At 99, memory of French Liberation still clear to World War II vet
Story by Scottie Vickery Contributed Photos
As First Lieutenant William E. Massey
plummeted 26,000 feet toward the ground, the 23-year-old bomber pilot realized
he had reached the end. “This is my last mission,” he thought. “It’s all over.”
It was June 19, 1944, and Massey was flying
his 19th mission in World War II when his B-17 Flying Fortress was
shot down over Jauldes, a small village in France. Hurtling through the air, he
worked frantically, managing to partially attach his parachute to his harness
and pull the rip cord just in time.
After a miraculous landing, he spent more
than two months with members of the French Underground, who helped hide him and
other Allied soldiers and airmen from the Germans.
“We
were on a mission that took 76 days,” Massey said, recounting his story just
days before the 75th anniversary of the Liberation of Paris on
August 24. “I like to tell my story. Most people think that war is just
shooting at each other, but there’s a lot more behind a military life.”
Massey, who will celebrate his 99th
birthday in November, has lots of memorabilia decorating his room at the Col.
Robert L. Howard State Veterans Home in Pell City. There’s a framed map of
France – the one he carried the day he was shot down – and a large photo of a
B-17 cockpit. A collection of awards dot the walls, as well, including a 2015
letter stating that he would be presented with the Legion of Honor, France’s
highest order of merit.
He accepted the award in January 2016 on
behalf of all the soldiers who volunteered their services during the war. “They
say that 1 in 4 airmen didn’t make it back,” said Massey, who flew with the 401st
Bombardment Group of the 8th Air Force out of England. “So many paid the ultimate price.”
Volunteering for service
Born in Bessemer, Massey was 21 when he
enlisted shortly after the U.S. entered the war in 1941. He saw a poster for
Aviation Cadet Training and knew that’s what he wanted to do. “I had never been
in an airplane,” he said. “I’d never been off the ground. I had such a desire
to fly, though, I knew I could do it.”
He had 240 hours of training before his
first mission and eventually flew two separate missions on D-Day, the Allied
invasion of Normandy. The fateful flight, which he wasn’t scheduled to make,
came 13 days later. “One of the pilots showed up drunk, and his crew refused to
fly with him,” Massey said. “They asked me if I wanted to just take his place
or go with my own crew. We had flown 18 missions together, and I knew what each
man was capable of doing, so I chose to take my own crew.”
They were headed for an airfield in
Bordeaux. “Our intelligence had learned that the Germans had amassed large
numbers of troops and equipment to combat the invasion. The mission was to
destroy the airport and as much of the equipment as possible,” he said.
Thirty minutes from their target, they ran
into anti-aircraft fire. The cockpit filled with smoke, and Massey knew the
plane’s hydraulic system had been hit. “There was no chance in putting that
fire out, so I immediately hit the bail out switch,” he said. “At an altitude
of 26,000 feet, the temperature runs about 32 degrees below zero. I was trying
to buckle my chute to my harness, but my hands were so cold, I couldn’t get
them to function right.”
Finally, as the air grew warmer closer to
ground, he managed to get the left buckle hooked with about 3,000 feet to
spare. “The ground was coming fast,” he said, and he had to decide whether to
keep trying to fully attach the chute or pull the rip cord with just one buckle
attached.
“That’s what I did, and thankfully it opened
clean and blossomed out,” he said. “The jolt was so strong it pulled my boots
off. I hit the ground in my stocking feet.”
Massey knew he could see German soldiers at
any time, so he hid himself and his parachute in the woods. He tried to catch
the attention of a French farmer in a nearby pasture but was unsuccessful. A
little later, another farmer came by and seemed to be searching for something.
“I took a chance the old gent told him where the American airman was,” Massey
said. “I summed that one up just right. He had a horse cart filled with hay. He
hid me under it and off we go. Where, I didn’t know.”
Massey spent the night in a barn, hiding in
the hayloft. The next day, the man brought two more members of Massey’s crew –
2nd Lt. Lewis Stelljes, a bombardier, and Sgt. Francis Berard, a
waist gunner – who had also survived the crash. They later learned that the
seven other members of the crew perished on the plane, a reality that still
haunts Massey today.
A network of safety
The man who helped them was part of the
French Underground, which maintained escape networks to protect Allied soldiers
and airmen from the Germans. It was one effort of the French Resistance, which
sabotaged roads and airfields and destroyed communications networks to thwart
the enemy. It also provided intelligence reports to the Allies, which was vital
to the success of D-Day.
“Their job was to be a nuisance,” Massey
said. “They were going to look after us, and we were going to stay and fight
with them. From then on out, we moved about quite frequently to different
houses. We mostly slept in barns.”
Massey fondly remembers a 5-year-old girl
who occasionally brought them food, which was getting scarce in France. “It was
normally a piece of bread, cheese or a boiled egg, but Lord have mercy, it sure
was good,” he said.
Eventually they met a man named Joe, who
said he was a member of the Office of Strategic Services, a predecessor of the
Central Intelligence Agency. He promised to help them escape. “One night, a
cargo plane came in with more ammunition and food,” Massey said. “When it took
off to return to England, there were three happy Americans on board. We were on
our way home.”
During a debriefing with an intelligence
officer, Massey learned that paperwork supporting his promotion to captain had
been sent in the same day his plane went down. When he asked about the status,
the officer told him, “It will catch up with you.” The promotion never did, and
it is one of Massey’s biggest regrets.
“I was presumed dead, and they didn’t
promote dead men. I worked for years to get it straightened out,” he said,
adding that records from the 8th Air Force were destroyed when the National
Personnel Records Center in Missouri burned down in the 1970s. “Getting shot
down changed my whole life, but I was happy to be able to do something for my
country. My country has done so much for me.”
Massey returned home and attended the
University of Alabama, where he earned an industrial engineering degree and met
his wife. The couple raised two children and were married for 56 years before
she passed away. Massey, who worked for General Motors for 31 years and retired
in 1980, continued to fly with a Reserve unit for about six years.
In 1961, Massey, Stelljes and Berard
returned to France for the dedication of a monument honoring the crash
survivors and the seven men who perished. While there, they visited with many
of the people who helped them escape, even reconnecting with 21-year-old Jean
Marie Blanchon, who had brought them food when she was 5. Shortly after the
trip, Massey was quoted in The Birmingham News as saying, “We were there
to thank them, but they were still thanking us for coming over to fight for
their liberation.”
For years, Massey continued to correspond
with the mayor of Jauldes, who wrote the following in an undated letter to the
American airman:
Every year on the 8th of May (Victory in Europe
Day) the population goes to the monument and after ringing bells to the dead,
the mayor places a wreath and observes a moment of silence. Nobody here has
forgotten the sacrifice of your compatriots.
Story and photos by Graham Hadley Contributed photos
Three
wars, three generations, three soldiers — all U.S. Marines and all volunteered
for service.
And
all said, without hesitation, they would do it again.
Retired
from service now and living in the Col. Robert Howard Veterans Home in Pell
City, the three soldiers recounted their experiences in the military and how
that service has defined who they are and how they have led their lives.
Sgt. John Weaver, Korean War
Tough
– no better word describes retired Marine Sgt. John Weaver. Even in his 80s,
wearing his trademark kilt, the veteran soldier, a member of the elite Marine
Recon unit, exudes an unfailing determination and inner strength.
