We chose a winding road through the George Washington National Forest, high in the Shenandoah Mountains that led us into West Virginia. It had been a dirt road until the Virginia end was paved 15 years ago and the West Virginia section, just three years ago. Instead of taking the right turn to Brandywine at the end of Reddish Knob Road, my husband decided to turn left so we could drive through Sugar Grove, W.Va. In seconds we were on the other side of the tiny village with a population of 755. The few houses, barns and church were well kept, some with fresh coats of paint. The small VFW building caused me to chuckle because it was not much larger than a one-car garage.

I noticed a small stone building with white trim at the intersection in the hub of the village as we passed by and knew I had to see what was inside. Pick-up trucks were parked along the side of the road, both in front of the store and the little green church across the street. I was anxious to get inside, so I asked my spouse to leave me off in front of the business while he found a parking place on the shoulder down the way.

The moment I swung the door open I said out loud “Oh, my word! This place is awesome. I need to interview you.”

I may have overwhelmed the two men sitting on swivel stools to the left and the one standing at the counter behind the door, who I learned was Clinton Bowers, the owners’ son. What I saw was a scene from the 20s, 30s or 40s from the embossed tin ceiling down to the narrow wooden floorboards. The long room held floor to ceiling shelves on the two longest sides with display cases in front. An open aisle in the center with a heating stove, led to the back of the store.

Bowers Store is like walking into the past. The family keeps a ledger with the names of customers who choose to charge their purchases. Photo by Beverly Kehe-Rowland

The shelves held goods, such as Spam, Vienna sausages, sardines, tuna and beans, bottles of maple syrup, hot sauce and dish soap and boxes of cake mixes, salt and pasta. Boxes of ammo were stacked in two different areas. Jack knives, hunting knives, Trump hats and bumper stickers were all for sale. Reference books about firearms, McCoy Pottery, coins and more were stacked within quick reach.

Interspersed throughout the shelving were antiques and glassware. A Victrola and a marble-top wash stand, along with other vintage pieces lined the center aisle. An old musket was one of many items that hung on the walls.

“The cool things are the things we can’t sell, like the moonshine still,” pointed out Justin Bowers, Clinton’s son, who slipped in while I was looking over the store’s inventory. “It’s a very unique store. If you buy water or pop, you pay a dollar, no extra change.”

I learned that the Bowers include tax in the price of every taxable item. While we were talking to the owner’s grandson a man walked in. To tell him the total of the gasoline he had just added to his truck’s tank from one of the two pumps out front, the 30-something year old man added the customer’s name and the amount of the purchase to a lengthy list written in a wire-bound notebook.

The town’s post office, complete with customer’s locked boxes, occupied the back left corner of the room.

“You can actually smoke a cigarette while you buy a case of beer, a gun and your ammo while your wife goes in the back and picks up your mail,” said Justin.

I was able to sit down with 89 year old Clinton Ann Bowers, who with her 90 year old husband John, are the owners of the wonderful corner store. Their home sits kitty-corner to their business, on the other side of the street. John is a native of Sugar Grove and has begun to retire from the business. He still places orders with the help of his son and grandson.

A fire swept through the little town in 1929, burning every structure, except John’s father’s home and another house, which were saved by a bucket brigade.

“They had tacked quilts on the houses so they would hold the water from the brigade,” said Mrs. Bowers.

The store was built in 1929 by J. P. Kiser, her father-in-law’s uncle, who was active in rebuilding, along with others in the community. He also helped build the Francis Asbury Memorial United Methodist Church across the street.

“Ples Kiser never married. He took his nephew, Roy, under his wing, sending him to military school and helped set him up in the business in this store.”

In time John, who was born the year the store was built, and Clinton Ann took over the business. She was the postmistress for 34 years, after which Clinton was appointed to the position.

“We sold yard goods, boots… We had a barter system. They’d bring in eggs and barter for sugar or flour. They’d barter for shoes, flannel for a nightgown or whatever they needed. Or they’d bring in ginseng.”

The ginseng, which grows in the mountains, was a labor-intensive job requiring walking to find the plants, digging the roots, carrying them home and then drying them. The store owners would pack the ginseng and send it to China.

For many years the corner store sold sandwiches from the counter where we had our conversation. They did this until the government tightened regulations. Since there was no place to add a well or septic system on the small lot, they could not supply hot running water required to keep the lunch counter open.

“Country stores did a good business, but the demand left,” she shares. “In the last years many older folks have passed and the young people have to leave the area because there is no employment.”

Jobs and people have left the area since the Navy Information Operations Command (NIOC) Station, which sustained the small town since the late 1950s, closed on September 30, 2015. The huge satellite dishes can still be seen from high above, on Reddish Knob Road. An office building, fire and police stations, maintenance buildings, dormitory housing and ninety dwelling units are still located on the 123 acre site which includes remote forest.

NIOC was the second largest source of jobs in Pendleton County. The mission was to conduct communications and research development for the United States Navy and other government agencies. The government offered to give it to the West Virginia Division of Corrections to be used as a women’s prison but the governor refused it due to the high cost of operations and its remote location.

There was temporary hope when an 11 million dollar bid was accepted with the intention to use it for a healthcare campus. When that fell through, a second near sale for just over 4 million came with a plan of using the former base as a treatment facility for people struggling with substance abuse. That never materialized either.

As would be expected, people and jobs have left the area impacting the little town and the remaining occupants. The Bowers Family would like to keep the small store going, but this may not be possible with the downturn.

Not only had we ventured into an area that had an unexpected US Naval Station in a valley surrounded by mountains, but we were in the National Radio Quiet Zone. The zone encompasses 13,000 square miles, where radio transmissions are heavily restricted. This zone was put into place to allow gathering of military intelligence.

“It has kept me back to the basics,” Clinton Bowers said. “I’m just not up to today’s society on tech things.”

His wife, Donna’s computer internet comes by satellite to their home on 500 acre a farm, where she tends 30,000 turkeys.

The couple both serve on the executive board of the county rescue squad.

Our time in Sugar Grove was short, but we came away with the valuable gift of new friends. And that tiny little VFW post was dedicated to five boys who never returned from war and was built on land donated by the late Richard Homan, a former National Commander of the VFW.