Researching an Old House: Finally Completed

It's taken me years, but the origins of the house at 275 Carolina Avenue have finally been discovered. While mysteries of the house still exist, a build date and chain of title have finally been completed. Does this mean I intend to quit writing in my blog? Hardly, as Danville still has many stories left to be retold. But for now, let's focus on today's discoveries.

I've hit so many brick walls in my research that I started to feel like the Kool-Aid man. Every path I took, forward or backwards led me to dead ends or cul-de-sacs regarding the history of the house, the street, and the neighborhood.

Week before last, I had planned a day of research, but ultimately ended up with two. Day one left with me with the same information I had before. But my second day of research was spontaneous, and provided me with new information.

You see, one of the trust deeds on the property was incredibly daunting to read. W. P. Robinson and his wife Blanche -- who actually controlled the personal property and store they owned -- had accrued massive amounts of debts. In this particular trust deed, it listed every single person to whom money was owed and how much. Because of this, I tended to skip over that information because I really didn't care how much they owed to National Cash Register. This time, however, I looked closely enough to notice that the house and land were not included as there was a previous trust deed taken out on the property.

Because of this, I was led to a new name: F. X. Burton.

Unfortunately, I was unable to pursue it anymore. But I knew that the name F. X. Burton had to be my key. After a week at my parents house, I finally got to investigate.

Now we're back to today. I decided that since almost everything pertaining to the house was replicated in Danville, I would just go downtown and get the information I needed there. Unfortunately, after a couple of hours of circular research and dead ends I found nothing. At about 3:00, I decided to head to Chatham. It was pouring down rain when I left the courthouse, but the sun was shining. I took this as a good sign. In any event, it certainly made me happy.

When I got to Chatham, I immediately got to work searching for land that F. X. Burton may have sold around the time he purchased the land which contains Ms. Gott's house, but found nothing.

I had thought to look at land records while in Danville, so I KNEW that J. E. Perkinson had acquired the land by 1906, so I looked him up in the index and found a deed from Molly Mays in 1905. From there, I found that she bought the house from Alice Burton, the widow of F. X. Burton, in 1904.

Re-reading the county landbooks show that in 1885, a building worth $600 was listed on the property. The same value is listed in subsequent landbooks in both Pittsylvania County and Danville.

Thus, the chain of title was completed:
Robinson -> Burton -> Mays -> Perkinson -> Keeling -> Grasty -> Breeden -> Gott

It's interesting, to me, that J. E. Perkinson bought the land the year before his brother was listed as living in the area and 11 years before he would buy the land across Carolina Avenue and sell it to his brother for $10.

My next entry will deal more with the people of the house, how they came to get it and how they came to lose it. For now, though, I shall leave it with this. I've decided that a reward is in order...and I want ice cream! :)

And then I threw two weeks of notes into the air and scared the crap out of my orange cat, Trio.

Research: Making Connections with Other Historians

I have a million thoughts swirling through my head tonight...or I should say, a million more than usual.

Yesterday, a dear friend of mine read my blog entry about Galileo. She said it was incredibly well written and asked me " are you sure that you don't want to go on to study history/become a historian?" I had to concede that I have toyed with the idea. I chuckled a little, given that she was a fellow Psychology major. More importantly, though, we met through a writing lab senior year. I must give credit where credit is due: if it hadn't been for Dr. Silvia, I don't think my writing would be as good as it is now. Granted, I've always been a good writer, but it was his class that transitioned me from academic writing to professional-esque writing. You'll probably never see this, but thanks Dr. Silvia!

Last weekend, thanks to Micah Robinson, I was able to meet one of, if not Danville's most prominent historian: Gary Grant. Micah mentioned that I had been researching his house for him, and then Gary and I started talking. We talked about the house, the information I had, and the abstract Mary Cahill had written on 1021 Main Street that didn't make it into Victorian Danville: Fifty-two Landmarks: Their Architecture & History. He said he would drop off a copy of the abstract with Micah so I could read it next time I was in town.

As we talked, I mentioned my use of the Sanborn Fire Insurance Company maps, and come to find out that there are only two copies available in Danville. While I have access to all the maps (though without color coding), he hasn't been able to access them. Gary expressed interest in seeing them, and I said I would look into printing out hard copies of each map.

