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During his lifetime J.A. and his partner, my grandmother, purchased nearly 30 pieces of real estate including the grist mill, several houses and a 285-acre farm with two bams, horses and many head of cattle.
Several area homeowners owe their initial success at becoming land owners to the very Christian and liberal conditions my grandmother gave them following his death. It was like buying land on the lay-away plan.
One local man, after being disabled in a farming accident, sold apples on the roadside and earned enough to purchase a lot from grandmother. I recall watching Mr. Butler’s face as he counted out sixty one-dollar bills and with a neverending smile declared, “Aunt Florance, I do believe this just about makes it.” The purchase was recorded some days later, and Mr. Butler became a land owner for the first time.
The large house where J.A. had his watch repair shop and jewelry display still stands in the heart of Sperryville. Gone now is the tall barber pole, the huge display watch and the engraving machine as well as the sights and sounds of a busy time in the flourishing days of 1908 through 1935. Gone too are the aromas of lilac water, shaving cream and spicy cigar smoke. Several chiming clocks have lapsed into silence. The warm glow of the pot-bellied coal stove and the hospitality of that small town setting are now etched into history by the cold impersonal winds of time.
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