EDITOR'S NOTE: This story originally appeared in our November/December 1991 issue. It is being presented again here as part of our 30th Anniversary celebration.
The Mill Rebuilders
The Mill Rebuilders.
While World War II raged, they restored the mill. From left: A.N. Hylton, C.A. Goad, Scott, Ken McCarter.
The history behind the Blue Ridge Parkway's most visited and renowned landmark--Mabry Mill--is as fascinating as the mill itself is delightful to visit. It was nearly lost when its builder died in 1936, and then threatened again in 1938.
The water-powered mill and its adjoining blacksmith shop were completed in 1910 by Edwin Boston Mabry, a hard-working enterpriser who had earned and saved his wages in the West Virginia coalfields. When he left the coalfields, he built a mill in the pastoral community of Meadows of Dan in southwestern Virginia. For the next 25 years he operated a forge, gristmill, sawmill and wheelwright shop, welcoming all who came by on horseback to bring a sack of shucked corn to be ground into meal.
At least one local grandmother happily recalls her days climbing atop the gristmill and pouring corn into the hopper while "Uncle Ed" turned a grist.
After the meal was sacked and tied, there was always time to visit and gossip with Ed Mabry's wife. Aunt Lizzie.
Mabry Mill's small stream provided Mabry with sufficient power for his gristmill, but less for his sawmill. Sawing a length of log was hard, slow work.
Logs were placed on a platform that moved to and from a large rotary saw. Mabry accumulated a head of water in his millrace and then released it in a rush pouring onto the millwheel.
Mabry was locally renowned as a man who could fix most anything, utilizing his skills as a blacksmith and wheelwright. Wagon wheels were his specialty. The rocky, eroded mountain roads shattered many a hub, splintered spokes and sprang ties loose from their rims.
Uncle Ed's best years were 1910-1925.
During this time he built a comfortable two-story frame house for himself and Lizzie, replacing their log cabin.
Then times turned hard. His back began to give out and a series of dry years diminished his water supply. He couldn't keep his mill in good repair or patch leaks in his millrace. He died a tired man in 1936.
Aunt Lizzie kept the gristmill going for a while, but old mills and waterwheels were taking their final turns.
But Lizzie Mabry got lucky. In 1936 land was being acquired by the Commonwealth of Virginia and deeded to the federal government for the Blue Ridge Parkway. The man in charge of parkway plans development was Stanley Abbott, a landscape architect of romantic horizons.
"I can't imagine a more creative job than locating the Blue Ridge Parkway, near the moss and lichens on the shake roof of Mabry Mill measured against huge panoramas that look out forever,” he said.
Abbott and his hand-picked chief-of-staff, Ed Abbuehl, traveled extensively over the lands designated for the parkway. From first sight they made certain that Mabry Mill be included in the land purchase and be preserved as a local cultural exhibit.
All that Mabry Mill has come to be-a grandfatherly welcome to stay awhile; a gentle peek into the past; a vine-draped paragon of greeting cards, calendars, photographs, paintings and letters to the folks at home-was saved, at least for the present time.
The early years of the parkway were a ferment of plans and projects with few guidelines. Despite inter-agency participation, slip-ups occurred. One involved Mabry Mill.
Abbott and his staff selected the more appealing and representative of the vacated buildings for preservation along the parkway. Mabry Mill was easily in this category. The remainder were designated for razing and removal, with the task assigned to the state. Road crews were still removing abandoned buildings in 1938 when the first park rangers reported for duty on the parkway.
The late Mac Dale came as the first ranger in Virginia south of Roanoke. His district extended from Tuggle's Gap in Floyd County, 52 miles southward to the North Carolina state line. Only the northern 20 or so miles had been graded and covered with crushed stone. Fortunately, this included Mabry Mill.
The mill fascinated Dale. “The more I saw of it, the more I explored and looked at it, the more certain I was that this was something really extraordinary,” he said. “The place did have an unkempt appearance; weeds grew…the paths got a bit overgrown and not used and it looked pretty forlorn.”