I also mentioned that the Southern Historical Collection at UNC has a copy of a ledger from the Mount Vernon Villa Company that I have been wanting to check out. This seemed to really intrigue him, and he gave me a little more insight into the Mount Vernon Villa Company. Apparently, they were the movers and shakers of the early 20th century. I knew that they were one of the main sources of westward expansion in Danville, but never knew that they had their hands in so many pockets: the power company, the street car company.

It turns out, as well, that Gary is the first person with whom I've spoken who is aware that Ms. Gott's house is the second oldest in that neighborhood. While most people immediately assume the house across the street is, he had absolutely no surprise when I reported that a newspaper article had listed her house as such.

The most important thing he said to me was that he would be very interesting in sharing information if I can get information from the Mount Vernon Villa Company ledger. In fact, this excited me so much that I immediately starting formulating ways I could get a chance to get to Wilson Library to check it out.

Given that I'm required to take a mandatory 30 days off from work -- the joys of being a temp -- I thought that would be a good time to see what I could find. So, I decided I would ask my coworker and my boss if, perhaps, I came down one day during my break around lunch if my coworker could drop me off at the library on his way back out onto campus. It would save the money from parking, and my sister said she'd be willing to pick me up when she gets off of work.

When I broached the idea with my coworker, he was fine with it. I figured my boss would be okay with it, but I felt it better to ask. I must say, I really do have an awesome boss! He didn't even hesitate and said it would be fine. I'm sure he knows if I'm there while Bryan is unloading the truck, I'll certainly help. Not necessarily to expedite the process of getting to the library, but to thank them both for helping me. Now, all that's left, is more me to figure out when would be best for me to come back to Chapel Hill from Danville and spend an afternoon reading a 100 year old ledger.

The ledger should prove to hold key information on the westward expansion of Danville, and if at all useful, might give me reason to document and perhaps write a book based on that and the knowledge I've already gained from newspaper archives.

A more pertinent blog entry should be soon following. Next Monday I fully intend to spend an entire day research deeds and building permits on Ms. Gott's house and on 1021 Main Street. Hopefully, having all an entire day and making some detailed notes of what I need to research will allow me to get some answers on Ms. Gott's house. Until then, however, I will be living with excitement and anticipation of what comes next.

From School to School to Sears to School: A History of Galileo Magnet High School and the corner lot at Ridge and Loyal Streets

(Author's Note: I suppose this could be considered my tribute to the 10 year anniversary of my high school: Galileo Magnet High School. As well as a tribute to the teachers, the staff, Mr. Lawrence, and the friends that helped make it three of the best years of my life.)

Geeks, nerds, dorks....whatever you wanted to call us, we embraced it. In fact, which of three we were was once of great debate as we gathered on the pews of the Common Area and cafeteria, and amidst echoes of Bohemian Rhapsody in the hallways. Later, it became a long running inside joke amongst a rag-tag group of misfits who found their place within the walls of a former department store.

Galileo was a unique entity where the stereotypically popular people were outcasts; set aside within their own clique. And the outcasts? Well, they were the cool kids...the ones at the top of the hierarchy of high school socialization. What most of us had common, and what made us unique, was that we were all a bit strange, and we embraced it.

People like this guy.

 

The site on which Galileo now stands is no stranger to education. Some 120 years prior to the school's inaugural year, on that very lot, stood Danville's very first public school. In 1880, on the site of Stratford College's first campus, a four story brick building was erected to educate all of Danville's youngsters. A total of 49 students attended the "Loyal Street School" that first year, from elementary through high school. The high school being confined to the second floor with it's own principal.

The original Loyal Street School.
I wish I had brought my printer/scanner with me.

 
For 87 years, the young people of Danville were limited to private schools and home education. It was a legislative act in 1870 that finally brought free public education to Danville. Yet it was another 10 years before the city could get a grant and community support to build the school.

The first embodiment of Loyal Street School lasted for 31 years. The building, as was written in the Danville Bee, "continued in use for some years despite a number of small fires – (mostly attributed to youthful incendiaries) – and as a measure of precaution, fire escapes were added.” (Any part of that quote sound familiar Galileans? :-p) At the turn of the century, it was the only school for whites in Danville, whereas there were two small schools for African-Americans.

By all written accounts (at least that I could find), Loyal Street School existed as one building for 31 years. It appears, however, that isn't so. On the Sanborn Fire Insurance Company map from May, 1894, there exists two buildings on that lot. One listed as "Old Public School" and the other listed as "New Public School." The latter, it appears, is the one pictured above.

Note the ravine in front of the two houses (where the compass arrow is pointing, actually). It will come up later.