But
Weaver says that is not always how people saw him. Before his service in the
Korean War, he first had to prove himself in the U.S. Marine Corps Basic
Training Camp at Parris Island, S.C. The USMC training is notoriously
difficult, and Weaver says he did not appear to fit the bill because, in his
words, he is so short.
“At
Parris Island, I was the little guy,” he said with a grin. On the obstacle
course, the recruits have to scale a tall, vertical wood wall. “Boy did they
put it to me on that wall, and boy did I make it over. They never thought I
would.
“So,
I got a running start, kicked my foot as hard as I could into the bottom board,
got a toehold, and launched myself over the wall. My sergeant looked at me and
said, ‘Weaver, do that again.’ So I did, again and again,” he said.
That
rigorous training only stepped up a notch as he continued to prove himself,
earning a spot in Recon. “I was hell on wheels. We all were. Recon was like a
Marine Corps inside the Marine Corps. The other soldiers would not even walk
across the grass in front of our barracks.”
His
small stature quickly became an asset. He could move through places other
Marines could not fit, and he did so silently – a trick he learned from his father,
who had been in the Canadian military – allowing him to take enemies by
surprise.
“That
was one of the first things my father taught me. And I remember it to this day.
He was tough, too.”
Weaver
was also a crack shot, particularly with his two weapons of choice, the
Springfield M-1 Garand battle rifle – our main infantry rifle in both World War
II and Korea – and the standard military 1911 .45-caliber pistol.
“The
first time on the range with the M-1, I put every round through the bull’s eye.
I am a crack shot,” he said. Something he has passed on to his children,
teaching them how to shoot and safely handle a firearm as they grew up. One
daughter is so good she is a marksmanship instructor, something Weaver is very
proud of.
That
toughness and skillset proved invaluable to Weaver when he was deployed to
Korea in the closing months of war in late 1952 and early 1953. During his time
in combat, he racked up an impressive list of medals, both from the U.S.
military and the South Korean Government, eventually receiving one of their
highest military honors, the equivalent of the Medal of Honor in the United
States.
Like
many veterans, Weaver says he does not often talk about his time in combat,
especially with people who have not been there. “Most people who have not done
it just don’t understand,” he said.
He
does not sugar coat his experiences. “My job was to kill the enemy soldiers.
And I was good at it. Very good at it. And I don’t feel remorse for it. Don’t
get me wrong, there were times I was shooting them, killing them and killing
them, and there were tears in my eyes – they were soldiers, too, and they were
doing the exact same thing I was. But I was better at it. I don’t feel bad
about it then, and I don’t feel bad about it now. It was what I had to do, kill
them.”
At
one point, Weaver, three other Marine sergeants and a private were all that was
left of their unit, trying to hold a piece of ground against advancing North
Korean and Chinese units.
“We
kept shooting and shooting. Some of us were wounded, but we kept shooting. That
was what I received some of my medals for. I must have killed 200 of them that
day, maybe more. There were only five of us left. I kept firing and firing,
even after I was hit.
“The
other men with me had guts, real guts – guts, guts, guts. I was not going to
let them down. Even after I was wounded twice.”
Those
five men held out for almost a day against continual opposition from advancing
soldiers until they were eventually relieved by U.S. reinforcements.
“They
said we killed more than 500 people that day. I am not proud of it, I am not
embarrassed by it, I don’t feel bad about it, even now. We were tough, and we
had to do it. It was war and that was our job.”
Eventually,
in the summer of 1953, the Korean War was halted and Weaver returned home. He
never intended to leave his beloved Marine Corps, but he knew if he wanted to
be a better Marine, he needed better education.
“I
had dropped out of school at 17 to join up. I knew I needed more education,” he
said. He began attending school to finish up his high school education and
more, always intending to return to the Marines.
“But
then I got married, and that ended that,” he said. Eventually he got a job in
the food industry, and actually worked for years with a fellow member of the
Marine Recon unit who had seen service in Korea.
“We
just knew who we were without having to talk about it. We were Marines.
“We
were Marines in Korea, we were Marines then, I am still a Marine, and I will
always be a Marine. If I could go back today, I would,” said the veteran,
steady eyes looking out from under his Marine Recon cap.
His
advice for people looking to enlist today? Consider it an honor to serve your
country, but make the decision very carefully.
“Those
were rough times. I remember every day everything I did then. … It is no little
decision to join the Marines,” Weaver said, but he would join back up in an instant..
“I
am just an old Marine at heart. I am still a Marine,” he said proudly.
Sgt. Joe Stephens, Vietnam
Retired
Marine Staff Sgt. Joe Stephens is quick to downplay his role during the Vietnam
War. As an aviation mechanic, he was not on the front lines and only rarely
came under fire, usually from missiles or unguided rockets aimed toward his
base.
But
his actions prove that many of the soldiers on the front lines owe their lives
to the people supporting them from the rear.
Like
all the other soldiers interviewed, Stephens was not drafted, he volunteered.
Originally
from Oxford, the small-town Alabama environment played a big part in that
decision.
“I
was really patriotic. The flag in school was very important. I was fascinated
with history, how we won our independence. I wanted to serve our country,” he
said.
But
it was a strange time to be serving in the military, the end of the 1960s and
beginning of the 70s, with peace protests at Kent State, the deaths of Dr.
Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy and President Nixon’s back and forth
on the United State’s position in Vietnam, eventually leading to our withdrawal
from the war.
“I
volunteered right after Kent State. And after I was deployed overseas in a
combat zone, we would hear the news about what was going on back home. There
was lots of stress. And there was real racial stress, too,” he said.
But
they were soldiers in a war zone and had jobs to do. His was to maintain
aircraft, particularly the F4 Phantom, the mainstay multi-role fighter jet for
the U.S. military in Vietnam, and the iconic Bell UH-1 Iroquois Huey
helicopters that have become something of the symbol of the war for our
country. He also worked on the twin-rotor CH-47 Chinook helicopter – another
workhorse of the military in Vietnam.
And
he loved his work. He was so good at it that, after the war, he was stationed
in the United States training others how to work on airplanes stateside until
his discharge.
While
he was rarely directly in harm’s way, Stephens’ first experience in country was
stepping off the transport with warning sirens blaring.
“I
was just standing there with my gear and had no idea what was going on or where
I was supposed to go. The sirens were going off and people were running
everywhere. I eventually followed some other soldiers into a bunker,” he said.
There were mountains between them and the enemy and larger American military
installations, so they were rarely the target. Still, that day, part of the
base he was at actually took damage either from rockets or a missile.
Stephens’
unit was part of the Marine Corps, but they lent support to anyone on the
ground who needed it. That need could come at a moment’s notice. So they kept
several aircraft at the ready on what he called the “hot pad”, with pilot,
mechanics and flight crew on standby 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
“If
a unit got in trouble, we could get there as fast as possible,” he said. “We
always had three to four aircraft at the ready. We would sit out there 12 hours
at a time. We took pride in how fast we could get a plane in the air.
“All
of us knew the importance of being able to help our fellow Marines out there.”
