CHARLESTON, W.Va. — When you think of West Virginia, the name might conjure up images of mountains, forests, and waterfalls—wild and wonderful—a place apart from Virginia, its larger neighbor to the east.
But the name West Virginia was not inevitable. In fact, in the early days of the American Civil War, when the northwestern counties of Virginia decided to break away from the Confederacy, the new state nearly carried a very different name—Kanawha.
Drawn from the Kanawha River that flows through the heart of the region, it seemed a natural choice. It evoked local geography, a sense of place, and Indigenous history. Yet within months, the word “Kanawha” was struck down, replaced by “West Virginia,” a name that at once honored and complicated the state’s relationship with the Old Dominion it had just left behind.
The story of this naming struggle is more than a quirk of history: it provides a glimpse into the chaos, uncertainty, and identity of a people caught in the middle of America’s bloodiest war.
Breaking away from Virginia
In April 1861, Virginia seceded from the United States and joined the Confederacy. For many in the eastern portion of the state, this was a natural decision. Their economy was tied to large plantations, enslaved labor, and deep cultural connections to the South. But in the mountains of the northwest, the picture was different. Small farms, rugged terrain, and limited reliance on slavery meant loyalties leaned toward Unionism.
Almost immediately, resentment boiled. Delegates from the northwestern counties gathered in Wheeling in May 1861. By June, they had established the “Restored Government of Virginia,” claiming to be the legitimate state government loyal to the Union. And by August, at what became known as the Second Wheeling Convention, they voted to take the extraordinary step of creating a brand-new state.
At first, this breakaway region included 39 counties—stretching across much of what we know today as northern and central West Virginia. Later, more would be added. But before boundaries were settled, one pressing question loomed: What should the new state be called?
The Kanawha Proposal
From the beginning, Kanawha emerged as the leading choice. The Kanawha River ran like an artery through the western lands, from its headwaters in the Alleghenies down through Charleston, before joining the Ohio River. To settlers and travelers alike, the Kanawha Valley was a well-known geographic marker.
The name itself carried a deeper resonance. “Kanawha” is derived from an Indigenous people who once lived in the area, sometimes spelled “Canawagh” or “Kanawha.” By the late 17th century, the Iroquois had pushed them out, but the name remained, attached to the river and to Kanawha County, formed in 1789. To many of the delegates in Wheeling, it seemed fitting to honor both the land and its history.
So when the delegates first drafted a constitution for the new state in the fall of 1861, “Kanawha” was the working title. Newspapers used it. Locals spoke of it. For a brief moment, it seemed that America’s newest state would join the Union under that proud, river-borne name.
Trouble With the Name
But not everyone was pleased. When the First Constitutional Convention opened in Wheeling on December 3, 1861, dissent bubbled. Harmon Sinsel, a delegate from Taylor County, stood and made a motion to strike the word “Kanawha” from the draft constitution.
The objections were practical, even petty, but they carried weight. First, there was the matter of Kanawha County, one of the largest and most influential in the region. How confusing, some argued, to have both a State of Kanawha and a County of Kanawha within it. Would people know the difference? Could mail even be delivered correctly?
Second, and perhaps more importantly, there was the question of heritage. For all their anger at Richmond, many of the breakaway delegates were still proud Virginians. Their ancestors had fought in the Revolution. Their counties had been part of Virginia since colonial days. To completely erase that identity, some argued, would dishonor their past.
The debate was sharp. Some clung to Kanawha as a unique name that would set the new state apart. Others insisted it would cause confusion and that a new state born of Virginia should carry forward some form of that old name. When the votes were counted, Sinsel’s motion carried: 30 in favor, 14 opposed. “Kanawha” was dead.
Searching for a Name
With Kanawha struck down, the delegates scrambled for alternatives. The list was long and, at times, imaginative. Allegheny was proposed, drawing on the mountains that defined the landscape. Augusta honored an old Virginia county name. Columbia evoked patriotism. New Virginia sought continuity while marking a fresh start. Some even revived Vandalia, a name once proposed for a never-realized colony west of the Appalachians.
Yet none of these captured the mood of the room quite like the simplest option—West Virginia.
When the roll was called, each delegate was asked to state his choice. One by one, “West Virginia” emerged as the favorite. In the end, 30 of the 44 delegates gave their voice. And with that, the new state had its name.
Drawing the Map
Naming the state was only part of the struggle. Boundaries were another. At first, the new state contained 39 counties, including 15 that had actually voted for secession earlier in 1861. Union troops, however, controlled enough of the region to claim it.
Over time, more counties were added—eventually bringing the total to 50. The state stretched across the Alleghenies, the Ohio River Valley, and parts of the Shenandoah. It was a patchwork, born as much from military necessity as from geographic or cultural unity.
Lincoln’s Decision
For months, the new state functioned in limbo. Its leaders acted as though West Virginia already existed, but legal recognition required approval from the federal government in Washington. President Abraham Lincoln wrestled with the decision. Was it constitutional for a state to secede from another state? Did the Restored Government of Virginia, which had given consent to the split, truly represent the whole of Virginia?
In the end, Lincoln sided with practicality and politics. On April 20, 1863, he signed the proclamation admitting West Virginia into the Union, effective 60 days later. On June 20, 1863, the state officially joined as the 35th star on the flag.
The Name That Lingers
Today, the name Kanawha survives in Kanawha County, the state’s most populous, and in the Kanawha River that still winds its way through Charleston, the state capital. It is a name etched into West Virginia’s geography but absent from its political identity.
Had history turned just slightly, the United States might now count Kanawha as its 35th state. Schoolchildren might sing songs about “Kanawha, My Kanawha,” instead of “West Virginia, Oh! My Home.” The very identity of the Mountain State might have carried a more Indigenous, river-rooted resonance.
Instead, the delegates in Wheeling chose to keep one foot in the past, binding themselves by name to Virginia, even as they cut ties forever. It is a paradox that still shapes the state today: fiercely independent, yet forever linked to the Commonwealth it once rejected.
Forgotten Footnote or Defining Moment?
For many West Virginians, the story of “Kanawha” is little more than a footnote in textbooks, overshadowed by the drama of war and the struggles of statehood. Yet it is a telling detail. Names matter. They reflect identity, heritage, and aspiration.
By rejecting Kanawha, the founders of West Virginia made a conscious decision not to invent a wholly new identity but to carry a fractured Virginia into the Union. In doing so, they created a state defined by tension: new yet old, separate yet tied, mountain yet valley.
West Virginia was born in war, compromise, and confusion. And though the name Kanawha never graced the state seal, its ghost lingers in every turn of the river and every mention of the county that still bears the name.
November, 1861
Kanawha Valley had the highest concentration of burial mounds in the U.S.
SOUTH CHARLESTON, W.Va. — The Kanawha Valley in western West Virginia once had the highest concentration of burial mounds in North America. According to archaeologist Darla Spencer, more than 400 mounds have been recorded in West Virginia, and their presence was once so extensive that explorers couldn't believe they were of Native American origin. READ THE FULL STORY HERE.
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