The Lay Realtor: A Consideration of the Relationship Between Civil Servants and Segregated Housing
Timothy Pfeifer
May 2, 2023
Introduction
It’s 9:00 AM on a Thursday morning and I’ve just parked my car on the corner of Preston Avenue and Eakin Street. Don’t tell anyone, but this is where the permit parking ends, and you can park for free not too far from the Virginia Tech campus. A couple of other campus-goers have recently caught on, but it’s still a predominantly unknown secret. It was while walking the couple of blocks to campus that I recognized that one of the streets ahead of which I park is named “Eheart Street”; further ahead, another is named “Miller Street”. For several months I had traversed this same path without thinking twice about these names. But then, I learned about the major players in the creation of racially restrictive housing covenants. One day, it dawned on me that their namesake is more likely than not the realtors who sold scores of houses within Blacksburg in the early twentieth century. Eheart, I imagine, refers to F.W. Eheart whose name appears time and time again in the deeds related to the sale of racially restrictive housing. Miller, I take it, refers to A.W. Miller who is likewise recorded in many deeds as the grantor in the sale of racially restrictive housing. It’s of little surprise that these real estate magnates would be commemorated within the communities in which they had a prominent role in constructing, but as was the case for me, it seems likely that most people who use and even live on these streets today have no idea who they are named after. This ignorance parallels the ignorance of the existence of the racially restrictive covenants themselves that sit within the Montgomery County courthouse in deed books containing records that stretch back centuries. This history is available for all to see as anyone can enter the courthouse and peruse the deed books free of charge, but it nefariously lives below the surface and beyond the imagination of the average citizen.
In an effort to document a portion of this untold history, this paper seeks to shed light on the life of Eheart and Miller, two of the most prominent real estate actors who played pivotal roles in the construction of racially restricted housing within Blacksburg, Virginia. Through an examination of their careers as recorded in the Roanoke Times, this paper argues that both Eheart and Miller, alongside their wives, Virginia and Grace, extended their social prejudice beyond the local housing market and into the broader management of the town of Blacksburg. Over the course of several decades, F.W., Virginia, A.W., and Grace all contributed to the institutionalization of discrimination toward Blacksburg’s minority populations.
Historiography
Although the public remains largely ignorant of the prevalence of racial housing covenants across the United States during the twentieth century, the scholarly community has become well aware of their existence thanks in large part to the coordinated research into their creation that has been conducted throughout the nation. Although all research related to racial covenants is commendable, the focus of scholars has not been distributed evenly. One of the major interests of scholars heretofore relates to the legal history of racially restrictive housing. Clement Vose’s Caucasians Only is a prime example of such a legal history, yet there can be no doubt that this is a seminal work into covenants overall, and it has inspired others to investigate their existence broadly from a wide array of perspectives. Another component of Vose’s study is the attention given to NAACP activism in combatting covenants. Jeffrey D. Gonda’s Unjust Deeds: The Restrictive Covenant Cases and the Making of the Civil Rights Movement builds directly on both of these important aspects of Caucasians Only as it examines in depth Shelley v Kraemer, which ruled that racially restrictive covenants could not be enforced, and the related civil rights activism. Other studies have focused on the role of white homeowners. David Freund’s Colored Property: State Policy and White Racial Politics in Suburban America is an excellent example of one such study as it explores how whites in the postwar period continued to oppose racial housing integration. A throughline of this scholarship is the focus on the postwar period and the end of racial covenants.
The inspiration for this paper comes from a leading scholar of urban history, Paige Glotzer, who explores the connection between suburban development and racial housing segregation in How the Suburbs Were Segregated: Developers and the Business of Exclusionary Housing, 1890-1960. Using urban development within Baltimore as a case study, and in examination of the activity of the Roland Park Company in particular, Glotzer argues that postwar political ideology did not produce a new reality within the history of American housing, like many scholars contend, but rather built on long-standing core tenets regarding the relationship between segregation and home value. (1) In formulating this argument, Glotzer makes a key intervention into the existing historiography which all too often looks to the postwar period in order to make sense of segregated housing within the United States. Through this research, Glotzer attempts to provide insight into the origins of racially restrictive housing that became so commonplace in the decades after the establishment of the Roland Park Company, a subsidiary of the Land Trust Company.
