On the 13^th of October 2023, I took possession of a newly renovated, one-bedroom flat on the ground floor of a diverse complex in Williamsburg, Virginia. My neighbours are of all ages, colours, and languages. The children play outside my patio window, and the space under the stairs outside my door is their preferred parking garage. The proper bike racks around the development are well-used, but they are exposed to the weather.

Christmas and Epiphany have come and gone, and I find myself in Lent still moving in. But I have already found many new friends: in the choir at Saint Martin’s and the Williamsburg Choral Guild, at the Williamsburg Regional Library, Turn the Page (the only independent book shop in town), the Chesapeake Bay Writers, the Virginia Writers Club, and the Williamsburg Area Bicyclists (WAB).

This last group has amazed me with the level of its organization and the variety of cycling opportunities. Reflecting the demographics of the area, the group is heavy on retirees. Most are incredibly fit, and most pursue cycling as a recreational activity, with rides at different speeds offered almost every day.

My friend Andy led one of the more interesting rides this week, the Hidden History Ride.

The sun felt good after a couple of days of cold rain. The air was cool, but not cold. I rolled up my puffy vest and waterproof rain jacket, and put them in the pannier before riding across town.

About a dozen of us gathered outside the newly expanded Bicycle Cooperative in the James York Plaza east of Williamsburg, and followed Andy at a leisurely pace to see some of the cemeteries, churches, school buildings and sites that have been recently been returned to visibility in the larger community. The impact of the federal government, the Jim Crow era, and the Colonial Williamsburg (CW) Foundation (largest landowner in the city) stood out in the story that unfolded as we moved from one site to the next.

First, we rode west on VA 143 to Rochambeau Drive. As the traffic on Interstate 64 whizzed by us only a few yards away, we turned into the Oak Grove Cemetery. Its story is a picture of the way important parts of the community were overrun for the convenience of a few. In Andy’s words (slightly edited for flow),

“Imagine the years after the Civil War. This area featured settlements of free African Americans. Most were farmers, others were oystermen. Most owned their land. Oak Grove Baptist Church was founded in 1887. The original building was near here. (The building is now on Waller Mill Road.)

“During World War II, the federal government wanted this land for an Army training site. African American property was condemned and became part of what is now Camp Peary. The families were scattered. The cemetery became federal land and, whenever the commanding officer changed at Camp Peary, church members and descendants had to get permission anew even to visit the cemetery.

“In 1975, the federal government and Colonial Williamsburg swapped 213 acres of the land, including the cemetery. By that time, thirty-two years of trees and underbrush had grown to obscure the grave sites. That condition continued until the early 2000s, when a descendant named Colette Roots began advocating to restore the cemetery. She gathered other descendants, church members, and politicians to support her and, in 2003, Colonial Williamsburg gave the cemetery back to the church. Since then, Ms. Roots has mobilized support and raised funds so that, only a couple of years ago, the cemetery was cleared and restored.”

Thick woods and marshy land surround the cemetery, creating a beautiful setting, one in keeping with the idea of “laid to rest.” One would need to pay attention not to miss it driving along Rochambeau Drive, which is probably fine with the church members, who worked so hard to restore it.

Next, we rode to downtown Williamsburg, to a marker at the intersection of Scotland Street and Prince George Street. The marker sits between the Williamsburg Baptist Church and the First Baptist Church of Williamsburg.

First Baptist is the oldest continuous African American congregation in the United States, formed by a group of free and enslaved Black worshippers just before American independence. Their church was on Nassau Street.

Williamsburg Baptist is the white church of that denomination. Its church was on Duke of Gloucester Street, the principal street of the colonial capital. Colonial Williamsburg moved both buildings during the restoration.

Today, worshippers are free to join whichever church they want (and, to be sure, they are welcomed in most), but most people feel comfortable attending the churches of their parents. Thus, “self-segregation” continues in American churches today, with heavy majorities of a particular cultural or racial group in each. Diversifying congregations remains a major challenge for most mainline denominations.

The block behind the marker is known as the MLK Triangle, and the marker bears the names of prominent members of the Black community.

As Andy explained,

“Before the restoration of Colonial Williamsburg, Duke of Gloucester Street was lined with businesses and residences, including thirteen Black-owned businesses. As the restoration proceeded, the Triangle became the hub of Black-owned businesses. They are listed on the MLK marker. There were also several African American housing neighborhoods within walking distance of the Triangle.

“One of the more prominent businesses was the medical establishment of Dr. J. Blaine Blayton. He was recruited to move from Newport News to Williamsburg because the one (white) doctor in town would only treat African Americans if they entered through the back door of his clinic. In 1940, Dr. Blayton built a clinic with two birthing beds as one of the businesses on Triangle property. Because Black patients had to go to Newport News, Norfolk, or Richmond to find a hospital that would treat them, in 1952, Dr. Blayton built a 14-bed hospital, with eight birthing beds, that was wedged among other Triangle buildings.