And
if that 12-hour rotation he had do meant he missed out on leave or other
activities, then that was a price Stephens was more than willing to pay. “I
even missed seeing Bob Hope when he came.”
Half
way through his tour in-country, Nixon started pulling U.S. troops out of
Vietnam. Stephens credits his Marine Corps with being crafty – “They started
pulling out non-combat troops. I was put on a ship to Okinawa, Japan, and
thought I was going home.”
But
the Marines knew, despite the order to remove about half their forces from
Vietnam, they needed the support for their troops still on the ground.
“So
they put us on another ship (the Marine equivalent of a light aircraft carrier)
and parked us right off the coast of Vietnam so we could still do our jobs and
not technically be on the ground in Vietnam. I had thought I might be going
home, but instead we were right back at work” with their aircraft running
missions from the ship instead of from an airstrip.
He
spent the entire second half of his tour at sea.
Stephens
did not mind, it meant he never missed a day of combat pay, though he did say
he much preferred being on land in Vietnam.
“The ship felt cramped,” he said. And they
were also at the mercy of the sailors, especially when it came to taking the
ship into port for leave either in Japan, Hong Kong or the Philippines.
But
for all his time overseas, Stephens does not regret enlisting or any of his
time in the military.
“I
got to see all sorts of things no small-town Alabama boy would have gotten to
do,” he said, noting particularly he got to check off a childhood dream.
“I
grew up watching the Mickey Mouse Club and Disney on TV in Oxford. I never
thought I would get to go there. But for a while, I was stationed in
California. I got to go to Disneyland. I went almost every leave I had. It was
a dream of mine to go. Back then, you had tickets for everything. On my last
day, I had all these tickets left over, I just gave them to a mother and her
son and told them to ‘Enjoy themselves.’ That never would have happened if I
had not joined up.”
And
better yet, he got to fly in many of the aircraft he worked on. Whether it was
for work or travel, he spent a lot of time in the air.
“If
we needed to go somewhere or had leave and wanted to go, we would just find a
pilot who was willing and we would go.”
Even
in peace time, enlisting is a big decision, but even more so during war.
Stephens says he would enlist again, but like Weaver, says it is a big decision
for anyone to make.
“Today,
the military is still a good career, but it is something to think about before
doing it. It takes dedication and desire. It is not something to be taken
lightly,” he said.
Sgt. James Bryant, Iraq
James
Bryant did double duty for his country.
Not
only is he a former Marine, after his enlistment with the Marine Corps was
over, he signed up with the Army Reserves.
And
for Bryant, the military has been a life-saver, literally. He gladly served his
country, and the military has returned the favor.
Bryant
suffers from Huntington’s disease, sometimes called Huntington’s chorea, a
genetic neurological disorder that can be treated, but not cured. It has been
described as having ALS and Parkinson’s at the same time and runs in families.
Bryant
has served his country as a Marine and the Army and deployed to Iraq during
Desert Storm, said his sister, Diane Dover of Ohatchee.
Originally
from Panama City, Florida, he enlisted young and was heavily influenced by
family members in the military.
“I
always wanted to serve my country. Growing up, people like my godfather, who
was in the Air Force, were important to me,” he said.
He
has nothing but praise for his military experience. In fact, after his
discharge from the Marine Corps, he took on several jobs, including working as
a professional truck driver, but it never was the same.
“I
missed being in the military,” he said, so he signed up for the Army Reserves.
“I decided to go back, and it was the best thing I ever did.”
And
that decision has had a huge impact on his life today. One of his commanding
officers noticed Bryant was exhibiting similar symptoms to one of his own
family members and recommended he immediately see a doctor, who made the
Huntington’s diagnosis.
Dover
said the illness runs in her family, and she has already lost several siblings
to it.
And
while there is no cure, there are treatments that can make huge differences in
the quality of life for patients – the earlier the better. Having the officer
spot the problem early on has helped Bryant.
Because
Huntington’s affects everything from speech to the ability to walk and fine
motor skills, he has moved to the Col. Robert Howard Veterans Home in Pell
City, a place he is quick to tell you has greatly improved his life. He says he
loves living there, with other veterans and people he can relate to.
“They
treat me great,” he said.
And
the military has been instrumental in helping cover the expenses for treating his
condition and providing a comfortable and active living environment.
His
only regret? Bryant is an avid University of Alabama fan. You can instantly
spot him in his crimson and white shirt in the common areas of the VA home –
but no matter how many times he asks, they won’t let him paint all the walls in
his room the trademark Crimson.
But
aside from that, he is quick to thank the military for serving him after he has
given so much of his life serving his country.
And like the others, he would sign up again without
hesitation if given the opportunity.
Story by Joe Whitten Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr. Submitted photos
Whitney Junction, lying in northwest St. Clair County at the
intersection of US Highways 11 and 231, is one of the many unincorporated
communities throughout the county. The original junction, however, was east of
there in 1891 when the Tennessee River, Ashville and Coosa Railroad connected
with the Alabama Great Southern (AGS) Railroad.
Settlers had arrived in the area long before the building of
the train station in 1872, when the AGS began operation and before the US Post
Office began in 1875. The station and post office were named for Charles O.
Whitney, a whiskey-drinking, gambling Reconstruction Carpetbagging politician,
who had been active in establishing the AGS railroad from Birmingham to
Chattanooga.
Records show that James C. Ward was appointed the first
postmaster on March 22, 1875. Surnames of the other postmasters ring of old St.
Clair County families — Yates, Box, Beason, Early, Partlow, Sheffield and
Shelton.
The First Settlers
According to Linda Moyer, a Neeley descendant, around the
time that Alabama became a state in 1819, two North Carolina sisters and their
husbands settled in today’s Whitney. The two couples were Elizabeth Brumfield
and William McCorkle and Charity Brumfield and Thomas Neeley. Coming with the
McCorkles were their daughter and her husband, Eliza Louisa and Anderson
Reeves. Louisa and Anderson had 15 children.
The area grew as the Partlow, Montgomery, Sheffield, Bowlen,
Allman and Harp families settled there. Children grew up, fell in love, and
these families became interconnected through marriages.
Cowan Sheffield married Mary Allman, and the home they built
still stands off Highway 11, just south of Reeves Grove Church. Their
granddaughter, Linda Moyer, believes they built the house in the 1860s, well
before the church’s organization in 1872. “The Reeves Grove Church records,”
she recalled, “say that my granddaddy would start the fire every Sunday morning
in the potbelly stove.”
According to Moyer, Cowan Sheffield’s uncle, Wesley
Sheffield, Sr. “…rode the horse his son had brought back from the Civil War to
collect money” to build the Reeves Grove Church, and that John Partlow “hewed
the logs and split the shingles” for the building.
Reeves’ descendant, Joe Sweatt, recalled, “My great-great
grandparents, Louisa and Anderson Reeves, donated the land to build the church
on.” Sweatt told of a c1872 family letter stating that the supporting timbers
of the church were cut in Etowah County, shipped down the Coosa River to
Greensport, and then hauled by ox wagon to the church location.
Attendance increased in the early 2000s, and the church added
a new Fellowship Hall next to the sanctuary. By 2007, having outgrown the 1872
building altogether, they constructed a larger sanctuary, connecting it to the
Fellowship Hall.
