Month: December 2012

Pink Passion

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Friends celebrate defying odds

Survivor (ser-vahy-ver) noun:
1. Somebody who survives: somebody who remains alive despite being exposed to life-threatening danger.
2. Somebody with great powers of endurance: somebody who shows a great will to live or a great determination to overcome difficulties and carry on.

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

At first glance, you’d think it was simply a patio party in early fall, female friends gathering for wine and cheese and a little ‘girl talk.’

But on closer look, a touch of pink here, a dab of pink there and a plethora of pink just about everywhere, and you realize this is more than just a get-together for friends. It’s a coming together for a noble cause — a celebration of survival.

A half dozen or so of the women being celebrated fought the odds and won. They are survivors of breast cancer, and they — along with their friends — now celebrate each October with a Pink Fundraiser. It’s a chance to help others follow in their battle-worn footsteps and beat cancer.

It all began three years ago when Rebekah Hazelwood Riddle at Trendsetters Salon raised $1,000 in memory of her mother, Bella, who died of breast cancer when Rebekah was just 3 years old. Deanna Lawley invited friends and family of Kate DeGaris, who had just begun her battle with breast cancer, to have pink extensions applied to their hair in symbolic support of the project.

The next year, the group more than doubled the fundraising effort when Vicki Smith and Charlotte George expanded it to a wine and cheese reception at the home of Nelda Coupland. DeGaris’ longtime friends and her family worked to raise money for the American Cancer Society.

In 2012, a larger group returned to Coupland’s home for an even bigger event to recognize and honor a sisterhood of survivors, Cindy Goodgame, Virginia West, Sylvia Cornett, Kate DeGaris, Yvonne Bell and Annette Galloway Thomas.

Their stories share a common theme. It’s the tragic moment of a devastating diagnosis and an undying will to live.

Four years have passed since doctors told Kate DeGaris she had three to six months to live. She was in fourth-stage breast cancer that had spread to her arms, legs and spine. “It was a rough time, but I made up my mind I’m going to survive. I’m going to beat this,” she said. “I have good doctors. I have kids who are very supportive and friends who keep me pushing on.”

DeGaris credits her mother with setting the example she follows. She too, had breast cancer. She remembers telling her mother one day that she knew she had to be in a lot of pain. “She pointed her finger at me and said, ‘Nobody likes a complainer.’ ” Lesson learned. Lesson followed.

Just like her mother, she tries to keep a positive attitude. “I just keep going. I make myself,” she said.

It has been 14 years since Yvonne Bell heard the dreaded diagnosis: Breast cancer. Now, she is celebrating more than a decade as a survivor. The gathering of friends at the fundraiser “lets you know you are not alone in this. At some point in your lifetime, you will know someone with cancer.”

It was much the same in her own family. Her mother was a survivor. Her husband Jimmy beat the odds, too. At the Pink Fundraiser, she is surrounded by friends who know firsthand what rising above the challenge means. “It’s a little sisterhood — someone to talk to who knows exactly what you’re going through.”

Blair Goodgame hasn’t had breast cancer, but she was a central figure in the fundraiser to honor the ‘sisterhood’ that includes her mother, Cindy. She had a mastectomy when Blair was just an elementary school student.

Now a young woman who owns Lakeside Package in Pell City, she was a driving force behind the wine and cheese reception this year, working tirelessly to ensure that the celebration was just right, say party planners. Through her company, she furnished wine and attended to details of the event.

Of her mother’s own story of survival, Blair described her as a woman who is “as strong as they come” and inspires her involvement in the cause.

Lydia Pursell, DeGaris’ daughter, provided flowers, and she has been a source of great support for her mother.

There were others who added to the event to make it special, like Lakeside Coffee House and Princess Cupcakes; DeGaris’ brother, Earl Hodges; Renee Lilly of Lilly Designs; Winn-Dixie; Publix; and Julie Luker and Cindy Grimes, who added their own touch of pink to the occasion with pink hair streaks for all attendees.

And the extended sisterhood, the core group that made it all happen were Judy Ellison, Sylvia Cornett, Judi Denard, Beth Jones, Vicki Smith, Sally Vinson, Ginny West, Sylvia Martin, Charlotte George and Deanna Lawley.

It is through all of their efforts that this pink party is now a sanctioned event of the American Cancer Society, raising more money for breast cancer research and increasing the level of awareness with each passing year, according to the Cancer Society’s Malinda Williams, whose own mother is a two-time breast cancer survivor. Motioning toward the survivors at the reception, Williams said, “Y’all are the reason we’re standing here today.”

DeGaris acknowledged the sentiment. “It is good to have a family that’s real supportive, good friends and the man upstairs,” she said. “Every day I wake up, I’m thankful.”

Honey Boo Boo

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Crowds fill Pell City Civic Center
as show cast comes to promote
Global Championship Wrestling

Story by Loyd McIntosh
Photos by Jerry Martin

Every generation has one of those cultural touchstones where they remember exactly where they were when they heard the news and were forced to take stock of the world around them.

