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The Huckleberry

Joe Hawkins

Blog #6 of 9

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September 9th, 2014 - 09:39 PM

The Huckleberry

I wrote this short story in collaboration with a gentleman, who was a strong advocate in preserving the Huckleberry Trail, years after we met. He had a monster of old railroad pictures, as he once worked for the railroad. He made an impression. I lost touch with him, but my thoughts remain every day.

The burning energy of coals excite the pulsing flow of the locomotive.

Before music was able to play on a radio, before a radio was able to play, cupped deep in the heart of Southwest Virginia, a distant wail of a steam engine train echoes. The early afternoon sun cast a dark shadow that eagerly stomps close behind the noisy train; the hard slap of black metal beats in time with the glistening steel tracks. It vibrates, clicky-clack, clicky-clack, on down the line it rumbles. The Huckleberry Train is its name.

The train's nickname originates from the railroad line that it traveled.

A huckleberry is a shrub bearing blue fruit that is common to North America. These seedless bites once vastly inhabited the thick forests, hemming the railroad line like the glowing lights hanging from a Christmas tree. The wide spread of berries encompassed the body of the laboring houses. The early mining camps of Southwest Virginia were filled with the sweet fragrance of high society. A bushel here...A bushel there...All the delicious berries were to be picked.
Admittedly, the railroad was born because of the need to transport marketable goods from mines to consumers and vice-versa. The Huckleberry train combed through the dense countryside of Virginia, up and down the grades of hills and valleys, in and out of the beautiful Lenze forest of old America. The collection of delicious fruit was running wild throughout the long days of the hot summer months. The loud music of the influenced pickaxes' gave rhythm to the reaping of the hardwoods. Many people were busy digging deep into the economy of the Nation, and scooping out mountains of coal. And the heated charge of train traffic was to be the premier transportation of mass production.

The existence of trains, the inventive pulling force can be traced far back to primitive time, somewhere deep in the abrasive contours of the color stained cave walls of our forefathers. Men covered in common cloth were bending on both of their knees, tactlessly pounding two small and narrow ruts into a broad stone surface.
The trained beaten pathways allowed the handcrafted wooden wheels to easily sit in the defined grooves. The advancing wheels did not roll friction-free through the solid mass, but they did move well enough to cover a measurable distance. The simple rotating motion of the carts carefully followed the pattern of the chiseled stone, directing the filled wagons safely to the designed destination.
Like a soft pull on a small rubber band, the stretch of the first railways was restricted. Only a limited range was traveled because the primitive design could only be constructed where stone already existed in the ground.
Somewhere during the brutal Dark Ages, like so many other things of the civilized world, the use of trains and their tracks were attacked, cut, stabbed, beaten, and forgotten. It was not until the discovery of mines and the limited space to maneuver within the tight quarters underground, that there was a need to transport large quantities of anything a substantial distance.
Trains and their tracks were then revitalized, so the heavy-weighted loads that needed to be moved would not hit sidewalls and spill the hard worked minerals.

