It’s called the Rock House, and even in ruins, the thing is impressive.  It sits on a promontory, just above South Double Creek, which provides a good panoramic view of anyone who might be approaching; not a bad vantage point on the Stokes County frontier of the 1770’s.

The walls are three feet thick, built of dry-laid native stone and rise some 25 feet or so.  When the roof was still existent, it probably exceeded 30 feet in height and, since the exterior was white stucco, it shone like a beacon in the sun, visible for miles.  For the scattered settlers in the area, in those days, that beacon meant safety and many times these walls sheltered them when there was trouble afoot, which, more often than not, there was.

From 1775, when the first shots were fired at the beginning of the American Revolution, until the last British troops left our soil in 1783, life on the frontier was a precarious day-to-day thing. Between the British-incited Cherokee, Americans loyal to the British Crown (aka To­ries), Redcoats, and those who were self-serv­ing and loyal to no one but themselves who, like vultures, always seem to appear to reap advantage when there was turmoil in the land, a man who had no place to shelter himself and his family was both foolish and short-lived. The Rock House filled the bill, estimably, and the fact that so much of it still stands after 230 years is a testament both to the times and to the man who built it.

His name was John Martin; in later years known as Jack, probably to distinguish himself from another John Martin who lived in the area at the time.  We know he was born in Virginia in 1756 and came to that part of Rowan County (later to become Stokes) in 1758, probably in the company of his older brother, William.

Tradition says that Martin laid the foundation stones for the Rock House in 1770, when he was just 14.  He may have, but more than likely it was done somewhat later, or he had help unknown to us, as written records from those days are sparse.  Men and women making history don’t have much time to write it.

Martin must have had money to buy the land and pay for teams of oxen and men to haul the rock, dig the basement and lay the stone, and it must have been done quickly because it was already being mentioned as a refuge from marauding Indians and Tories in 1776, even though it was apparently unfinished.

Martin, by this time a Lieutenant in the Co­lonial Militia, went to war against the Cherokee in the western mountains. His name crops up again and again in the years from 1776 until hostilities ceased in 1783 in the company of such men as Major Joseph Winston, Col. Wil­liam Cleveland and Capt. Joseph Cloud. Martin was with Cloud's Company as a scout at the Battle of Kings Mountain when Cloud was shot off his horse and left for dead.

Martin's unfinished Rock House played its own part in the ongoing struggle for inde­pendence, as it was used as a muster ground and meeting place as well as a refuge. The old walls must have heard many a strategy ses­sion as these frontier patriots worked out tac­tics and plans.

Martin was at his house when the call went out from Major Winston in Germanton for men to go after a band of Tories who had broken into a patriot's house, ransacked and robbed the place and fled to their hideout in a cave on the north flank of Hanging Rock Mountain. In the ensuing firefight, all the Tories, except two were killed, and as these two approached the patriot company, one took aim at Martin and fired. But, Martin reared his horse, which took the fatal shot. As the man turned to flee, Martin fired from his posi­tion where he had fallen on the ground, killing the man. That cave, forever after know as Tories Den, is now a popular destina­tion for hikers in Hanging Rock State Park.

With the long war finally over, Martin came back to his Rock House and finally finished it, just in time to marry the sister of one of his comrades in arms during the war years. Mar­tin was 28 in June of 1784 when he married 22-year-old Nancy Shipp, and for the next 39 years, they lived and raised 10 children in its sheltering walls.

Martin went on to become a Stokes County magistrate and Stokes County representative in the fledgling legislature. He kept buying land and adding to his holdings, at one time owning as much as 6,000 acres, some 600 acres of which lay in the old Cherokee territory in Jack­son County.

There is a tantalizing entry in the Mora­vian diary of one Brother Martin Schneider, where he notes in January of 1784 that he came across a Col. Jack Martin coming out of a Cherokee hot house. Schneider, who was in the Cherokee Overhill Towns to bring Chris­tianity to the Indians, notes that Martin took him under his wing as a guide to one of the principle chiefs and wrote that Martin seemed well acquainted with the ways of the Indians.

As the years progressed, the Rock House and the Martins became known for hospitality and wealth. One writer noted that Nancy had "the finest set of china in the South," and that their furniture was built of premium woods and the best craftsmanship to be seen anywhere. Martin was apparently a man of unusual depth and education for the time. An inventory of his goods after his death noted more than 80 books, some written in Latin and Greek, rang­ing from law to drama and natural history.

On April 5, 1823, Martin was helping his men in fighting a grass or brush fire that be­came out of control near the house. Nancy came out and saw him sitting on a rock "to rest," he said. She went on to locate the other men to see if there was anything she could do, and when she came back, Martin was lying beside the rock. He was 67 years old.

They buried Martin in a small graveyard near the house and Nancy was laid beside him in 1844. One of their sons, William, lies with them. Curiously, his gravestone lists his death year as 1822.

Over the years, the house had a succession of owners, each less and less committed to its upkeep. At some point in the early-1900s, the wooden portion of the house—roof interior beams, walls and the like—was lost to fire or, as another tradition says, to a man who want­ed the wood for his own construction project. The massive walls stood on, although one of them clearly shows the split where it was hit by lightning.

The Stokes County Historical Society pur­chased the property in 1975 and, with their own money and help from the Stokes County Commissioners; they erected a reinforced concrete and cable system to hold the sag­ging walls together.

Written by Grady Burgin and Carolyn Landreth, October 2006.