“In 1969, the Williamsburg Redevelopment and Housing Authority was established, to deal with what were considered substandard buildings. Most of the focus was given to properties owned by African Americans. In the late-1970s, the buildings on the Triangle were torn down and the current building [now the William & Mary University bookstore] was erected, along with the current parking lot.”

This pattern of “urban redevelopment” (called “urban removal” by those displaced) was repeated in Black neighbourhoods throughout Virginia during this era. I observed it in Charlottesville and Norfolk, where I lived, and in the towns I rode through in Southside Virginia during 2021.

On Prince George Street, Andy pointed out the location of the original Bray School. This was a colonial initiative, opened in 1760 to educate enslaved and free Black children. Though the school closed in 1774, just before the Revolution, its impact would be felt into modern times.

The College of William and Mary moved the building to build the Brown Hall dormitory at the site on Prince George Street. The College built several additions to the former school building, and, over the next 90 years, they used it for various purposes, including dormitory space, office space and the ROTC program. In 2023, Colonial Williamsburg removed the W&M additions, moved the building to the restored area, and began restoring it to its original state.

Next, we rode down Duke of Gloucester Street into the restored part of Colonial Williamsburg, stopping at the Powder Magazine, one of the most recognizable structures in the area.

Andy told us,

“During and after the Civil War Battle of Williamsburg in 1862, the Williamsburg Baptist Church was used as a hospital. Amputated limbs and dead soldiers were buried in a mass grave between the church and the powder magazine. Twenty years after the war, a woman who had been caring for the wounded soldiers returned with funds she had raised, to dig up the remains and bury them with more dignity in the Bruton Parish cemetery. In 2023, Colonial Williamsburg started site work on the wall around the Powder Magazine (a wall which did not exist in 1862). More remains of Civil War soldiers were discovered! Those remains are now being examined in an archaeology lab.”

The next stop was a very special block on Nassau Street, just off Duke of Gloucester Street. Here, archaeologists are laying out the original site of the First Baptist Church, which was a modest building, donated by Jesse Cole so the congregation could have a church. A rectangle of bricks outlines the footprint of the little church (in red below). The archaeologist and the CW docent at the site showed us the use of the land after a tornado destroyed the building in 1836.

It took the congregation twenty years to collect the resources to build a fine brick church over the site (in blue). That church served for a century, until CW purchased the property and razed the building. The Foundation funded the construction of the First Baptist Church that we saw on Scotland Street.

In 2020, CW archaeologists located the original little church. To their surprise, they also discovered the churchyard, which had first been partially covered by the second church and then completely covered by a parking lot. CW, the First Baptist Church, and the Let Freedom Ring Foundation are partnering to reconstruct the original church, and to commemorate the people buried next to it (yellow graves in the graphic).

Meanwhile, on the next corner, the CW teams are rebuilding the Bray School under a big shelter. It is on track to open in September. Although the school building has been moved twice from its address on Prince George Street, this location gives the colonial school project better visibility and access.

We stopped for our packed lunches at the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum on the next block, because they had public restrooms and bike racks. Then we left Colonial Williamsburg and rode to the end of Nassau Street. There, we found a memorial marker for another cemetery, that accommodated indigent individuals who died at Eastern State Hospital.

Eastern State Hospital is another colonial initiative. Established in 1773, it is the oldest public mental institution in the United States, a product of the shifting ideas on mental illness that accompanied the Enlightenment in Europe. The 1773 building on the edge of the colonial capital burned down in 1885. The facility remained strained at capacity until 1935, when a new complex was built west of the city in James City County. It took until 1968 to move everyone to the new facility. Today in Colonial Williamsburg, only the marker at the site of the original cemetery remains.

The current cemetery for indigent patients is no less interesting. We rode out South Henry Street into the suburbs and spent some time admiring the memorials, with the hundreds of names of patients. Some plots had markers provided by descendants, and there were some headstones at the far edge of the cemetery.

Next, Andy led us out into the country to the site of the Battle of Williamsburg and Redoubt Park, where the Confederate Army had erected artillery positions pointed down the road to Yorktown. The US Army troops suffered heavy casualties, but it was almost the last battle of the war in this area.

Andy did a remarkable job laying out an easy, pleasant route that cyclists of all skill levels could handle. When we arrived back at the Bicycle Cooperative, I was sorry that the group ride was over. I accompanied Andy back to Colonial Williamsburg, where we parted ways to return to our respective homes.

As I write, I have not yet figured out where I will go next, and my growing commitments as a new resident of Williamsburg may keep me here until the late spring. If, however, I enjoy any more small trips worth reporting on, I will share them with you, under the heading “Off-Tour,” because they are not part of a particular road trip.

Next week, another short story at my author website, https://jthine.com/blog. All y’all come back!

Smooth roads and tailwinds,

JT

 © 2024, JT Hine