Month: February 2014

Historic Vision

Eye doctor preserves old Ashville bank building

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

When Dr. Shonda Wood was looking for a place to open her eye care office, she found the perfect location inside a piece of Ashville’s history.

Wood Family Eye Care is the newest occupant of the old Ashville Savings Bank, built in 1906.

“We refinished the inside and made it ours,” Wood said. “Terry Marcrum, the previous owner, gave us a really good start, and Brian Sparks Construction helped with the finishing touches.” It is a complementary blend of old and new, featuring state-of-the-art eye care with the unmistakable signs of history all around. A photo on the wall is from 1908. The walls themselves, are original brick and plaster. “We tried not to touch what was still in good condition,” Wood said.

The original brickwork is there. So is the door and window. There is a new version of tin tiles on the ceiling to bring back the feel of what it was once like.

Even the front of the bank vault door is still intact — a focal point on the facing wall as you walk in. An old Ashville Savings Bank sign was found during renovations of the building, and that has its place, as does a 1910 stove. “Kids like to hide crayons in there,” Wood said.

Since the renovation, remembrances of the old building have been abundant, she said. One person identified loan papers of his grandfather found in the vault. Others have recounted when the bank president shot a robber in the doorway. “There have been a lot of stories,” she said.

Her wish was to be “true to history,” and she wanted to be a part of bringing it back to life and preserving it. She has restored the old and added new. A modern addition is in the rear of the office, enabling her to deliver comprehensive eye care — from babies to seniors.

“We treat the overall patient,” she said, noting that she monitors for diabetes, cataracts and other eye issues. “We don’t want this to be just an eye exam. We want them to be a friend, not just a patient.”

It’s why she opened her practice in Ashville in the first place. Originally from Fayette, she was looking for another small town in which to live and to practice. “We wanted a small town feel and a close knit community for our children.”

She found all of what she was looking for in St. Clair County. She, her husband, Jonathan, and five children live in nearby Springville, and her office is centrally located in downtown Ashville.

It all has been an ideal match, she said. She was looking for a building “with character,” and the old Ashville Savings Bank was in need of a revival.

“I think more people should do that,” Wood said. “Our grandkids aren’t going to see many buildings like this if we keep tearing them down or letting them fall.”

The Peanut Man

Bill Seals’ way
in the world

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photos by Mike Callahan

For almost half a century, Bill Seals has sold bag upon bag of parched or boiled peanuts.

This is why he is affectionately known about town as “Peanut Bill.”

Sometimes, he could be seen walking – basket of peanuts in hand — to the businesses in town. Sometimes, he was a pedaling peddler, riding his three-wheeled cycle along the city streets. Sometimes, he set up his stand at a grocery store.

To many, he has become a symbol of this city and of what is right and good.

“He’s just part of Pell City,” observed Tina Ailor, manager of Food Outlet, where he sometimes sells his signature goods.

Seals started selling peanuts when he was 17. And with a laugh, he said he did not plan for it to be long term.

Now, Seals — who will be 66 in March — never intends to retire from it.

“I like it too much,” he said.

Selling peanuts, he explained, has allowed him to meet many people and establish strong friendships.

“I’ve got real good friends in Pell City,” Seals said. “I love selling peanuts, and I love my friends.”

Just moments after birth, Seals suffered two strokes that left him with physical challenges. Yet, he decided as a young boy that he would not allow this to hold him back. Instead, Seals resolved, “I’m going to go forward, if it kills me.”

He spent his formative years in Chicago, Ill., and in Leeds, where his dad was a saw-miller. He credits his father, the late Clyde Seals, for instilling a strong work ethic.

“He put the want-to (in me),” Seals said.

“I’ve always wanted to work,” Seals continued. “The Bible says, ‘Work.’ It never hurt me!”

As a boy, Seals looked to adulthood with the aspiration of owning a car and a home and having food to eat. He was determined to meet those goals.

“When I was a boy, the man of the house was the provider,” responsible for his home and family, Seals said.

As a teenager, Seals cleaned chicken houses in Leeds. At one point, he was to be laid off for two months. For that reason, he came to Pell City to stay with his grandmother, Ruby Wright, who is now deceased.

Wright encouraged him to sell peanuts and even helped him to get started with the endeavor.

Geneva Bannister of Pell City, Wright’s daughter and Seals’ aunt, recalled that her mother parched peanuts in her oven and put them in “penny candy bags” purchased from A&P food store, where Food Outlet is now.

Wright placed the bags in a market basket, which Seals took to town. He sold the peanuts and has been “Peanut Bill” ever since, said Bannister.

“I would walk to town, walk all over town and walk back home,” Seals said, noting that his grandmother lived on Florida Road.