Rev. Paul Alexander became pastor of the church as the new
building reached completion, and he conducted the first worship service in it.
A few years later, the church began Phase Two, during which they added Sunday
School rooms.
Church leaders today include deacons Clarence Harris, Jerry
Payne, Johnny Kuykendall and Maurice Wilkins. Jerry Payne is Sunday School
director. Music director is Charles Simmons. In addition to the choir, Rev.
Alexander said, “We have a group of young folks who do special singing for us.”
Three pianists serve the church: Jenny Greggs, Deb Kuykendall
and Cindy Alexander. Youth Directors Zach and Stormy Davis participate in
community youth services sponsored by several churches that take turns hosting
services during the year.
Expressing his vision for the church, Alexander said, “Our
biggest goal is to see people come to know the Lord Jesus Christ. We would love
for our church to grow, but I would rather that the church grows spiritually
rather than just adding numbers. We don’t focus on numbers. We focus on people
getting closer to the Lord and winning folks to Christ.”
Efforts to restore the historic 1872 Reeves Grove Church are
detailed in Elaine Hobson Miller’s article in the April-May 2019 Discover.
Reeves Grove School
The original deed for Reeves Grove Church stated that the
Eliza Reeves hoped the building would also be a school. According to Moyer,
Cowan Sheffield served as first headmaster when the school opened in the
church. Later, a schoolhouse was constructed across the road to the right of
where the cemetery is today.
Ashville Railroad
Montgomery’s The Weekly Advertiser reported on April
23, 1891, “The Tennessee River, Ashville and Coosa Railroad has been completed
from Whitney Station on the Alabama Great Southern Railroad to Ashville, the
county seat of St. Clair County. The new line is now open for traffic. The road
will be extended to the Tennessee River in the north and to a point on the
Southern Pacific in the south at an early date.”
Mattie Lou Teague Crow records in her History of St. Clair
County that the 1890s depression forced this railroad venture into bankruptcy.
She wrote, “The steel rails were ripped up for scrap iron [sic]. The old ties
rotted. Today’s Whitney-Ashville highway uses most of the old right-of-way.”
The 1886 African American Church
Organized in 1886, Evergreen Baptist Church, celebrated its
133rd anniversary on Sept. 22 this year. Name are of the first
members are not available, but this soon after the Civil War, they doubtless
were former slaves and their children.
Rena Blunt, grandmother of current pastor Elder Paul Jones,
recorded in 2007 what she remembered of the history of Evergreen Baptist. She
stated that the church “was founded by the Rev. Gales and Bro. Green Neeley.
The first church was a small green church facing the railroad.”
She listed the following pastors: “Rev. Woody and Rev.
Shephard; Rev. Brown, 1922-1966; Rev. Bell, 1967-1968; Rev. J. C. Evans,
1968-72; Thomas Jordan, 1973; B.J. Bedford, -1990; Jerry G. Bean 1990-2016; and
Elder Paul Jones, 2016-present.”
Around 1922, Mrs. Blunt recalled, the church moved to U.S.
231 where today’s BP station stands. After I-59 was created, the church moved
down to its present location on Sheffield Drive.
Elder Jones, said in an interview, “The church I remember was
there by the interstate where the BP Service Station is now. It was a wooden
church with tarpaper siding that looked like bricks. We had boards nailed
between the trees for people to sit around and eat.” The other locations he’d been
told of were the one by the railroad tracks and one on Highway 11, “but its
name, Evergreen Baptist, never changed.”
Elder Jones spoke of his ministry: “God called me to preach.
I was teaching Sunday school in another church, and then I would come over
here. For some reason, the Spirit kept leading me back here, and the next thing
I knew, God had planted Rhonda and me in this church family.”
The pastor of a small congregation has more responsibilities
than the pastor of a larger church. Elder Jones plays the keyboard for the
singing, conducts a Thursday evening Bible study, and heads up the Sunday
school, also giving a weekly review of the lesson. “My plate’s pretty full,” he
observes. First Lady Rhonda adds, “We often say we both wear three or four different
hats. So, whatever is going on at any time, we do what is needed.” Picking up
on that theme, Elder Jones mentioned the faithfulness of Pinkie Brewster and
Effie Lee Brewster. “Others may have come and gone,” he said, “but over the
years, those two have been steadfast supporters of Evergreen’s ministry…When
God chooses you for a task,” Elder Jones testified, “you can’t quit. The love
of God will not allow you to walk away from the souls you are over.”
When asked about his vision for the church, he replied, “It’s
the Word of God. I must teach with knowledge and understanding. That’s the only
way — His whole Word. I wouldn’t leave anything out.” He observed that some
folk skip scriptures, but Elder Jones is fervent in preaching the whole Word.
“Without a vision, the people perish,” he said.
Speaking of First Lady Rhonda Mabry Jones, his wife of 42
years, he reflects that her working for the Lord alongside him was vital to his
preaching effectively.
Serving Evergreen today as Deacons are Sam Blunt, Allen Looney,
Henry Blunt and two Junior Deacons, Denzell Williams and Damion Jones. Elder
Jones remembered two deceased deacons saying, “Deacons Robert Brewster and
Earnest Brewster contributed much to God’s work here and helped make Evergreen
what it is today.”
The church continues to improve the facilities as God
provides. “All races are welcomed to worship together.” Elder Jones concludes,
“If you’re looking for a church, come worship with us.”
Whitney, Alabama, Memories
Two articles in The St. Clair News-Aegis, Dec. 7,
1975, and July 3, 1976, record some of Nettie Lou Sheffield’s Whitney memories.
Appointed postmaster Feb. 28, 1936, Nettie Sheffield retired
in 1965, and her daughter, Wanda E. Shelton, was appointed acting postmaster
July 31, 1965. Official Washington, DC, records list Wanda Shelton as the last
postmaster, but she was not. In 1976, Nettie Sheffield told The New-Aegis
that when Wanda died soon after appointment, “The postmaster at Ashville said,
‘Take over,’ and that’s what I done. I’ve been here ever since.” Whitney Post
Office was “discontinued” on March 31, 1967, and converted to a rural station
of Ashville.
“There was four
stores, a train depot, a honkytonk — started out as a cafe,” Nettie said in
1975. She then added a refrain probably heard since Noah had grandchildren,
“but the young people hung around, and you know how they are. Well,
pretty soon it was a honkytonk!” She noted that the other four stores were
owned by the Montgomery, Beason, Rickles and Baggett families.
In the 1976 article, Nettie still ran the store in the
building where she and her husband first opened for business in 1936. She was a
month shy of 81 and still opening around 7 a.m. and closed at 4 p.m. “I figure
nine hours a day is enough for anybody to work — especially if they’re as old
as me,” she said.
Joe Sweatt
Having lived in Whitney all his life, Joe Sweatt has fond
memories. He grew up in the family home just below where he and wife Helen live
today
Asked about his
memories, he said, “I guess the fondest is living close to Muckelroy Creek.
Harold Whisenant and I rode our bicycles all around here back then. We took
some old burlap sacks and filled ‘em up with dirt off the creek bank and dammed
up the creek. My daddy built us a diving board. It was the nicest swimming hole
you’ve ever seen. People from Etowah County used to come and swim there. We’d
go down there in the mornings and ride on inner tubes until the sun came up and
it got warm enough that we could get in that cold creek water.”
