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By John Souders, originally printed in the 2018 Waterford Fair Booklet

The Waterford Foundation: The Early Years—1943-1970

Each year thousands visit Waterford and marvel at a wonderfully intact remnant of early America. This year the village celebrates the Waterford Foundation, the far-sighted organization that for 75 years has worked to preserve and share that treasure. Its successes have been neither easy nor inevitable.

By the 1930s, in the midst of the Great Depression, the old town was a near shambles, the hollowed out remnant of a long slow decline after the Civil War. Many locals doubted that the dilapidated buildings could or even should be saved from inevitable collapse. One charming old structure on Main Street, the final home of a former slave, was taken down for its stone, which was hauled to Leesburg.

The Pink House (40174 Main Street), originally an early 19^th-century tavern, escaped a similar fate only because its brick proved too soft for reuse. As one dismayed newcomer put it, “Most every building looked as though it was about to fall apart … It seemed a truly deserted village.”

The one sign of life was the work of brothers Edward and Leroy Chamberlin, who had begun to repair and resell a number of deteriorating residences in and around town. The Chamberlins were an old Waterford Quaker family that fortunately had the means to tackle the job in the depression-ravaged community. But Edward died in 1940, and their momentum threatened to stall.

But where to begin? The new organization had no money and no real plan other than a desire “to preserve the historic buildings” and “to increase the public’s knowledge of life and work in an early American rural community.” As a tentative first step, the Foundation pulled together $825 to buy a dilapidated house that, fittingly, had been built circa 1800 for Mahlon Janney son of the town’s founder. They made necessary repairs and resold it in 1945 for $1,500. The organization would repeat this pattern of rescue and resale many times in the decades that followed, a bootstrap technique that was largely self-funding.

But not all needy buildings could or should be resold. A prime example was the defunct old mill, the iconic structure in the village. The Foundation was able to purchase that building in 1944 only because the Fadeley family stepped in with a $2,000 donation. Then, casting about for more sustainable ways to continue its work, the Foundation hit on the idea of holding an exhibition of arts and crafts and charging a nominal fee to attend. The success of the first such demonstration in 1944 exceeded the board’s hopes, and the “Waterford Fair” rapidly grew to a major cultural event in Loudoun and beyond, furthering the organization’s educational mission and providing a vital source of funding. [The Foundation will explore the history of the Fair in greater detail next year, the 75^th anniversary of its modest beginning.]

Over the years the Foundation has confronted many challenges, some of its own making. An early and persistent one was a charge of elitism, coupled with secrecy. To help allay concerns, the board opened membership to anyone interested. But as president McDaniel put it in 1944, there was no certainty the people would “cooperate through a form of membership involving a nominal yearly contribution without some definite benefits or returns to them personally.” On that score he needn’t have worried, but suspicions about the Foundation’s motives long persisted in some quarters.

A greater threat to the long-term success of the Waterford Foundation arose from an unexpected source: the accelerating growth of Loudoun County. The population of the county had remained remarkably stable between 1800 and 1950, and few foresaw what would come next. Only belatedly did the board recognize that preservation of the mill village could not succeed without saving the green space that was its historical and visual context. The threat came to the fore in 1970 when the Water Street Meadow and Schooley Mill Barn properties came on the market, opening the possibility of new construction immediately adjacent to the town. Still, not all board members thought the threat was as great as the purchase price, and there were multiple resignations when the majority opted to buy the Water Street acreage. In hindsight the wisdom of their acquisition looks much clearer.

By 1970 the work of the Waterford Foundation had acquired a national reputation as a model of grassroots preservation. It had achieved its successes in restoring buildings, protecting open spaces and celebrating early American crafts and activities with virtually no public funding. That same year, in recognition of those accomplishments, the U.S. Department of the Interior designated Waterford and its surround as a national historic landmark district, a category reserved for the likes of Mount Vernon and Independence Hall.

But the work was not finished. The Waterford Foundation has continued to protect viewsheds, maintain fragile buildings, host the annual Homes Tour and Crafts Exhibit, and develop educational programs and exhibits. The challenges since 1970 and those ahead are topics for next year’s fair booklet.

This account of school days in Waterford in the early 20th century comes from John E. Divine in his book When Waterford and I Were Young, written with Bronwen and John Souders. The school he describes in this excerpt was the school for Waterford’s white children through the early 1960s. It is now called the Old School and is where the Waterford Foundation offices are currently housed. The school on Second Street that served Waterford’s Black children is also discussed in Divine’s book as well as other Waterford Foundation publications. Find more information about that school here.

