Brookfield Farm (Site)

These coordinates mark the exact site of the old family farmhouse. The farm has now been turned into housing subdivisions.


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Here follows an article excerpted from the Franconia Legacies newsletter published by the Franconia Museum and written by Frances Staples in 2003:

A NATIVE FRANCONIAN
I am one of a dwindling number of true natives of Franconia, a small community where I was born March 17, 1926. Franconia was not on the map then. My father, Clarence Rogers, worked for a farmer, Mr. Harry Javins, who furnished us a house. I was born in this house, the first of six children. My father took work wherever he could find it, so we moved a lot. It was the depression and money was scarce. Once my father worked for the City of Alexandria where we lived for a short time. We later moved to Aunt Annie Pettit’s old house in a forest. There was no indoor plumbing and water was from a well in the front yard. Life was bleak, but one day my dad came home with good news—he got a job at Mount Vernon Mansion cutting firewood. My mother raised her hands and shouted “Hallelujah!” He would be paid $l.00 per day which was considered to be real good wages. My baby sister was born in this old house. Dr. Caton arrived just after she was born. He had to walk through a snowdrift and had trouble opening the door for the snow. It was December 25th—she was
our Christmas present. I named her Barbara. She was beautiful. We ate rabbit stew that night. My father had snared the rabbit in one of his traps. We rejoiced and sang, with the old Victrola, my father’s favorite song, “Will There Be Any Stars in My Crown.”

My father was tragically killed on Route 1 in 1935 while walking home from Alexandria with groceries in his “gunny sack.” My mother was left with six children (one still nursing), no money, and no insurance. She had no skills and could not work. We moved to what is now Loisdale Road in Springfield. We children were sent to live with Christian people. My mother moved to Lorton to live with her mother who had a paralyzed husband (my Grandfather) and fourteen children. They raised vegetables and hogs and were very poor.
Everyone seemed to be poor then. Mrs. Estelle Davidson, who had a home for elderly women, took me in to help with their care. I learned a lot from these ladies. One was a Miss Hall, a Peabody Conservatory pianist, who paid her way with benefits from an insurance policy she had on her hands. Her fingers were arthritic.
She taught me to play “America” by drawing a keyboard with her mouth. I helped her a lot with her personal needs. She was wonderful. Mr. Davidson was also a musician — he would play the piano and the mouth organ all at the same time. I loved those special times when he played for us. He died at age 71 from prostate cancer (I thought he was old.) Before he died, he called me to his bedside and told me he had a vision of a band of angels hovering over the silo. He said they whispered “Come with us,” but someone was holding him back by his feet — it was “Mom” (his wife) he said. He told me he needed to “go home” but he wanted me to promise that I would stay with her until I graduated from high school or got married. He said they had talked it over and agreed to give me a piece of land of my choosing. I chose the apple orchard, which is where we still live.

Ernie, my husband, worked for Bendall Pontiac in Alexandria. He would come home and work on cars late into the night to get money to build a garage and later add two rooms. Gail was born while we lived with Mrs. Davison. Gail’s middle name is Olivia named for Mrs. Davison and chosen by her. We never borrowed money.
We built our home a few boards at a time. Ernie dug a well, gave me two buckets and said, “Go get it girl.” I did. I saved dish water to scrub the floors. We had an iceman who came once a week to put ice in our small icebox. Ernie ran him off because he stayed too long and he thought he was interested in me. Those were the days when he thought I was a gorgeous brunette. Ernie also made us an out-house. I had a slop jar and a “potty” for Gail. I loved having our own little place. I helped clear the land and made a garden. Ernie punctured his lung digging a basement under our house and could not work for two weeks. He did all the building and plumbing and we finally had enough space for five children. We never spent money foolishly — no vacations for twenty-five years. When Ernie’s mother died in l958, we drove to Nags Head, North Carolina and rented a cottage for $50 for a week. We fell in love with the place. We went back every year and in 1961 bought a piece of ground cheap ($600). Henry, Ernie’s brother, bought a lot also. We agreed to help each other build a cottage, but Henry died in 1970 before he could help us much. We really miss Henry. He drove me to my wedding. We were great friends. We used to swim together with the children. Ernie was always working (and still is.) We sold our cottage in 1999. It was very hard, but when you are 80 years old, one house is enough to maintain -- plus it takes five hours to drive to Nags Head. We no longer worry about storms and hurricanes. Praise the Lord! Our children, Lanny, Darryl, Mark and Tara all graduated from Thomas Edison High School. Gail graduated from Lee because Edison was not ready in 1963. She was the only one of our five to go to college.

Before we were married, we had very little entertainment or places to go except the Beulah Baptist Church where we walked, hoping to get a ride. One Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. McGhee picked us up and took us to church. They continued to take us every Sunday. We were so grateful. There was a place called Ward’s Corner that we were forbidden by Mrs. Davison to go because they sold beer. One night we climbed out of our bedroom window and went anyway. Mrs. Davison had sold Mr. Ward Plaugher a piece of land to build a store. She agreed to the sale if he promised he would never sell alcohol. One day, after learning about the ABC license in the window of the store, Mrs. Davison, with her apron still on and a broom in her hand, said she was going to see Mr. Plaugher on business. We could see that she was very upset, so we followed her.
When she approached him, she accused him of breaking a promise and telling a lie. He said “Lady, I’ve forgotten more about the bible than you will ever know.” She said, “God will burn this establishment to the ground because of your disobedience.” (In 1959 it actually did.) My sister and I could hear the music being played on Friday and Saturday nights in the dance hall by Jimmy Dean, Grandpa Jones and Johnny Cash.
We climbed out of our bedroom window and went down to peer through the window, standing on orange crates. We were startled to see half of the Baptist Church dancing to the music. We went down there whenever they played. It was our secret.