The dates are etched, to borrow a phrase, in infamy: Dec.7, 1941, the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii; Nov. 22, 1963, the day Lee Harvey Oswald changed the course of history from the third floor of a Dallas office building; Oct. 18, 1987, the great stock market crash otherwise known as Black Monday, when the New York Stock Exchange lost over one-third of its value wiping out billions of dollars in wealth and assets.

But those were tragic events upon which all can agree. In Pell City, depending upon your vantage point, the date to remember was Saturday, Sept. 29, 2012 – the day Honey Boo Boo came to town.

The Fallout
The “stars” of the The Learning Channel reality series, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, made an appearance at the Pell City Civic Center that evening as part of a cross-promotion with Global Championship Wrestling. It was one of the weirdest events to be held in Pell City in many years — and it was one of the most polarizing. Since the moment the announcement was made almost two weeks prior to the event, opinion on the event ran the gamut from frantic anticipation to outright revulsion. All one had to do was check out Facebook on the day of the announcement to take in the citywide freak-out. “Honey Boo Boo and professional wrestling – let the madness begin,” read one Facebook post along with a photo of the Civic Center’s marquee sign. “Surely this is a sign of the apocalypse,” said another post. “Honey Boo Boo and wrestling? Heck yeah, I’m going,” read another.

For the uninitiated, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo focuses primarily on the life of Alana “Honey Boo Boo” Thompson, a grade-schooler and beauty-pageant participant, her coupon-clipping, relatively uneducated mother June Shannon, and their life in the poor, rural town of McIntyre, Georgia. Honey Boo Boo gained a following on another controversial TLC program, Toddlers and Tiaras, before getting her own show which debuted in August. It was an immediate hit. For instance, the show’s fourth episode drew more eyeballs than Fox News’ coverage of the Republican National Convention among viewers ages 18-49.

Critics of the show have been loud and harsh, largely due to its portrayal of poor, rural Southerners. A review of the show in Forbes Magazine slammed Here Comes Honey Boo Boo for attempting to portray the family “as a horde of lice-picking, lard-eating, nose-thumbing hooligans south of the Mason–Dixon line.” Even fans of the show admit it can be crude, stereotypical and not the most appropriate show in the world for small children. Combined with GCW — a small, independent wrestling circuit operating throughout Alabama and other parts of the Southeast – this event, believe it or not, had the potential to ruin friendships. “I actually had one person unfriend me on Facebook, and I had another person make some ugly comments about it,” says Jennifer Hannah, a lifelong Pell City resident, elementary school teacher and mother of three.

Hannah says she learned about Honey Boo Boo through her oldest child, Hallie Kate, 12, and, despite its questionable taste, can see how it can be addictive. “You watch it once, and you really can’t quit. It’s like a train wreck.” Hannah also has a pretty wicked sense of humor – not a secret to those who know her well – but is also smart enough to know that the show is likely to be yet another cultural flash-in-the-pan that gets under the skin of the decency police. “I think in a lot of ways, we’re over analyzing the importance of Honey Boo Boo,” says Hannah. “She’s like everything else. She’s here, she’ll come, and she’ll go, and it’ll be over with.”

The Event
Hannah took her daughter and her two elementary-school-age boys, Ty and Cason, to the Civic Center to see Honey Boo Boo and her family and to get an autograph or two, even though she doesn’t allow her sons to watch the show – not that they care about it to begin with. She joined several hundred people from all over the Birmingham area who crammed into the Civic Center for a momentary interaction with the latest reality TV star. “It was fun, and that’s all it was. It’s over and that’s that. I just can’t believe so many people have gotten bent out of shape about Honey Boo Boo coming to town,” Hannah says. “They were very kind and they said Ty was cute.”

At first glance, the combination of professional wrestling and Honey Boo Boo makes a whole lot of sense. Even though there is a lot of low-brow fun inherent in both entertainment choices, the reality is they are very different. First, professional wrestling has a very old-fashioned male audience, albeit, not exclusively. The wrestling fans in the audience enjoy the old-school, flamboyant action, and colorful personalities of the GCW wrestlers. Many of them are senior citizens, and they take their wrestling seriously. Throughout the night, the wrestlers were heckled continuously by an older man in a plaid shirt and camouflage hat screaming at them as though the eventual winner was anything but predetermined.

The fans of Honey Boo Boo, on the other hand, are mostly girls not at all shy about sporting their beauty pageant tiaras as they walk around the gymnasium, signed posters in hand, all but oblivious to the mayhem of a wrestling match going on inside the ropes. For the most part, the two fan bases don’t mix and basically tolerated each other throughout the night. “We love Honey Boo Boo,” says Jodie Phillips of Pell City. She and her preschool-age daughter watch the show together every week. “My daughter loves her, she’s 4, so we can relate. My daughter’s kind of sassy and acts a lot like her, so we had to come see her.”