With few exceptions, Waterford School was blessed with good teachers. They certainly were not in it for the money–salaries in 1904-05 were just $27 per month. 

It is always dangerous to rate or even name teachers, lest some fine ones be overlooked. I will nonetheless mention two who made a great impression on me.

My first grade teacher, Miss Mary Shawen¹ led her pupils gently from freedom to the discipline of academic life. Miss Minnie Russell², who lived on Patrick Street, was a great mathematician for the 6th and 7th graders. Miss Minnie taught at least two generations of students–the parents of some of my classmates had studied under her.

Miss Minnie was a stern task-master with but one aim: make every student ready for the next grade. I can picture her with her starched white apron and high black collar standing in front of a class after we had not performed to her standards in a quiz. “Well! I’m ashamed of you! But I promise you, you will learn this work or we will still be on these pages at the end of the school term!” These were not idle words, for you did learn it as you were afraid not to respond. A great regret of mine is that on her death I could not stand at her grave and say, “Thank you, Miss Minnie.” A World War II date with Uncle Sam had taken me away from Waterford.

From the heartland of America came a Hoosier schoolteacher, Winifriede Elliott, who made contributions to the social, as well as academic, life of the village. “Frieda” married in Loudoun, forsaking her native Indiana to become a true Waterfordian in every sense of the word.

The name Frieda Myers became synonymous with education at the high school level, church work, and with the broader family life of the community. She became principal of the high school for a term and a half, after Mr. Vivian Ayers resigned midterm in 1926. She brought with her a discipline that the school had not previously known; of this, the writer of these lines has first-hand knowledge. Never again did a 16-pound shot, used in track, ever fall down the ventilator duct, nearly shaking every window loose.

Not that Mrs. Myers lacked a sense of humor. She told a story that captured life in Waterford at Christmas time, when friendliness reigned supreme: Mrs. Myers had a near neighbor and, in the custom of the time, she invited this neighbor in to visit and sample her fruit cake. This fine lady had but one fault: occasionally she would speak without thinking. On that day, as they ate the fruit cake, Mrs. Myres remarked thoughtfully as she tasted it, “I think it needs a bit more spice…” Whereupon the guest replied, “Most anything that was done to it would have helped!”

For a school so few in numbers, we had good athletic teams–girls basketball, men’s baseball, and mixed tennis. In 1925, we won the county baseball championship, defeating Round Hill 4-3 in a real thriller for the title. One of the great days in our young lives was the following Monday morning, when at assembly, the principal, Mr. Ayers, made a speech of congratulation.

Mr. Ayers, by the way, was courting a teacher that year who boarded with Mrs. Flave Beans in the rooms over the present Waterford Market. There were two large buckeye trees in front of the building, and Mr. Ayers would park with the bumper of his new Durant auto against one of them when calling on his lady friend. 

One night some boys wired his bumper to the tree and hid nearby to see what would happen. Mr. Ayers finally came out and started the car, which immediately choked out when he tried to back away. The next attempt he applied a little more gas, with the same result. The third time he applied enough gas to make his wheels spin. This brought him out of the car and revealed the reason for his troubles. 

Not until well into the 1930s was there county school bus transportation. Some of our students came by horseback, some by horse and buggy, and maybe a couple by auto. But the greatest number came on foot. It was a sight to see twenty or more pupils forming a group to walk out the road to Paeonian Springs at the end of the school day.

Find more stories from Waterford’s history in When Waterford and I Were Young by John E. Divine with Bronwen and John Souders.

1. The Shawens are an old Waterford family. In 1815 Cornelius Shawen was one of 12 directors of the Loudoun Company, the county’s first bank. Miss Mary (1858-1925), who lived at Old Acre, was descended from those early residents. Her sister Frances (Fanny) married Waterford’s Frank Myers of “ Lige” White’s 35th Battalion–but only after keeping the hardened cavalry officer in uncertain torment for several years. ↩︎
2. The Russells have also been prominent around Waterford for many years. Miss Minnie (1868-1942) lived in town with her unmarried sisters Ida (1859-1928) and Edmonia (1870-1945). Edmonia was postmistress for 25 years. ↩︎