In my early years as pastor of a church near near Broadway, the late Ernest Gehman, a German professor at Eastern Mennonite College and pastor of a neighboring church, Morning View Mennonite, was a member of our Northern District Ministerial Council. I remember admiring his untiring efforts to promote an alternative the the Army Corps of Engineers plan to build a 4000 acre dam at Brocks Gap. The editors of EMU's Alumni paper, Crossroads, kindly gave me permission to post a slightly abbreviated version of a recent article by Andrew Jenner on this story, as follows:
In 1963, the
United State Army Corps of Engineers published plans to build 16 large
dams along the Potomac River and its tributaries, including one at
Brocks Gap on the North Fork of the Shenandoah River, about 15 miles
north of Harrisonburg. The Army Corps’ goals were noble enough: to spare
Washington D.C. from the destructive flooding that had periodically
drowned the National Mall, secure the city’s water supply for decades to
come, and create 16 new lakes’ worth of recreational opportunity for
the American public.
Of course, there were some pesky details to all of this. The 150-foot
dam proposed at Brocks Gap would have buried the community of Fulks Run
beneath 122,000 acre-feet of water, displacing more than 300 families
and inundating, among other things, nearly 4,000 acres of productive
farmland, a brand-new elementary school and at least 17 places of
businesses.
Ernest Gehman
“He knew a lot of people who would have been affected by the flooding of the valley,” said
James Metzler, Gehman’s son-in-law. “He was concerned for the livelihoods, the disruption of congregations, as I recall.”
Gehman made his feelings on the matter plain in a May 1963 letter he wrote to Harrisonburg’s
Daily News-Record
(using language remarkably similar to certain strains of contemporary
political discourse): “It is the sort of trampling on human rights that
one might expect to find in atheistic Russia, but hardly in our
so-called free and so-called Christian America.”
The situation in Fulks Run felt dire, recalls Garnett Turner, the
owner of a then-threatened country store famous for its sugar-cured
Turner hams. Turner recalls the officer leading the Army Corps’ plans as
being “right emphatic that it was going to happen” – the security of
the nation’s capital was said to be at stake.
Gehman knew the best way to block the Army Corps’ plan was to suggest
an alternative; his counter-proposal involved the construction of
smaller dams along the entire length of the Shenandoah River. Built
every five to 10 miles within the channel of the river (and thus known
as “channel dams”), these were to have kept the water no higher than
flood stage, essentially turning the Shenandoah into a series of long,
narrow lakes.
The idea was inspired by channel dams that Gehman had seen in the
late ’40s in Germany while completing his doctorate at the University of
Heidelberg, and a decade later during a year he spent teaching in
Austria under the Fulbright exchange program. The Neckar River, which
flows past Heidelberg, was a particular inspiration.
Gehman argued that the channel dams would serve the Army Corps’ water
supply and flood control goals without destroying the community behind
Brocks Gap. He also played up the economic development angle, as the
addition of locks at each dam could open the Shenandoah River to
commercial navigation.
Like most conservative Mennonites of his era, Gehman frowned on
participation in politics and never voted in his life, according to his
son John Gehman
. That didn’t stop him, though, from
diving into the bureaucratic and political fray surrounding the Army
Corps’ scheme.
“He was bold,” recalls John, who was in medical school in Richmond
while his father took on the Army Corps of Engineers. “He didn’t
hesitate to speak up about his thoughts and feelings.”
In September 1963, Gehman went to Washington to present a rationale
for his channel dam proposal at a public hearing held by the Army’s
Board of Engineers for Rivers and Harbors. (Also there that day was
Garnett Turner and nearly 200 others who’d come from Fulks Run in five
chartered Greyhound buses to make their displeasure known.)
He began writing to the newspapers, local officials, state
legislators and Virginia’s Congressional delegation. Responses, ranging
from tepid to fairly enthusiastic, came back from Virginia’s two
senators at the time – Harry F. Byrd Sr. and Willis Robertson – as well
as Governor Albertis Harrison and West Virginia Governor William Barron.
Gehman’s greatest ally in Washington, though, soon became Rep. John O.
Marsh of Virginia’s 7th District.
In one of the many letters the two exchanged over a several-year
period, Marsh wrote: “The time you have given to this problem is a most
valuable contribution to the public interest.”
John Gehman, now a general practice physician who lives in Crewe,
Va., remembers that his father “just kept drumming away at it,” despite a
growing sense of frustration when the channel dam plan seemed to be
going nowhere.
Gehman also struck up correspondence with the German Embassy in
Washington, and in the spring of 1964, organized a meeting between
high-ranking American officials and a German engineer named Gerhard
Krause who was an expert on Germany’s channel dams.
With the help of Krause and other contacts in Germany, Gehman then
compiled an 18-page brochure that examined the German channel dams in
considerable detail and fleshed out his plans for similar dams on the
Shenandoah River. In May 1965, the Broadway-Timberville Chamber of
Commerce funded the printing of 2,000 copies, which Gehman and his
allies began distributing widely. Later that summer, Marsh wrote to
request more copies, as the brochure was “attracting considerable
interest” in Washington DC. In June, it reached the hands of Lady Bird
Johnson – the First Lady of the United States, who wrote in a letter to
the Broadway-Timberville Chamber of Commerce:
Professor Gehman’s study of channel dams in the Potomac
tributaries interests me very much, and I am sending it to Secretary [of
the Interior Stewart] Udall so that he and his professional staff can
give it full and immediate consideration in their plans.
In August, another 1,000 copies of the brochure came off the press,
and by year’s end, Gehman had spoken about his idea to around two dozen
civic groups in the Valley.
(The plan wasn’t without its drawbacks. A state game official wrote
that construction of the channel dams would destroy the Shenandoah’s
smallmouth bass fishery, considered one of the finest in the country.
The Izaak Walton League, a private wildlife and habitat conservation
organization, formally opposed the Gehman plan for the same reason.)
By mid-decade, though, significant resistance was mounting to the
Army Corps’ original plan for Brocks Gap, which seems to have been
quietly pigeonholed. The historical record (and the Army Corps’ own
archives) is remarkably silent on the specifics of how, exactly, this
transpired, and the details escape the memory even of people like
Garnett Turner who fought to save his own home and business. The Army
Corps plan was there, until suddenly it wasn’t.
Regardless, once plans for the Brocks Gap dam dissolved, Gehman also
shelved his channel dam plan that had consumed an enormous amount of his
time and energy of over a several-year period.
In 1973, Gehman officially retired from EMU, after teaching for 47
years. Over the next decade or so, he continued to teach a few German
classes until his health began to fail him, and in the summer of 1988,
he died at the age of 86.
The Turner Store is still in the family and still sells its fine
Virginia hams. The Fulks Run Elementary School recently celebrated its
50th anniversary. Fertile farmland still covers the valley west of
Brocks Gap and surrounds the still-intact Hebron Mennonite Church. And
Runions Creek still runs past Bethel Mennonite Church before reaching
the North Fork of the Shenandoah, which then flows unencumbered through
Brocks Gap and down the Valley towards Washington D.C., as it did since
before Ernest Gehman and the Army Corps of Engineers devised competing
plans for its future.
— Andrew Jenner ’04