I used to go home on Friday nights with Margie Baggett, Julia Nalls, Margie Staples or Margaret Ellen Rogers. Ernie was Margie’s brother but I never saw him because he was always working (for Ray Talbert) and he had a car. I was 15 when I first met him. He came to pick me up from a party at Sharon Chapel where the seminary students entertained us and we were all dressed up for Halloween. Ernie was now working for Mr. Mandley as a mechanic in Mr. Plaugher’s garage. When he picked me up he was dirty and looked terrible. He asked me for a date. I said no, but he wouldn’t give up so finally I said “Just this once.” He took me to the Hot Shoppes where I had never been. He wanted to get married but I said no because I was to graduate from high school in June. We were married November 4, l944, in Silver Springs Baptist Church at 9:00 p.m. We were late by two hours and the preacher was locking up the church. Ernie said please marry us. He gave him $20.00 and he brightened up quickly. Henry stood up for Ernie and Flora Mae stood up for me. She was pregnant and the preacher thought she was the bride. Mr. and Mrs. Staples and Margie were with us too. We had our marriage supper at Howard Johnsons and we spent the night at the George Mason Hotel in Alexandria. It was wartime and we had to be back at work — I to the Torpedo Plant and Ernie
to Bendall Pontiac. Everything was rationed so I had no silk stockings to wear and had to “paint” my legs.
Next day we called Mrs. Davison and apologized for not telling her. Some “old bittie” had told her that I should stop seeing Ernie because he had a motorcycle and would fight at the drop of a hat. She was dubious about the marriage. But she came to love him dearly and would fix him special dinners. Our first child was born August 22, l945. Mrs. Struder figured it up just to be sure she wasn’t born early. God blessed us with good health and five children who kept us hopping.

We purchased groceries at Walter Talbert’s County Store and later at Fitzgerald’s Grocery. For lots of shopping, we would go the A&P in Alexandria. We could catch a train from Franconia into Alexandria for a quarter. We would go into town to shop at the G. C. Murphy Five and Dime Store, J. C. Penney’s on Washington Street and Lady Lois. All medical facilities were located in Alexandria. There were probably a dozen farms located between Telegraph Road and the railroad tracks. We knew most of the families. The families included the Facchina’s, Deaver’s, Bryant’s, Peverill’s, Dove’s, Simms’, Talbert’s, Javins’, Struder’s and Rogers’. The only school here was Franconia Elementary. Churches in the area included Sharon Chapel Episcopal on a hillside off Franconia Road, Olivet Episcopal on the corner of Beulah Road and Franconia Road and the Methodist Church on Beulah Road. There was no social entertainment except for what you made on your own. The police stations were located in Groveton and Alexandria. The first housing development was Guilford. The only farmer markets were in Alexandria.

Gail became an airline hostess. Lanny went to war in Vietnam. Darryl became a black belt in karate and learned to be a glazier, which still scares me. Everyone says he is the best in the business. Mark loved to play football but too many broken bones forced him to take up other hobbies. He is a carpenter and owns “Staples Carpentry.” Tara is a paralegal for a law firm in Venice, Florida. We still worry about them but we shouldn’t — they are doing fine. They were raised in the Baptist Church here. I joined Beulah Baptist at age 12 and joined the choir after coaxing from Mrs. Peverill. I sang in the choir 62 years until failing eyesight prevented me from going to practice. I still go to the same church and am an Adult Class Teacher/Leader. We have an empty nest now, except for Mark who comes for supper Monday through Friday. We are now his “children” and he advises us what and when we can do. The others try (long distance) to do the same thing. Our roles have reversed, you could say. Ernie keeps busy in his garage making tables, Appalachian chairs (for the yard) and keeping the cars all running and in good shape. Several years ago some of us “native Franconians” had an idea to meet once a month to keep up with one another so we called our group “The Franconia Lunch Bunch.” We go to the Red Lobster and enjoy one another’s company. There are about 20 of us on a good day, barring doctor appointments, etc. Ernie and I celebrated our 57th anniversary on November 5, 2001 by going on a Skyline Drive Luray Caverns trip in our new Bonneville which we bought on a credit card while on a trip to visit our daughter, Tara, in Florida last September 11th, 2001. (A day we will never forget!) May you all live to be 100. God bless one and all.


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Here follows an excerpt from the Fall 2018 edition of the "Franconia Legacies" newsletter published by the Franconia Museum:

1930s PHILCO RADIO — THE ONLY ELECTRONIC ENTERTAINMENT INSIDE THE BROOKLAND DAIRY FARM
Written by Mark Staples

Brookland Dairy Farm was situated where Thomas Edison Court townhomes is located now. All of what is now Brookland Estates was the pasture land for the farm. It had many brooks and streams that provided water for their livestock.

The Davison family owned that farm from the 1920s into the 1930s when it became a boarding house, or what we would call now an assisted living home. My mother, Frances Staples, and her sister Anna May were “farmed out” there during the great depression and found there loving care from the Davisons.

Mother had many memories of listening to this old radio in the evenings when all could finally relax some from the day’s chores and sit around it and listen in on shows like “The Shadow,” “Amos and Andy,” and “Mortimer Schnerd, Private Detective.” It also brought news from Washington, New York, and even around the world. And on this old Philco they heard the news of the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941. This old Philco helped make the hard days of the Depression and the hard work of Brookland Dairy Farm perhaps a little easier. My mother’s story is documented in the first edition of Franconia Remembers.