In one last attempt to find out about the Kanawha Glass Company, I drove up to Weston. It's about a hundred miles north of here. Actually, Americans say about an hour-and-a-half. I'm quite surprised at myself driving that distance just on the off chance. I must be getting Americanised.
Actually it turns out to be more daring than I intended, beacause the weather is terrible. There is really, really heavy rain, like I had in Iowa in the remains of a tropical storm: which results in a fair number of accidents. Someone went spinning off the road just in front of me. He lifted a road sign right up in the air and it came spearing down onto the road. Actually it was all just close enough to frighten me, and far enough away to stay in control. The car in front of me, which he just missed, kept on going, but a lot of people stopped to help. Being on T-mobile, the first thing I did was to check if I had a signal to phone 911, but I could see a number of other people already doing that. The young man seemed unhurt: "The steering-wheel just whipped out of my hand", he said. The whole thing was a a testament to how much space is left round the interstates.
The West Virginia Museum of American Glass (and, a new addition, Marbles) is fascinating. It's one of those places where grown-up ladies go to be useful. I had a long conversation with the Director. He had heard of the company, but only knew of one reference.
I swopped my information with him, sitting at the desk of the President of the American Flint Glass Workers Union, which was formed in 1878. I had thought that since one of the maps revealed my company had a flint department, it might have produced fancy glasses, but he said flint just meant clear. It looks like it was just a bottle factory, producing milk and beer bottles.
Stimulated by the age of the Union, and puzzled by there being no incorporation papers for my company, I asked if it was possible that it had been there since before the Civil War (when there was no West Virginia). He thought that very amusing. "They couldn't have got in, and they couldn't have got the glass out", he said. So it must have arrived after the railroad, whenever that was.
He promised he would email what he had on his database.
The weather cleared briefly, so I had a walk round Weston before the drive back. It has a typical 19th century main street, mostly of brick with fancy work at the top. The bank at the main junction is very large, and used to be a hotel, so it it must have been a busy town.
Driving out I notice what I consider to be rows of neat little houses, but, of course, they're not really that small. It's just that almost all American house are detached, and they are actually small for the sort of detached houses I'm used to.
Then it's back to Charleston in another bout of terrible weather. There are several accidents to see on the way.
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