A Mighty Good Turnout for Ole Mr. Letcher - JT Chasing America's 250th
- Juxtaposed Tides
- Jul 3
- 13 min read
The Patrick County VA 250 Celebration at the William Letcher Gravesite
Juxtaposed Tides: Chasing America’s 250th
William Letcher Gravesite — Laurel Hill, Ararat, Virginia
Monday, June 29, 2026
Our story today does not start with a battlefield map.
It begins with a door.
A door is normally the line between public danger and private life. On one side are politics, rumors, armies, kings, committees, threats, and the noise of a world splitting apart. On the other side are dinner, a crying child, a loved one’s voice, a chair, a hearth, the familiar squeak of a particular floor plank, and the small hope that a home can stay a home when the world outside is no longer safe.
William Letcher’s story crosses that line.
Letcher, a Revolutionary Patriot and militia man, was killed at his home at Laurel Hill on August 2, 1780, by a Tory sympathizer believed to be William “Bill” Nichols. His grave is considered the oldest marked grave in Patrick County. Later generations would know Laurel Hill as the birthplace of Confederate cavalryman J. E. B. Stuart, but the earlier wound belongs to the American Revolution.
That is part of what makes this place so powerful.
The William Letcher Gravesite is not a sweeping battlefield. It is not one of those vast historic landscapes where you can stand on a hill and imagine armies moving in lines across open ground. It is smaller than that. Quieter than that. More personal than that.
And because of that, it may be even easier to feel.
This is the kind of place where the Revolution stepped across the threshold. It is the kind of place that reminds us that America’s founding was not only fought in famous fields and major campaigns. It was also felt in homes, along roads, between neighbors, inside families, and at the exact place where public conflict became private grief.
That is why we came.
And that is why, when we returned for the Patrick County VA 250 Celebration at William
Letcher’s grave, we already knew we were not simply attending an event.
We were stepping back into a story.
Returning to Laurel Hill
We had first visited the William Letcher Gravesite earlier in the month, near the anniversary season of his death. That day, the park was empty.
Beautiful, yes.
Peaceful, absolutely.
But empty in that particular way old historic places can be empty — not forgotten exactly, but waiting. Waiting for someone to come stand there a while. Waiting for a name to be spoken aloud again. Waiting for the story to be picked back up and carried a little farther down the road of time.
During that first visit, by pure luck, we met Tom Perry. He was there taking a picture of the sign for the upcoming event, as we were leaving the Letcher-side of the Laurel Hill Park estate. He could have simply nodded and gone about his day, but he did not. He stopped. He talked with us. He told us a little about the place, explained some of what they do, and invited us to come back for the Patrick County VA 250 Celebration, that would be taking place in a week or so.
A gentleman and a scholar.
That small conversation became the reason we returned.
And by the time we made it back to the William Letcher Gravesite on Monday evening, June 29, 2026, that quiet little place had changed completely.
Mr. Letcher had company.
For a place tucked away in the countryside, with no phone service to speak of (a sure enough rarity, these days, alone in itself), there was a mighty good turnout. Organizers reported roughly 200 people came out for the kickoff of Patrick County’s America 250th celebration at Laurel Hill, the birthplace of J. E. B. Stuart, in Ararat, Virginia.
Families gathered. Chairs filled the grass. Food was being served. Music moved through the evening air. Revolutionary War displays stood in the field. Reenactors walked the grounds in linen, leather, wool, hats, powder horns, rifles, and gear that made the modern world feel a little thinner around the edges.
Then we arrived just in time for the National Anthem; our team always seems to have just the type of luck...
“And the rocket’s red glare…”
And suddenly—
BOOM.
Somewhere across the field, mostly hidden behind a wall of beautiful old boxwoods, a cannon let loose its fury.
Fortunately, one of our team members had the camera pointed toward two hogs off to our right, just behind the gathered crowd, at the exact moment it happened. The cannon fired, the sound cracked across the valley, and those poor piggies had themselves a very sudden, very Revolutionary evening.
Yes, we got it on camera.
Yes, it was funny.
Yes, we felt bad for the piggies.
