Ruggles Origin for Shockoe 8-10

RESEARCH PAPER

AUGUST 2010

A Possible Origin for “Shockoe”

(and the names “Shockoe Slip” & “Shockoe Bottom”)

by Jeffrey Ruggles

© Jeffrey Ruggles 2010

A Possible Origin for “Shockoe” © Jeffrey Ruggles 2010

Where did “Shockoe” come from? The name is as old as any in Richmond and one of the more interesting, too. What follows is a theory—admitting, of course, it can’t be conclusively proven.

A variant of “Shockoe” appeared in writing as early as 1675, the date of a land patent

copied into the Byrd Title Book, in a reference to “the Shoccoes Creek’s mouth.” In a 1687 property document from the same volume, the creek name was written both as “Shaccoe” and as “Shacco.” Other variants were used for the name of an early settlement: “Shacco’s,” in a letter sent by William Byrd II in 1729, and “Shockoe’s,” recorded 1730 in Hening’s Statutes.1

“Shockoe,” as the name eventually resolved, was adopted by the English settlers

from an Algonquian name bestowed by the native Powhatan. Although the earliest written instances of its usage were as the name for Shockoe Creek, a document indicates the creek was not the original “Shockoe.” In the Byrd Title Book is a survey map that illustrates a 1663 patent. The map identifies the creek as “Shaccoe Creek formerly called Chyinek.” Apparently the Powhatan called the creek Chyinek, but the English renamed it Shaccoe Creek. This circumstance suggests that the Powhatan word that was the antecedent to “Shockoe” was originally their name for something other than the creek.2

The area called Shockoe today is a section of downtown Richmond, on the north side

of the James River at the downstream end of the falls. The settlement of that name was started by William Byrd I in the same vicinity in the 1680s or 90s. We might guess that whatever the Powhatan called “Shockoe” was probably somewhere nearby. To be sure, much has changed in 400 years. Long ago this part of the river was a good bit wider than today. The banks were generally lower and more readily overrun by high water. Since the 1700s, landfill projects have altered the topography by elevating banks, enlarging islands, and narrowing the river, right up to the 1990s and the floodwall. With the change that has come to the Shockoe area, it is possible, and perhaps likely, that the feature the Algonquian name referred to is not the same today.3

1 William Byrd, “Title Book, 1637–1743,” manuscript at Virginia Historical Society (Mss5:9 B9965:1), also transcribed in Virginia Magazine of History and Biography (VMHB), Vol. 48, 1940: for 1675 patent 234–35, for 1687 patent 236–37; William Byrd II to Micajah Perry, 27 May 1729, in The Correspondence of the Three William Byrds of Westover, Virginia (Charlottesville, 1977), Vol. 1, 398; William Walter Hening, The Statutes at Large, Vol. 4 (Richmond, 1823), 266. The Title Book was commissioned by William Byrd II, who hired a scribe (c. 1705–1730) to copy the papers he had inherited from his father and had accumulated himself. 2 “Plan of 800 Acres of Land near Shaccoe Creek,” c.1663, Byrd Title Book; a copy drawing is reproduced in VMHB, vol. 48, 1940, following 231. 3 On the north bank of the James River in Richmond, from 12th to 27th streets, virtually all the land between the canal and the river has been raised by fill. See the 1835 map, “Plan of the City of Richmond” by Micajah Bates, which shows “Island 321” incorporated into the north bank at 14th St., and the once riverside “Old Rock Landing” north of Dock St., a long block from the shore.

Ruggles A Possible Origin for “Shockoe”

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Detail of “Plan of 800 Acres of Land near Shaccoe Creek” (c.1663) Note identification of creek: “Shaccoe Creek formerly Called Chyinek.” From Byrd Title Book (Virginia Historical Society) The key reference sources for the spoken language of the Powhatan, a dialect of

Algonquian, are two dictionaries, both prepared about 1612, one by Captain John Smith and a longer one by William Strachey. According to Strachey, the Powhatan used the word Papwachowng to mean “the falls at the end of the King’s river” (i.e. the James). While the original “Shockoe” could have had something to do with the falls, there is no reason to believe it would have duplicated the meaning of Papwachowng. Thus, our assumption will be that the Powhatan word-source for “Shockoe” referred to neither the falls nor the creek.4