Phillips says she understands the criticism of the show, but she believes much of it is unfounded and doesn’t believe the show’s young star is being exploited, as many critics have suggested. “I think June does the right thing. They don’t push her, they let her be who she is,” says Phillips. “They don’t try to make her into anybody else.”

Vestavia Hills resident Anita Gray made her first trip to Pell City along with her daughter, Rebekah, and her teenage friend, Emily Capra. Fans of Honey Boo Boo, the trio made the trek up Interstate 20 just to check out the scene and to see the pint-sized TV star. “It’s just funny. She’s hilarious, and we think she’s really smart,” Anita says. “Their family is just kind of a caricature of the South. We’re not from the South originally, so just seeing the caricature is funny to us, because we live in Birmingham, and it’s really not quite like that. I don’t really think there’s anything to criticize, it’s just entertaining.”

Dustin Whittey, a 16-year-old from Gardendale, stands on the far side of the gymnasium away from the door leading into the room where Honey Boo Boo sits with her family, signing autographs. Taking it all in he says, “I would rather watch wrestling than to see Honey Boo Boo any day.” A fan of GCW for about a year, Whittey looks around at the crowd, adding the reality star made amazing business sense. “There are not this many people here, ever. Even though this is probably the biggest arena they have, it’s never this busy. Tonight’s the night. They’re going to make a killing.”

Even though Here Comes Honey Boo Boo is one of TLC’s highest rated programs, there are a few people in the audience who have no clue who Honey Boo Boo is exactly. Take for instance Devan Edward Lee Hunt, a fun-loving, outgoing 23-year-old wrestling fan from Center Point. Being the ever-so-good big brother, he drove his little sister and her friend to Pell City from Springville to see Honey Boo Boo. He believes he was convinced to come to Pell City under false pretenses. “I thought Honey Boo Boo was a wrestler. No joke. I had no idea. I don’t watch TLC,” he says with a huge laugh.

“I was sorely disappointed. So disappointed,” he adds with a big dose of humorous sarcasm. “I was so sure that she was a wrestler. My dad convinced me she was a 7-year-old girl wrestler.”

The Final Verdict
A couple of weeks after the event, Hannah still can’t help but laugh at what she saw the night of Sept. 29. She recalls that GCW wrestling has been coming to her hometown since she was in elementary school, but this was something else entirely. And to those people in her social network who didn’t approve of her taking her own children to see Honey Boo Boo, Hannah says “relax.” As long as your children are grounded, and you’re doing your best to raise your family, you can survive the latest pop culture brouhaha. “For a long time, it was Miley Cyrus. What a stellar role model that turned out to be. Then it was John and Kate, and what a great example of how you want your marriage and family to be.

“The bottom line is this. They’re not like me; they’re not like anyone I know, but whether we’re raising our children the way I think is best, the way you think is best, or the way Mama June thinks is best, we’re still all God’s children. So for us to sit there and judge them really isn’t our place,” Hannah adds. “You can go or not go, or you can watch or not watch. The town survived, and it was an evening of fun that my kids talked about for a good week.”

Historic Pell City

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When St. Clair’s largest city was just getting started

Story by Jerry Smith
Submitted photos

What magic molded a sleepy little whistle stop of 40 souls into St. Clair County’s largest city? Actually, the town owes its success to a missed train and a fortuitous marriage. Pell City was blessed with both a father and a mother — Sumter Cogswell, who nurtured it from infancy, and Lydia DeGaris Cogswell, who helped rescue it from a premature demise.

A town charter was granted in 1887 at the request of six local businessmen: John B. Knox, T.S. Plowman, D.M. Rogers, J.A. Savery of Talladega, John Postell of Coal City and Judge John W. Inzer of Ashville. Postell was general manager of the East & West Railroad, and Inzer was the company’s attorney. The line was owned by the prominent Pell family of New York City, Pell City’s namesake. (See Discover August/September and October/November 2012 for more on that railroad.)

An official incorporation map shows that Pell City was only about eight blocks square, some 400 acres. At the time, there were few houses and even fewer buildings, the largest of them the two-story Maxwell Building, which still stands on Cogswell Avenue next to Gilreath Printing.

The East & West was a short line that connected Seaboard Air Line Railroad with Pell City’s Talladega & Coosa Valley line and Georgia Pacific Railroad (later Southern), giving the town an important rail junction. A shared depot was built, but Pell City remained largely dormant until an insurance agent from Chattanooga missed his train and had to lay over for the night.

A 1936 St. Clair Times story recounts: “On a blustery March day in 1890, a young man about 29 years of age chanced to be en route to Talladega and was to change trains at a place known as Pell City. … The young man was a guest at the Cornett House. … Looking out his window the next morning, the young man was so impressed with the natural beauty of the countryside, and it reminded him so much of the “Blue Grass” country of Kentucky, that he was interested. The young man … was Sumter Cogswell.”