But wow, what a thing to experience during such a terrifically beautiful song. The National Anthem is powerful enough on its own, but hearing that cannon roar across the field at the exact moment the song called for it gave the whole evening a jolt of living history.
Not the museum kind.
Not the glass-case kind.
The loud, smoky, startling kind.
The kind that reminds you this history was not quiet when it happened.
The People Who Haul the Past Into the Present
As the evening unfolded, we learned that some of the reenactors had traveled all the way from the Giles County area, near the West Virginia border. They hauled uniforms, equipment, displays, and even a working cannon on a trailer all that way — not because it was easy, not because it was convenient, but because they believed this history was worth showing up for.
That deserves to be said plainly.
There is a special kind of devotion in that.
These folks did not simply bring props. They brought effort. They brought knowledge. They brought questions and answers. They brought demonstration. They brought the smell of powder, the weight of old tools, the sound of iron and leather, and the rare willingness to stand in a field (a very hot field, mind you) and help a group of strangers understand the way things happened nearly two and a half centuries ago.
Many of the reenactors present, we were told, are also connected with Civil War-based units and participate on the sister property to this site, the birthplace of J.E.B. Stuart, for their annual reenactment. But for this once-in-a-lifetime commemorative moment during America’s 250th, they stepped into this Revolutionary-era story with sincerity, respect, and enthusiasm. And there presence made the evening all the more special.
That matters.
Because this small, local-style history is exactly the kind of thing we are searching for with
Juxtaposed Tides: Chasing America’s 250th.
These hidden gems are where some of our realest histories live. It's not just the big, splashy headlines that grab all the attention, but those quirky little tales that put our towns on the map and made great, great, great, great granny a local legend.
These are the places where the stories rest.
Not always on the massive battlefield. Not always beneath the grand monument. Sometimes the story is in a family place. A road. A quiet grave. A handmade sign. A field beside a small pavilion. A community gathered around barbecue, cake, lemonade, music, fireworks, and memory.
And as seems to be the case with the best living history events, the reenactors were absolutely fantastic. Each person we spoke with seemed eager and willing to talk, explain, demonstrate, and answer anything we could throw at them. There was no cold distance between “expert” and “visitor.” There was just a shared table of history, and everyone was invited to lean in.
Not a Battlefield — And That Is the Point
Along our trek with Chasing America’s 250th, we have had the haunting and grounding pleasure of attending major battle reenactments and walking sacred battlefields.
Those places have their own gravity.
They are wide, heavy, solemn, and unmistakable. You can feel the scale of what happened there. You can look across a field and imagine lines of men, smoke, flags, horses, drums, confusion, commands, fear, and impossible courage.
But William Letcher’s old home place and gravesite are different.
This was not a grand, tide-changing battlefield.
And somehow, that fact adds a whole new layer to the story.
Because the Revolution was not only fought in the places we put on big maps. It also came to doorsteps. It crossed thresholds. It entered homes. It divided neighbors. It turned political loyalties into personal danger. It made ordinary people answer impossible questions in the very places where they were trying to raise families, tend land, keep faith, and survive.
The William Letcher story reminds us that the American Revolution was not just an army story.
It was a home story.
A community story.
A neighbor story.
A human story.
And standing there, where the music played and the cannon thundered and families gathered near his grave, it became much easier to understand why this place matters.
The Beauty of the “Good Ole Boys” of History
One of our favorite parts of the whole commemoration was not just the delectable barbecue and cake. It was not only the lovely display tables, the old-time music, or the sight of fireworks later rising over the hill.
All of that was wonderful.
But what truly stood out was how authentic the reenactors made the evening feel.
We often imagine Revolutionary War soldiers as clean lines of men in crisp uniforms, standing in perfect formation, looking like they stepped out of a painting. And certainly, that version of history has its place.
But the fuller truth is often rougher, wilder, and more human.
Many of the men who served were not polished figures in perfect dress. They were farmers, hunters, laborers, tradesmen, sons, fathers, neighbors, and what we might lovingly call good ole boys — men who dressed for weather, woods, work, and survival as much as for battle.
They were not always neat.
They were not always uniform.