It would take about half a day to do this.

In those days, Seals’ peanuts sold for a dime a bag or three bags for a quarter.

What Seals discovered in those two months was that he was earning more selling peanuts than he did cleaning chicken houses.

So he continued.

About four years later, he got a three-wheeled cycle. His daily travels took him as far as Sutherlin Chevrolet (where Jack’s restaurant is now) on one end of town to a hamburger place beside Henderson’s Builders Supply at another end.

Prior to Seals, there had actually been another peanut peddler in town. Upon that man’s retirement, Seals purchased a peanut parcher from him.

Later, local businessmen bought Seals another parcher. That one served Seals until it was no longer usable. Thus, Seals returned to the first parcher.

“It runs on propane and me,” he said with a laugh.

Indeed, a significant amount of Seals’ energy and perseverance is required to complete the parching process. Once the peanuts are loaded into a drum that fits inside the parcher, Seals must spend an hour continually turning the handle that rotates the drum in order to keep the peanuts from burning.

In addition to parching peanuts, Seals prepares the boiled peanuts he sells. “I do the whole deal.”

The current price for a bag of peanuts is $1.50, while boiled peanuts are $2.50.

As Peanut Bill, he would work from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., every day except Sunday. Those hours did not include the time required to parch, boil and bag the peanuts. Even in the sweltering heat of July and August, he was diligently at work.

Seals believes selling peanuts kept him active through the years.

“If I hadn’t been peddling peanuts and going and doing, I’d be dead,” he said. “If you don’t get busy doing something, you won’t make it.”

Though preparing and selling peanuts did require a lot of time, there was still room in his schedule for walking two miles every other day, lifting weights, fishing, watching wrestling or just going for a leisurely ride in the car.

For about seven years, Seals was a familiar face at Food World, where he sold his peanuts out front.

Shortly before the Food World location closed permanently, Seals approached Ailor about setting up a stand at Food Outlet.

“We just hit it off right then,” Ailor said gleefully.

Wherever Seals is, it is not uncommon to find him talking to or joking with those he encounters. Even people who have chosen to be unkind to him found that Seals responded in goodness.

“Billy is friends with everybody in Pell City,” Bannister said. “He always smiles. He never meets a stranger, and he loves everybody. I mean that from the bottom of my heart: He loves everybody.”

Others feel the same about him, it seems.

“There’s not words to tell you how much I love Billy,” Bannister said. “I would do anything in this world in my power for him.”

Ailor called Seals “the apple of everybody’s eye. He makes our day brighter.” When he is not at the store, people ask about him, Ailor continued. “Everybody misses him.”

To see just how much Seals is missed when he is not at Food Outlet, one needs to look no further than the store’s entrance: An empty chair sits at “his place,” expectantly awaiting his return.

By being the individual that he is, Seals’ character and personality seem to be an inspiration to others.

One bit of evidence is the fact that the Greater Pell City Chamber of Commerce named him “Citizen of the Year” in 1985. More proof would be excerpts from a note that holds a place of prominence on Seals’ refrigerator:

Dec. 20, 2013

Dear Bill,
For many, many years I have admired you and all that you have done to brighten the lives of others. I am proud and thankful to have you as a friend. … Thanks for being you.
Merry Christmas from your greatest admirer!
Bill

The note’s author — former Pell City Mayor Bill Hereford — simply put into writing what others are thinking.

“He’s a wonderful guy,” Ailor said about Seals. “He’s got a good soul. He helps everybody he can. He’s just a sweetheart.”

Hereford said every conversation with Seals is uplifting.

“If he’s down, he won’t let you know it,” observed Hereford. “You just don’t find people like Bill. (He’s) just a special guy.”

Seals’ cousin, Alice Kennedy of Pell City, agrees completely.

“He’s my hero,” said Kennedy. “And I think he is a hero to a lot of people in Pell City. I think he should be an inspiration to a lot of people. I just think the whole world needs to know him.”

Discover photographer Mike Callahan has witnessed the magnitude of admiration for Seals. Late in 2013, Callahan posted on his Facebook page Mike Callahan Photography an image he had taken of Seals.

That photo has become, beyond comparison, the most popular of all the images Callahan has posted. The previous record for an image on Callahan’s page was around 500 viewings. But the one of Seals was viewed 7,028 times in a month and received 42 comments.

“I promised myself, I would never get emotional about any assignment,” said the visibly moved Callahan. But I’ve “got to tell you, this one touched me deeply. This is one special human being, to say the least.”

While the story of Bill Seals is one of determination and compassion, it is also a love story.

