. Small back porch, utilitarian to descend to back yard area and outhouse back by creek.

It also had storage area for mops and brooms and was covered in Morning Glory vines. Gardens provided vegetables, corn, tomatoes, greens, onions, beans, radishes, squash and carrots.

I learned about canning from grandma Lena. Hey I was a city kid from Boston, vegetables came in a can from the A&P Market!! How the hell did they grow those cans in the ground?? I learned to use Mason Jars steaming on a stove to preserve garden harvest. Still do it today, My grown children laugh at me for all the trouble, but still line up for their share when the canning is done.

The photo of the Western Maryland engine above was taken in 1985 just east of the Route 5 crossing in Burnsville (near the old Sugar Shack) where the helpers tie onto loaded trains.

For more on the railroad, see the Northern West Virginia Railroads site, particularly the section on the Cowen Subdivision.
Thanks to Brad Moyers for identifying Jim Reese's photo and assisting us in obtaining permission from WVRailFans to use it.