Methodology
This paper builds on the analysis of Glotzer in its exploration of the individuals who were responsible for the creation of the racially restrictive housing covenants that emerged within Montgomery County, Virginia over the course of the first half of the twentieth century. In doing so, this paper inquiries into who the masterminds behind the establishment of racially segregated housing in Blacksburg were. Furthermore, this paper asks how the investors of racially restrictive housing in Blacksburg were connected to the operation of the town of Blacksburg more generally. In an effort to answer these questions, this paper relies primarily on archival research conducted within the Montgomery County Courthouse, located in Christiansburg, Virginia, where the county’s land records are stored. In addition, census records help to gain insight into both the demographic condition of Montgomery County during the time period in question as well as illuminate the background of major actors within the real estate market who were involved in the sale of racially restrictive housing. The existing archive of the Roanoke Times furthermore serves as an indispensable source for information about the individuals under investigation. In regard to organization, this paper first gives special attention to the number of individuals involved in the sale of racially restrictive housing, their occupations, and the gender breakdown of the group. Then, this paper spotlights the careers of Montgomery County’s most prominent realtors of racially restrictive housing: F.W. Eheart and A.W. Miller, and their wives, Virginia and Grace.
The Investors of Racially Restrictive Housing
In Montgomery County, a relatively small set of names recur over and over in the archival record of those who were involved in the sale of racially restrictive housing. While it is unclear whether or not these Virginian investors were part of some sort of organization like the Land Trust Company or the Roland Park Company, it is irrefutable that they repeatedly conducted business with each other and correspondingly must have known each other quite well. (2) Regardless of if they were part of an official organization, they were in de facto cahoots, and their work can thus be interpreted in a similar way as the individuals of the Land Trust Company and especially the Roland Park Company in the sense that all of these people invested in real estate that envisioned and realized the creation of racially restrictive housing.
A noteworthy observation regarding these investors is their immense occupational diversity. According to Glotzer, investors within the Land Trust Company listed 133 unique occupations covering a wide range of professions. (3) There likewise existed a great deal of occupational diversity within the group of Montgomery County investors. At this point, it makes sense to introduce a few of the major players within the Montgomery County real estate game whose names appear time and time again in the deeds associated with the sale of racially restrictive housing. Noted in the deed books at different times as both grantors and grantees, F.W. Eheart, Orlando Rucker, A.W. Miller, F.E. Williford, and Roy Ross Reynolds are some of the most important individuals involved in the creation of racially restrictive housing within Montgomery County. (4) According to Census records between 1900 and 1940, these individuals were not realtors by trade, but instead had other, primary occupations. These occupations included but were not limited to the fields of medicine, law, business, and the military. (5) As evidenced by the diversity in their main line of work, it seems this group of men sought to invest in the real estate market in order to expand their already existent wealth. Another critical observation regarding the investors of Montgomery County real estate is the inclusion of women as wives were often listed in the deeds. The name Juanita Rucker always appears beside that of her husband, Orlando. Other examples include Grace Miller, Lucy Lawrence, and Barbara Ross.(6) Although it’s unclear the extent to which the wives of Montgomery County were involved in the transaction process, it its nevertheless noteworthy that they are included in the transaction records.
F.W. Eheart
Having established the occupational and gender diversity within the group of investors, a more detailed examination of the major players in the Montgomery County real estate market is much needed. One of the most active realtors listed over and over in transactions consisting of racial covenants was Franklin Wayland Eheart. According to census records, F.W. Eheart, as he was known, was born on 17 September 1866 in Madison, Virginia. (7) At the age of 30, Eheart wed Virginia Semones with whom he lived for the remainder of his life. Although census records do not indicate that Eheart moved to Montgomery County with Semones until 1930 after taking up residence in Blacksburg on Roanoke Street, articles in the Roanoke times suggest that he moved to the area at a much earlier date, around 1900. (8) Whenever the couple arrived in Montgomery County, it is indisputable that Eheart nevertheless became one of the county’s most prolific realtors in short time.
Thanks to census records, we know that Eheart worked primarily as a dentist for much of his adult life. (9) This record is corroborated by the hundreds of advertisements which he posted within the Roanoke Times around the turn of the twentieth century. The typical ad boasted of the “cheerful” way in which he went about his work. (10) On the surface, one would have no reason to suspect that the friendly, local dentist would have played such a large role in the creation of exclusionary housing. Upon digging deeper, however, the true character of Eheart and his wife, Virginia, is apparent for all to see. In February 1907, Mrs. Eheart was a “specially invited guest” at a “largely attended and enthusiastic meeting” of the local chapter of the Daughters of the Confederacy. (11) Given F.W.’s record as an architect of racially segregated housing communities, it is of little surprise that his wife associated with the group which founded the Confederate “Lost Cause” Tradition and who sought to vindicate and venerate white supremacist ideals. (12)
It can be established that Eheart was well known throughout the town of Blacksburg not only for his dentistry, but for his extensive engagement with different aspects of the community. In addition to his position within the executive committee of the Southwest Virginia Dental Society, he was a prominent leader within the Christian community, a member of the “Thursday Club”, chairman of the Blacksburg School District, and most famously, the mayor of Blacksburg between 1914 and 1918, and from 1930 to 1942. (13) Given his multifaceted role within the community, Eheart intertwined racially segregated housing within much of the broader operation of the town of Blacksburg through his very person as such a major figure.