The scholar Louis Wright suggested in 1966 that Shockoe was “probably a corruption

of the name of an Indian tribe (either the Shakori or the Shackaconians).” These names were as reported by Algonquian speakers for non-Algonquian tribes that lived to the west. The Shakori were a tribe in North Carolina (where there is a Shocco Creek). About 1608 the Shackaconians lived in the area of modern Spotsylvania County and were part of the Manahoac Confederacy. However there is no record that either tribe was ever around the falls, nor did Wright offer any reason why these tribal names should be associated with “Shockoe” at Richmond.5

In his 1901 Algonquian Names, William Wallace Tooker brought forward the

Algonquian word for “stone” as a possible root for the names of the two tribes and by extension for Shockoe as well. Given that the spelling in Smith’s and Strachey’s 1612 4 Strachey’s dictionary is Appendix A, 174–207, in William Strachey, The Historie of Travell into Virginia Britannia (1612, London 1953); Smith’s dictionary is in John Smith, A Map of Virginia (1612), in The Complete Works of Captain John Smith (1580–1631), ed. Philip L. Barbour (Chapel Hill, 1986), Vol. I, 119–90; see also Philip L. Barbour, “The earliest reconnaissance of the Chesapeake Bay area : Captain John Smith's map and Indian vocabulary,” VMHB, v.79 (1971), p. 280–302; v.80 (1972), p. 21–51. 5 William Byrd II, “A Progress to the Mines in the Year 1732,” in Prose Works, Narratives of a Colonial Virginian (Cambridge, Mass., 1966), ed. Louis B. Wright, note 1, 339.


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dictionaries is only approximate, “Shockoe” is more recognizable in the first two syllables of Smith’s spelling of the word, shacquohocan, than in Strachey’s version, shacahocan. Tooker described the Shackaconia as “the stone people,” the name a contraction of Shackahocan-añoughs, with the suffix -añoughs meaning “people” or “people of.”6

Importantly for the subject at hand, Tooker identified the word shacquohocan as

including the suffix -hocan, which denoted “built from” or “made of,” similar to saying in English the “wood-thing” or the “clay-thing.” A word ending in -hocan could be the name for a tool or object assembled using the material named in the first part of the word (in Strachey’s compilation, for example, words for hatchet include taccahocan and the abbreviated tamahoc). Addressing the fact that Smith and Strachey both defined shacquohocan as simply “stone,” Tooker stated that “this meaning as rendered by these two authorities is not the literal one, for its instrumentive generic suffix –hocan indicates something artificial. It denoted possibly a stone prepared for slinging, tossing, or rolling.”7

Rather than simply “stone,” shacquohocan might have described—per Tooker—

something made of stone. A possibility can be suggested. First, knowing that both Smith and Strachey spent time at the Falls of the James (and wrote about it), let us assume (not at all implausibly) that each collected the word shacquohocan there, and thus the word had a connection to that vicinity. Next, we must imagine the James River at Richmond before its transformation by centuries of civil improvements. Along with the granite bedrock of the falls there was also much loose stone, produced by eons of moving water and ice freezing in cracks. The lower end of the falls was effectively at the base of a miles-long inclined plane, and all along that natural ramp were cobblestones—loose stones worn round by water-driven friction. Over thousands of years, the stones would have kept inching slowly down the falls, until—one imagines—many collected in great fluvial deposits.

Because the first colonists were seeking a different sort of mineral riches than

cobblestones, descriptions of the deposits don’t come until later. “Coals we want none, nor do any search for stone,” wrote John Banister in 1679 of the minerals common at the Falls. “Particularly near the Falls of the Rivers,” reported Robert Beverley in 1705, “are found vast Quantities of Stone, fit for all kind of uses.” Specifically he mentioned “Stone for building, and Flat-paving in vast Quantitites, as likewise Pibble-stones.” Richmonders of more modern eras never saw the deposits in full because so much stone was harvested. During the town-building of the late 1700s and early 1800s, river stones were widely

6 William Wallace Tooker, The Algonquian Names of the Siouan Tribes of Virginia (New York, 1901), No. 5 in The Algonquian Series. One theory (for instance at <www.nps.gov/history/Nr/travel/richmond/ShockoeValleyTobaccoHD.htm>) is that “Shockoe,” based on a meaning of “stone,” refers to Rock Landing, a stone outcrop near the mouth of Shockoe Creek that served traders as a dock for a century (located and identified on the 1809 map of Richmond by Richard Young). However there is no supporting evidence for this theory. Although Rock Landing was important to the English (and bears an English name), it wouldn’t have been any more notable to the Powhatan, who weren’t shippers, than any other big rocks, of which there were plenty. 7 Tooker, The Algonquian Names of the Siouan Tribes of Virginia, 63–64.


