It’s summer in pre-World War II Virginia and life is easy and hot.
Where do you go to escape the heat?
Moore Lake!
The popular swimming hole just off US Route One between Richmond and Petersburg was the most refreshing refuge from the humidity and sweltering dog days west of the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. It was a mecca for locals seeking a few hours of blessed relief and a major vacation destination for tourists from across the state. People were drawn to its massive sandy beach, the water slides, the high diving board where giggling girls congregated to watch the boys show off, and the adjacent ballroom that filled the night air with Big Band tunes. . Everyone who entered the bathhouse received a distinctive pin, and then used it to retrieve their clothes after swimming. Today, brass pins are prized by many veterans who use them as lapel ornaments.
Tommy Crump, whose parents bought the lake and surrounding cabins after working several years for RD Moore, the original owner, remembers hundreds of families from as far away as North Carolina returning year after year. People driving from the north to Florida soon realized that it was the ideal overnight stop both out and back. For the locals, Moore’s Lake was the place to be and to be seen. It was inevitable that sunny afternoons and moonlit nights were responsible for countless romances. Many flourished in marriage.
The sturdy brick and stone cottages that Moore built in 1929 were the epitome of luxury when George and Lena Crump took over the business. They quickly modernized them even further by adding bathrooms. As the Depression abated and tourists clamored to enjoy its comforts and jungle setting, they built more cabins throughout the fragrant forests to reach 38. By 1941, they had erected a restaurant and their own comfortable brick house in the property.
When World War II broke out and Camp Lee was reactivated near Petersburg (it was renamed Fort Lee in 1950), some of the servicemen stationed there brought their families and housed them in cabins on Moore’s Lake. Several of his wives found work as waitresses at the busy restaurant that served three meals every day to cabin guests, local residents and defense workers on their way to work at nearby military installations. To defray the expenses, the older children of the service families staying there contributed to the war effort by making themselves useful as bus boys, dishwashers, gardeners, and lifeguards.
Tommy Crump, now 68, was a little boy then. He was closely supervised by a babysitter as he rode his trike along the scenic lanes to claim a tasty delicacy from the kitchen of the restaurant that served guests of Moore’s Brick Cottages and Moore’s Lake. Growing up in the spacious home her parents built, she learned to swim in the lake and appreciate the beauty and unique setting of the property. It was only natural that she never strayed, but chose to stay and raise her own children there.
In 1970, he and his wife bought the cabins, the adjacent gas station, and the restaurant. Renamed Sylvester’s, the restaurant was destined to become the most popular for miles around. Along with a delicious prime rib dinner that drew crowds, the menu featured hearty seafood, tasty soups, “croissant-wiches,” stuffed potatoes, and delicious home-made desserts, including a double chocolate silk cake and a hot fruit tart.
Moore’s Brick Cottages thrived until the construction of nearby Interstate 95 lured cars and trucks away from the venerable Jefferson Davis Highway, cementing the fate of the operation. With the advent of high-speed freeways across the country, families discovered the appeal of the open road. No longer content with vacationing just a short drive from home, tourists traveled from Boston to Miami in a fraction of the time it would take to travel the outdated two-lane highway. When large motels and hotels sprung up along the interstate to serve long-distance travelers, it wasn’t long before Moore’s Brick Cottages became superfluous. Buildings fell into disrepair and those who came to swim took their chances with no lifeguards on duty. Today, the lake is little more than a neglected neighborhood swimming hole.
Sylvester’s, however, continued to prosper. It served a loyal local clientele until December 2004 when Tommy Crump sold the property to a developer. The office park and retail businesses emerging from the devastated land will serve the City of Chester. Tommy watched with tearful eyes as all but two of the quaint cabins were demolished and their rubble used as fill for the parking lot.
“I feel an obligation to save these last two as part of history,” he says. “I’ll keep one for myself and move it to my property along the James River. I hope someone, or some interested organization, will take the other and keep it for posterity.”
With no interested parties yet, time is running out. Soon, only the ghosts of the happy days of the past will loom over the property that is still protected by gigantic, fragrant trees waiting to be destroyed in the name of progress.