Returning to the theme I began a few weeks ago of describing some of the architectural losses the upper region of the Norther Neck has sustained over the past half-century, this week I propose to look at the subject as it pertains here in the lower Northern Neck. In many cases the buildings now gone characterized the culture of our area in their unique presence in our midst.
One of the most significant losses was the White Stone Beach hotel at Taft that was a hubbub of activity between the World Wars down to the 1970s. It was founded and operated by the Culver family, who truly understood the meaning of “serving the public.” The hotel spread along the shore of the Rappahannock River with rooms on pilings reaching into the water. The dining room in the dance pavilion was a converted tomato factory over the water, in which venue Mrs. Culver served memorable meals. Popular bands played on the dance floor.
Up on the hill overlooking the complex below at the water’s edge was a great Victorian frame hotel that was an ideal setting that allowed the guests to wander around the grounds enjoying the views and the river breezes amid the massive oak trees on the property.
Early in their marriage, my parents spent a weekend at the lower hotel, to their surprise hobnobbing with congressmen and other officials from Washington, who were getting away from the pressures of the city. My father spoke of hearing the tide coming and going under their room, forming a restful melody as they were getting to sleep. Today, nothing remains of the hotel and the pavilion and the site has been returned to nature.
Across the Northern Neck, many of the buildings that have characterized our way of life have been lost in recent years, particularly with respect to commercial structures, the proverbial country stores. Most of these were from the Victorian era and they offered everything from food, to clothing, to hardware, all displayed in oak-trimmed glass cabinets. These stores dated from the steamboat days, when most of the merchandise came here by water.
In Burgess, at the corner of Northumberland Highway and Folly Road, stood the Folly Store, a frame structure that dominated the skyline for passersby on their way to and from Reedville. As a store, it had closed long before it was razed in the 1990s; the bare lot remains.
At Brown’s Store, the eponymous store at the juncture of the “y” in the road was a meticulously constructed Victorian building, with a good amount of “gingerbread” on its exterior. Its last iteration was as Gill’s Bargain Center, after which it was demolished to be replaced by a modern convenience store.
At Remo, the Christopher Store was similar in design to that of the Folly Store.
As with the other country stores, it served for many years as the U.S. Post Office, the last postmaster having been the late Madge Marsh.
When the post office was planning to leave the store, my predecessor in writing this column, Captain Gene Rook, then employed in Washington, would buy all of his company’s stamps at Remo in an effort to keep the post office open, but the powers that be noted the high sales volume was not matched by the number of pieces of mail going out, and the office was closed in the 1960s, the store following shortly thereafter. After being vacant for over 40 years, it was demolished in 2012.
As a rural crossroads, Remo had two other general stores as well as the Christopher Store, one of which burned in 1994, and the other of which remains unoccupied. In Southern Maryland, many years ago the National Trust for Historic Preservation declared the tobacco barn to be an endangered historical structure. Here in the Northern Neck, the same could be said for the country store. I plan to visit this topic again in a future column.
