Oldest incorporated town is in Va.
Try Bermuda Hundred in Chesterfield County
BY JULIAN WALKER
TIMES-DISPATCH STAFF WRITER
Mar 26, 2007
Before Richmond was the River City, Chesterfield County's historic
Bermuda Hundred community was the region's river town.
Resting near the confluence of the James and Appomattox rivers, the
16-acre peninsula straddles the line between past and present, between
nature and commerce.
"There's something about the river," said Evelyn Gray, looking out at
the water through the window of the riverfront home where she was born
87 years ago.
She remembers when the river would freeze so solidly that you could
walk across it; and when trips to Richmond required a boat ride to
Hopewell, a trolley ride to Petersburg and another to the city.
Like most of the few remaining residents of Bermuda Hundred, Gray is a
lifer.
"It gets into you, and it means so much to you," Gray said. "I can sit
up in bed in the morning and look out and see that the river is still
there. When all of my friends were going into retirement homes, they
wanted me to come with them and I said, 'There's no river, so I won't
do it.'"
Over the years, Bermuda Hundred has been a home to freed slaves and a
thriving river port. For those factors and others, Bermuda Hundred was
recently added to the National Registry of Historic Places.
As the story goes, Bermuda Hundred was named by onetime inhabitant John
Rolfe because of the similarities he saw between the appearance of the
area's mimosa trees and Bermuda's Royal poinciana trees.
"Hundred" is a colonial English term that referred to a jurisdiction of
100 families.
Bermuda Hundred is the first incorporated town in English America and
once was the home of Rolfe and Pocahontas.
Before being established in 1613, Bermuda Hundred was populated by the
Appomattox Indians.
"There's a possibility that this is where John Rolfe experimented with
tobacco, which be came the basis for the economy of Virginia," said
Randy Jones, spokesman for the state Department of Historic Resources.
"The feeling of our archaeologists is it's an incredible district for
history: Native American history, Colonial history, African-American
history and Civil War history."
Ten years ago, Chester businessman Jim Daniels lobbied for the historic
designation that now has been bestowed on Bermuda Hundred.
The community is tucked behind two looming industrial plants that sit
on land once home to expansive farms. It is accessible only by a
winding strip of asphalt just wide enough for one car.
Eight houses -- some still use wood stoves for heat -- a historic
church and a crumbling schoolhouse are all that remains there today.
That, and the people -- about 15 -- who still live there.
"I like the seclusion of the area," said Gloria Hewlett, who can trace
six generations of her family on the peninsula.
Her 89-year old father, Sensia Johnson, lives in the next house over,
and her sister lives nearby.
Her husband also has generations-old roots on the peninsula, and his
mother, brother and several cousins still call it home.
"We're all family down here," said Hewlett, 57. "Everybody's related in
some way."
Just upriver is Presquile National Wildlife Refuge, where seagulls,
waterfowl and the occasional eagle are known to perch.
Other varieties of critters can be found in the river, and in James
McWilliams' backyard.
Like Gray and Hewlett, McWilliams is a Bermuda Hundred fixture. He's
been there for all of his 78 years.
"I was born right here," the man who folks around here call Mr. Jimmy
said, waving toward a patch of earth in his side yard. "Where you see
my garden, right there. And I didn't move. I raised six children here.
You can live here just as soon as you can go to New York and make a
living."
In those days, McWilliams made his living fishing on the river and
selling his catches to boats bound for Baltimore.
"Catfish, eels, German carp," all put money in his pocket, or food in
his belly.
"Eels is good meat. That's good eating."
Between 1691 and 1940, Bermuda Hundred was an active port with
waterfront stores and a post office. Gray's father owned the last
active store in Bermuda Hundred.
When river activity slowed in the mid-20th century, local men such as
McWilliams turned to factory work in Hopewell.
But he never lost touch with the land and how to live off it.
His yard is a hodgepodge of junk accumulated over a lifetime and
sporadic gardening plots where garlic, potatoes and turnip greens
sprout.
A few drooping fruit trees -- two varieties of apple, a peach and a
plum -- and a grapevine grow nearby in the yard. He swears they all
bear fruit.
Out back, he's got some dogs, caged rabbits, a mangy cat that just
showed up one day, a few hens that lay eggs he eats and two roosters,
one of which crows whenever he feels like it.
McWilliams says he still sometimes fishes and hunts the occasional wild
turkey, goose or squirrel for food.
Nature and the river seem to be intertwined with life in Bermuda
Hundred. In the old days, members of First Baptist Church Bermuda
Hundred were baptized in the river.
Membership has shrunk to about 45 people, but Hewlett, an associate
minister at the church, thinks it is rebounding. Since January 2006, 13
people have joined.
Evelyn Gray's son, Frederick T. "Rick" Gray Jr., recalls hearing the
sounds of singing from the church through the open windows of his
mother's home on hot summer nights.
He has lived much of his life in Bermuda Hundred, a place he says is
inextricably linked to the river.
"The thing that's most beautiful is the moonrise from the east. It
happens 12 or 13 times a year. The moon will rise over Shirley
[Plantation in Charles City County], and it will throw a silver, golden
path across the river. It's quite breathtaking, and I think it'd be
hard to leave that."
Contact staff writer Julian Walker at [log in to unmask] or
(804) 649-6831.
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