Enjoying his memories, Sweatt continued. “We always tried to
save up a little money so we could go down to Hershel Montgomery’s store down
at the crossroads. A Coca-Cola was a nickel and a pack of chips — corn curls —
was a nickel, and he’d charge us a penny tax. He’d fuss if we didn’t have that
penny for the tax.”
Prison Camp
“I remember my
grandmother talking about the prison camp, Camp O, they called it, up
where the nursing home is now. She used to tell me tales, about when they heard
the hound dogs, they knew some prisoner had run. Even back then, they used
tracking dogs.”
Wayne Ruple’s fine collection of interviews titled, Remembering
Whitney, has several memories about the prison camp. O.J. Moore also
remembered the bloodhounds tracking a convict, saying, “Those dogs would put
him up a tree. He’d come on down and go back to camp.” Wade Partlow recalled,
“The prisoners did all the local road work…They used some road machines — many
pulled by horses and mules.”
Tiny McKay said, “You know Number 11 was built by convicts….
They used mules and flip scrapes…231 was built by convicts.”
The prison camp discontinued at some point, and on that
property a Rhode Island couple, Pat and Carol Roberson, built the Motel Linda
c1960. Jimmie Washington Keith lived in Springville and worked at the motel.
She recalled that many of the I-59 workers found lodging at Motel Linda. It’s
believed the business ceased operation toward the end of the 1960s.
When Motel Linda closed, Whitney Nursing Home began operation
there in 1969. It had been reconstructed to meet the standards of that time.
When present owner, Pam Penland, took over in 1982, it was an intermediate care
facility. Today it is Health Care, Inc., and is licensed as a Medicare-Medicaid
long-term nursing home. In Remembering Whitney, Wade Partlow recalled
Hershel Montgomery’s store at the crossroads and that across US 231 from the
store “…there was a service station…and a restaurant known as Ma Washington’s
Restaurant.” In a recent interview, Mrs. Washington’s daughter, Jimmie Keith,
supplied additional information. Ralph Windham owned the building where her
mother, Ophelia Washington, ran the restaurant in one side, and Billy George
Washington, Ophelia’s son, ran the service station in the other side. Jimmie’s
nephew, Joe Cox, recalled that it was an Amoco Service Station. The service
station and restaurant are gone, but on Hershel Montgomery’s corner, a store
still serves Whitney Junction.
Whitney on National TV
A segment of Jack Bailey’s Queen for a Day TV show was
filmed in Whitney in 1956. Mrs. Dorothy Brock, the sole provider for her
family, won the title with her need to stock a small store located northeast of
Reeves Grove Church near the crossroads. NBC cameramen filmed while Jack Bailey
emceed and crowned Mrs. Brock as Queen.
Sen. E. L. Roberts attended and officially cut the ribbon for
the grand opening of the store. The Etowah News-Journal, Sept. 13, 1956,
reported that 3,000 “from many states” attended the event. Entertainment was
provided as well as balloons, ice cream, soft drinks for all ages, and “500
orchids were given away to the first 500 ladies who registered.”
Viola Hyatt, Ax Murderer
Three years later, in 1959, the area again made newspaper and
television headlines when Ax Murderess, Viola Hyatt, threw a torso off at a
vacant house in Whitney.
Hyatt, who lived with her father in White Plains, Calhoun
County, killed two of their farm workers with shotgun blasts to the face. She
hacked up their bodies with an ax and scattered body parts on a road trip
through Etowah and St. Clair counties.
Joe Sweatt remembered it: “We were swimming up there at the
swimming hole one day, and my mother came up and said, ‘Get out; they’ve found
a body up the road.’
About a quarter of a mile toward Steele from the crossroads,
Viola Hyatt, the ax murderer, had dumped one of the bodies there. In those
days, they didn’t secure the crime scene like they do today, and I remember we
pulled off on the side of the road, and I remember looking up and seeing the
body lying there.”
Fear gripped local folk and didn’t subside until Viola’s
arrest. She went to trial, was convicted, and sent to prison. However, in 1970,
she was granted parole. Jacksonville locals remember that she returned to the
family farm and that she also ran a store in Rabbitown, and a retired
Jacksonville State University professor recalled her taking classes there.
Miracle — perhaps
An article about a community should not end with a murder, so
this ends with Wayne Tucker’s story of a mysteriously prevented tragedy.
“When I was a teenager,” Wayne recalled, “a Church of God
minister who lived close to Whitney Junction told me and his son, my best friend,
about an accident at the junction. That was a dangerous intersection before the
interstate opened, as evidenced by the number of memorial crosses placed there.
A bad accident happened, and several men tried to lift the car to get a man
out. They couldn’t lift it. Suddenly, a big man appeared and helped lift up the
car. By the time the rescuers attended to the crash victim, the big man was
nowhere in sight — and nobody saw him leave.”
Just the
extra man needed to lift the car or a miracle? Who can say? However, Tucker
remembers the minister as a godly man who gave God the credit for the man’s
rescue. A miracle is much better than a murder. Somebody say, “Amen!”
Rock & Rolling, high flying, surfer judge hits the waves
Story by Carol Pappas Photos by Graham Hadley
Most weekdays, you’ll find him donning a black robe, gavel in
hand, poised to rule in a court case. In those somber surroundings, it’s
difficult to imagine what the judge might do for a little R&R.
But after the day’s work is complete, it’s as if Superman has
just stepped into that iconic phone booth. He transforms into one rockin’ and
rollin,’ high flyin,’ lake surfin,’ incredibly cool dude.
Pick your passion. St. Clair County District Judge Alan Furr
does, although you’re never quite sure which one it will be.
Electric guitar in hand, that’s him on a Saturday night, a
natural at leading the band, The Wingnuts. The band got its start in an
airplane hangar in 2010, its members mostly pilots, including Furr. Since then,
they’ve built quite a following, playing oldies and Rock & Roll for
audiences across the region.
That might be enough to keep most busy, but not Furr. He’s
made the cockpit selfie with wife Sandra locally famous on Facebook. It’s not
uncommon to see the Furr’s take to the skies for short hops and long treks.
His
newest past-time adventure puts him and Sandra out on their beloved Logan
Martin Lake, a stone’s throw from their home on Cropwell Creek. They’re not
quite hanging 10, they admit, but to them, it’s close. At 60-something, they’re
nothing short of inspiring with their wake surfing prowess.
“Sandra
and I bought our first board and started learning to wake surf around 2010, but
we didn’t have a good surf boat, so the learning was difficult,” Furr said.
“Consequently, we both primarily stayed with slalom skiing, and I also rode a
wakeboard. Now that we are in our mid-60s, we figured we needed to concentrate
on a ‘milder’ form of water sport.”
In
2015, they bought a MasterCraft NXT20, which is designed for wake surfing. “So, for the past couple of years we’ve been
surfing on Logan Martin,” he said. It requires a boat that is set up with a
“surf system” and ballast, a wake-surf board, and “the willingness to give it a
try.”
How it works
So
what does it take to wake surf? When a boat moves through the water, it creates
a wake. When the hull of the boat displaces the water, it goes back to where it
previously was.