It began one day while he was swimming at the lake. There, he met Karen Garrett of Birmingham, a woman with physical challenges of her own. The two married and bought a house.

“He thought she was grand,” Bannister said.

For more than 20 years, they were kindred spirits. When she could not care for herself completely anymore, he did.

During the day, Seals sold peanuts, then went home to do for his wife what she could not do for herself, Kennedy said.

“He was very committed to her,” remarked Kennedy.

For two years, Seals was his wife’s steadfast caregiver. “He took good care of her,” said Bannister.

All those years ago, Seals had made a commitment to his wife. It was a vow he took very seriously, one that he was determined to uphold, no matter what.

“When you say, ‘I do till death do us part,’ you’ve got to stay with it,” Seals said.

Ultimately, though, the time came when he no longer could give the level of care she needed, even with the assistance of home health. She had to go into a long-term care facility.

During his visits, she would ask him to take her home. “It was hard because I knew I couldn’t do it,” Seals said, sadness crossing his face.

Six years ago, when the couple had been married 27 years, she passed away. Yet, the memory of their union is ever present around him — in the home decor that conveys the soft touches of a woman and the photographs that chronicle their life together.

And two wedding bands — hers and his — grace the chain that encircles his neck.

Camp Sibert

St. Clair’s secret military past

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Submitted photos courtesy of the
Scarboro Collection, John McFarland and
government archives

Etowah County spent much of World War II shooting at St. Clair County.

That is the lighthearted explanation that historian John McFarland of Rainbow City gives for the “friendly fire” relationship the two counties shared.

Nonetheless, his summary is factual: The woodlands of St. Clair and Etowah counties cloaked a military installation’s clandestine mission.

Called Camp Sibert, the reservation stretched 36,300 acres. Attalla and Gadsden served as the boundary on the Etowah County end of the camp. In St. Clair, Sibert extended into Steele and nearly to Ashville. The installation’s other two boundaries basically were U.S. 411 on one side and U.S. 11 on the other, said Wayne Findley, instructor at Gadsden State Community College and a historian who has spent 25 years researching the camp.

“It was huge, massive,” Findley said of Sibert.

And yes, Etowah did take aim at St. Clair, possibly millions of times.

That is because equipment was set up in the vicinity of Dunaway Mountain in Etowah County, very near to the border of St. Clair. During training sessions, mortar and bigger artillery were fired across Canoe Creek into St. Clair, explained Findley.

“The Chemical Warfare Service loved this place” because troops could use live rounds and chemicals, Findley remarked.

The mission of the camp was so stealth that soldiers were bound by an oath of secrecy, Findley said. They were not released from it until the 1990s, and those who lived around the camp apparently knew little of its mission.

“The people didn’t know a whole lot of what was going on in Camp Sibert,” only that some chemical weapons were involved, said 88-year-old Fred Rogers of Chandler Mountain in Steele. He was a teenager when the camp was established.

Yet, some facets of the camp were highly publicized and helped to promote the war effort. One piece of memorabilia in McFarland’s extensive Sibert collection is an October 1943 Senior Scholastic reader, whose cover photograph is of a smoke generator creating a smoke screen at the camp.

Findley also noted that Sibert fielded a baseball team – the Gas House Gang – that won a state championship. Plus, the camp’s band was sent on tours as an encouragement to citizens to be proud of their military.

The work to establish Camp Sibert commenced three months after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941.

According to a chronology Findley has composed, the U.S. Army on March 13, 1942, inspected the site under consideration for Camp Sibert.

“Six days later, the area in northeastern Alabama was chosen over similar areas in West Virginia and Texas,” states an article written by Findley and fellow researcher Joseph T. Robertson (now deceased) for the January 1995 edition of The Alabama Review: A Quarterly Journal of Alabama History.

Fred Rogers noted that the expanse encompassed by the camp was known as the “flatwoods area” because it consisted of farmland and forestation, with few roads. “It was perfect for what they wanted to do with it,” Findley said.

According to The Review article, the site had to possess certain features needed for chemical warfare training: a secluded place where toxic gas could be used, basically level terrain for tanks and armored vehicles, and wetlands and forestation for bivouacs.

In June 1942 the government began issuing “Declarations of Taking” to obtain the necessary properties, the chronology states.

St. Clair County probate records available at Ashville Museum and Archives list owner after owner whose land the government was acquiring and the compensation each person was receiving. Some of the entities affected by the acquisition were Deerman’s Chapel Church and Deerman’s School, among others.

In all, 557 tracts of land in Etowah and St. Clair were involved in the acquisition, states The Review. “With the assistance of the Farm Security Administration, all 339 families who resided in the area were relocated with no major problems. Construction of the camp began immediately.”