As mayor, Eheart and other officials sought to bring about major changes within the town. One of their main goals was to make Blacksburg one of the best municipalities within the entire country. (14) Was the creation of racially exclusive housing an important component of this plan? Also as mayor, Eheart delivered a speech to the Women’s Club in which he emphasized the importance of the “sanity, health and good of the town” which apparently alleviated many concerns held within the organization. (15) Did the health and wellness of Blacksburg correspond to the health and wellness of its entire population, or to that of its white residents only? As chairman of the local school board, did the creation of racially restrictive housing preserve and ensure the continuation of racially segregated schools? In 1933, a civil works project was undertaken under the guidance of Eheart as mayor. Who exactly was being referred to when it was declared, “we assure you that the work will bring joy to many homes throughout the county for the Christmas season, and great comfort to many during the coming winter weeks”? (16) It can be confidently assumed that this work was designed for white residents and that the “joy” was thus intended to serve white homes. Anything to the contrary would contradict the logic behind Eheart’s extensive segregated housing transaction history.
The local school system was another area in which Eheart extended his discrimination and created marginalized groups. As should be clear from both his record of real estate transactions and his wife’s association with the UDC among much else, Eheart was indubitably prejudiced toward Blacksburg’s black residents. Yet under the guidance of Eheart, the local school board also institutionalized discrimination toward women. Specifically, the school board marginalized married women in 1934 when they adopted a policy in which the employment of married women would end immediately, unless their husband was an invalid and therefore could not provide a living for the family. (17) This revelation further clarifies who Eheart intended to serve when he spoke of the “good of the town”. In Eheart’s idealized community, Blacksburg’s black residents and married women were exempt from the privileges of full citizenship.
A.W. Miller
In turning to A.W. Miller, we can see another example of a member of the early twentieth-century Blacksburg elite who introduced social prejudice into the management of the town and thereby institutionalized discrimination. Interestingly, the career of A.W. Miller is not nearly as present in the public record as that of his wife, Grace, who notably was listed alongside A.W. on many occasions as a grantor in the sale of racially restrictive housing. One of the prominent leadership positions held by Grace was the presidency of the local Garden Club. (18) As President of the Garden Club for several years, she orchestrated beautification projects around the town. (19) In furthering the “good of the town” mission of which Eheart spoke, we can be confident that Miller sought to create beauty for the town’s white residents.
Beyond aesthetic concerns, Grace Miller’s social prejudice is exemplified further in her leadership of the Montgomery County Tuberculosis Association. On June 15, 1940, Miller became the chairman of the association’s Blacksburg district. (20) Under her leadership, the first tuberculosis clinic was held in Blacksburg. (21) This was an excellent achievement for the local community; however, as with the actions of Eheart, we must ask who this was intended to serve. The answer is unfortunately quite nefarious. With funds raised by the organization, the clinic offered free X-Ray testing to high school students, but this service was only extended to white students. “Negroes” were permitted to test but were registered as “individuals” rather than “students” and consequently had to cover the costs of their own examinations. (22) Yet the discriminatory leadership of Miller did not stop there as the organization also covered the entire treatment cost for some of those discovered to be in need of medical attention. This service was likewise exclusively extended to “white persons” while “colored persons” were exempt. (23) From this record, we can begin to answer what was meant when Eheart spoke of improving the “health and good of the town”. Clearly, the health of Blacksburg’s white residents was prioritized above that of its minority population.
Overall, F.W. Eheart and the Millers were monumental figures within the town of Blacksburg. There is no doubt that they all made a significant impact on the development of the area, and it therefore seems appropriate or at least understandable that streets would be named in their honor. Their positive influence is well-documented in newspaper archives and their names lives on in Blacksburg lore. Thus, it is no wonder why Eheart was publicly praised and presented with a plaque for his service to the community toward the end of his life. (24) The intention here is not to tear Eheart nor the Millers down, but rather to explore the more controversial side of their leadership. Given their involvement in the creation and preservation of racially restrictive housing, it is completely fair to ask who they intended to help and whose lives they strove to better. Simply, the answer is the residents of Blacksburg. But more precisely, and more accurately, the positive change which Eheart and the Millers brought about was directed at and ultimately served the white residents of Blacksburg, exclusively. Any argument to the contrary must overlook the fact that they were involved in scores of transactions involving racially restrictive housing at the very least and likely many more. (25) Furthermore, as has been shown, they clearly extended their discriminatory inclinations into other realms of town management.