That
constant flow of water creates a constant wave, and the surfer trails behind
the boat on its wake without actually being pulled by the boat.
You
get up on the wake with a special board and tow rope, similar to skiing, but
that’s where the similarity stops. When the rope gives some slack, it’s time to
drop the rope and go wake surfin’ with the Furrs.
Let’s go surFin’ now…
Sandra
goes first. With the board parallel, and her heels atop the side, she waits for
the start. He throttles the boat, and up she pops, giving a twist and allowing
the board to get perpendicular with the back of the boat.
Once
the driver tightens the rope and gives it a little bit of throttle, the water
behind the board pushes the board up, and you just stand up.
Only
a few feet behind the boat, she concentrates on the wake, her balance and
finding the “sweet spot.”
“You’re
trying to get a speed on the board that matches the speed of the boat,” Furr
explains. “You find that sweet spot that matches the speed with the boat.”
“And
when you can feel it,” Sandra adds, “you can actually feel the wave pushing
you. It’s the coolest feeling, and when you feel it, you know it.”
She
hits the sweet spot, and she drops the rope. Then, it’s like watching the old
Beach Boys tune, Surfin’ Safari, in motion.
Everybody’s learning how…
Before
getting a special boat, “we fooled around for a year or two,” learning what to
do, Furr said. “We could get up and hold the rope, but we couldn’t get slack.
This boat is what really made the difference, and also that board.”
They
transitioned to the new boat, and that’s when it all started coming together
for them. “I always thought I’d like to surf, but this is as close as I’ll ever
get to it,” he said.
He
went a step further, pointing out the benefits of his brand of surfing. “First,
there are no sharks.” In ocean surfing, you must swim out on your board. “With
this one, you just start the motor.”
The
Furrs haven’t tried those fancy moves yet, like the Fire Hydrant and 360s, but
there are plenty on Logan Martin who do, he said.
To
which, Sandra quickly retorted, “Yeah, but they’re not 63 and 64.” For the time being the Furr’s will stick to
“carving” the wake, although conquering the 360 is on their bucket list.
“A
lot of people are getting into it. We just chose it because we’re getting older
and wanted something to do – a little more low impact,” Furr said.
“There are several wake surfers here in Cropwell Creek,” he
added, “and I’m sure there are many all over the lake. We are by no means the
best…but we’re probably the oldest.”
Story by Elaine Hobson Miller Photos by Mike Callahan Submitted photos
One night, artist
Joy Varnell was up late watching television when she stumbled upon a show about
beach weddings. As the camera panned the California venue, she spotted an
artist among the guests, paint brush in hand and canvas on easel. Intrigued,
she recorded the show, then played it several more times. Realizing he was
painting the wedding scene, she said to herself, “I think I can do that.”
The problem was,
she didn’t know how to get started.
That issue was
soon resolved when she walked into the home of a friend/client and spotted a
wedding invitation on her kitchen counter. “The client mentioned that she
wanted to give the wedding couple something unique, and I suggested that I go
to the wedding and paint a picture,” Joy said. “She agreed, and when I got back
to my car, I thought, ‘What have I done?’ ”
What she did was
create a new twist in her artistic career, one that eventually caused her to
dump her day job and paint 40 hours a week. She attends weddings and
receptions, capturing special moments on canvas. After eight years, that twist
has resulted in more than 300 paintings, taken her and her husband all over the
United States, and made a lot of brides happy.
Joy started
drawing as a child and painting as a teenager. She studied interior designat
Southern Institute (which later became Phillips College) and worked as a
kitchen designer for 16 years before striking out on her own to do interior
design and faux finishes — a lot of faux finishes.
During all those
years, she was painting in her spare time and selling her work. Her husband,
Tim, kept encouraging her to spend more hours at her easel. Then came that
first wedding, a huge event at the Birmingham Museum of Art. She painted the
bridal couple descending the stairs for the reception, and in a newspaper
article about the wedding, the bridegroom mentioned that her painting was his
favorite gift. From there, her new venture took wings.
“This got bigger and bigger and just took over, and I quit
doing interior design,” she said. The transition from landscapes, pet portraits
and still life to painting people was a struggle at first, but Joy has a knack
for looking at something and being able to paint it. Soon, she was painting
weekdays and attending one or two weddings on the weekends. Now, it’s a full-time
business. “I did 48 paintings in 2018,” said Joy, who calls herself a
“live-event artist.”
Her modus operandi is to show up about three hours before the
event, usually wearing a black dress or pants, to start painting the
background. “The vendors usually dress in black, so I do, too,” she explained.
The most popular request is to capture the bride and groom’s first dance, so
she usually sets up at the reception. When the guests come in, she’s ready to
paint them into the scene. When the wedding couple appears, she adds them to
the painting.
She tries to get a good likeness of the bride and groom, but
not the people in the background. Most of them can be recognized by what
they’re wearing. She uses the term, “most,” but brides and their mothers are
much more specific than that. “The details of the people in the painting
are amazing,” said Pamela Rhodes, mother of a bride who married in Addis,
Louisiana. “Joy painted my daughter and son-in-law’s first dance as husband and
wife (Peyton and Sean Forestier). We are able to identify every person painted,
even the guy singing on the stage (my brother-in-law).”
“The Creator of the Universe certainly shines through Joy’s
hand,” gushed Jurrita Williams Louie of Dallas, Texas, who got
married in Tuscaloosa, her and her husband’s hometown. “She captured our first
dance as Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Louie as if God came down from heaven to earth to
do it. I can’t quite get over the detail and thoughtfulness with each stroke.”
Joy’s medium is acrylicsbecause they have no odor and
dry quickly. “I have to work very fast, so at least the couple can see
themselves before they leave,” she said. “People come up and say, ‘It looks
just like them,’ as if they are surprised. Well, that’s the point.” As for
mistakes, she just paints over them.
At the time she started, she found only four artists doing
what she does. Three were in California, one in New York. There are many more
now, but she believes the examples on her website, joyvarnellart.com, and her willingness to travel make her stand out. Her new business
has taken her to California, New York, Indiana, Florida, Louisiana and along
the Gulf Coast, Georgia and up and down the East Coast as well.
“I average about 12-15 weddings around the New Orleans area
and south Louisiana each year,” she said. One such event took place at the
restored art deco Lakefront Airport terminal in New Orleans. “It was my
daughter, Celeste’s, wedding to Don Jude,” said Claudine Hope’Perret. “It was
their first dance, and the painting shows amazing work and detail, even down to
their lit-up tennis shoes.”
No one has ever expressed a dislike of her paintings, though
she did have a girl ask her to re-do the groom’s hair once. “I strive very hard
to get what they want,” she said.
Tim, who is retired from the Norfolk Southern Railroad, goes
to the weddings with Joy and does most of the driving. Anything over 500 miles,
they fly. He packs up her paints and tools at home, unpacks and sets up at the
venue, then repacks. “He calls himself my roadie,” she said. “He’s my public
relations man, too. He mingles.”
Some of the brides are nervous, and others just very excited
and enjoying their day. The grooms are always nervous, and usually say, “Where
do you want me?” Kids just stand and stare.
The most common request she gets while painting is, “Will you
take 10 (or 20) pounds off me?” That often comes from the mother of the bride.