By 1910, Loyal Street's final year, the old building had disappeared. Between make shift fire escapes and changing times, the school board decided it was time for a new building. In 1911, the school was razed to make way for a nice, new building. Only this time, it had a new name: Robert E. Lee Elementary.

Robert E. Lee Elementary spent it's beginning years rather quietly. In 1925, there were complaints about stagnant water in the branch (or ravine) noted above creating an unpleasant odor. Promises were made that by the beginning of the school year the situation would be remedied.

The following year, the area surrounding the school began to change. Seeing a need for an expanded business district, enterprising landowners J. T. Watson, Grasty Crews, and Henry Lee began preparations for a Loyal Street business district. If you've been following my blog, two of those names should be vaguely familiar. J. T. Watson, for whom Watson Street is named, owned and operated a brick yard near the train tracks just off of Watson Street. Grasty Crews is one of the former owners of Ms. Gott's house.

Within two years, Robert E. Lee started to face the burdens an expanding business district, as well as an expanding town. In 1928, parents, especially those in the West End, began to worry about sending their kids to school so near the business due to increased traffic. Enrollment dropped, as parents removed their children in favor of John L. Berekely School on Grove Street. 

Parents and townspeople began suggesting that the school should be closed, and the building re-purposed for the growing business district. As the city was in dire need of an armory and public auditorium, it was suggested that the location would be ideal. It was also suggested that the building/land be used as a city market, due to easy accessibility and it would be "emminently suitable for Danville housewives." 

Parents were also requesting that a new school be built on the west end. Three lots were considered for this: one on Howeland Circle, one off of Randolph Street, and a third situated between Averett College and Forest Hills. I think we can safely guess which location was ultimately chosen.

For the next two years, school superintendent G. L. H. Johnson would push for the sale of the school to the city. Ultimately, despite the city sending a letter to inquire the price of the property, the would ultimately chose the corner of Spring Street as the location for the city armory and auditorium.

Despite dwindling enrollment, Robert E. Lee Elementary chugged along. It should be noted, however, that for some reason no newspaper articles appeared for the 1940s. I'll go back later and investigate this.

By 1955, Robert E. Lee had run its course. Grove Park School was in the process of being built, and the decision was made to finally close down the old school on the corner of Loyal and Ridge. In January of 1956, Robert E. Lee students were sent to the new Grove Park School to finish out the school year before being dispersed to other schools. By February, the demolition of the old school had already begun.

The land at the corner of Loyal and Ridge was sold to the Danville Housing Authority for the sum of $175,000 following a 1954 proposal. Danville Housing Authority had plans to clear out slums that existed around the school, and plans were set in motion for the building of a new street, improving existing ones, and updating electricity and utility lines to the area.

A few months later, Danville Housing Authority sold the land to Sears, Roebuck, and Co. for $275,000 for them to build a (then) modern store on the lot. The store was to be a big change from the former location on Main Street: it boasted a ~200 car parking lot, a full automotive service center, and garden center. Construction was completed in October, 1956, and the building we now know opened it's doors on October 17th. 

Not too dissimilar from what they built, no?
Photo taken from the Danville Bee.

 Sears was one of the first department stores to break away from Main Street. Conversely, it was the last to leave. Sears remained in business on that lot until 1993, when it moved to the then 9 year old Piedmont Mall. Many in my generation remember visiting the store with their parents.

The old building sat mostly empty for nine years. People who worked for the city used the parking lot, at one point RCATT occupied part of the building. 

Then, in 2002 with the aid of an 8 million dollar grant, the old building was brought back to life as a high school. Walls were built, Gateway computers and laptops were bought, and students recruited. Students who would take history, math, and astronomy in the old Auto Center; history and drama in the now walled former outdoor garden center.

 

Was it small? Certainly. Was it awkward? No more than we were. Was I the only one that once or twice zoned out in class and thought about the washer and dryer set that was probably once on display where I was sitting? Probably not. Was Mr. Lawrence the best principal of all time? No doubt. Was the boys bathroom locked too many times? Definitely.

The point is, the memories were just as important as the education we received. That, and everything came full-circle. What started out as Danville's ONLY school, expanded and grew, became a department store for a few decades, and then returned to its original purpose: developing the minds of Danville's youth.

Loyal Street School may be forgotten, and Robert E. Lee may be but a memory to some, but both were just as pivotal to Danville's educational advancement as Galileo.

