THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, September 1, 1995 TAG: 9508300180
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 12 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY JANELLE LA BOUVE, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 160 lines
IT'S A SHAME old houses can't talk.
Surely, the Creekmore home, one of the oldest houses along George Washington Highway in Deep Creek, would have tales to tell.
``Mother didn't like the chimneys,'' said Bessie Keay, formerly Bessie Creekmore, who lives in the house with her husband, Roger. ``One day when my father was gone, she climbed on top of the house and began tearing down the chimneys. One of the neighbors, a member of the Trent family, said, `Oh my God. The bride is up on the house tearing the chimney down.' ''
Old houses like the Creekmores' in Deep Creek, a kind of a no man's land between Union and Confederate forces, outlasted the Civil War. But some may not survive the growth of Chesapeake.
The section of George Washington Highway between Interstate 64 and Cedar Road has become among the city's most congested roadways. During rush hours on weekdays, the highway is choked with cars.
And more are expected to come, as new housing developments in the area pick up steam.
City officials say something must be done to improve the road. City Council allocated $160,000 this year to study options for Deep Creek and Route 17. Eventually, George Washington Highway might have to be widened.
If so, the adjacent homes would be added to a growing list of historic structures in Chesapeake that have been moved, torn down or marked for demolition to make way for development.
City planners now are drafting a plan to start preserving some of Chesapeake's disappearing historical buildings or at least the memory of them.
Still, for George Washington Highway homeowners who have put much time, money and heart into renovations, the increasing demand to improve the road is discomforting at best.
``One minute I think they'll take the house; the next I think it won't happen,'' said Gail Strickland, who has overhauled her 149-year-old home alongside the highway.
Roger Keay said he's not worried the expansion will happen soon.
Besides, he said, ``If they widen the road, the houses might be moved back; but you can't stand in the way of progress.''
Bessie Keay's great-great-grandfather built the house in Deep Creek where Keay, 93, and her sister Lydia Hart, 87, grew up.
Among Keay's treasures is a photograph of the house with its twin chimneys still intact. A horse, its rider and a buggy are parked near the three-story dwelling, which was probably erected during the 1790s.
Although there's no date, the caption beneath the picture says that at the time good farm land sold for $20 to $30 an acre.
Hart lives next door. A Union Army fort once occupied the land where her house now stands. Reputedly, a Yankee soldier was hanged from a cedar tree in the front yard. It was because of the Union fort that Keay's ancestors were forced to move temporarily.
The original Creekmore house had only one room. Later, the house was moved 40 feet back from what is now known as George Washington Highway and, as time passed, more rooms were added. The kitchen was a separate building, later attached to the main house.
When Bessie and Roger Keay married, winter winds still blew through cracks in wide-planked floors.
The Keays put down hardwood floors. While making repairs, they found three layers of ceiling.
They were surprised by the house beams.
``They had cut a tree trunk in half for beams, which ran the length of a room,'' Roger Keay said.
When they brought electricity into the house, the electrician said the timbers were too hard to bore holes for wiring.
``My father thought it was terrible when we put a bathroom inside the house,'' Bessie Keay said. ``He vowed he would never use it.''
Some of the original doors are still in the house and at least one one of the old door locks.
Keay's father owned a barrel factory on the Southern Branch of the Elizabeth River, which was clearly visible from the house. He also built lighters - small barges that could pass through the narrow set of nearby locks.
The Creekmore girls had tea parties, played in the back yard fig tree and made mud pies. They bartered brown eggs for penny-candy at nearby Flemmings' grocery. Sometimes they were able to slip away the 750 feet to the ``deep creek.''
Adam Shaw believes his house was built around 1870 by his great-grandfather, Silas Cherry.
The home alongside George Washington Highway has been passed down through the family.
Shaw has restored the place, with its small columns and little side porch.
He sanded, sealed and stained the original pine floors.
``They're getting thin, though,'' he said.
He removed and repaired the 20 original windows, then rehung them.
``You can still see distortions in some of the panes,'' he said.
Older neighbors have told Shaw that his family owned a lumber mill. That may explain the use of expensive wood throughout the house, including the 12-by-12 ax-cut heart-of-cypress foundation.
In every room, there is heart-of-cypress wainscoting.
``The doors and stairwells are a cacophony of different woods, including heart of cedar,'' he said.
He also restored the 150-year-old smoke house on the property.
``I have been told that it is one of the oldest structures around here,'' he said.
The small office on the first floor of the house was used by his grandfather, Major McKinley Hillard, a state senator, Norfolk County judge and the first Circuit Court judge for the City of Chesapeake.
Shaw said he hates to see homes like his threatened.
``I was raised here,'' he said. ``I think that is rather horrible since there are so few old houses in Chesapeake. I hate to see anything historical ruined.''
But he tries to be realistic.
``Most of the people in the community are older and probably won't fight it at all,'' he said. ``I think eventually, maybe within four or five years, the city will have to widen this road.''
During the Civil War, Union troops slept in Dennis and Gail Strickland's home.
It was built in 1846, with pegs instead of nails. The original walls were horse-hair plaster.
For the past five years, the Stricklands have been renovating the place.
They ripped out dropped ceilings and paneling, stripped paint from stairway banisters, restored arched framing around the windows and pulled up carpeting installed by earlier homeowners. They refinished the heart-of-pine floors.
Like many of the old houses in Deep Creek, additions had been built onto the original small structure.
The Stricklands were the first owners to add plumbing, central heat and air to the original section of the house.
If the highway eventually is widened, Gail Strickland sees little hope for her home's survival. There's not enough land in her front yard for more road.
``Structurally, I don't know if the house would stand being moved,'' she said.
``Widening the road to suit the future income of the developers is inconceivable, because a developer cannot replace a historical home. There are no houses which are 150 years old. When it's gone, it's gone.'' ILLUSTRATION: [Cover]
STANDING IN THE WAY OF PROGRESS
[Color Photo]
For Gail and Dennis Strickland, the home is a labor of love.
Staff photos by STEVE EARLEY
The Strickland home in Deep Creek was built in 1846, with pegs
instead of nails. Gail and Dennis Strickland have spent the last
five years renovating it.
Staff photos by STEVE EARLEY
An unused fireplace in the Strickland house is flanked by
statuettes.
The front room of the Strickland house is filled with antiques. Like
many of the old houses in Deep Creek, additions had been built onto
the original small structure. The Stricklands were the first owners
to add plumbing, central heat and air to the original section of the
house. If George Washington Highway eventually is widened, Gail
Strickland sees little hope for her home's survival. There's not
enough land in her front yard for more road.
by CNB