“Sometimes a woman will come up and talk to me because she’s afraid to talk to
Joy,” Tim said. “One woman asked if Joy would take off her stomach and give her
some boobs.” A man might ask her to cover a bald spot.
Sometimes Joy adds details that represent something
meaningful to the couple. Once, she painted a map rolled out to represent a
treasure hunt, because that’s how the groom led the bride to her ring and his
proposal. She has painted favorite dogs, relatives who couldn’t attend, even
dead relatives into the paintings. She has put cats in, too. “Very often the
venue will have one, and I’ll paint it peeping through a window,” she said.
Occasionally she’ll give the bride a brush and let her paint a few strokes of
her own.
She has painted outdoors in all types of weather, from
35-degree temperatures on New Year’s Eve to 95-degrees in the sun. She prefers
the reception to the ceremony because it’s less structured, and she gets to
interact with the people. “That’s part of what makes it fun,” she said.
One of her most memorable events was a Hindu wedding in
Indiana. The bride wanted her to paint the Seven Vows, but she didn’t know what
they were or where they occurred in the ceremony, which was four hours long.
She kept asking people, and no one seemed to know. Parts of the ceremony were
in English, parts in Hindi, and it turned out that the Seven Vows were at the
end. Tim found out and clued her in.
An outdoor wedding in Biloxi,Mississippi, was notable
because a storm came up and sent many guests inside. The bridal party remained
outside, and at the end of ceremony, the couple was framed by a rainbow.
There was one in Fort Deposit they’ll never forget, either,
but for a very different reason. “When we got out of the car there, we realized
we had left my paints at home,” Joy recalled. They carry an emergency set,
which has been upgraded as a result of that trip.
She hates having to tell people she is already booked for
their special date, and has painted two events in one day, as much as 90 miles
apart. One time, she got two separate bookings for the same wedding, at
Aldridge Gardens in Hoover. “The bride’s mother had contacted me and asked for
a painting of the couple’s first dance,” she said. “Then I got another request
for the same wedding. The bride wanted one of the father-daughter dance to give
to her parents. Neither knew about the other’s request.” She had two canvases
on her easel throughout the reception and kept swapping them back and forth so
neither party would know about the other. The backgrounds were the same. “The
bride’s mother began to catch on, but the dad never did,” Joy said. “I presented
both paintings at the end.”
Sometimes she finishes a painting on site but brings home
most of them so she can apply an art varnish as a protective sealer. Her studio
is a sunny 11’ x1 2’ room of her house, with a huge front-facing window. She
and Tim have lived in that house on a mountain top in Springville for 12 years,
surrounded by rock formations, trees and lots of wildlife. Deer and turkey
wander around the property, along with a family of foxes that they feed daily.
The house is filled with Joy’s still-life paintings, such as wine bottles so
real you want to grab one and pour a drink.
Jessica Silvers Posey of Maryland, who married Aaron Posey in
Laurel, Delaware, said Joy painted the most beautiful picture of the couple’s
first dance. “The details are phenomenal,” she said. “I relive that moment
every time I look at the painting. Everyone who walks past this painting in our
house can’t help but stop and stare.”
While mothers, parents, bridesmaids, co-workers and grooms
hire her to paint as a gift, most of the time it’s the brides who engage her
services.
She offers three standard sizes, 18” x 24”, 24” x 30” and 30”
x 36”. Clients may choose something larger but cannot choose whether the
finished product will be vertical or horizontal. “I decide that, depending upon
the venue and what I want to get in the painting,” Joy said. The largest one
she has done was 42” x 48”. Her prices start at $1,000, plus travel expenses if
she goes outside the Birmingham Metro area.
Although 99 percent of her business comes from weddings, she
has painted at Christmas parties, company anniversaries and fundraisers. One of
her corporate events was the opening of Nick Saban’s Mercedes-Benz dealership
on I-459. And yes, the coach was there.
Even though she doesn’t normally turn down an event unless
she is already booked, she did refuse to paint at one recent wedding. Her own
daughter was the bride, the wedding took place at Joy and Tim’s house, and Joy
wanted to relax as much as possible and enjoy it.
“I
will paint it later from photographs,” she said.
“This got bigger and bigger and just took
over, and I quit doing interior design,” she said. The transition from landscapes,
pet portraits and still life to painting people was a struggle at first, but
Joy has a knack for looking at something and being able to paint it. Soon, she
was painting weekdays and attending one or two weddings on the weekends. Now,
it’s a full-time
business. “I did 48
paintings in 2018,” said Joy, who
calls herself a “live-event
artist.”
Her modus operandi is to show up
about three hours before the event, usually wearing a black dress or pants, to
start painting the background. “The vendors usually dress in black, so I do, too,” she explained. The most popular
request is to capture the bride and groom’s first dance, so she usually
sets up at the reception. When the guests come in, she’s ready to paint them into the
scene. When the wedding couple appears, she adds them to the painting.
She tries to get a good likeness
of the bride and groom, but not the people in the background. Most of them can
be recognized by what they’re wearing. She uses the term, “most,” but brides and their mothers
are much more specific than that. “The details of the people in the
painting are amazing,” said Pamela Rhodes, mother of a bride who married in
Addis, Louisiana. “Joy painted my daughter and son-in-law’s first dance as husband and
wife (Peyton and Sean Forestier). We are able to identify every person painted,
even the guy singing on the stage (my brother-in-law).”
“The Creator of the Universe
certainly shines through Joy’s hand,” gushed Jurrita Williams Louie of Dallas, Texas, who got
married in Tuscaloosa, her and her husband’s hometown. “She captured our first dance as
Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Louie as if God came down from heaven to earth to do it. I
can’t
quite get over the detail and thoughtfulness with each stroke.”
Joy’s medium is acrylicsbecause
they have no odor and dry quickly. “I have to work very fast, so at
least the couple can see themselves before they leave,” she said. “People come up and say, ‘It looks just like them,’ as if they are surprised. Well,
that’s
the point.”
As for mistakes, she just paints over them.
At the time she started, she
found only four artists doing what she does. Three were in California, one in
New York. There are many more now, but she believes the examples on her
website, joyvarnellart.com, and her willingness to travel make her stand out. Her new business
has taken her to California, New York, Indiana, Florida, Louisiana and along
the Gulf Coast, Georgia and up and down the East Coast as well.
“I average about 12-15 weddings
around the New Orleans area and south Louisiana each year,” she said. One such event took place at the restored
art deco Lakefront Airport terminal in New Orleans. “It was my daughter, Celeste’s, wedding to Don Jude,” said Claudine Hope’Perret. “It was their first dance, and
the painting shows amazing work and detail, even down to their lit-up tennis
shoes.”
No one has ever expressed a
dislike of her paintings, though she did have a girl ask her to re-do the groom’s hair once. “I strive very hard to get what
they want,” she said.
Tim, who is retired from the
Norfolk Southern Railroad, goes to the weddings with Joy and does most of the
driving. Anything over 500 miles, they fly. He packs up her paints and tools at
home, unpacks and sets up at the venue, then repacks. “He calls himself my roadie,” she said. “He’s my public relations man, too. He mingles.”