Also in June 1942, a “tent city” formed to quarter those who would work on the camp before permanent accommodations were available, Findley’s chronology shows. The next month, the first trainees arrived.

On Christmas Day 1942, the camp was dedicated, “although it was only 80 percent complete. By the summer of 1943, the camp was self-sufficient” and could accommodate as many as 30,000 soldiers. With 41 miles of roads, the camp boasted 1,500 buildings, among them a hospital, theater and prison stockade, according to The Review.

Findley and McFarland said the camp also had an airport, store, chapel, lighted tennis courts, boxing ring and its own newspaper.

The scope of Camp Sibert was a premier undertaking. “Never before in the history of the Chemical Warfare Service had such an extensive facility been provided for instruction in the tactics and techniques of chemical warfare,” The Review states.

The “Post War Utilization Studies,” a War Department document dated September 1945, placed the total cost of construction and land acquisition at about $17.66 million.

The installation was named for Etowah native Maj. Gen. William Luther Sibert. During World War I, Sibert was handpicked by Gen. John Pershing to command the first U.S. soldiers into France in 1917, The Review reveals. “Because of his experiences, Sibert would be appointed the first Chief of the Chemical Warfare Services.”

At the time of World War II, some thoroughfares in Etowah and St. Clair were known by different names, Findley said. For example, the present-day U.S. 411 was “U.S. 11” then. What is now U.S. 11 was “Alternate 11.”

While the camp was in operation, names of some other roads were different too, stated McFarland. Pleasant Valley Road was “Range Road” and the site of Gate No. 2, while Canoe Creek Road bore the moniker “Impact Road.”

Findley added that the stretch from Attalla to Camp Sibert on what would later become Alabama 77 was called “Gate No. 1.”

The camp’s restriction on civilian traffic created a bit of a logistics problem for people in Steele who needed to go to other parts of St. Clair County.

“We couldn’t go through Camp Sibert to get to Ashville, the county seat,” Fred Rogers remembers. Residents in that part of St. Clair had to travel along “Alternate 11” to Whitney and on to what is now U.S. 231 in order to get to Ashville.

Though younger than his brother Fred, 85-year-old Hoover Rogers of Chandler Mountain also recalls a few things about the camp. One recollection is of seeing uniformed soldiers, with weapons in hands, coming over that mountain on training marches.

“I was intrigued by them and wondered where some of them were from,” said Hoover Rogers, who was a teen at that particular time in history.

He also remembers that word would get around when a celebrity, such as funnyman Red Skelton, was stationed at the camp.

Skelton was not the only famous person to be assigned to the camp. Heavyweight boxing champion Joe Louis, featherweight champion Bobby Ruffin and actor Mickey Rooney also trained there, Findley said.

In fact, Rooney met one of his many wives while stationed there, Findley said.

McFarland, who gives presentations at the University of Alabama-Gadsden Center, described the camp as “a catch-all.” In addition to chemical warfare instruction for entire units and for individuals who were to become replacements, the camp also provided basic training to recruits and housed prisoners of war.

Originally, its POW camp was a satellite of the one at Fort McClellan in neighboring Calhoun County. However, it soon became a separate entity, even incarcerating some of Adolph Hitler’s elite SS, or “storm troopers” as they were called, The Review reveals.

By mid-March of 1944, more than 12,000 soldiers and 88 combat units had received training at the camp, reported Findley.

In all, 169 US chemical warfare units were instructed there, a number that represented 47 percent of all such American units involved in World War II, The Review states. Of the 169 units, “44 were Black units.”

McFarland said Black soldiers generally were in smoke generator units or clerical positions, while Caucasian soldiers tended to be members of chemical mortar battalions.

In the spring and summer of 1945, the dynamics of World War II changed significantly, ultimately sealing the destiny of Camp Sibert.

With Germany surrendering first and Japan following a few months later, the need for the camp’s services greatly diminished.

In September of that year, the War Department issued its “Post War Utilization Studies,” on whether to make Sibert a permanent camp capable of accommodating 19,950 enlisted men, plus officers. Such an endeavor was estimated at $45 million. For this and other reasons, the project was deemed unfeasible.

As a result, the camp was decommissioned; the fixtures and contents were rendered to surplus; properties were sold to the original owners or to interested parties; and land, buildings and infrastructures were given to municipalities.

The Rogers brothers experienced some of the results.

After the war, Fred Rogers worked at AAA Pottery in Attalla, a business that was housed in old Army buildings. He later taught and was principal in a school situated on former camp property.

Hoover Rogers was a teacher and later principal of Chandler Mountain School, which benefited from surplus goods from the camp.

