Despite owners’ efforts, Virginia City may become ghost town

BY JOE TENNIS
Media General News Service
Published: November 3, 2008

What: Virginia City Pioneer Town & Gem Mine

Where: U.S. Highway 52, Wytheville, Va.

Info: (276) 223-1873

Web: http://www.vacity.com

WYTHEVILLE, Va. – It’s the edge of sundown at Virginia City.

Strains of sunlight burn across the Seven Sisters, a scenic set of peaks in Wythe County.

And on this night, after a sunny day of shoot-’em-ups, a dozen cowboys have literally taken a ride off into the sunset.

Such might be soon said for Virginia City.

It has been nearly 10 years since this attraction rose out of the wilderness at the edge of the Jefferson National Forest, about 10 miles from Wytheville, Va.

Summer after summer, tourists have found this make-believe Old West town, and many have hoped to find a jewel in the sluice of the Virginia City Gem Mine.

At events like “Cowboy Days,“ visitors find the attraction’s manager, Connie Janowski, wearing a long, white flowing dress.

Janowski matches the dozen cowboys and a few cowgirls, walking around in costumes, robbing the bank and firing blanks. Some cowboys, like 22-year-old daredevil Adam Toney, show how they can take a tumble and simply roll back into action.

Virginia City, itself, has taken tumbles.

And so did its predecessor, Dry Gulch Junction, an amusement park that lured tourists in the 1970s to its collection of 19th century structures like a chapel, a general store, a jail and a mill.

Today, Janowski said, “There are people that swear the place is haunted. If you sit quietly on the porch, you’ll hear all kinds of strange noises in these buildings.“

Only, this tale is not about a ghost.

This, instead, is the story of what was once – and what may be again – a ghost town.

On the market

A tragic train of death and debt lays in the history of this site, an attraction founded in the late 1960s near U.S. Highway 52.

In recent years, Virginia City has been a dream for Jeanne Davis and the late Michael Hill, a married couple that came to the banks of Big Walker Mountain with hopes of luring streams of visitors.

Since opening doors in 2000, Virginia City has hosted about 20 wedding receptions. People have rented the entire town. Some have come to hear bluegrass music or check out the gift shop.

But nothing has ever really been enough to pay the bills, Davis said.

And, today, that’s why Davis is putting the town up for sale.

“It’s not easy,“ Davis, 55, said. “It’s really not easy. It makes me so sad we’ve made this decision to sell the place.“

The Shay

Stuart Thomas Kime first launched this attraction about 40 years ago with a scenic excursion train in the late 1960s. Earlier, in the 1940s, Kime had established nearby Big Walker Lookout, an observation tower on the Bland-Wythe county line.

The train was pulled by a 1905 Shay engine, and the track was shaped like a V, going up the mountain in a “demonstration” of an actual logging train, said Kime’s son, Ron.

The original excursion train attraction derailed, however, with the death of Stuart Kime in 1972.

The following year, Ron Kime took over the remains of the attraction and, with a friend, Wayne Hovencamp, started working on a new plan to build a town around the train tracks.

Eventually, this pair assembled the antique buildings that became known as Dry Gulch Junction and have since been renamed “Virginia City.“

By 1977, Dry Gulch Junction opened for the summer, and brochures bragged about such attractions as the saloon shows, featuring what Kime called “a lot of slapstick comedy.“

Visitors could meet Joe Dakota, a local stunt man, and again ride the train that Stuart Kime had brought to the mountain.

Unfortunately, bad luck seemed to follow. One summer, a worker somehow slipped and died after the train ran over him.

The rain came

Still, despite the accident, Ron Kime and his wife, Dee, figured they could mine gold with country music concerts on this mountain.

In the late 1970s, Dottie West played at Dry Gulch Junction at a time when “she was working hard to become somebody,“ Ron Kime said.

Kime also remembered when 3,500 people came to see a show by Helen Cornelius and Jim Ed Brown: “They absolutely stuffed the mountain.“

Then, the rain came.

One summer, it rained during nearly every show.

“It got to be almost a joke,“ Dee Kime said. “You know it can’t rain every weekend.“

But it did. Or, at least, it seemed that way. Once, too, it even snowed during a show.

Ultimately, paying the price for big-name performers – and having low attendance – would send the Kimes into financial hot water.

“We weren’t making enough to pay the bills,“ Ron Kime said, “and we told the bank we were going to default on the loan.“

The couple opted for a trustee’s sale, and Dry Gulch Junction simply slipped out of their hands.

The train was dismantled.

But the town remained.

However, in the years following the sale, the property grew deserted – with windows broken and copper stolen from the buildings.

The place eventually grew so barren, Ron Kime said, “It was something that you didn’t want to hear about anymore.“

‘Mountain after mountain’

Growing up in Greensboro, N.C., Jeanne Davis had longed to find a getaway in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. And so did her husband, Michael Hill.

