Page 3 - Demo

“Bowen’s humorous recollections of his equestrian experience
at the Virginia
Military Institute are
accompanied by
remarkable illustrations
of a lost tradition.
In fact, the quality
of his images—
along with the other
personal photos
scattered throughout
the magazine—has
prompted me to end
with a call to action of
my own.”
Andy Sale’s article “Back to the Future of Lynchburg Streets: A History of the Pave- ment of the Streets of Lynchburg, Virginia” ends with a call to action. The author hopes his initial research will inspire others to explore “the hidden subsurface treasures...of the city.” Sale, of course, is talking about the history of Lynchburg’s infrastructure—the road, water, sewer, and power systems that support urban life. But, in the process of “peeling back the asphalt,” his story unearths a wealth of pio- neers, engineers, prisoners, politicians, managers, and preservationists—people who literally helped to smooth the path for others to follow.
In many ways, this issue is about acknowledging individuals who have worked behind the scenes to maintain what Peter Houck calls “the Lynchburg legacy,” the sum of the city’s physical and cultural heritage. Prominent among them is a woman who “was, surprisingly, born in Bloomfield, New Jersey.” Surprising because Mar- garet Henry Penick Nuttle’s interests and spirit were so seamlessly aligned with the heritage of Central Virginia.
As a great x 3 granddaughter of Patrick Henry, the late Mrs. Nuttle (1913–2009) initiated a “remarkable renewal” at the governor’s Red Hill estate—but Brookneal was just one stop on her route to restore her family’s connections to their “second home.” As it turns out, Mrs. Nuttle’s ties to the area were as real as roots can be. Many of the herbs and flowers at the base of her father’s pharmaceutical fortune were grown and gathered in the Virginia–North Carolina region. And the seed money for the company was “raised among relatives in the Lynchburg business community.”
Mrs. Nuttle spent most of her life in the North, which explains why her deep bond to Central Virginia was “unknown to most Lynchburgers.” More difficult to figure out is how scores of the city’s leading citizens (an estimated 173 individuals drawn from local academic, business, legal, medical, religious, government, news- paper, and military circles) could meet twelve times a year for one hundred years without anyone noticing. The Sphex Club is not exactly a household name like the Kiwanis Club or Jaycees, yet the roster of speakers the organization has attracted over the past century “reads like a small Who’s Who In America.”
What exactly is the Sphex Club? The author, James M. Elson, explains it this way: “Recently one of the children in the family of a Sphex member described his parent as belonging to the ‘nerd club.’ The dictionary defines ‘nerd’ as ‘an unstylish, unattractive, or socially inept person; especially one slavishly devoted to intellec- tual or academic pursuits.’ Nevertheless, it appears that over the years Sphex Club members have been able to overcome that aspect of their personalities (if it indeed existed) to achieve success in their chosen professions.”
The Sphex Club gives its members an opportunity to read and discuss original papers. Lynch’s Ferry provides a similar outlet for “history nerds” (and occasion- ally the magazine features articles that began as Sphex Club papers). This issue welcomes first-time contributor Brian Bowen whose humorous recollections of his equestrian experience at the Virginia Military Institute are accompanied by remark- able illustrations of a lost tradition. In fact, the quality of his images—along with the other personal photos scattered throughout the magazine—has prompted me to end with a call to action of my own: Please read Gregory R. Krueger’s article “Preserving Family Photographs” on page 38.
A editor
from the
FALL/WINTER 2010 