According to records furnished by Pell City’s Kate DeGaris, Cogswell worked as an agent with North American Insurance Company, a Kentucky-based Rockefeller subsidiary. He was traveling to Talladega to meet with the Mr. Savery to discuss establishing a new NAIC agency there.

While in Talladega, he also met with Mr. Plowman, president of Pell City Land Company, which owned the town. Cogswell felt that Pell City’s three railroads, natural beauty and proximity to the Coosa River made it a natural spot for future development. Even better, the town was already up for sale.

Cogswell negotiated a two-week option to secure the property, and quickly sold it to Pell City Iron and Land Company for $50,000. They resurveyed the town, and added more housing. Hercules Pipe Company, owned by Boston capitalists, came to Pell City in 1891 to begin the town’s industrial base. Cogswell soon left town, secure in the notion that the seed he’d planted would grow and blossom naturally.

In Heritage of St. Clair County, a latter-day Lydia DeGaris writes that Sumter returned home to Chattanooga only to find that his wife had left him for his best friend. Distraught, Sumter left Chattanooga and moved to Memphis, Tenn. It was there that he would meet his future bride and Pell City’s maternal benefactor, Lydia McBain DeGaris.

Lydia was a recent widow of Charles Francis DeGaris, who was 34 years old when he and 18-year-old Lydia married. In fact, his proposal to Lydia had come as a shock to her mother, who until then had assumed Charles had been coming there to see her.

DeGaris was a well-educated, accomplished civil engineer. Their marriage lasted from 1885 until his death in 1898. They produced three sons, one of whom would actively participate in Pell City’s future. The DeGarises had designed their dream home just prior to Charles’ death. Lydia saved the plans, hoping to build it herself when things got better.

She met Sumter at one of her Uncle George Arnold’s lavish parties. Sumter was from a prominent family in Charleston, South Carolina, and had recently established a new agency in Memphis with five states under his jurisdiction. He was born on the first day of the Civil War in 1861, when Charleston’s Fort Sumter was fired upon, hence his name.

Lydia quickly abandoned her current fiancé, and married Sumter in 1900. They moved to Atlanta, where Sumter took over the management of her late husband’s sizable estate.

In 1901, Sumter revisited Pell City after a 10-year absence and found that it had almost died. In her History of St. Clair County, AL, Mattie Lou Teague Crow describes it thusly: “Upon looking from the train window, he was surprised to see a deserted village. The streets were grown up with weeds. The houses were empty, and the place had the appearance of a ghost town.” Other sources relate that goats inhabited the ground floor of the Maxwell Building.

The Panic of 1893-94 had forced both Pell City Iron & Land and Hercules Pipe Company, into receivership. According to Grace Hooter Gates, in Model City of the New South: “The firm was a failure because skilled labor would not work in Pell City, according to local stories. The iron molders would get off the train, look around and, seeing nothing but one or two stores, would climb back aboard and then ride on in search of more excitement.”

Gates continues: “Louis D. Brandeis, trustee for the company, engaged J.J. Willett of Anniston to foreclose the deed of trust for Hercules in 1893. Though the scarcity of skilled workmen in Pell City was the popular notion as to why the plant moved to Anniston, the more likely cause was the substantial savings of over 10k yearly in freights.” Brandeis won fame as a tireless advocate for consumers’ and workers’ rights, and eventually became a noted U.S. Supreme Court justice.

Lydia purchased the ruins of Pell City from Brandeis for the paltry sum of $3,000, property that had been valued at more than $50,000 less than 10 years previous. She and Sumter began nursing the failing town back to health.

According to a newspaper story, Lydia put her dream home on hold, and instead invested her wealth in Pell City. From her new holdings, she gave land for a town square to host a new courthouse after Pell City had been selected as a second county seat, 150 acres of property and an abundant spring for the building of Pell City Manufacturing Company (which later became Avondale Mills), and other acreage for a city park, schools, churches, two fraternal lodges and First Baptist Church.

According to great-grandson Sumter DeGaris, they added three rooms to accommodate five children, plus a pantry, four porches, a servant’s house, carriage house and a large barn. Their arrival boosted Pell City’s population to 40. It is reported that they brought with them more groceries than were in the local grocery store’s entire inventory. The home they remodeled still stands today, at the corner of 18th Street and 2nd Avenue North in Pell City. It is currently occupied by Sumter DeGaris and has hosted some five generations of Cogswell/DeGaris kin.

Backed by his wife’s inheritance, Sumter quickly got down to business. He hired George W. Pratt to supervise the construction of the cotton mill. Once built, Thomas Henry Rennie of New England was hired to manage the business, whose stock soon went from less than $50 to more than $400 per share.

Next, the Cogswells founded the Bank of St. Clair County, presently known as Union State Bank, with Sumter as president and a dean’s list of local businessmen as directors, including McLane Tilton, E.J. Mintz, Arthur Draper, J. Fall Roberson of Cropwell, J.H. Moore of Coal City, Frank Lothrop of Riverside, and Lafayette Cooke of Cook Springs fame.