Their older brother, Henry (now deceased), purchased some Steele property that had been part of the camp and built his house there. Henry also worked as a civilian on “fire watch” (patrol duty) at the decommissioned camp until it was completely closed. When all surplus items were relocated and warehoused in Etowah County’s Glencoe, his job moved there, too, according to his brothers.

As a teen, Findley attended junior high in what had been the officers’ club. In the lunchroom, the autographs of Red Skelton and Mickey Rooney were still prominent. Findley also climbed chimneys that had been part of the camp hospital and collected brass he found near the rifle range.

McFarland, who lives in Etowah County close to the St. Clair border, resides on property that was within the cantonment of Camp Sibert. A few years ago, he received notification that his property qualified for a government cleanup effort.

Some 40 years after World War II, Congress determined that former defense sites should be cleaned up, according to Lisa Parker, deputy public affairs officer for the Mobile District of the Army Corps of Engineers.

It was the intent of Congress “to restore properties formerly owned by, leased to, or otherwise possessed by the U.S. and under the jurisdiction of the Secretary of Defense,” Parker stated.

Of the St. Clair sites that were investigated for possible cleanup, only one was found to need attention, noted the Corps of Engineers. Work at that site — which includes an area in Steele, close to Interstate 59 — is in progress.

Among the items already discovered are “4.2 mortars, .30-caliber rifle, machine gun, .22-caliber rifle, sub-machine gun, .45-caliber pistol, grenade, artillery, bazookas and anti-aircrafts,” said Parker.

Editor’s Note: Additional assistance with this article was provided by Charlene Simpson of Ashville Museum and Archives, RoseMary Hyatt of Northeast Alabama Genealogical Society, Pat Coffee of the Town of Steele, Jody Gilliland of Chandler Mountain Baptist Church and Jack Hayes of American Legion Post 109, Pell City.

Features

Boats Built by Hand

[Show as slideshow]

Bob Barnett’s love of boats comes alive in wood

Story by Graham Hadley
Photos by Wallace Bromberg
and courtesy of Bob Barnett

Sitting in what is easily described as a “dream” workshop a few blocks from Logan Martin Lake is a work of art in wood — a Pete Culler designed Wherry Yawl boat.

It is the pride and joy of professional structural engineer Bob Barnett — and though the boat-project was started by many hands, it will be his alone that finish it.

Every piece of wood that went into making the boat, every line, from bow to stern, has been carefully handcrafted and expertly fitted together, down to the brass caps where the wood is joined.

Though work on this particular boat has been going on for around four years, wooden boat building has been something Barnett has been moving toward his entire life.

“I grew up around boats. My family had boats, and I was always around the water,” he said. A photo of Bob, his wife Carole and their children on his father’s sailboat adorns the wall of what is possibly the ultimate woodworking shop in St. Clair County.

Over the years, Bob has owned a number of boats, from their Catalina 470 sailboat they keep in Pensacola, Fla., to a variety of Ski Nautique and similar watercraft — even a crab boat, the Lilly G, they converted for recreational use on the lake which resembles the boat from the African Queen, complete with a covered awning that runs the length of the boat.

But there was something special about wooden boats that Bob felt drawn to.

“I saw the wooden boats, but I had no idea how to build one. Then I saw the Wooden Boat School when I was reading Wooden Boat Magazine,” and everything changed, he said.

“I love that school — it is kind of like scout camp with beer,” he said.

The school is located in Brooklin, Maine — which Bob describes as being about like Cropwell, but without the adjoining Pell City.

Between his engineering job, his position as chairman of the board for St. Vincent’s Health Systems, a teaching position at the University of Alabama and a host of other activities, Bob said he can easily be working from 60 to 80 hours a week, sometimes more. So it was a bit of a trick to work in boat-building school.

He finally got his opportunity to take the first class — fundamentals of boat building — because it coincided with a business trip.

The connection to boat building, the school and his instructors was immediate.

“I walked in and there was this guy, my first instructor. He had white hair down to his shoulders — a classic hippie. … He lived totally off the grid — used all hand tools,” Bob said.

At the time, Bob said, he was the first registered Republican in St. Clair County — “but I learned to love that guy. He was very talented. He showed me how to use hand tools, and once you learn to use hand tools, you can do so much” — and you are much less likely to accidentally cut off a finger.

Before that, Bob had mostly been using power tools for woodworking — and he still does. His shop, which he built complete with a kitchen, full bathroom and “man cave” area, was custom designed with a dust removal system to work in conjunction with his power tools.

But his love of hand tools is immediately evident, with his hand planes lined, row after row, on shelves along one wall.