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used for streets, alleys, and courtyards, for the 1794 Marketbridge, and in buildings such as the Old Stone House, built before 1783, and Ross’s mill in the 1790s.8

“Sketch of the lower end of the Falls of James River, Virginia” Watercolor by Benjamin Latrobe, 6 April 1796 (Maryland Historical Society) At right, today the site of the old hydropower plant at the foot of 12th St., is Ross’s Mill. In the background is the main building at Haymarket Garden, a place for dances. The log bridge gave access to mid-stream rocks for fishing. River stones were used in an earlier period, too. To help catch fish in rivers, both

during spring runs and at other times, Native Americans used stones to build fish dams. In their system, the falls were a valued resource. Helen Rountree describes the “season of runs of anadromous fish,” from mid-March through April, called cattapeuk, when Indian men were occupied with “intensive fishing.” On the James, American Shad ran first in March, climbing the Falls to the upper river. Herring, small and numerous, swarmed the river and certain creeks typically in early April. Atlantic Sturgeon ran in April and might continue into May, and were not only the largest fish available but also bore a prized roe (used in other cultures to make caviar). The fish ran for the settlers too: John Banister wrote in the late 1600s that “multitudes of them (especially of the Shads & herrings) are taken with saines, & salted & dried, or kept in pickle, or sauced.”9

8 John Banister, “Letter from the Falls,” 1679, in Joseph Ewan and Nesta Ewan, John Banister and His Natural History of Virginia 1678–1692 (Urbana, IL, 1970), 45; Robert Beverley, The History and Present State of Virginia (1705, Chapel Hill 1947), 125. Beverley’s 1697 marriage to Ursula, daughter of William Byrd I, proprietor of the Falls of the James, probably afforded him the opportunity to visit the Falls. Most of Richmond’s early stone construction has since been covered or dismantled. 9 Helen C. Rountree, Pocahontas, Powhatan, Opechancanough, Three Indian Lives Changed by Jamestown (Charlottesville, 2005), 239; Edward C. Raney, “Freshwater Fishes,” in The James River Basin, Past, Present, Future (Virginia Academy of Science, 1950), 154–56 (151–194); John Banister, “The Natural History,” in Ewan and Ewan, John Banister and His Natural History of Virginia 1678–1692, 352.


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Vestiges have been found in Virginia rivers of one type of dam that took the shape of a funnel. Fisherman drove fish into the funnel and to where they could be more easily taken. John Banister described a fish dam in the late 1600s: “at the falls of our rivers where the water is shallow, & the current strong, the Natives have taught us to set another kind of weare [weir]. We make a Dam of loose stones (where there is plenty at hand) across the river, & in it, one, two, or more pipes or tunnels for the water to pass; at the mouth of which is set a pot of reeds, wove in form of a Cone, whose base is about three feet & altitude ten into which the Swiftness of the current carries the fish, & wedges them so fast they cannot possibly return.”10

Photograph by David Bushnell, 1926. Original caption: “The ‘Indian Fish Traps,’ in the James River at Richmond.” The location is not certain but was probably west of Boulevard Bridge, seen from the south side. Even if the origin of the V-shaped fish dams was Native American, it is hard to believe, given the force of the James at high water, the dams would have lasted until 1926 in such perfect order without continuing upkeep. Reproduced from David I Bushnell, Jr., The Five Monacan Towns in Virginia, 1607 (Smithsonian Misc. Collections, Vol. 82, No. 12, Pl. 1, 1930). Certain passages in the rapids would have been the most productive catch places. For

the different Indian groups of the immediate region, and indeed for nomadic tribes as well, to be in the right place at the right time may have been worth contending for. In the 1607 period, such potential strife was probably one reason there was a zone of separation, 10 Banister, “The Natural History,” in Ewan and Ewan, John Banister, 354. Copied by Beverley, The History and Present State of Virginia (1947), 148. For the builder of Banister’s dam, Rountree suggests the Appamattucks (on the Appomattox River) or the Monacan (on the James), but not the Powhatan at the Falls of the James. However a map (see above at page 2) shows Cabins of the Powhite Indians at the Falls in 1663, and Banister stayed with William Byrd I at the Falls of the James in 1679. Nothing in Banister’s text directly precludes the dam having been built by Powhatans there.