In 1902, Pell City faced two serious occurrences which would test its civic mettle. First, a warehouse full of dynamite and gunpowder exploded, killing several, destroying the depot, and heavily damaging several other properties. The explosives were stored in that location for use in excavating the Cook Springs railroad tunnel.

As if that weren’t enough, some citizens from “the other end of the county” approached the state Legislature, alleging that it was unconstitutional to have two official courthouses in the same county. It took years to settle this highly disruptive dispute, ending with a constitutional amendment in 1907.

Cogswell became mayor in 1903, serving for some 14 years. Sumter DeGaris tells that the town had a single saloon that provided enough tax revenue to pay for a grammar school, City Hall and numerous roads. Cogswell also served for many years on the City Council and St. Clair County Court of Commissioners.

As president of Pell City Realty Company, in 1909, Cogswell published a promotional booklet called, Keep Your (picture of eye) On Pell City, which touted everything from railroads to salubrious weather to Southern work ethic, often stretching facts to the breaking point. Quoting from that book: “The climate is simply faultless. The temperature in midwinter seldom falls as low as 30 degrees, and in the summer time rarely goes above 92 degrees. Cases of prostration from heat are unknown”.

Kate DeGaris tells that the Cogswells loved to quarter and entertain important visitors and investors in their home. A huge four-poster canopy bed was reserved for two uses only — overnight guests and having babies.

She also relates a story of how Sumter Cogswell, upon watching a poor man trudge past his home every day in bitter cold while wearing only a thin topcoat, gave him a brand new, expensive overcoat he’d received as a gift, and he kept wearing his old, tattered one.

The city flourished through World War II and beyond, with Avondale Mills supplying most of the cash flow. Lifetime resident Carolyn Hall relates that Pell City was a warm, safe place to live. While the “cotton mill” involved long hours and strenuous work, it was a welcome escape from even harder times for farmers and other locals who toiled all day for as little as a bucket of syrup.

Dr. Robert Alonzo Martin was brought to town to supervise a new hospital in the mill village, which was outside the town limits in those days. Dr. Martin became a leader in all things medical, made a lifelong career of providing quality care, and delivered some 10,000 babies to local residents. Martin Street, US 231 in Pell City, is named after him.

Pell City’s hard-working, industrious populace enjoyed many benefits from the “cotton mill,” including a fine lake, seasonal parties and every amenity a progressive company town could offer. The DeGaris descendants hosted lavish yuletide affairs, which were attended by people who had come from all over the county and beyond, mainly to sample Grandfather DeGaris’ potent eggnog (See accompanying story).

John (Jack) Annesley DeGaris, who hosted these Christmas galas in Pell City, was Lydia DeGaris’ son by previous marriage. Jack graduated Pharmacy School in Birmingham, served as pharmacist’s mate aboard a troop ship in World War I, and nearly froze in the North Sea when the ship was torpedoed.

He eventually returned home to Pell City, established Citizen Drug Company on Howard Avenue and, with the help of his wife Gertrude (Saylors), ran it successfully until his death in 1952. Jack was also a local campaign manager for Alabama Gov. Big Jim Folsom.

Jack’s son, Annesley H. DeGaris, writes in Heritage of St. Clair County: “… (Jack) was one of the best civic workers Pell City ever had. For many years, Jack gave a banquet for the football players, cheerleaders and coach as invited guests. Also, one day each year, Jack let the high school senior class operate the soda fountain in his drugstore, taking all the proceeds to help with their school trip. The Citizen Drug Store was always referred to as ‘the drug store in the middle of the block’ at 1907 Cogswell. …”

Lydia never got to build her dream home, but she and Sumter presided over a dream city of their own making. They’re an indelible part of St. Clair history. Pell City’s Howard Avenue was re-named in their honor after his death.

Longtime business associate McLane Tilton penned an appropriate epitaph for his dear friend Sumter:

His life all good,
No deed for show; no deed to hide,
He never caused a tear to flow
Save when he died.

To learn how they made enough eggnog for most of the town in a washing machine, check out the full edition of the December 2012-January 2013 edition of Discover The Essence of St. Clair.

Big Guns

Alabama Artillery recreates historic cannons

Story by Jerry Smith
Photos by Jerry Martin

Stewarts is a historic little community on Mineral Springs Road near Pell City. It’s scenic and pretty quiet, at least most of the time. But just up the road on Bowman Circle, a four-man group called Alabama Artillery occasionally punctuates Stewarts’ tranquility with sounds unheard since the Civil War.

About a year and a half ago, John P. Church approached two of his sons with an idea. “Boys, let’s build a cannon!” Inspired by a smaller project completed by John’s 16-year-old nephew, Jordan Church, they reasoned that between them they had enough technical expertise and manual skills to construct and safely operate a working reproduction of a Civil War field artillery piece.

