It’s summer in pre-WWII Virginia, and living is easy and hot as flames.

Where do you go to escape the heat?

Moore’s Lake!

The popular swimming hole just off US Route One between Richmond and Petersburg was the most refreshing haven 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 all over 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 melodies. by Big Band. Everyone who entered the bathhouse received a distinctive pin, which they then used to claim their clothing after swimming. Today, brass pins are appreciated by many veterans who use them as lapel ornaments.

Tommy Crump, whose parents bought the lake and the surrounding cabins after working several years for RD Moore, the original owner, recalls that hundreds of families from as far away as North Carolina returned year after year. People driving from the north to Florida soon realized that it was the ideal overnight stop for both commuters and comings. 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 untold romances. Many flourished in marriage.

The sturdy brick and stone cabins 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 subsided and tourists clamored to enjoy its comforts and jungle setting, they built more cabins in the fragrant woods to reach 38. By 1941, they had erected a restaurant and their own comfortable brick house on the property. .

When World War II broke out and Camp Lee was reactivated in nearby Petersburg (it was renamed Fort Lee in 1950), some of the servicemen stationed there brought their families and accommodated 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 commuting to work at nearby military installations. To defray the expenses, the older children of the service families who stayed there contributed to the war effort by becoming useful as bus boys, dishwashers, gardeners and lifeguards.

Tommy Crump, now 68, was a boy back then. He was closely supervised by a babysitter as he rode his trike through the picturesque streets to claim a tasty treat from the kitchen of the restaurant that served guests at 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 to 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. Dubbed 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, savory soups, “croissant-wiches,” stuffed potatoes, and delicious homemade desserts, including a double chocolate silk cake and a hot fruit shoe store.

Moore’s brick homes thrived until the construction of nearby Interstate 95 lured cars and trucks away from the venerable Jefferson Davis Highway, thus cementing the fate of the operation. With the advent of high-speed roads across the country, families discovered the appeal of the open road. No longer content with vacationing just a short drive from home, tourists rushed from Boston to Miami in a fraction of the time they could navigate the outdated two-lane highway. When large motels and hotels sprang up along the Interstate to serve long-distance travelers, it wasn’t long before Moore’s Brick Cottages became superfluous. The buildings were in poor condition and those who came to swim risked without lifeguards on duty. Today, the lake is little more than a neglected swimming hole in the neighborhood.

Sylvester’s, however, continued to prosper. It serves 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’m keeping one for myself and moving 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 candidates yet, time is running out. Soon, only the ghosts of happy days gone by loom over the property that is still protected by giant, fragrant trees awaiting destruction in the name of progress.

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