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an uninhabited buffer, between the Monacan to the west and the Powhatan to the east. Located within this zone were the six miles or so of falls. With trouble from competing fishermen a possibility, the Powhatan might have gathered warriors from a number of towns for the spring runs, similar to their practice in the fall of assembling men from many towns to hunt.11

In selecting a suitable place to fish, for reasons of security and convenience the

Powhatan likely stayed toward their side of the zone of separation, at the lower end of the falls. Just upstream from modern 14th Street bridge are rapids, shallows, and islands—if today’s river has any resemblance to that of 1600—that could have been an opportune site for dams and fishing. It is plausible that the Powhatan called such dams “stone-things” or shacquohocan. In time, what began as a word for stone dams could have come into use as a place name for the part of the river the dams occupied, and then for the banks adjacent, where the Indians might have had a temporary encampment.12

It was there that the English, when they journeyed up the river in their boats, could

proceed no farther, and so it became a place significant to the English as well. The same place on the river was known to the Powhatan and the English for different reasons—the English as the head of navigation, and the Powhatan as a place for fishing. The English heard the Powhatan name for this place and adopted it. They abbreviated it, attached it to a nearby creek, and eventually it became the name for their settlement on the north bank of the river.

Shockoe in modern Richmond The two famous “Shockoe” spots today are Shockoe Slip and Shockoe Bottom.

People familiar with Richmond also know Shockoe Valley, Shockoe Hill, and Shockoe Cemetery. Shockoe Creek survives as a traditional “above-ground” stream in its upper reaches. Adding to these names the businesses and properties with Shockoe in their names, “Shockoe” is probably more widely used than ever.

Despite the impressions they may give of historic heritage, as names for

neighborhoods Shockoe Slip and Shockoe Bottom are fairly new coinage. The map that Mary Wingfield Scott prepared in 1950 for the inside covers of her Old Richmond Neighborhoods identifies neither the Slip nor the Bottom (nor does either name appear in the book’s index). In Richmond, The Story of a City, by Virginius Dabney, published 1976, the name Shockoe Bottom does not appear and Shockoe Slip appears once, in the context of early 1970s revitalization.13

11 Jeffrey L. Hantman, “Powhatan’s Relations with the Piedmont Monacans,” Powhatan Foreign Relations, 1500–1722, ed. Helen C. Rountree (Charlottesville, 1993), 104 (citing in turn works by Daniel L. Mouer and E. Randolph Turner); Helen C. Rountree, The Powhatan Indians of Virginia, Their Traditional Culture (Norman, OK, 1989), 41. 12 In this area, in early April 2009 on a walk along the “pipeline” below the floodwall east of 12th St., large numbers of fish—probably herring—were seen in the river shallows. 13 Mary Wingfield Scott, Old Richmond Neighborhoods (Richmond, 1950); Virginius Dabney, Richmond, The Story of a City (New York, 1976). On Scott’s map, what today is called Shockoe Bottom is identified as “Shockoe Creek.” For another instance, Michael Chesson mentions neither Shockoe Slip nor Shockoe


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Shockoe Slip is the older name of the two. Its “Shockoe” comes from Shockoe Warehouse, a name that goes back to the days of the early settlement. On a 1781 map of Richmond, a group of three long buildings appears west of Shockoe Creek that is probably Shockoe Warehouse. It was part of the long-time system for marketing leaf tobacco that relied on officially licensed warehouses, where hogsheads of tobacco were brought from the farm to be inspected, graded, and sold. By 1809 Shockoe Warehouse opened a new location atop a small knoll at the foot of 13th St., convenient to the tobacco arriving at the Canal Basin. The elevation of the knoll protected against flooding and was responsible for the variation from the square street grid.