John, Mike and Doug Church spent weeks assembling materials and information before the actual metal and woodwork began. From their previous involvement in the coal industry in Pike County, Kentucky, plus other interests, the trio sports a collective resume of gunpowder handling, hydraulics, millwork, carpentry, blueprint reading, blacksmithing, steel erection, metal fabricating and federal safety certifications, so this project was virtually assured of success from the start.

John’s mechanical ingenuity was first evidenced in childhood. As one of 11 children born to a coal miner’s family in Buchanan County, Virginia, he built many of their toys, like seesaws, wagons, merry-go-rounds and swings.

John was in the 17th Airborne Division during the Korean War. Like many other paratrooper volunteers, he jumped out of the first airplane he ever boarded. John went on to Officer Candidate School and at age 19, became the youngest drill sergeant in the Army. He’s also been an ordained Baptist minister for more than 50 years.

While work proceeded on Number One, as they named their first cannon, the Churches were joined by a neighbor, Joe Johnson, who became a sort of d’Artagnan to “The Three Cannoneers.” A veteran jet fighter pilot who served in Vietnam and other theaters, Johnson had later worked in airplane propeller repair, so precision machine work and fine wood finishing were well within his purview. Joe also is an active member of the Ashville chapter of Sons of Confederate Veterans. When he came aboard, the now-complete cannon team assumed the sobriquet of Alabama Artillery.

To look at these fellows, one would assume all four are in their late 50s like brothers Doug, 58, and Mike, 61. But Joe is 79, and John, who rides a Harley Davidson Road King when he’s not working on shop projects, is 81. Both men are admirably fit for their age — actually, for any age.

The Alabama Artillery performs cannon firings and static displays for a variety of patriotic and general-interest events. When asked about the team’s mission statement, John replied, “I can tell you in three words: We honor veterans”.

And they mean what they say. The group works entirely at its own expense. While their weaponry and self-chosen uniforms bear a proper resemblance to Confederate Army accoutrements, these men have equally strong feelings of patriotism and pride for American warriors of all battles, from the American Revolution through Afghanistan and Iraq.

Cannon Number One is a freestyle facsimile of a Tredegar Mountain Rifle. Its barrel is about a yard long, has a 2-inch bore and is mounted on a beautifully crafted, large-wheeled gun carriage with matching limber.

A limber is a separate, two-wheeled cart that carries an ammunition chest full of gunpowder, cannonballs, spare parts and other gun supplies and is rigged to tow the cannon for cross-country transport. A truly authentic limber also has provisions to hitch a team of horses, but the Alabama Artillery is more likely to move its piece on a flatbed truck or tow it with a trailer hitch behind a four-wheeler.

Together, the limber and gun make up a complete field artillery unit. Limbers were also used in combat to tow caissons, which are similar two-wheeled carts with additional ammunition chests and, often, a spare wheel or two. A limber/caisson combo becomes essentially a four-wheeled supply wagon, totally flexible in the middle for easy travel over rough terrain. Ammo chests often doubled as seats for gunners when on the move, but in hilly or muddy terrain, they all walked to spare the horses.

The men recently completed a second cannon, called Number Two. Its cast-iron barrel was molded especially for them by Dixie Gun Works of Union City, Tennessee. It’s a 3/4-scale replica of what’s called a six-pounder — that is, its cast iron cannon ball would weigh 6 pounds. This was a common field artillery piece used by both armies during the Civil War and in previous conflicts as well.

All metal and woodwork was crafted in Mike and John Church’s home workshop, using a real blacksmith anvil and a combo metal and wood lathe that dates back to the 1940s. Johnson did the final wood finishing on both carriages in his own shop.

They invented some new methods for building carriage wheels with impressive results. Indeed, there’s evidence of constructive improvisation throughout every phase of both projects. For instance, for “live firing,” they use a 1 7/8-inch-trailer hitch ball instead of a much more expensive cast iron cannonball, and barrel swabs are tipped with fuzzy paint rollers instead of costly inlaid fur.

Both guns are mounted on wheeled carriages fabricated from actual Civil War-era engineering drawings, except they’ve been exquisitely finished in stained wood color rather than Army Drab. They’re real show stoppers in every respect. And yes, there will be a (much larger) Number Three.

Firing a field artillery piece is not a casual operation. Each man on a cannon team has a specific job to be executed in an exact way and sequence. Should any man not perform as directed, the entire operation could suddenly become quite dangerous and most likely would fail completely.

The basic field manual on artillery fire dictates a bewildering syllabus of exact instructions and commands, all set in stone and precisely repeated for each shot. During actual combat, especially in “batteries” of several guns, crewmen used hand signals instead of spoken commands because of the deafening noise.

Every cannoneer knew his own job and several others, which helped to compensate for casualties. Remember, the enemy was shooting at them from places of relative safety while the gun crew was totally exposed and unable to shoot back except with their cannon.

The loading drill was choreographed so that the enemy was never sure who’s carrying a live round. In fact, the man who carried powder and ball to the cannon’s muzzle was expected to shield the load with his own body, lest a stray bullet make it explode and kill the entire crew.