About a decade ago, this pair stumbled into the woods of Wythe County, Va., and what they found for sale was the remains of Dry Gulch Junction.

It came with a view that can only be described as incredible.

“You can get mountain land all you want,“ Davis said. “But when you get a view – that’s rare. You see mountain after mountain. You have close to a 260-degree view.“

To hear Davis tell it, this couple bought the mountain land “for a price we couldn’t refuse.“

Next, they unpacked their dreams. And, in many ways, they picked up where Ron and Dee Kime had been forced to stop.

Hill and Davis told everyone they would resurrect the old ghost town at Dry Gulch Junction as “Virginia City. “

And, Davis said, “I felt like we were the ones who were destined to do it. Time after time, the universe made something happen to make it work.“

‘Saved the buildings’

Friends pitched in, and, gradually, the old-timey structures of Dry Gulch Junction stood tall again with fresh furnishings and new paint.

“Mike saved the buildings,“ Ron Kime said, crediting Hill.

Once, about 1,500 people showed up on the mountain for a Bike Virginia rally. In years to come, more groups would come – sometimes on tour buses – “with hundreds and hundreds of people,“ Davis said.

Besides the town, Virginia City’s main attraction was a covered sluice, where customers could buy buckets of ore and search for jewels.

The ore, however, was imported: “We’re very up front that these gems are not coming from this mountain,“ Janowski said.

Still, the crowds kept coming. Many have been kids on school field trips.

But, over time, nothing ever seemed easy, Davis said.

“It was basically a struggle all the time to keep going. We knew what we could do,“ she said. “But we never knew that the marketing was the whole thing to getting the wheel rolling. It’s a full-time job to promote such a place.“

‘Vicious cycle’

In hindsight, Davis figured she should have converted the business into a non-profit venture.

“We never got paid,“ she said. “I’ve never lost money in a business venture before. But this has taken every penny I can put in it.“

Hill and Davis invested over $1 million in the business, plus worked “every day for 10 years,“ Davis said.

“It was a vicious cycle. Without more people, we couldn’t get more money. And without more money, we couldn’t get more people.“

Then came tragedy.

Hill suffered some kind of ailment – possibly a torn ligament after he had struggled to save an all-terrain vehicle from being lost in the woods.

At any rate, Davis said, Hill’s pain grew worse, but he refused to see a doctor. Finally, he did, but it was too late.

Hill died in 2006 at age 55.

Davis cried, faintly.

“This is hard for me to talk about,“ she said. “It’s really hard when your heart is broken to talk to people. I used to tell him, ‘Don’t you dare leave me when we get this thing going ...’ “

And then?

Davis’s father died the following year.

That second loss simply evaporated Davis’s enthusiasm for Virginia City.

“I don’t have the heart anymore,“ she said. “I don’t have to beat myself up with it ... When you live and breathe something like we did with this for so many years, and you see it go up in smoke ... It just makes me want to scream.“

Break the property

Over the past decade, Davis has borrowed money on her home and sold off inherited property to support Virginia City.

“It costs me about $8,000 a month to keep it,“ she said, “and I’ve done it for 10 years.“

In July and August, Janowski said, the gem mine business breaks even. “It’s all I can do for three or four employees to stay on top of everything,“ she added.

Today, though, Davis has no plans to open the business on a regular schedule for 2009.

She also plans to break the property in pieces – and sell 100 acres at $5,600 per acre – to get rid of “some of these loans that are eating us alive,“ she said.

After that, she wants to sell the town plus the remaining 140 acres for another $2.4 million.

“But the fact is,“ she said, “somebody would need that much again to go forward.“

Edge of sundown

Now, the sun has already set on the 2008 season at Virginia City.

By November, the sluice at the gem mine has closed, Janowski said. “And it’s too cool to play in the water.“

The most recent “Cowboys Days,“ too, may turn out to be the last of its kind at Virginia City.

That saddens cowboy Adam Toney, a Gretna, Va., man who said the town “gave us a backdrop. It’s peaceful on top of Big Walker Mountain. We kind of have the run of the town.“

Back home in Greensboro, N.C., these days, Davis often mourns at dusk, as the sun casts itself like waves of tears against the darkening sky.

“Every night when the sun goes down,“ she said, “I think it’s time for Michael to come and join me and watch what a spectacular display the earth puts on.“

Davis fought back a tear.

“I believe the place can be saved,“ she said. “I believe what we’ve got is an incredible dream. I really want to find somebody to inspire. I know its best usage is being open to the public.“

Davis took a deep breath and sighed.

“When that place is full of people, it just feels great,“ she said. “And when it’s empty and you don’t see a soul, it just feels awful.“

Like a ghost town.