Since that first class, Bob — and his wife — have returned to the school again and again, taking classes in everything from boat finishing to sailing. The latter, he admits, was less about the learning and more about getting the chance to go sailing in Maine. Most recently, he was there as an assistant instructor.

Bob says the classes are not just a learning experience, but they are a way for him and the other participants to relax, work together and just enjoy themselves. They take away far more than just the knowledge with them when they leave.

During one sailing class, “there was this older gentleman. I was really worried about him. He could barely get on the boat. By the end of the week, he was climbing all over that thing, even steering the boat. I bet he is still grinning,” Bob said.

As part of those classes, he has built many different wooden boats over the years — always as a group project. But there was something about the Wherry Yawl that resonated with the structural engineer.

“I have built several others, but I have never worked on a boat that has as pretty lines as this one does,” Bob said.

He and his fellow classmates had been working on the Yawl — a sturdy little three-man boat that was used in the 1800s and turn of the century as a kind of water taxi to ferry people from ships at anchor to shore. It has oarlocks, but also a running board and small mast and sail.

“You would pay the man your money, and he would take you out to the boat in one of these,” Bob said. Because of its intended use, the Wherry Yawl is a very strong design, built to withstand even brushing between a ship’s hull and a dock.

He very much wanted the boat, and luck was on his side.

“At the end of class, we would all put our names into a hat. Whoever got their name drawn had to pay for the building materials and supplies and got to keep the boat. I put my name in, and I got to bring it home,” he said.

Though the boat classes can complete a project in a short period of time because there are so many people focused on the work, once home, the Yawl has taken years for Bob to finish because of his busy work schedule.

“I work full-time, plus there is St. Vincent’s, and I teach an engineering class at Alabama — I need to tell them I need to drop all that so I can go build boats,” he joked.

This will be the first boat he will have completed in his shop here — and the work is almost done. It needs a mast and running board set and some other details and then finishing and painting.

That last part is the big hump Bob said he needs to get past — finishing is his least favorite part of the boat build.

“I hate painting,” he said, and a large portion of this boat, especially the outside of the hull, will be painted.

Even so, Bob hopes to have the boat in the water by early summer — and then it is on to his next projects. He has a roll of boat plans in his shop — “I enjoy looking over boat plans more than I like reading a book. It’s the engineer in me.” He wants to build at least three of them.

But he has other projects on his plate, too. The Lilly G is a great crab boat, but that design leaves something to be desired with regards to passenger comfort. Bob plans to build some seating for the boat and relocate the console and controls to better suit its use as a recreational craft.

Then there is the beautiful 1958 Christ Craft Sportsman in another building in the shop complex. The vintage motorboat is a true project — it has minor hull damage on one side and the wood needs to be completely refinished and the interior and engine rebuilt.

“It came ‘what-you-see-is-what-you-get.’ Basically a hull and a pile of parts. I am still looking for original plans. I am not sure what goes where,” Bob said.

But like all his other projects, Bob will figure it out. And when he is done with that, he will move on to something else. Woodworking — he has built all sorts of cabinets and other pieces — and boat building, in particular, are his cathartic escape.

“I picture there always being a boat in this shop. When I finish this one, then I will start another one,” he said.

Features

Politicians of Note

[Show as slideshow]

Story by Jane Newton Henry
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

When day is done for these
officials, the beat goes on
By day, he’s mayor of Pell City. But nights and weekends you’ll find him crooning to the crowds in his very own band. Same holds true for Alan Furr, a judge by day and quite the singer and guitarist for the Wingnuts away from court. And the superintendent of schools, put a mandolin in his hand and he’s just as at home as he is at the head of the class.

Pell City Mayor Joe Funderburg, Pell City School Superintendent Michael Barber and St. Clair County District Judge Alan Furr became interested in music when they were young. Although they now have “day jobs,” music remains their hobby, their pastime and their passion. Funderburg plays rock and roll while Barber plays bluegrass, and Furr plays both.

Rock-and-roll mayor
“I look at it like this,” said Funderburg. “Some people play golf; some people hunt and fish. Everybody has hobbies of some sort, and I am fortunate that I am able to play music.”

The mayor has played six- and 12-string guitars and sung in bands for more than 40 years. “I’ve always enjoyed music,” he said. “I liked to sing when I was small, and I wanted to play an instrument.

“I begged for a guitar and got a $20 Sears and Roebuck Silvertone,” he said. “It had a very thick neck and I’ve got kind of small hands, so that thing was a job to learn to play.”

In the 1960s, he formed the band Leaves of Autumn with high-school friends. After high school, Funderburg continued to play music and found that music paid his college expenses. When his father passed away, he dropped out of school and became a professional musician.