Past Residents: Finding a Connection with an Old House Based on Personal Connections

You meet many interesting people in your life. Each with a different story to tell. But sometimes the most interesting story comes about after they're gone, and as such their memory lives on.

Growing up in Danville, I barely had my own identity. I was the son of the president of the Chamber of Commerce and of someone who grew up in Danville. On top of that, I was the grandson of the first president of DCC and of a former teacher at GW. Almost anytime I was introduced to any adult, it was met with "Oh, I know your father," or "Oh, you're Joe Taylor's grandson," or even "oh, I went to school with your mom." Of course, my favorite will always be "oh, your mom used to babysit me." I was able, however, to meet many interesting people.

It was when my grandmother was at Stratford House, however, that I roughly created an identity of my own. I was still "Louise Taylor's grandson," but that's part of why I was able to do the things I did. The residents who had been long-time friends of my grandparents knew my background, and most of the ones who didn't were just glad to see some young blood. Granted, the identity I had was the little boy who used to roam the halls and play under the dining room tables, but still...I was recognizable outside of who I came from for the first time.

Though I've been really busy lately, I still try to research Ms. Gott's house and my friend Micah's house (formerly Hope Harbor). Last night, my personal life finally intersected with my research. I was browsing through old copies of the city directory, looking at former residents of 1021 Main Street, when a familiar name crossed my path: Lefty Wilson.

Lefty Wilson
Photo courtesy of Virginia Sports and Museum website.

My first thought was "sweet! A famous Danvillian boarded at the house in the late 1920s." So, I texted Micah to tell him. Then, just for my own curiosity, I typed Lefty Wilson into Google. I knew he had been a baseball player because of Lefty Wilson Field. I learned through the city directory entry that he was also a teacher at GW, which was then located on Holbrooke Avenue where the Sutherlin Place townhouses are; the athletic field at the corner of West Green Street and Rison Street.

George Washington Highschool ca. 1951 (There wasn't a map from 1930).

Rison Park School ca. 1920 for comparison.

So, just out of curiosity, I typed his name into Google. The Virginia Sports and Museum Hall of Fame page for him came up, as long as information about Lefty Wilson Field. I learned that he was father of the year in 1955, and teacher of the year in 1957. Scrolling down on Google, an obituary caught my eye. It was for his wife, Mary, and the snippet showed Stratford House. I clicked the link just out of curiosity, wondering if it was someone I knew. It's funny, actually, because I first saw the apartment number, 206, and then thought to look at the year of death: 2002. My grandmother was in apartment 201, so I could picture the door to apartment 206 instinctively. But when I looked at the year of death, I thought to myself "that's after my time" as it was five years after Grandma died.

I backed out of the page and then stopped, immediately. Something had clicked in my brain, and I went right back to the page and looked at the name: Mary Wilson. Apartment 206. Of course. It was Mrs. Wilson! She had lived there when Grandma was there. Moreover, I suddenly recalled all the times that we passed Lefty Wilson Field and my father would say "that's named for the husband of Mrs. Wilson who lives up the hall from your grandmother."

So, I dug a little bit more. I thought it was cool that I knew the wife (and, actually, the great-grandmother of a couple of guys I knew growing up), but what I found was even better. After the marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson both resided at 1021 Main Street.

Aside from my research and the work I've done on the house, I now have a personal connection with the house. Someone who knew me growing up, a sweet woman who always smiled and spoke to me, had lived in one of the houses I'm actively researching, thereby reviving the memory of Mrs. Wilson in my mind.

Hylton Hall: History in Flame Part II

Note: I know I said I would get this posted much sooner, but alas I have been busy. I did, however, have time to research. Please forgive the delay, but I guess it's appropriate since today they announced the cause of the fire as arson.

I remember Hylton Hall well. It, along with the "Home of Dan River Fabrics" sign that used to rest atop the mill, were staples of my childhood. After long trips to Greensboro or Sumter, SC, it was a sign that I was home. I can, and always will, remember sitting in the rear facing third row seat of my mother's 1991 Ford Taurus station wagon and watching the building go by. I can remember long day trips with my father to Sumter, and seeing the "Home of Dan River Fabrics" sign lit up as we merged onto West Main at the split with Memorial Drive, and I can remember passing by the huge brick building, with tall white columns hidden in the darkness across the tracks. This is my ode to Hylton Hall.
 
