THE ENGHAM HOUSE HISTORY
The Engham House sits at 31 Main Street in Sperryville, Virginia. That’s in Rappahannock County for those of you who don’t live here. It was designed and built by James Arthur Engham. It had another history buried in the timbers that indicate that there was probably a two-room cabin originally and this area remains the center of the house today. J.A. Engham was a man of unusual talents and seemingly unabashed by attitudes and prejudices of the day against Blacks, this proud man called “Uncle Arthur” by whites, was called “Mr. Engham” in his circle.
In 1890 he married Florence Terry and together they had three daughters, Clara died at 17, but Roberta and Fannie lived on. And although he owned 30 properties in Rappahannock before his death in 1935, he never moved from 31 Main Street..
It was on August 16, that he died after suffering a stroke days earlier in the room that he called his own, where he loved to tinker. That room is now our premier Guest Room we call Engham's Studio. But that puts us ahead of the story. Perhaps I should start closer to the beginning.
In 1997 my family engaged on an incredible rehab journey. To start with we had to camp in the “big” room that we now call the West Wing) and carry water from the river to flush the toilet. We soon found out that we were sharing an ancient spring with several other houses in Sperryville and that Mr. Burke, our neighbor, had over the years taken almost full responsibility for keeping the pipes going. This apparently is the same spring that J. A. Engham used for his family. But there was also a shallow well behind the house. But now I’m really getting off the path.
We were intoxicated with “first-time-buyer” energy. And for me it’s been a journey of love for this old house, strong of foundation and frame (Balloon style I’m told). The poplar 3X5’s were milled behind the house for both additions in 1928, Gid Clater says, “When they started up that 1-cycle engine (points to the back of my house), you could hear it all over town.” Evidently the 1-cycle replaced a small water wheel where they made Conestoga Wagons. The blacksmith shop, although listing heavily is still there. In Richmond one of these Conestoga’s is on display as one of Virginia’s Three Greatest Treasures…Made in Sperryville, VA! I’ve seen a tintype of such a wagon pulling out from 29 Main Street (the building all the old locals still relate to as where you bought your pine coffin).
Well back to the house. As we tore off the siding and learned that there was an asbestos center, back to the drawing board and then finally, yes, it could be disposed in the local land fill. But in the process we discovered that there was probably an older structure originally, perhaps mostly dismantled by the current building. It would probably look similar to the other smaller houses on the street otherwise. We know that the main house was completed in around 1908 as a tintype shows a beautiful new looking house. Plus he hadn’t yet added the porch on the East side for Florence, who complained of dust from horses and wagons on the road. Now the challenge is the exhause fumes from the traffic on Main Street.
The commercial West wing, which features one large room down with eleven plus ceilings and a 25’ by 20’room. That’s the room we hope will be home to our Assisted Living person. It is easy to access and is so large that it is easy to move around and entertain guests.
The history of the house is interwoven with the man who built it and lived in it to his death in August 16, 1935. He left the fields, a day laborer as a young man, they say 21 years old and developed his barbering skills to include dentistry (of the era, which was by the way pre-dentistry as we know and love it today). Much later he trained to be an oculist (trying on lenses to help people improve their sight. He was a lock maker, a clock maker, a tintype photographer, a jeweler and a real turn of the Century Entrepreneur. He was a mill owner, the one closest to Sperryville going up 211, Look on the left, there are remenants. Mr. Russell says that he remembers when his grandfather received a brand new grinder for the mill…one good enough to grind grain fine enough for humans, not just the pig feed that he had been grinding. Mr. Russell remembers that it came from the Sears Catalog. There is some question as to the use of the milled corn. This was a center for White Lightening and Ja Engham owned land up on Oven Top Mountain that hosted at least one still. DADT (it was as don't ask, don't tell situation.
I was given an extraordinary opportunity to get to know the man more intimately through a feed sack full of magazines, jewelry catalogs, and personal notes. The dates indicated that these were put away at his passing in the attic of the garage. The garage by the way had housed his 1929 Hupmobile. I was absorbed fascinated.
And then:
One middle of the night in late October, 1998 I was awakened from a deep sleep by the ghost of Jah Engham. I was awakened in a most peculiar fashion; there was a tap, tap, tapping….
.Want to hear more about the Engham House Ghost (a true story by the way)? Or how about the story of Jah Engham himself? How the prejudices of the day didn’t keep him down? And there are also the stories (oral histories) of other old timers. What about that story of the Major’s boy who shot the Sheriff? I’ve heard tell that there were many Black celebrations held up Major’s Hollow on a platform to hold the band and dancers, next to the old spring. Who will tell the story of the cattle running through town? Or who can tell me more about the Black Indians that came from Major’s Hollow? There a story about an Indian woman who escaped to the mountains when the Indians were rounded up to go on what would be the “trail of tears”? Fact or Fiction? Mr. James Russell, Jah Engham’s grandson, has located the Slave Burial Ground behind his house. It seems that the marker stones were removed and became stones in a local driveway?
Well, it can’t be done all at once, but I’ll promise to tell of the first meeting of the Ghost of Jah Engham in the next issue of the Main Street News. My friend says that I should explain the name I’m calling our Mr. J. A. Engham. Neither Mr. Engham, nor Uncle Arthur was acceptable to me as a handle for this mysterious and powerful man. I called him J. A. for a while and then the letters ran together and the sound became “Jah”. It felt quite right, properly reverent and respectful. Now he is Jah Engham. Maybe that’s why he came to visit me. But since the first visit, my former husband Paul has actually had more direct experiences than me. But I could win the argument when I said,”Because Jah Engham likes me.” I guess that didn’t work on paper so well, you would have to see the threatening look in my eyes that said, "And he's gonna let you know".