Conclusion
It’s 10:00 AM on Friday morning, and I’m once again walking through the metal detector at the entrance of the Montgomery County Courthouse. This has been the routine for several weeks now and I’ve become familiar with both the process and the friendly faces who greet me upon entrance. In the beginning, I forgot on more than one occasion that electronic devices are prohibited within the courthouse and despite how much they might help with my research, I no longer ever forget to leave my cellphone in my car. Today is the last day in the land records archive, and I have to admit, to my great surprise, I am somewhat sentimental over the fact that this journey is coming to an end. I will never forget the windowless room where the land records are stored, the frustrated and sometimes abrasive Montgomery County denizens who come in flustered due to the property disputes in which they are involved, and most memorable of all, the smell of old books that permeates the archive. But it was only today that I noticed the portraits of the county clerks on the wall that date back over two centuries. As I consider the drastic changes in the portraits, I likewise contemplate the change in beliefs that must have transpired with the change in leadership over the years. On the surface level, the advent of photography and then color photography jump out at the viewer. Soon after, one realizes how the subjects of the portraits are overwhelmingly male. But below the surface, I’m left wondering: what did these men think of racially restrictive covenants, the history of so many of which are stored in the building’s land records archive. A great number of these esteemed men lived in Montgomery County during the times in which racially restrictive covenants were written, established, and enforced. What were their views on these housing restrictions at the time? Did any of them perhaps live in racially restrictive communities? Did any of them benefit financially from the creation of such restrictions? After I leave the courthouse for the final time, these questions will stick with me as they reinforce how racially restrictive covenants, stored out-of-sight in back rooms across the country, are just as essential to the history of American infrastructure as the civil servants who are spotlighted on the walls of the same buildings. Hopefully, this paper has succeeded in its aims of providing information about two of the architects of racially segregated housing in Blacksburg and in illustrating the multifaceted history of esteemed civil servants who have constructed the communities across the United States in which we continue to live today.
(1) Paige Glotzer, How the Suburbs Were Segregated: Developers and the Business of Exclusionary Housing, 1890-1960 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2020), 13. (2) Figure 1 in the Referenced Images section contains a covenant with A.W. Miller as grantor and F.W. Eheart as grantee.
(3) Glotzer, 37.(4) “Montgomery County Racial Covenants,” Google Docs, accessed April 5, 2023. https://docs.google.com/
spreadsheets/d/1pbyH3p4P7skCeh2rkSLD1m2SZ3duVdreDdVw4Nh15x4/edit?usp=sharing.(5) “1930 United States Federal Census,” database with images, Ancestry (https://www.ancestry.com), database entries for Franklin Wayland Eheart, Orlando Childs Rucker, A. Warren Miller, Forrest Estey Williford, and Roy Ross Reynolds.(6) “Montgomery County Racial Covenants,” Google Docs, accessed April 5, 2023. https://docs.google.com/
spreadsheets/d/1pbyH3p4P7skCeh2rkSLD1m2SZ3duVdreDdVw4Nh15x4/edit?usp=sharing.(7) “1930 United States Federal Census,” database with images, Ancestry (https://www.ancestry.com), database entry for Franklin Wayland Eheart.(8) “Dr. Eheart, Former Mayor of Blacksburg, Succumbs,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Jul. 1, 1949.(9) “1930 United States Federal Census,” database with images, Ancestry (https://www.ancestry.com), database entry for Franklin Wayland Eheart.(10) “F.W. Eheart, D.D.S. DENTIST,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Apr. 5, 1899.(11) “Blacksburg,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Feb. 24, 1907.(12) Karen L. Cox, Dixie’s Daughters: New Perspectives on the History of the South (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003), 2-3.(13) “Dr. Eheart, Former Mayor of Blacksburg, Succumbs,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Jul. 1, 1949.(14) “City League Meeting Here,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Oct. 14, 1913.(15) “Blacksburg,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Nov. 26, 1916.(16) “Montgomery Commends Civil Works Program,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Dec. 20, 1933.(17) Clara B. Cox, A Special Place for 200 Years: A History of Blacksburg Virginia, (Blacksburg: Town of Blacksburg, Virginia, 1998), 97-98.(18) “Officers Named By Garden Club,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), May. 5, 1934.(19) “Annual Meeting of the S.W. Virginia Garden Club Today In Radford,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), May. 2, 1935.(20) “Anti-TB Worker Is To Be Given Honor”, Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Jun. 16, 1940.(21) “Montgomery Will X-Ray Students”, Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), May. 5, 1943.(22) “Montgomery Will X-Ray Students”, Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), May. 5, 1943.(23) “Montgomery Will X-Ray Students”, Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), May. 5, 1943.(24) “Would Abolish Lockups,” Roanoke Times (Roanoke, VA), Sep. 21, 1937.(25) “Montgomery County Racial Covenants,” Google Docs, accessed April 5, 2023. https://docs.google.com/
spreadsheets/d/1pbyH3p4P7skCeh2rkSLD1m2SZ3duVdreDdVw4Nh15x4/edit?usp=sharing.