Miners, the laboring men of industry had been working and extracting coal from Price Mountain since the late 1700s. During the tough battles of the Revolutionary War, a small collection of family mines opened, along with a large number of modest commercial mines. The first serious outcropping of coal was discovered by the Broce brothers: Frederick and Jacob. Still, there is no clear records in the archives to determine which brother made the initial discovery of coal in that area.
However, it is written that the Broce brothers had been sent to America as Hessian soldiers from Germany. They were hired mercenaries of Great Britain. The killing men were recruited to supplement the King's forces that were battling the freedom bound independent colonies. When the war was over and the Redcoats were defeated, the opposing soldiers who remained became devoted citizens of the Independent Nation -- The United States. The simple and quiet rural countryside of Southwest Virginia was soon to experience an avalanche of rapid and exciting changes.
Years skipped and leaped forward to the next dirty and muddy fields of combat; soldiers' bayonets purposely pierced the next major war -- the Civil War. The Calvary of trains and men and beast bounced along the leveling wooden timbers that lay beneath the firm tracks. The conflict amplified the need for more coal. The war and trains had a notable effect on the liberation of slavery and the progression of the mines in Southwest Virginia. To the rear of the battles, after the Richmond coal fields had been viciously destroyed by Northern forces in 1861, the Confederate army turned to Bangs (renamed in 1906 as Cambria) to supply their coal needs.
The poverty of coal left the heavy ships and its soldiers aimlessly floating and begging for more of the collected, uncooked embers. There was no speedy trip. The coal had to travel a long bumpy wagon ride to reach Buchanan Virginia. The urgent need for coal then had to wait an even longer ride for the overweight boats to travel down the watery maze of the James River -- eventually reaching Norfolk. The Merrimac name was given to the Bang mines in 1862. The coalmines had supplied the Confederacy's Ironclad, furnishing the necessary steam for the famous battle of the Merrimac against the Monitor, in Hampton Roads.
Brush Mountain Coal Company (BMCC) was formed on April 07, 1898. The dominating large-scale mining by BMCC only exploited the hard-coal beds of Price Mountain. BMCC never directly operated any mine. The company did, however, lease and sell land rights. The idea was brilliant; the way the terms of the contract was constructed. The legal paper allowed the company to use all the land available, both above and below ground. Individuals purchased parcels conveying surface rights only, while BMCC still held leasing rights to the ground underneath the log homes built. The clever businessmen continued to earn royalties from the said project of mines as well -- one cent for each bushel of lump and nut coal sold.
In 1903, a large commercial-scale mine emerged from Price Mountain. Its tracks were soon leading outside the mine to transport its findings to the nearby tipple. Carts were pulled to the big metal apparatus by the use of horse and rope. In later years, it was upgraded to a hoisting assembly powered by a steam engine. The 100-foot tipple hugged the side of the mountain like a grizzly bear clutches on to the side of a fat tree. Its opinionated-mind rationally screened coal from debris, though leaving coal dirt, a residue of coal and slate that was too small to be separated. Two tracks were eventually laid behind the tipple. One to handle loading all the different sizes of coal that had been divided and the other for the coal dirt.
Every train engine to run on the line received the generic label, 'The Huckleberry.' The first couple of Huckleberry Trains were small one-cylinder steam engine locomotives that labored to move coal cars that were not heavily filled. The charred lungs of miners called the little engines, dinkeys. Their rugged voices could be heard laughing as they pointed fingers at the toy size engine, transporting the newly discovered black gold to Cambria, Christiansburg. Adults could be seen sitting on fence posts, smiling at the children yelling and racing the locomotive along a stretch of open land.
Still, there were times when the strong wheels of the engine could not grip the shinny iron tracks. Mindful of the wearing down of the designed steel wheels, the engineer would not sit and endlessly spin his turning steps, burning needless fuel. He was required to stop the legs of the teaming line. A cluster of children would soon bound from the rear of the engine of the train and sprint to the front of the moving metal. They feverishly scatter sawdust and sand all over the path of harden steal.

Whole families, in one fell swoop, would then jump from the high balconies of the caboose of the Huckleberry train, attacking the blue berries quietly sitting on their branches. It was thought, at one time, that is where the train's name was discovered. People would ride the modest train to pick buckets brimming full with huckleberries before the train's scrambling wheels could find the necessary fresh traction to move on down the line.
The crinkled pages of the calendar turned, engineer eventually devised another mechanical technique. He would slowly move the train in reverse, while pulling a well lever just outside his cab compartment. A surge of abrasive material would then drop on the tracks so the metal wheels could find some sense of friction to continue the journey. Even though the whistle sounded sooner, the hasty people were still ravishing the well-populated branches to get their share of berries.
As the train approached the mines, hungry people would hop off the steel chariot and begin foraging the woods for berries before the train came to a complete stop. Groups of people would hunt the steep inclines of the mountains, overrun by berries, searching out every morsel of pie filling; their tanned hands were overwhelmingly stained by the fruity snack. They would pick all afternoon, until the last train was ready to leave the Merrimac Station. The loud moving chain of metal stomped down the straight iron bars that had been so methodically placed ahead. The design of the inner L-flange of the wheels hugged the flat steel track, making the turns with little difficulty.

