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.