Situated just across the train tracks from the ruins of Schoolfield Mill rests a now charred and dilapidated building that was once a mainstay of Schoolfield as a community and as a mill. Named for "Miss Hattie" Hylton, Hylton Hall rose out of the need for welfare, and "Miss Hattie" took to the task of creating a better lifestyle for the workers and community in general.

A brief history of Hylton Hall has already been given by the Danville Register & Bee, so this will be an expansion thereof. My detailed information only goes back as far as 1922, but luckily I was able to find some retrospective articles that gave an in-depth background.

As the Register & Bee stated, Hylton Hall opened it's doors in 1918. What was left out, however, was that Hylton Hall was a pivotal part of the development of Schoolfield.

Originally intended as a dormitory for female mill workers, it's role quickly changed to become essential in the growth of Schoolfield. The building was designed to house 200 women, but quickly grew to fill-in other roles to meet the needs of the mill and the community. As time progressed, Hylton Hall housed not only single women, but single men and couples as well.

As Schoolfield village grew, the needs of the community changed. Hylton Hall was home to a 45' x 15' foot (the largest in the community), which was used to provide swimming lesson to women and children, and a nice place to cool off on a hot, summer day. Hylton Hall also became home to the Schoolfield YWCA -- the YMCA being located in the now razed Schoolfield Recreation Center.

The dining hall and auditorium at Hylton Hall were put to use by both the mill and the residents of Hylton Hall. Dignitaries and other important visitors were treated to meals in the dining room, and Hylton Hall was also the chosen location for the annual meetings...a precursor of the later use of the building as executive offices. The auditorium, as well, became a gathering places for residents, townspeople, and executives alike, to view and perform plays.

Throughout the years, Hylton Hall was also the home to a few churches. The most notable of which is Ascension Lutheran Church. The church we know now, situated on West Main Street, with the huge window where the large Chrismon  Tree can be seen is actually a relatively new structure. Prior to that location, it was housed in the small church across the street. But it's very humble beginnings were at Hylton Hall.

Perhaps the most eventful year in Hylton's Hall history (maybe even more so than 2012) was 1930. The economic downturn and after effects of the depression hit hard, and Schoolfield had to make sacrifices. One of which, on September 1st, was Hylton Hall. Money was tight, wages were cut, and within weeks one of, if not the worst, strikes to confront Schoolfield.

It was during this strike that those who were continuing to work were harassed and attacked trying to enter the gates. It was also during this strike that houses, buildings, and yards were dynamited. To counter these attacks, soldiers were brought in to police the village and protect the mill. Hylton Hall, designed to be home to no more than 200 people, ended up housing over 900 soldiers for six months. On March 14th, 1931, Hylton Hall reopened and once again became a home for mill workers and a place for the women and children of Schoolfield.

Following the strike, things seemed to settle down for old Hylton Hall. The auditorium continued to be used for church services, most frequently by Ascension Luthern, the swimming pool remained open for use by the community, and the Mill's annual meetings were still held there. The strike, however, really represented the building's climax, as that appears to be the last big event to center around Hylton Hall until the fire two weeks ago. References to the building in the newspaper throughout nearly four decades following slowly fade from ads for the pool and as living quarters and references to executive offices begin to appear. The last major references to the building come at the time of "Miss Hattie's" death and also during a special bicentennial edition of the newspaper on July 4, 1976. The online archives for the newspaper stop during 1977, so that's as far as my information goes. But considering that even during my lifetime the building was still used for executive offices, I can't imagine too much happened.

We all know the rest of the story...the mill closed, Hylton Hall was vacated and boarded up, and was left as a reminder of what used to be. It sat lonely and empty, watching as the mill to which it was partnered, was slowly torn down until so little remained that it's almost just an empty shell. Then, on a beautiful, breezy Sunday afternoon in April, 2012, the building went up in flames; engulfing Schoolfield village in smoke. I know I probably shouldn't be refererring to the building in the past tense, as it's technically still standing...but God only knows what's to become of it. And it's sad to think that lot may soon stand empty. I can only hope that it is somehow, in some way, salvagable. Lest we lose another important piece of Danville history.

It's Funny How Things Can Change but Not Change at the Same Time

I know I said my next post would be about the history of Hylton Hall, but I simply haven't had the time to do the research. Work has been keeping me busy and wearing me out physically, but I will get to it. Maybe tonight before I go to bed, who knows.

This post, however, isn't necessarily historical. A few thoughts have merged in my mind tonight and it reminded me of something I feel worth sharing.