Dale's daily routine required a constant presence to represent the parkway in everyday dealings with the community. One area of mutual benefit involved fire control-an aspect of Dale's job that had a coincidental bearing on the Second Saving of Mabry Mill.
He was busy during his first months training and working with volunteer fire fighters. Most fires were small affairs in woodlots and fields and Dale's method of clearing a fireline of exposed soil just ahead of the creeping fire proved superior to the prevailing practice of igniting a back fire.
The day Dale saved Mabry Mill was a "half past September morning with a feel of fall in the air.” He left his quarters in Hillsville and drove east on Route 58 to his entry on the parkway at Meadows of Dan.
“Two things were bothering me,” he has written. "One being that fire report I had to make out with some information I needed from the ranger office at Rocky Knob, and the other having to do with an access road south below the Pinnacles of Dan.”
If Dale had decided to head south, Mabry Mill would have been lost.
Luckily he decided to address the fire report first and turned north, with Mabry Mill en route.
"When I got to Mabry Mill I did a double take and a fast stop,” Dale wrote, "because right there in front of the mill was a state maintenance truck and a group of men with crowbars and sledgehammers-just going through the door into the mill. And this startled me and I climbed down ready to do battle. I said to myself. 'Hey boy, cool it. Let's find out what goes on. So I 'howed' at them and they 'howed' me back and I inquired and they told me that their orders were to knock down all of the buildings of the group and have them ready so they could be set on fire and out of the way the first snow. "
Dale asked if there might have been some kind of mistake. "The foreman reached in his pocket and said, 'Yes, today's orders, and when my boss says to do something he means for it to be done, and I'm sorry but I'm going to have to do what he said.’ Well, it took some convincing to have him decide, as I suggested, that he wait a bit and just go and clean a culvert and give me a chance to drive over to Hillsville-the nearest exchange-and get in touch with Roanoke and his office, and have them call his boss at Hillsville and confirm that this was not to be torn down. And he agreed to do that and with their tools, sledgehammers, axes and crowbars, they piled back into the truck and took off. I also took off. I made one of the fastest trips from there to Hillsville.
"Now the switchboard in Hillsville was located in the home of the nice lady who operated it. And when I got there and told her what I would like to do, gave her the Roanoke number and all, miracles started occurring. She managed almost immediately to get a circuit to Roanoke just going through Floyd and I think one other switchboard to do it. And then to add to the wonder of it. I got Sam Weems [the foreman's boss] on the line right away and he arranged a conference with Ed [Abbuehl] and Stan [Abbott] at that end and I explained the situation ... and they told me to stand by right there and they'd call back."
Dale spent several long hours sweating out the return call. Finally, it came through, directing him to go to the Hillsville office of the Virginia road department and pick up an order cancelling the demolition. Mabry Mill was saved again.
Dale's timely arrival rescued Mabry Mill, but the effects of weathering and neglect were edging it into oblivion. Aunt Lizzie had sold all of Uncle Ed's tools and iron equipment to a junk dealer. This included the millwheel shaft. Thus bereft, the mill was a slowly melting shamble, with its waterwheel leaning against its side.
Then World War II began and most of the parkway staff, including Abbott, Abbuehl and Dale, joined the military service. Ken McCarter, a landscape architect and veteran park service employee, was assigned to manage a parkway program that was almost on total hold.
Ironically, the war may have served to save Mabry Mill again. ·
"Things were rather slack during the war years," according to Abbott, "and apparently Ken decided to make drawings of the mill for the Historic American Building Survey. The survey had certain guidelines for preparing these drawings which Ken followed, measuring all aspects of the old mill including the big paddle wheel. The mill was restored under Ken's guidance and the drawings are in the Library of Congress.”
When Abbott. Abbuehl and Dale and all the other staffers who loved Mabry Mill returned to the parkway after the war, they were greeted with a wonderful sight at mile 176.2. The mill was completely rebuilt. The wheel was turning in operation so true to its day and time that you almost expected to see Uncle Ed Mabry just inside the door turning a grist of meal.
Bill Lord is the author of the definitive two volume "Blue Ridge Parkway Guide." He lives in Pittsburgh. Pa.