“That was about all I knew how to do, so I went to work playing, and I was fortunate to work with some top-notch musicians,” he said. “I don’t claim to be an accomplished musician. I learned music by picking it up and playing it with other people.”

Funderburg says his favorite part of his musical career was during the 1970s. “At that time, St. Clair County — as well as Calhoun, Etowah and Shelby counties — didn’t have many places where people could hear rock-and-roll music, and the Boondocks Lounge was the place to go,” he said. “That was probably the most exciting time for me because we were playing at a happening place, and the band was recording in Birmingham, too.”

A member of the band Straight Shift, he now performs about once a month. The band has recently played at the Pell City Block Party, entertained at a sock hop at Celebrations in Pell City and performed at a private Christmas party in Birmingham.

Barber’s bluegrass
“When I came up, we didn’t have a lot of things that are offered today,” said Michael Barber. “I remember when we got our first color television. We had rabbit ears, so the reception wasn’t that good. Music was a pastime for us.”

On Sundays at 5 p.m., you will find him playing bluegrass at Pell City’s Mt. Zion Primitive Baptist Church, where he is the pastor. Barber and other musicians play before the evening worship service.

“The women in the church provide refreshments and work on prayer shawls to take to the nursing home,” he said. “The music is a good transition to the service.”

The number of musicians playing on a given Sunday varies from a few to a dozen. Barber plays mandolin, guitar, bass and some banjo, and he sings. “There are three other mandolin players at the church, so we rotate around,” he said.

Members of the group play on a local radio station every third Sunday and at Golden Living, an assisted-living facility, every third Sunday from 2 to 4 p.m. Barber says they have been playing at Golden Living for 15 or 20 years. They also play at the Veteran’s Home and in the schools, when invited, and do caroling for shut-ins at Christmas. “It’s a ministry,” he said.

Barber was first exposed to music in church, where he was a member of the youth choir. “I was raised in the church and sang hymns as a child,” he said. He also listened to country and gospel music, including Hank Williams and the Happy Goodman Family.

“I took piano lessons for several years; it was a struggle for me,” he said. After learning the guitar and mandolin, he found he enjoyed playing bluegrass and learned that music could help pay a good part of college expenses.

Barber is self-taught on mandolin and guitar. “You get better by learning from others,” he said. When he teaches other to play, he asks them to teach someone else and share their knowledge.

“It thrills me when I teach a child who wants to learn and that child turns into a better musician than I am and then I see that child share it with another generation,” he said. “It feels like you’ve done something.”

A good judge of music
Ten-year-old Alan Furr became interested in music after hearing his grandfather Owen Furr play old-time country music and bluegrass with neighbors on his front porch in Crenshaw County.

“When I was 12, my parents made me a deal: If I could figure out how to buy an electric guitar, then they would buy me an amplifier,” he said. He got a job paying 50 cents an hour at the Handy Andy grocery store in Montgomery. His mother went to Art’s Music in Montgomery and financed a purple Fender Mustang guitar that he paid for with the money he made at the grocery store. Within a year or two, Furr was playing rhythm guitar with the Vibrations.

In addition to guitar, Furr plays mandolin, keyboards, ukulele, dulcimer and drums, and sings. A vocal performance major in college, he added church music to his repertoire. He continues to perform church music and serves as minister of music at the First Baptist Church of Ashville.

After graduating from law school, he spent about a year playing in the band the Reflectors with some friends from Birmingham. He currently plays in two bands – Whitney Junction and the Wingnuts.

The bluegrass band Whitney Junction was formed at First Baptist Church of Ashville. The group plays for free.

The Wingnuts, originally composed of aviators, plays 1960s rock and roll. The group came together after the 2011 tornado, as Furr explained, “when Donnie Todd, a member of the Pell City City Council, and I worked up seven or eight songs to play at a benefit for the Civil Air Patrol.” The Wingnuts now play once or twice a month for corporate and charitable events, such the Fur Ball, a fundraiser for the Animal Shelter of Pell City.

Furr said he sold his purple Fender Mustang guitar to a “kid” for $75, the same amount he had paid for it almost 10 years earlier. “Then the kid called me when he was getting a new guitar,” Furr said, and offered to sell the Mustang back to Furr for $75. But Furr explained that the kid could get more for it if he traded it in, and the kid took his advice.

Years later, Furr saw the purple Mustang for sale in a music store in Enterprise. He says he told his mother about it, and, unknown to him, she called every music store in southeast Alabama until she found it. He was surprised when she returned the guitar to him the following Christmas.

Features

Wood Carver

Creator of many; master of all

Story by Carol Pappas
Photography by Mike Callahan

When lightning struck a tree in Bill Golden’s yard, the natural instinct was to grab a chainsaw. But as quickly as that bolt shot through the tree, an idea struck Golden.

