Hidden Richmond: Can't Possibly Be True

Richmond urban legends debunked, or not

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A Peace of Altria History

THE CLAIM: There’s a silver dollar embedded in the center of the Altria Theater dome.

THE VERDICT: True

HERE'S WHY: It’s a 1926 Peace silver dollar, to be precise, though the theater opened in 1927. One of the original architects of the old Mosque Theatre (and even later, the Landmark), Charles M. Robinson, had a 1927 silver dollar inserted in the center of the dome as a point of reference, but that coin was taken and replaced with a 1967 dime when the theatre was renovated in that decade. When renovations were made in the 1990s, a great-grandson of the architect, David M. Robinson, had the dime glued over with a silver dollar. A silver dollar from 1927 couldn’t be found, so he used the 1926 coin from his collection, commemorating the theater groundbreaking.

Money Secrets

THE CLAIM: There’s a secret site maintained by the Federal Reserve in a West Creek Parkway office complex that’s filled with $2 bills and Susan B. Anthony dollar coins, money to be used in case of catastrophe.

THE VERDICT: False

HERE’S WHY: There’s been a Federal Reserve Bank of Richmond since 1914, with most of its operations currently in its 24-story headquarters downtown, but it also indeed maintains a facility on West Creek Parkway. That site is just office space, though, and not a trove of less-loved currency hoarded for use in an emergency. Those items, the $2 bills and Susan B. Anthony coins that are now found only when you get change at the car wash, were housed in Culpeper, but have been moved to an undisclosed site, according to Richmond Fed spokesman Jim Strader. Yes, the Fed has sites and contingency plans set up for emergencies, but no, they won’t say where. The Truth, as we all know, is out there…

Special Delivery

THE CLAIM: A mighty convoy last year of 125 tractor-trailer rigs with a police escort traveling on Interstate 64 through Richmond portends the start of the New World Order, or some government conspiracy.

THE VERDICT: Bogus

HERE'S WHY:  It’s amazing what goes viral. Last year a motorist and a passenger driving on I-64 shot a short video of a long line of tractor-trailer rigs traveling with state trooper escort and no other cars on the road. Mysterious, huh? It drew more than 6 million views on Facebook, according to a report by WTVR-CBS 6. It also was picked up and reposted several times with a conspiracy theory slant. Actually, there was nothing nefarious about it. What was seen was part of the aptly titled World’s Largest Truck Convoy, an annual event to raise awareness of the Special Olympics. The viral video and the ensuing media coverage raised awareness of the effort this year, according to the Virginia Special Olympics, and resulted in $27,000 in donations. “We also made sure each truck in the convoy, which was led by the Virginia State Police, had Special Olympics window flags to help enlighten onlookers as to the reason for the event,” says Meghan Massie, director of development at Special Olympics Virginia.

The Art Gallows

THE CLAIM: Gallery5 in Jackson Ward was once the city’s gallows and the site of several executions by hanging.

THE VERDICT: Bogus

HERE'S WHY: The only thing aside from art to have hung here were fire hoses. The Marshall Street space takes its name from its years as home to Steamer Co. 5, the oldest fire station in the commonwealth. It was also home to a police sub-station and, for a time, jail cells. These apparently were just holding cells, though. The gallows were located in Shockoe Bottom, where crowds would gather on the hill overlooking the death grounds, and workers would watch from nearby offices and warehouses.

Cracking the Code

THE CLAIM: There are codes on the statues along Monument Avenue. There are numbers that signify the date of death of the person on the statue. On equestrian statues, you can tell how a general died by the number of hoofs in the air.

THE VERDICT: Bogus

HERE'S WHY: You can look it up, or better yet, ask someone else to help with the research. That’s the route we took, and John McClure, reference department manager for the Virginia Historical Society, is a voice of authority, and one of the best looker-uppers we know. He found nothing about a death code, nor had he previously heard that rumor. He is, however, quite familiar with the hooves aloft urban legend, which has been around for decades, and is just as bogus as the death code. As proof, he cites a 1975 magazine article, which cited one Miss Brockenbrough of the Museum of the Confederacy, who in turn was citing F. William Sievers, the artist who crafted the Stonewall Jackson statue on Monument at Boulevard. Sievers, she said, had told her that each pose “corresponds only to the sculptor’s creative impressions, not to any historical background on the subject.” Proof, not exactly from the horse’s mouth,

but close.

Do the Math

THE CLAIM: The oldest Masonic Hall in America in continuous use is in Richmond; a perfect cube on a lot that’s a perfect cube, and built by raising construction money through a lottery.

THE VERDICT: True

HERE’S WHY: Richmond Randolph No. 19 Masons meet in a building with a Masonic  history that dates from 1785. Their building on Franklin Street at 18th Street was indeed started with lottery funding well before the days of Mega Millions and Megapliers. It has been visited over the years by luminaries including George Washington and Lafayette. The cube on a cube is a Mason thing. Ask one.

Under the Hill

THE CLAIM: A Confederate general is buried in a traffic island under his statue on Laburnum Avenue.

THE VERDICT: True

HERE'S WHY: Confederate Gen. A.P. Hill could find no peace in death. Shot down outside Petersburg in April, 1865, he initially was buried in a family plot in Chesterfield County, or near a dam south of the James River (depending on whose research you believe), then his remains were moved in 1867 to Hollywood Cemetery. Lewis Ginter had other ideas. The developer and philanthropist who put the gilding on Richmond at the turn of the previous century, Ginter wanted a statue to set off the intersection of Hermitage Road and Laburnum Avenue, and Hill seemed the perfect candidate, according to Brian Burns’ book, Lewis Ginter: Richmond’s Gilded Age Icon. Ginter had served under Hill during the war, and so, in 1891, he arranged to have Hill’s remains moved to the site. The body is buried upright in the base.

Coming Clean in Public

THE CLAIM: Public baths, facilities for those without indoor plumbing or bathtubs, were open in Richmond into the 1950s.

THE VERDICT: True

HERE'S WHY: You may think houses without running water and images of folks bathing once a week in a big tub in the kitchen disappeared in the 20th century with the advent of indoor plumbing, but there were public bathhouses in Richmond until midcentury, according to Historic Richmond Foundation’s John Zehmer and his book, The Church Hill Old & Historic Districts. The Branch baths in their heyday served 60,000 bathers a year. “The cost [in the early 1900s] was five cents for adults and three cents for children. The bath was popular with judges, doctors, lawyers, and all classes of people because it was so much better than what was available at home.”

The Bear Facts

THE CLAIM: There is a tombstone in the bear habitat at Maymont.

THE VERDICT: Bogus

HERE’S WHY: Yes, there’s a stone marker there that looks like a tombstone that’s inscribed “C.L. 1908.” Poor C.L., mauled by a bear! Well, no, actually, according to the house museum staff, “C.L.” refers to “City Limits,” and is likely a marker left from an annexation of property by the city in that year. There are many similar markers throughout the city, including one near Byrd Park.

Finally, Something to Chew On

THE CLAIM: The first time tea was served at Agecroft Hall, it was boiled, the water was discarded and the leaves were served buttered.

THE VERDICT: Apocryphal, but fun

HERE'S WHY: This story from the house museum that was once an English countryside manor says that in the 17th century a family member serving in the Royal Navy was in China and sent home some “chaw.” What he failed to mention was what to do with it. As with most English foods of the time, if you didn’t know what to do with it, you boiled it. That part they got right, but then, it turned oh so wrong: The juice was promptly drained off and disposed of. The leaves “were not very appreciated.”