One building of Shockoe Warehouse, the first at the 13th St. site, took the shape of its

irregular lot. A short side of it faced the plaza at 13th & Cary. Along its long east side ran a narrow street. Insurance maps in 1851 and 1858 had identified this street as “13th St. east of Shockoe Warehouse.” In 1873, a printed map identified the street as “Shockoe Slip.” The name’s first appearance on a map was as a street name.14

LEFT: 1859 Map Detail, from W.E. Ferslew, Map of the City of Richmond RIGHT: 1876 Map Detail, from F.W. Beers, Atlas of the City of Richmond, Va., Section L Left, Shockoe Warehouse (34) occupied three buildings centered at 13th & Canal streets. Canal St. had not yet been cut through, as it is today. Below and to the right of the irregularly-shaped warehouse was a steep slope. Left of Gallego Mill (32) was the Canal Basin; in the space below that flour mill, a large new mill was built in 1860. Both mills and the warehouses were among the hundreds of structures destroyed in the 1865 Evacuation Fire. Right, a decade after the fire,“Shockoe Slip” appears as a street name. Bottom in Richmond After the War 1865–1890, published 1981; whereas both names appear in the 1994 At the Falls, Richmond, Virginia, & Its People, by Marie Tyler-McGraw. 14 Mutual Assurance Society Policy #16232, Randolph Harrison, Jr., estate, Shockoe Warehouse, 1851; Mutual Assurance Society Policy #19653, Alexander B. Gordon, Alexander B. Hagan, Louisa H. Hagan, Shockoe Warehouse, 1858; Office Map of the City of Richmond, Va. And Surroundings, 1873, drawn & published by J. F. Z. Caracristi, Library of Virginia.


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After the Evacuation Fire, April 1865 With the Canal in front, 13th St. bridge at left, and ruins of the 1860 Gallego Mill at rear, a wall of the main, irregularly-shaped building of Shockoe Warehouse, also burnt out, is atop the steep slope to right. Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs: LC-B811-3172

Likely based on the map evidence, a 1970 brochure titled “Shockoe Slip” states: “The

‘Slip’ got its name for the narrow passage along the east side of 13th St.” But there is other evidence, too, which points slightly differently.15

The first appearance of “Shockoe Slip” in print had been some years earlier than the

map, in 1859, as the address for three tobacconists. In 1860 it was the business address for a teamster. These listings indicate the name began before the Civil War, but don’t reveal the exact location referred to. In 1870 the Richmond Tobacco Exchange was listed at “Shockoe Slip, foot 13th street,” and, using the detailed 1876 Beers map, that building can be located. It was on the west side of the southwest corner of the plaza (where the Bowers Brothers building stands today—see map previous page). In this case, the plaza was “Shockoe Slip.”16

The evidence from the early 1870s is that “Shockoe Slip” referred to both parts of the

short street that angled off 13th to serve the east doors of Shockoe Warehouse: the narrow section marked on the 1873 and 1876 maps, and the portion grown into a plaza (or piazza) closer to Cary St., apparently known by the name in 1870. From the beginning of “Shockoe Slip” as a name, it seems to have referred both to the street and to the plaza.

15 “Shockoe Slip,” at LV (F233.68 .S55 1970). In the 1970 brochure, one of the first publications to promote the name, the full sentence reads: “The ‘Slip’ got its name for the narrow passage along the east side of 13th St. permitting carts and foot traffic to reach the canal.” In the mid-1850s the Tidewater Connection of the James River & Kanawha Canal opened, linking the Canal Basin to Richmond Dock with a series of locks. Its path wrapped around the base of Shockoe Warehouse’s knoll. Although not evident on most maps, the slope was too steep from Shockoe Slip down to the canal for “carts and foot traffic.” On the other hand, “Slip” would have been an earned name if men tried to bring hogsheads down that slope. 16 1859, 1860, 1870 Richmond City Directory. The three tobaccconists in 1859 with the address of Shockoe Slip were J. A. Scott, John Freeland, and M. T. Clarke; the teamster in 1860 was F. A. Kuper.