September 15, 1904 was the first run of the train from the Christiansburg Station, located in Cambria, running to Blacksburg. The Christiansburg Station was placed in Cambria because the prominent citizens of Christiansburg did not want the noise and traffic, the hustle-and-bustle of the train in their hometown. An extending railroad line was brought into existence by Col. W.J. Payne of Virginia Anthracite Coal and Railway Company (VAR&R) and Dr. J.M McBride, President of VPI (now known as VA Tech).
With the encouraging help of a great visionary, the Dean of the Arts and Science Department of VPI, L. S. Randolph, a vote was taken and hands were raised, so the rushing means of movement could be lengthened. The broad shoulders of the convoy would stretch to the college. The wandering tracks were completed with the help of some determined students. Those last 8.9 miles of strong parallels were laid by only young men and horse. Payne was involved for coal profits. Randolph had an extra incentive; his aim was to transport cadets seeking a quicker trip back to school, so the voyage from Christiansburg to Blacksburg would be easier for all that followed.
In 1911, Norfolk and Western (N&W) bought the Huckleberry Line, though the name "Huckleberry" was started way before any line was thought to enter Blacksburg. The surrounding communities of the Merrimac mines had labeled it the Huckleberry because of the quantity of people, that road on the powering legs that sometimes struggled to reach the darkened quarries, harvesting the matured berries neighboring the mines.
Nevertheless, the fresh students of the college had to give their special touch to naming the continuing piece of railway. The unruly scholars were caught wiping broad strokes of paint, in black bold letters, on the outside wall of the Blacksburg Station -- 'HUCKLEBERRY LINE.'

Over the years, repairs have been made in uncountable places along the thick toothpicks of metal. A wealth of muscles have been produced from the hammering of men. The zealous Americans were satisfied. 'Get it up quick and use the profits earned to make the necessary improvements.' Old stations were destroyed and new ones built. It was all for the convenience of the lively people who were saturating Southwest Virginia.
In 1935, Merrimac Mine closed. For another twenty-three years, the passenger train of the Huckleberry survived the tombstone covered mines. In 1958, the passenger train made its last run. Eight more short years concluded the delivery of freight on those tracks as well. The Huckleberry Railroad Train was retired for good. Blacksburg's depot was demolished.
Through the initiative of Helen Bennett Dorset (1927-1990), the Huckleberry still has an inspiring presence. It was placed on the National Registry of Historic Places in 1986. Starting in 1990, and for the next five years, a small group of people from the local community powered forward to establish a path where the train once ran -- The Huckleberry Trail is its name.
Persevering mounds of red tape, multiplying donations, and nearly $700,000 in government grants, they overcame the barriers that were so thoughtlessly placed before them. The old and rusted steel roads were eliminated from the scenery of the countryside; a trail was made! Hikers and bikers alike can retrace six-miles of the winding pathway.
The galloping hooves of the Huckleberry has seen life come and go. It has felt the dripping sweat of men working. It has tasted the colour of the berries eaten. It has smelled the steaming fire of coal smoking from the belly of the iron horse. The rail line has breathed life into new engines and retired disabled ones. Numerous trains have had the privilege of being called, "The Huckleberry."

There was only one!

Though the rails have long gone, the train still combs the mountains and valleys loaded with new hopes and desires. On a crisp daybreak: when the chill of the inactive morning air catches the streaks of the sun's dawning light; when the leaves of the trees are terribly still. With no animals to be seen, if you stand really still, you can feel a slight tremor in the ground. The peaceful bubbling shake of the morning dew will wake your spirit to feel the great legend moving just slightly beyond.
Listen hard just then. You will hear the silent screaming encore of the one-cylinder Huckleberry steam engine, raising his lonesome voice and bouncing back in time, making the Huckleberry Trail what it is today.

Joe Hawkins
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No portion of this may be copied or reproduced in any form without permission from its author.

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