Alabama Artillery uses a four-man firing team, but a real Civil War combat gun crew would have numbered from six men to more than a dozen, depending on the weapon’s size and purpose.

Watching a field artillery piece being fired is an unforgettable experience, even if you’ve seen it before. The gun crew performs a customary setup and loading sequence, in full view of its spell-bound audience

Then, with every man in his assigned position and constantly alert to safety issues, the firing officer jerks a long lanyard attached to a primer cap in the rear end of the cannon. A second or two later, the cannon responds with a powerful burst of man-made thunder that’s guaranteed to get anyone’s undivided attention, even if you’re a half mile down the road.

Its muzzle blast kicks up dirt, grass and leaves in front of the weapon, and creates a huge cloud of fiendishly fragrant blue smoke extending many yards downrange. Those who witness a firing at dusk may also see cone-shaped shafts of orange flame boring a hole right through the center of the smoke cloud, comparable to shock waves often seen in supersonic jet engine exhaust.

Everyone reacts differently to the blast. At a recent home school benefit firing, several children screamed with delight, one lady dropped her video camera, and a black Labrador Retriever ran until he was out of sight.

Observers usually have lots of questions, especially after the first shot, and Alabama Artillery welcomes them all. After all, education, heritage and homage to veterans are what they’re all about.

Some of these questions can be quite funny. For instance, “Where’s the trigger?” or “Can you shoot a deer with it?” It’s great stuff from seriously inquiring minds — and as much fun for the cannoneers as the crowd.

Alabama Artillery does not normally load a projectile when firing at public functions, so there’s practically no danger of mishap as long as the crew does its job as proscribed by basic artillery protocol.

In September, artillery members fired their weapon to open a charity dove shoot near Montevallo, an event sponsored by local Masons to benefit Wounded Warriors. They’ve also provided static displays and firings at various school and veterans’ events.

Alabama Artillery requests that anyone who wishes a demonstration for patriotic, civic or school functions should call Mike Church at 205.405.1007 or Doug Church at 205.338.3373 for further information. The group is especially eager to perform for school children. Doug Church, patriarch of an entire family of teachers, will gladly provide a history lesson during the event.

It’s a real bang-up way to begin any celebration.

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Birmingham Sailing Club

[Show as slideshow]

Group’s history in St. Clair predates creation of Logan Martin Lake

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

Atop a shoreline hill overlooking a mile-wide opening of Logan Martin Lake stands a piece of history.

On Aug. 7, 1962, it wasn’t there at all, but neither was the lake.

Even so, a group of sailing enthusiasts thought it was the perfect place to build a clubhouse when the lake did come, and the Birmingham Sailing Club was born.

The late Sam Caldwell Jr., who worked for Alabama Power Co., the lake’s creator, began his search for that perfect piece of real estate long before the contract was signed on that late summer afternoon.

His children, Skip Caldwell and Marietta Williams, remember the long rides in the back of the family station wagon as their father — armed with geotechnical drawings of the proposed lake — would scour the countryside.

Marietta remembers “endless dirt roads while Dad looked at property and spoke with owners — farmers in battered frame houses; of Dad explaining, ‘This will all be underwater,’ and me thinking, ‘No way!’ ”

Skip recalls those days, too. “I can remember spending a lot of time driving in the car, and Dad would tell us when we were driving into an area that would be underwater, or if it was close to the shoreline. I was too young to really grasp the concept as I remember looking as far ahead as I could see on the road looking for water so we would not accidentally drive into the new lake!”

On that August afternoon, as the sun was setting, Caldwell and Herb Hager sat on the front porch of the land’s owner and his family. When they explained their purpose, the family seemed “dubious about the use of the property for a club, apparently thinking about a night club or honky-tonk,” the elder Caldwell wrote in a history penned 50 years later. One family member even suggested that the contract specify no dancing allowed on the premises.

Caldwell used a blank Uniform Real Estate Sales Contract and filled it out in pen and ink. Four acres fronting approximately 418 feet on proposed Logan Martin Reservoir, it said. Purchase price? $6,000 with $1,000 earnest money and $5,000 due on closing. And the initial deal was done.

Additional lots would be purchased by July 1963, giving the club 1,000 feet of shoreline. The clubhouse would be built along with boat ramps and floating docks as the lake began to fill. The first boats in the water were launched Thursday, July 16, 1964, “with the Commodore beating the Vice Commodore by about 30 minutes,” Commodore Caldwell wrote.

A report dated Aug. 7 of that year put the lake elevation at 460 feet, which is normal winter pool. It was thought the level would remain there until May 1965, when it would rise to its summer elevation of 465 feet for the very first time.

Today’s club
A lot of winter and summer levels have come and gone since that time, but the constant has been the Birmingham Sailing Club.