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What is not clear is the genesis of “Slip.” No contemporary explanation has been found. A nautical derivation might be suggested by the proximity of the Canal and Basin, the several meanings of the word slip to a sailor, and the fact that the name began before the Civil War, when the Canal was still active. However, neither of the more likely nautical applications for slip—of a mooring slot for a vessel between two parallel sections of dock, or of a ramp for hauling a vessel out of water—was applicable to any feature of the Canal or Basin present in the vicinity. And while the Canal was near, it wasn’t an intimate relationship—no part of Shockoe Slip was closer than a long stone’s throw.17

Shockoe Warehouse, view north on Shockoe Slip, c. 1890–1910 The main building as reconstructed after 1865, looking toward the plaza, with the (new) Richmond Tobacco Exchange beyond (across the street from the 1870 one). Photograph by Huestis Cook, Valentine Richmond History Center (online at “Through the Lens of Time,” VCU Libraries Digital Collections)

Perhaps a explanatory clue will yet emerge. Until then the origin of “Slip” will be a

guess. My theory is that it is an invented name from the mid-1850s. By that period, the tobacco growing counties of the state were almost all west of Richmond. Canalboats were an efficient means of transport and many hogsheads of tobacco arrived in the city at the Canal Basin. The favored means of moving hogsheads from the Basin to Shockoe Warehouse, because it took advantage of the paving, was to roll the barrels down Cary St. and then up the incline of the plaza. (There was no need to load a round barrel in a wagon for this short, mostly downhill transfer.) When a canalboat arrived with a load of hogsheads, the men who did the rolling, African American slaves, might be at the task for a full day. For the late ante-bellum period, one might say this movement of hogsheads was a signature commercial activity, a symbol of wealth and value rolling into the city.

The plaza and the Tobacco Exchange were places men gathered to talk product, trade,

and stuff in general. Not far off were the offices of newspapers and publishers, workplaces for clever men accomplished at chewing the fat. The conversations of the 17 See, for example, a neighborhood website: “‘Slip’ refers to the area’s position on the canal basin where boats unloaded their cargo.” Historic Shockoe Partnership, Inc., at <www.shockoeslip.org>, 13 Aug. 2010.


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planters and dealers were thus leavened by the town wits, who doubtless at times resorted to puns of the lowest sort. These were the observers as the laborers strained to slip the hogsheads over the cobblestones, perhaps themselves slipping as they pushed up the slope of the plaza, up an incline similar to a nautical slip. (Their upward push would have included both the plaza and the street.) Perhaps an inspired wag first called it “Shockoe Slip” as a joke, one good enough to repeat because it resonated, and finally those of influence felt it fit, and it stuck.

A century later, when revitalization began in the area about 1970, the plaza and its

fountain became the centerpiece. In retrospect, it appears that the developers who agreed that the name of the plaza and street had the right ring for their district as a whole also launched a revival of the name “Shockoe.”18

Shockoe Bottom gets its “Shockoe” from the creek. Shockoe Creek was covered

over in the 1920s but still winds its way in a concrete box sewer beneath the neighborhood. The other part of the name, “Bottom,” goes back at least to the 1870s. However it was not until the late 1970s those terms were put together to make a new name.

Cobblestone courtyard At the 2008 Lumpkin’s Jail dig, in the old Bottom, an unpredicted discovery was a c.1830 cobblestone and brick courtyard and hillside drainage system.

The original “Bottom” was not centered at 17th Street Market. It was a few blocks

west, an area along Shockoe Creek, between Franklin and Marshall streets at the foot of Shockoe Hill. Where the creek bed seemed especially low against the steep hill was the Bottom. In the 1850s at least three slave jails were located in the Bottom. Mary Wingfield Scott wrote in 1950 that “Fifty years ago, when this writer’s father operated 18 The 1965 “Richmond Esthetic Survey and Historic Building Survey,” a project of the City Planning Commission, linked the name to the plaza: “Shockoe Slip is a picturesque space of unusual character and visual interest.” Online through Library of Virginia catalog at Title: “E. Cary St., 1300 block”.


