Timber Titans and Sawdust Trails

 

Timber Titans and Sawdust Trails: A Look Back at Pocahontas County’s Logging Legacy

By Saltshaker Press

POCAHONTAS COUNTY — In the deep hollows and high ridges of Pocahontas County, the ghosts of a vanished era still linger—an era when the whine of circular saws and the chug of Shay locomotives replaced the quiet solitude of the agrarian frontier. A review of historical records from the early 20th century reveals a tale of two worlds: the small, roving operations of local men like George Williams, and the industrial leviathan that was the West Virginia Pulp and Paper Company.

The Era of the Itinerant Sawyer

Before the mega-mills dominated the landscape, the timber industry was driven by men like George Williams of Lobelia. According to court records and personal accounts collected by researcher Samuel G. Smith, Williams began his sawmilling career in 1902 with a circular saw mill, marking the beginning of a nomadic journey across the county’s rugged terrain.

Williams’ operations were a logistical feat of their time. His first "set" was on Caesar Mountain for S.J. Payne, cutting 325,000 feet of timber purchased from the Wamsley family—a deal struck for $175, a horse, and a buggy. From there, Williams moved his operation to Carter Siding near Seebert, where camps were erected for men and barns for horses, turning the quiet hillside into a bustle of activity from 1903 to 1905.

These early operations were dangerous and visceral. Records note that on a 1906 set for J.E. Peck on Caesar Mountain, a worker named John Boblett suffered a catastrophic injury, losing his hand to an edger—a grim reminder of the cost of industrial progress.

Yet, Williams’ sawdust left a permanent mark on the local architecture. Lumber hewn from the rush of Bruffey’s Creek and the Cass McCoy farm in 1907 found its way into the brick and mortar of the county’s most prominent structures. W.W. Kinnison, a contractor and frequent collaborator with Williams, used this local timber to construct the Methodist Church in Marlinton, the Hillsboro Grade School, and the Bank of Hillsboro building.

The Giant of Cass

While Williams was carving out a living one tract at a time, a colossus was rising in Cass. The West Virginia Pulp and Paper Company (W. Va. Pulp & Paper), founded by John G. Luke and his sons, began operations in 1900, forever altering the region's economy and demography.

Buying the mill site from farmer Newton J. Gum, the company built an industrial empire that operated nearly continuously for decades. At its peak, the double-band mill at Cass cut between 75,000 and 80,000 feet of lumber a day.

The operation was massive. The company maintained over 200 teams of horses and a vast network of camps. Their private railroad, the Greenbrier, Cheat, and Elk River R.R., snaked up Leatherwood to Spruce and down the Cheat River, hauling the "green gold" that fed the mill.

The town of Cass exploded in size, reaching a population of 2,000—larger than the county seat of Marlinton at the time. It was a true company town, complete with 400 company houses, segregated schools, three churches, and the Pocahontas Supply Company, a store that once employed 20 clerks and did over $1.2 million in annual business.

Life in the logging camps was rough and tumble. The railroad construction relied heavily on immigrant labor, with Italian and Austrian workers building the lines to the "bohunk camps." The east side of the river at Cass, known locally as "Dirty Street," became notorious for its private hotels, saloons, and occasional violence.

A Legacy of Fire and Regrowth

The industry was not without its disasters. On February 24, 1922 (noted as 1924 in some oral histories, but records clarify the era), fire tore through the mill. Yet, the economic engine was too valuable to stall; the mill was rebuilt immediately.

Over 40 years of operation, it is estimated that the company cut over 1.1 billion feet of lumber and an equal amount of pulpwood. The scale of the clear-cutting was so vast that it birthed ghost towns—places like Wilkell, Gertrude, and Winterburn—that sprang up and vanished once the timber was gone.

Today, the roar of the mill is gone, replaced by the quiet growth of the Monongahela National Forest. The government has since purchased thousands of acres of this cut-over land for reforestation. But for those who know where to look, the old rail grades and the foundations of the company towns remain—silent monuments to the men who sawed the mountains down.