Caldwell’s children say it is still what their father and founding members envisioned when they built it. Caldwell didn’t want a yacht club, he wanted a sailing club. “He wanted a club that is open to anybody that is interested in sailing, not a country club on the water,” Skip said, noting that over the years, members continued with the visions of the founders.

That, he said, “has resulted in one of the premier inland sailing sites in the country. I recently found some of the original plans of the sailing club and with small exceptions, today’s club is exactly as the original plans show.”

A new day, same goals
Tate Beckham counts himself lucky to be a part of it all. A relative newcomer to the club of 165 members, he joined in 2007. He sailed a bit as a kid in Florida, but he grew up in Sylacauga not knowing the club existed.

When he grew older, he wanted to get back into sailing, and someone gave him a boat. He eventually found his way to the Birmingham Sailing Club after being introduced by Rick Scarborough. “When I went to the club the first time, people were sailing. There were all walks of life — doctors, lawyers, construction workers. They had the same wants and enthusiasm. That was it. I was there. The common denominator was they love sailing.”

Now, Commodore Tate Beckham talks of the club and its impact with an apparent longing to share with others the rewards he has known.

There are plenty of crewing opportunities, which is “a great way to get into it.” It is a chance to crew with people who know what they are doing and to learn the functions of the boat.

“Come out any time and 85 percent of the time, if you show up, someone will take you out sailing,” he said. It is a sport and a love to be shared.

There are “learn-to-sail” classes twice a year in the spring and fall. A junior sailing program complete with a summer sail camp gets the younger generation started early.

Major October regattas draw sailors and spectators from all around the southeast, and locals often find their perfect spectator spot on land and on water just to watch.

Just about every Sunday at 2 p.m., you can see a core group racing — puffed white sails, then colorful spinnakers bob along the horizon. An intermittent horn blowing its signals, and sails flapping and snapping in the wind seem to be the only sounds you hear.

It is quite a sight to behold for novice and enthusiast alike. It is like a secret, buried treasure one would ordinarily want to keep for himself. Only this one is best when it is shared.

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Welcome Home

Veterans Home in St. Clair opens doors

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

It was like a family’s long anticipated arrival of troops deployed to faraway lands. Flags waved. Welcome signs appeared. Cheers erupted. After years of planning for this day, the first two residents of the Col. Robert L. Howard State Veterans Home arrived to a hero’s welcome.

William D. Gercken of Birmingham and Peter E. McConico of Vincent, both Vietnam veterans, made history at the new home with their arrival in late November. With their arrival, they ushered in a new era for veterans’ health care at the opening of this state-of-the-art facility, which has been hailed as a model for the nation to follow.

Both were residents of Bill Nichols State Veterans Home in Alexander City and are in the first wave of residents of homes there, Bay Minette and Huntsville who were given the option of transferring to the new facility.

Their families opted for the move so they could be closer to them. “My husband looks forward to my visits,” said Gercken’s wife, Dawn. “Now that I’m only 20 minutes away, I’ll be able to visit him more often.”

Shirley McConico echoed the sentiment, noting that the proximity of Vincent to Pell City will make her travel for visits easier.

“Welcoming our first two residents to the Col. Robert L. Howard State Veterans Home is very special,” said Kim Justice, state Veterans Homes executive director. “We look forward to giving future residents the same level of respect they so rightly deserve when we welcome them ‘home.’ ”

Just weeks before, officials from across Alabama cut the ribbon to dedicate the veterans home, named in honor of the nation’s most decorated soldier and an Alabama native. He was wounded 14 times and did five tours in Vietnam.

He earned the medal of honor, presented by President Richard Nixon, for “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.”

A display case of his military memorabilia begins a series of displays of all branches of service lining both sides of the corridor of the new home’s entrance way.

The corridor leads to a town center, where buildings connect to form neighborhoods that will be the homes of veterans living there. From skilled nursing to the first domiciliary in the state, this veterans home model has anything but an institutional look or feel. “It was built with the ‘wow factor’ in mind,” said state Veterans Administration Commissioner Clyde Marsh at the dedication ceremony.

Williams Blackstock was the architectural firm for the project, and Marsh noted that its design says style “from beam to beam and stern to stern.” He also thanked Doster Construction for delivering “a magnificent building. They stepped up to meet each challenge” for the state’s largest veterans home.

The size is impressive, with 240,000 square feet on 27 acres providing 254 private rooms. Eighty of those are dedicated to assisted living and Alzheimer’s and dementia care — also firsts for the state.

St. Clair Economic Development Council Executive Director Don Smith said he could talk about the economic impact, “but this isn’t about the economy. This is about the veterans.”

In 2008, he said, Pell City wasn’t even on the radar screen of plans for the new home. But a passionate group of St. Clair County officials put their plan and their plea together, making a compelling case for the campus shared by St. Vincent’s St. Clair and Jefferson State Community College. When they were through, “there wasn’t much question where it was going to be,” Smith said. And by the fall of 2012, only two words could adequately put a much-anticipated exclamation point on it: Welcome Home.

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