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the Richmond Iron Works at Fifteenth and Broad, Scott’s Drug Store [at 17th and Franklin] was the sort of informal club-house for men working in ‘the Bottom’ that Blair’s Drug Store was for those near Ninth and Broad.” That Bottom disappeared under Main Street Station, built 1900, and the Seaboard Railroad freight yards west of it. Today most of the old Bottom is covered by the Station, its west parking lots, and the parking lot north of Broad owned by VCU. The land is not as low as it once was, for the elevation of the lots is as much as 15 feet above the old ground level.19

Although there has been much loss, much more remains of the neighborhood around

17th Street Farmers Market. Since World War II, First Market (or Old Market) had been a retail area that catered to workers from Tobacco Row and to residents of Church Hill and Manchester. Tobacco Row manufacturers began to close in the 1960s, however. Along with loss of that customer base, the change in retail habits to grocery stores and to shopping centers in the suburbs was also having its effect. The City demolished the Market building and replaced it with a shed in 1961. The 1969 and 1972 floods accelerated the transition. After the floods, many retail stores moved or closed.

Shockoe Bottom Main St Grill postcard of 1985 flood, 17th & Main

The late-1970s mix in the Market neighborhood included merchant survivors, new

merchants attracted by the ambience, developers and renovators of historic properties, and artists and bohemians. At that time Shockoe Slip was a model for its historical revitalization but (for some anyway) not for its white-bread, touristy/upscale direction. The Market area had a different shtick—it was the wrong side of the tracks. The first Farmers Market Festival in 1980 aimed to express that sensibility. The festival was sponsored by a newly formed civic group, the Shockoe Bottom Farmers and Merchants Association. In that name was the first formal use of “Shockoe Bottom.” Promotion for the first and succeeding festivals helped introduce the name to general use—but how did “Shockoe Bottom” start?

19 Scott, Old Richmond Neighborhoods, 82. Richmond Iron Works was built on the site of Lumpkin’s Jail and operated c.1890–1908, until its site was taken for the Seaboard Railroad freight yard.


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The name “Bottom” was floating out there, with a historic connection to the area but no longer tethered to its original spot. Photographs of the floods of 1969 and 1972 brought views of water covering lower Main and the Market. This was strong visual evidence for, as the philosopher might say, the state of being bottom—even if the flooded places were not quite what had been called the Bottom before. Given the “alternative Shockoe Slip” message that Market advocates were seeking, “Shockoe Bottom” fit the need. The name rolls off the tongue, has historic and geographic meaning, and is slightly impolite. Although concocted, the name has always sounded real. Its authenticity wasn’t questioned when it was introduced, and by now, it is authentic.20

Two final points: first, I believe “Shockoe Bottom” dates to 1979–80. A simple test is

whether anyone can cite an earlier use. Second, the name was hatched in the bohemian circles of the neighborhood rather than in an office. I credit Lester Blackiston, a long-time resident who died in 2007. Lester was President of the Shockoe Bottom Farmers & Merchants Association at the beginning. I think he said “Shockoe Bottom” in a dramatic way at some point and it sounded good and he said it again and people repeated it and it stuck.21

Neighborhood Association Letterhead, 1980 Perhaps the first use of the name Shockoe Bottom in print. Lester Blackiston was the President at the time and displeased a number of members by printing his own phone number on the stationery.22

20 The acceptance of the name was so rapid and complete that its origin was never mentioned in a VCU Urban Planning study issued in 1983, Shockoe Bottom Revitalization Plan. 21 Based in part on personal recollection; at the founding of the Association I served as Secretary. As late as the end of 1979, an invitation to a meeting sent by merchant Stanley Rothenberg used the name “Shockoe Valley”: Letter, 29 Nov 1979, from “the furniture store,” 1705 E. Franklin St., to “All Shockoe Valley Merchants, Property Owners, and Residents.” Lester Blackiston was quite a story himself, with anecdotes to tell about Ezra Pound, the Beats, Kerouac’s funeral, and Norman Mailer, yet also with something of the sociopath about him. His invention of the “Bait-Mate” may not have led to profits but did demonstrate the ability to generate a catchy name. 22 The caption notes that the wood engraving depicts the Market building in 1865, but leaves out the best part of the story. The Market is shown as a polling location in a Union Army-supervised Richmond election, the first in which African Americans were able to vote. In 1980 it had been only a few years earlier, in 1977, that a ward system imposed by a federal court had led to the election of Richmond’s first City Council with a majority of black members.

Ruggles Origin for Shockoe 8-10

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