ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, May 6, 1996 TAG: 9605060085
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
DATELINE: BOONES MILL
SOURCE: MATT CHITTUM STAFF WRITER
MEMO: NOTE: Shorter version ran in Metro edition.
IT WAS AN ECLECTIC MIX of Southern pride and general curiosity that greeted the Tour DuPont riders during their swing through Boones Mill Sunday.
The Confederate troops deployed early, setting up camp in front of the First National Bank of Rocky Mount about 10 a.m.
By 1 p.m., muskets with bayonets were stacked in pyramids and a pot of coffee simmered over a fire.
"We have standing orders not to shoot the one in the yellow shirt. He's supposed to be from Texas," said Robert Howlett of the Fincastle Rifles, Camp 1326 of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. "All the others are fair game."
The one in the yellow shirt would be Austin's Lance Armstrong, current leader in the Tour DuPont, which in a few hours would rumble through this little town, closing all four lanes of busy U.S. 220 for about 20 minutes in the process.
The Fincastle Rifles, in full wool regalia despite the heat, were part of the festivities for what one resident called the "biggest thing to happen to Boones Mill since Willie Nelson was supposed to come here" but didn't.
Early in the day, the rows of white tents in the Confederate camp were the only thing that looked out of the ordinary for a Sunday in Boones Mill, but other signs soon became apparent.
The Boon Street Cafe started selling hot dogs and canned drinks from a table in front of the restaurant. Department of Transportation workers in blaze orange vests showed up with brooms to sweep out the gutters.
And suddenly, this one-cop town was abuzz with state police, sheriff's deputies and its most famous resident, town police officer Lynn Frith, cruising around in his souped-up Chevrolet Camaro police car.
By 3 p.m., people began lining the streets, setting up chairs and swinging their legs from the edge of the Southern States loading dock.
"Boones Mill should have had the darn Kazim Clowns out here to entertain us," one woman said jokingly to her mother and sister.
"They should have beer tents or something," her sister said. The three had never seen a bike race before, but felt as if they couldn't pass this up.
"There's no excuse when it's right in Boones Mill," said the second sister. But they weren't prepared for the 90-minute wait until the flash of "men with nice butts in them tight pants" came by.
"Momma, you should have fried chicken and made potato salad," the first sister said.
The day grew hot, but a group led by a woman with a sign that said "Free: a cup of cool water, God loves you, Boones Mill Baptist," brought water to anyone who wanted it.
At 3:30, the Confederates silenced the buzz of the crowd with several rounds of musket fire before marching over to the roadside.
"We're going to present arms as the bikes go by," said Commander Robert "Red" Barbour of the Fincastle Rifles. They also hoped to fire a welcoming volley if they could see the cyclists in time to shoot their guns without scaring the wits out of the riders.
Soon, state troopers on motorcycles whizzed through the streets with sirens on, one slowing to salute the Confederates. And before the soldiers could put their rifles to their shoulders, the pack was on them, zipping by on Boones Mill Road headed toward Easy Street.
"This is like a happy accident," said Barbara Shenkel, watching the race while stuck in traffic on 220 with her husband, Jerry. They had been driving for six hours on their way from Myrtle Beach to Roanoke. "We saw it last year, but we planned it then."
Truck driver Jimmy Lee didn't mind the unexpected stop on his way to New York, either. He had a nice view from the cab of his truck. But from all the cussing he'd heard on his CB radio, others weren't as happy about it.
"You go back up there and talk to some of them truckers and I bet they'll give you a story," he said.
Just as the last cyclist pedaled furiously by to catch his cohort, the sky opened up and dispersed the crowd with a downpour.
Jim Dickerson was dry on his front porch, though, where he watched the race with his family. He conceded that it was short: a long wait for a few minutes of spectacle, but nevertheless worthwhile.
"It's like the Kentucky Derby," his brother, Dave, said. "That was over in what, two minutes."
The whole Dickerson clan whooped and hollered like everyone else, as a "common courtesy," they said.
"We had to hold Momma down over there," Jim Dickerson said.
LENGTH: Medium: 97 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: DON PETERSEN/Staff. 1. Members of Fincastle Rifles fireby CNBtheir weapons in honor of the Tour DuPont cyclists before their
arrival in Boones Mill. (ran in Metro edition only) 2. Tour DuPont
fans watch riders cruise onto Easy Street (literally, not
figuratively) in Boones Mill Sunday afternoon. The event was enough
for this one-cop town to bring out its one cop, Lynn Frith, in his
souped-up Camaro police car, along with a small legion of state
police and sheriff's deputies to alert the residents to the riders'
impending arrival One spectator said the race's visit was "like the
Kentucky Derby" because of how quickly the riders moved in and out
of town. 3. Peggy Barbour, dressed in period clothing, and Bill
Miller, a member of the Sons of the Confederate Veterans, await the
riders' arrival. color.