They were not always easy to categorize.
They came from different stations, different skill levels, different backgrounds, and different degrees of readiness. Some looked like soldiers. Some looked like frontiersmen. Some looked like they had walked straight out of the rough edge of a hard life and into a war they could no longer avoid. Because that is just what had happened.
And the reenactors represented that beautifully.
Their presence helped strip away the overly polished version of history and replace it with something more grounded, more textured, and more believable. These were the kind of men that came from these (then foothill and mountainous) communities.
That is one of the great gifts of living history when it is done well. It does not simply show you what people wore. It helps you imagine how they stood, how they moved, how heavy their gear felt, how imperfect the whole thing must have been (a far cry from what we experience today in our day to day lives...), and how deeply human these moments really were.
A Word for Tom Perry
It must also be said that Mr. Tom Perry, who spoke on William Letcher and helped guide the meaning of the evening, is exactly the kind of person these commemorations need.
An author, historian, and preservation-minded citizen, Perry carries himself with the kind of seriousness, generosity, and warmth that makes people want to listen.
When we first met him at the gravesite, he took the time to invite strangers into a local story. That matters more than people may realize. History keeps moving not only through books, plaques, and speeches, but through one person taking a few extra minutes to say, “Come back. This matters. You should see this.”
That small invitation became part of our 250th journey.
And we are grateful for it.
Mr. Perry is an excellent example of an American citizen taking local history seriously. Not in a performative way. Not in a shallow way. But in the real way — by showing up, preserving, teaching, speaking, organizing, remembering, and helping others remember too.
That kind of work is easy to overlook.
It should not be.
Fireworks Over the Final Resting Place
As the evening drew closer to its end, fireworks rose beyond the trees and burst over the hill near the final resting place of William Letcher.
The display was spot on, especially for those of the crowd who chose to stay with Mr. Letcher for the show.
Not too much. Not too little. Just right for the place, the people, the purpose, and the moment.
Each burst climbed above the tree line, opened in color, and then sent a great boom rolling through the river valley. It was epic in the truest sense of the word — not because it was oversized or overproduced, but because it fit.
The sound moved through the landscape like the hills themselves were answering back.
For a few minutes, everyone present sat under the same sky, looking up from the same patch of Patrick County ground, remembering a man whose story began in the Revolution and still had the power to gather people together 246 years later.
That is no small thing.
The Moon Had the Final Word
And then, as we were leaving, in perfect Juxtaposed Tides Aperture Abenteuer Night Skies fashion, the moon appeared.
Huge.
Orange.
Glowing just above the southern tree line.
It looked less like an ending than a signature.
After the cannon, the music, the hogs, the barbecue, the stories, the fireworks, and the valley booms, there came the moon — rising slow and brilliant, as if the day itself wanted one last dramatic line before we drove away.
We knew then, as we often do on these strange and beautiful roads, that the day had been meant for us.
Or at least, we were meant to notice it.
And maybe that is the whole point of chasing America’s 250th.
To notice.
To notice the small places. The overlooked graves. The local historians. The volunteers. The reenactors hauling cannons across counties. The families who show up. The songs sung in fields. The old stories that still have breath in them. The hidden Revolution tucked into backroads, valleys, doorsteps, and names we should have learned a long time ago.
The William Letcher Gravesite is not simply a stop on a map.
It is a reminder.
History does not only live where the crowds already are.
Sometimes it waits quietly on Letcher Lane, beneath a Virginia sky, until the right people gather and speak the name again.
Support, Thanks, and Event Partners
This event did not happen by accident. None of these awesome living history events do.
The Patrick County VA 250 Celebration at William Letcher’s grave at Laurel Hill brought out roughly 200 people for the kickoff of Patrick County’s commemoration of America’s 250th. For a quiet historic site tucked into the countryside where there is still that magical phenomenon of no cell signal, that kind of turnout says something beautiful about Patrick County, the surrounding communities, and the many hands working to keep this history alive.