So with chainsaw in hand and a makeshift scaffold surrounding the tree, he masterfully turned the 12 feet of its remnants into an Indian carving that now stands watch like a sentry over the shoreline that fronts his Logan Martin Lake property.

Take a look around outside and inside his home, and one can’t help but conclude that just as he carved an impressive sculpture out of nothing more than a tree stump, Golden makes a habit out of turning challenges into opportunities.

“I do a lot of different things,” Golden said. “God has given me the abilities, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

Fear is not a word — or an emotion — Golden knows well. Why else would he try to create a stained glass window without so much as a moment’s lesson? But step up on his front porch and come face to face with a stained glass work of art.

He had been encouraged to take a class, but he told the woman where he bought his equipment that he “read a book.” When he returned for more equipment, she again encouraged him to take a class. “I’m doing OK,” he told her.

In the third week of his project, the notion of a class was dangled in front of him once again. “No, I’m doing fine,” he assured her.

By the end of the fourth week, the window was finished. He took a picture to show her, and she was “flabbergasted. ‘You could enter this in a contest,’” he recalled her telling him. And adding the ultimate compliment, she said, “‘I’ve got a door I’d like you to do for me.’”

“That’s where I messed up,” he chuckled at the memory. “I could have made a little money at it.”

Dollars don’t drive him, though, challenge does. “He is very talented,” his wife, Beth, said. “I have never asked him to do anything he couldn’t do, and it’s always better than I describe it — and always bigger.”

A retired supervisor from Hayes Aircraft and once a senior designer at SMI Steel and a project engineer at Connor Steel, his resume also includes an animated film — not because it was in his job description. It was simply a need at the time, and he accepted the challenge.

Hayes was vying for a NASA contract. “My boss called me from Houston and said he told NASA that I was an animation expert. I told him I knew nothing about animation, that I had seen animations about Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. He told me to go downtown and buy any books you need. I bought three books.”

Three months later and with an animation film to his credit, Golden said his boss called him into his office and said they won the NASA contract. Another hurdle; another challenge met by Golden.

Inside his Logan Martin Lake home today, you’ll find plenty of evidence of Golden’s handiwork. In the foyer is a framed, pen and ink drawing that looks as though it could be on display in an art gallery. The signature on it? Golden’s, of course.

Nearby hangs a three dimensional music sheet he created with actual piano keys from the family’s century-old piano forming the notes of doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”

Then there is the 300-pound roll top desk he fashioned out of red oak, various paintings and carvings of toys, figures and dolls, the table he built from an oak tree and the room-sized Christmas village display complete with a mountain landscape overlooking it. The snow-capped peaks he painted stretch across two walls of the room, the natural light coming through a window behind it following the natural path of the sun setting. Oh, and it’s not a canvas, it’s an old sail he turned into one.

These and more are all Golden originals, but he takes particular pride in the 7-foot “Chief Coosaloosa,” dressed in leather, holding a hatchet in one hand with the other hand over his heart. The inspiration came from the trunk itself. A growth on it looked like an arm stretching across a chest, Golden said. “I felt obligated to carve that Indian.”

Its history didn’t begin with the lightning strike, though, it was one of three trees he bought 40 years ago from Sears and Roebuck and planted on the property that lies across the road from present day Pine Harbor golf course. When he bought the lakefront property, Pine Harbor was merely a cotton field, he said.

When lightning struck his prized tree, he decided to save at least a piece of it. He told the tree cutting company to leave him a 12-foot stump. Golden built a 12-by-12-foot platform around it about 3 feet off the ground and over the next four weeks, Chief Coosaloosa began to emerge. “I started at the top and came down with an electric chainsaw.” Feathers, leather jacket and pants, moccasins, the hatchet, the chiseled look of his face — all are lifelike. It took Golden a week to stain it, and it now stands as a landmark for anglers and boaters alike who have discovered it.

Another landmark stands — or turns — just a few feet away. It is a waterwheel he built that serves as the end of his heating and cooling system and also produces enough water for doves he raises in a former greenhouse, a pen and a pond. And, “It’s more efficient air conditioning than the unit outside,” he said.

Where does all that ability come from? Perhaps it’s in the genes. “My dad had a reputation for fixing anything,” he said. Or perhaps it’s simply drive. “I’ve still got a lot of things to do before I check out. Everything you see (even the house itself), I did. I’ve still got more to do. I haven’t gotten to the end of that list yet. I enjoy retirement as retirement is supposed to be enjoyed.”

So what’s next? Well, there is that cedar log that could be turned into a football player with a leather helmet. …