A year or so ago, I red an article in the Register & Bee about residents in Forest Hills complaining about the projected extension of the Riverwalk Trail through Ballou Park. I've mentioned before, I'm sure, that I grew up in that part of Forest Hills. Ballou Park was my backyard. In my younger days (God, am I really referring to 15 or so years ago as my younger days...eek!), I would have been thrilled at having access to the Riverwalk trail from my backyard. I mean, I used to ride my bike from my house all the way to the train station and get on the trail there. Retrospectively, I'm surprised I didn't die. But that part of Ballou Park is logical for a trail considering the network of roads that exist back there.


What the article was about, however, was reminiscent of a story I've heard many times over the years. Residents on Linden Drive were complaining about the trail bringing, essentially, unwanted traffic behind their houses. I can understand that...sort of. Those old, worn out, closed off roads provided peace to my street. And you can be sure we'd all go running for houses if we saw a car back there. Sure, people would wander through, but there was relative peace most of the time. My friends and I would play back there on fallen trees, ride our bikes on the road. If we were lucky, we could ride our bikes on "The Circle." That, however, was the farthest we were allowed to really explore. Mainly because it was the farthest away that we could get where we could be seen from my house. My neighbor's mom covered the upper part of the park.


I got some amusement out of the article, though, because something incredibly similar happened around 1980. You see, there is a reason why there are roads back there. When Ballou Park opened, some 100 or so years ago, they were open to traffic. On Sunday afternoons, people would take leisurely drives through Ballou Park in what was dubbed "the Sunday Motorcade."


By 1980, the residents of that side of Linden Drive were getting into their 60s and 70s. The noise of the Sunday Motorcade was becoming a nuisance. My father said the first time he ever went to my grandparents house in the late 70s, it was a constant succession of cars all afternoon. And, so, the residents petitioned to have the roads closed to traffic...and the rest is history. Well, at least until recently.


I could not, for the life of me, figure out why no one made that connection. But then it dawned on me: not a single person on Linden Drive whose house backs up to the park has lived there for than 15 years or so. It was the same argument, but a different time and different people. And it seems that no one even knew that the deteriorating pavement was left unkempt for some 30 years because no one on that stretch of Linden Drive wanted to deal with a disturbance.


There is my little random tid-bit for the night. It's nothing special, nothing important. Just something I wanted to write down.

Hylton Hall: History in Flames, Part I

Note: As I do not have time to adequately research at the moment, consider this a prologue to my next entry. When I return home this evening, I will research the background of Hylton Hall and, hopefully, do a good write-up on the building.

Fire has a fascinating ability to bring people together. Whether gathering around a fire for warmth or to investigate a burning building, people seem naturally drawn to the comfort and destruction that fire brings.

Situated on Lanier Avenue, just across the train tracks from Schoolfield Mill, Hylton Hall was a staple of the Schoolfield scenery for decades. That is, until April 15, 2012. At around 3:35 pm, a fire was reported in the grand building that once, I believed, was home to the administrative offices of Schoolfield Mills.

Shortly after 4:00 pm, I had gone to Mt. View Cemetery to visit my grandparents' grave. As I left, I smelled something burning. I quickly shrugged it off having not seen smoke. Then, as I turned onto Surry Lane, I could see a light cloud of smoke over Maple Lane in Forest Hills and assumed it was just someone having a cook out. That is, until I got on West Main Street to get gas. I could smell smoke and see it billowing from somewhere in Schoolfield and decided to investigate.

I proceeded up West Main, and was greeted by a wall of smoke when I got to the building where the Dan River Outlet Store used to be. As the smoke thinned, I could see cars parked in the old mill parking lot, and a wall of black smoke obscuring Hylton Hall. I pulled over and joined the crowd of people taking pictures and talking. After 10 minutes or so, a police officer came and told everyone to leave because the fire fighters were worried about something exploding and harming people.

I left for about an hour and visited a former neighbor before returning to the scene. The road was closed from Baltimore Avenue up, so I parked and walked to the overpass for another 10 or 15 minutes. The roof of the building appeared to have been destroyed by the fire, but smoke and trees obscured everything.

I don't know the condition of the building, but I doubt it will survive the night...if it's still standing now. As a friend said on Facebook, it "seems a sad testimony of the state of the city." One more old building down, one more memory of Danville's past reduced to smouldering timbers and charred rubble.

So long, Hylton Hall. You won't soon be forgotten.

Firemen breaking in.

Still on fire, but under control enough for firemen to enter.