The evening included Revolutionary War reenactors, a working cannon, food, fireworks, fellowship, and remembrance — all gathered around the grave of William Letcher, who was killed at Laurel Hill on August 2, 1780. His grave is considered the oldest marked grave in Patrick County, and his story remains deeply tied to the region’s Revolutionary-era history. Letcher was also the great-grandfather of J. E. B. Stuart, placing this quiet place at the intersection of multiple chapters of American memory.
A special thank-you is owed to the Mitchell family and especially the Dellenback family for their role in preserving William Letcher’s grave. Without families and caretakers who protect places like this across generations, so much of our local history would be lost, overgrown, forgotten, or reduced to a name with no place left to stand.
Thank you to the Ararat Ruritan Club for supplying the barbecue, and to Eric Bolt for cooking it. The food was a major part of the evening’s warmth, and it helped turn the commemoration into exactly what local history should be: not just a lecture, not just a ceremony, but a community gathering.
Thank you to the ladies of the Daughters of the American Revolution for providing the lemonade, and to the Jeb Stuart Birthplace for helping serve the food. Special thanks go to Chip Bondurant and Amy Brown Sawyers for their work serving, and yes, the cake deserves its own mention — it was delicious. A very special thank-you also goes to Ronnie Haynes, President of the Jeb Stuart Birthplace, for all he does to preserve, support, and promote this important historic place.
Thank you to Andrew Doss, Mark Leviner, Gene Reamey, B. J. Nolan, Arlen Doss, the members of the Colonel George Waller Chapter of the Sons of the American Revolution, the other Revolutionary War reenactors, and everyone involved in bringing the living-history side of the evening to life — including, of course, the big brass cannon. Their presence gave the event its smoke, sound, texture, and unforgettable authenticity.
Thank you to Chris Corbett and the Ararat Fire Department for the fireworks. The display over the trees and hills was a perfect ending to the night, with each boom rolling through the valley in a way that felt far bigger than the moment itself.
Thank you to Sue Kolljeski of Patrick County Tourism for helping promote the event, and to Mike Ward of the Surry County Genealogical Society for providing the sound system. Thank you also to Esther Johnson for her support of local history.
A sincere thank-you also goes to the people and outlets who helped spread the word, including Debbie Hall and Taylor Boyd of The Enterprise, WHEO, WSYD/WPAQ, The Mount Airy News, Cardinal News, Bill Wyatt of the Martinsville Bulletin, and everyone on social media who shared, posted, invited, reminded, and helped make sure people knew this event was happening.
As Tom Perry put it, borrowing a line in the spirit of Andy Griffith: “I appreciate it.”
There was also a deeper layer of gratitude woven through the evening. Perry shared that he was especially moved to see several of his former teachers from Patrick County High School in attendance. As he reminded us, we sit on the shoulders of those who came before us.
He also expressed gratitude for Bobby Clement, who helped him tremendously with photographs when he first began working to preserve local history, and he dedicated his remarks to his mentor, Ophus Eugene “O. E.” Pilson.
We also join in sending prayers and well wishes for David Lusk, Vice President of the Jeb Stuart Birthplace.
For readers who would like to go deeper into Tom Perry’s work on William Letcher and the Revolutionary history connected to this place, his speech is available on YouTube, and his book, A Tale of Two Great-Grandfathers, tells the story of William Letcher and Alexander Stuart, both of whom fought in the American Revolution. The book is available in paperback,
Kindle, and Audible formats.
Tom Perry’s book:https://www.amazon.com/TALE-TWO-GREAT-GRANDFATHERS-REVOLUTIONARY-ANCESTORS/dp/1693563991
Tom Perry’s William Letcher talk on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIqvhbAzIAu4
Photos and videos from the event:https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?
As additional donation pages, preservation links, organizational websites, or support information are confirmed, we will gladly include them here. Events like this are only possible because people give their time, knowledge, labor, equipment, food, promotion, land stewardship, and love of history. That deserves to be remembered too.
This was not just an event at a gravesite.
It was a community choosing to remember.
And in this season of America’s 250th, that kind of remembering may be one of the most important things we can do.
Coming soon from Juxtaposed Tides:
Our deeper companion article on the hidden Revolution of Patrick County and the surrounding region.
Thank you for this. It made my day!