Some of the brides are nervous,
and others just very excited and enjoying their day. The grooms are always
nervous, and usually say, “Where do you want me?” Kids just stand and stare.
The most common request she gets
while painting is, “Will you take 10 (or 20) pounds
off me?” That often comes from the
mother of the bride. “Sometimes a woman will come up
and talk to me because she’s afraid to talk to Joy,” Tim said. “One woman asked if Joy would
take off her stomach and give her some boobs.” A man might ask her to cover a
bald spot.
Sometimes Joy adds details that
represent something meaningful to the couple. Once, she painted a map rolled
out to represent a treasure hunt, because that’s how the groom led the bride to
her ring and his proposal. She has painted favorite dogs, relatives who couldn’t attend, even dead relatives into the paintings. She
has put cats in, too. “Very often the venue will have
one, and I’ll paint it peeping through a
window,” she said. Occasionally she’ll give the bride a brush and let her paint a few
strokes of her own.
She has painted outdoors in all
types of weather, from 35-degree temperatures on New Year’s Eve to 95-degrees in the sun. She prefers the
reception to the ceremony because it’s less structured, and she gets
to interact with the people. “That’s part of what makes it fun,” she said.
One of her most memorable events
was a Hindu wedding in Indiana. The bride wanted her to paint the Seven Vows,
but she didn’t know what they were or where
they occurred in the ceremony, which was four hours long. She kept asking
people, and no one seemed to know. Parts of the ceremony were in English, parts
in Hindi, and it turned out that the Seven Vows were at the end. Tim found out
and clued her in.
An outdoor wedding in Biloxi,Mississippi, was notable because a storm came up and sent many guests
inside. The bridal party remained outside, and at the end of ceremony, the
couple was framed by a rainbow.
There was one in Fort Deposit
they’ll never forget, either, but for
a very different reason. “When we got out of the car
there, we realized we had left my paints at home,” Joy recalled. They carry an emergency set, which has
been upgraded as a result of that trip.
She hates having to tell people
she is already booked for their special date, and has painted two events in one
day, as much as 90 miles apart. One time, she got two separate bookings for the
same wedding, at Aldridge Gardens in Hoover. “The bride’s mother had contacted me and asked for a painting of
the couple’s first dance,” she said. “Then I got another request for
the same wedding. The bride wanted one of the father-daughter dance to give to
her parents. Neither knew about the other’s request.” She had two canvases on her easel throughout the
reception and kept swapping them back and forth so neither party would know
about the other. The backgrounds were the same. “The bride’s mother began to catch on, but the dad never did,” Joy said. “I presented both paintings at
the end.”
Sometimes she finishes a
painting on site but brings home most of them so she can apply an art varnish
as a protective sealer. Her studio is a sunny 11’ x1 2’ room of her house, with a huge front-facing window.
She and Tim have lived in that house on a mountain top in Springville for 12
years, surrounded by rock formations, trees and lots of wildlife. Deer and
turkey wander around the property, along with a family of foxes that they feed
daily. The house is filled with Joy’s still-life paintings, such as
wine bottles so real you want to grab one and pour a drink.
Jessica Silvers Posey of Maryland,
who married Aaron Posey in Laurel, Delaware, said Joy painted the most
beautiful picture of the couple’s first dance. “The details are phenomenal,” she said. “I relive that moment every time
I look at the painting. Everyone who walks past this painting in our house can’t help but stop and stare.”
While mothers, parents,
bridesmaids, co-workers and grooms hire her to paint as a gift, most of the
time it’s the brides who engage her
services.
She offers three standard sizes,
18” x 24”, 24” x 30” and 30” x 36”. Clients may choose something larger but cannot
choose whether the finished product will be vertical or horizontal. “I decide that, depending upon the venue and what I
want to get in the painting,” Joy said. The largest one she
has done was 42” x 48”. Her prices start at $1,000, plus travel expenses if
she goes outside the Birmingham Metro area.
Although 99 percent of her
business comes from weddings, she has painted at Christmas parties, company
anniversaries and fundraisers. One of her corporate events was the opening of
Nick Saban’s Mercedes-Benz dealership on
I-459. And yes, the coach was there.
Even though she doesn’t normally turn down an event unless she is already
booked, she did refuse to paint at one recent wedding. Her own daughter was the
bride, the wedding took place at Joy and Tim’s house, and Joy wanted to relax
as much as possible and enjoy it.
“I will paint it later from photographs,” she said.
Impact on state and St. Clair continues upward climb
Story and Photos by Carol Pappas Photos contributed from Honda
Its Alabama beginnings came in a code word: “Bingo.” That was the
name of the secret project that brought five counties together in an
unparalleled partnership to locate Honda Manufacturing of Alabama in the tiny
town of Lincoln.
While the leaders of any one of those counties would have
celebrated its location within their own borders, they realized the potential
impact on the entire region – their constituencies readily included.
So, they went to work to lure the Japanese automobile manufacturer
to a land where ‘y’all’ eventually became ‘us.’ And 20 years later, that impact
those counties dreamed of is unmistakably real.
In a five-county ‘thank you’ tour of Calhoun, Etowah, Jefferson,
St. Clair and Talladega counties, Honda Manufacturing of Alabama and the Economic Development
Partnership of Alabama unveiled the latest economic impact results from the
plant itself and its Key Tier 1 Suppliers.
By the numbers, that’s a $12 billion annual economic impact on
Alabama, providing 45,000 jobs and amounting to 5.4 percent of the Gross State
Product of Alabama.
How does that stack up in St. Clair County? Just add it up: 2,069
total jobs generated; $145.4 million in total earnings and $2.8 million in
local sales taxes.
“There is no doubt about Honda’s impact on St. Clair County,” said
St. Clair Economic Development Council Executive Director Don Smith. He points
to real life examples, like the Honda suppliers who have expanded – and
expanded again.
“The Honda location has been an incredible project for this area
but not just in the thousands of high paying jobs or the billions in economic
impact,” Smith added. “The project brought the communities in this region
together and showed the impact of regional cooperation. The success of
this project helped provide the leaders in St. Clair County the blueprint for the
EDC on communities working together countywide for the benefit of all their
citizens. It’s been a great success story.”
The employment figures underscore the successes felt in St. Clair
County. Honda employs more than 600 St. Clair Countians, making it the largest
employer in the county that isn’t actually located in the county.
Jason Goodgame, vice president of Goodgame Co., tells his own
real-life example. Goodgame Co. is now in the top 20 of largest general
contractors in Alabama. He once likened it to the centerpiece of a commercial
for Honda. “Honda took a small, family-owned company and made us into what we
are today.”
Similar success stories have played out all over the region and
state, said Steve Sewell, executive vice president of EDPA, who worked with efforts
to bring Honda to Alabama from the beginning.
Projections back then versus reality now:
6,800
jobs projected statewide – 45,000 actual jobs created so far
$186
million payroll projected – $1.3 billion in actual earnings to Alabama
households
$2.1 billion
direct and indirect impact income – $12 billion actual impact
Bringing the numbers closer to home, Sewell cited projections
versus reality for St. Clair County:
760 jobs
forecast – more than 2,000 filled
$5.9
million in earnings predicted – more than $145 million earned
$164,000
expected in new tax revenue – more than $2.8 million collected
Eighteen years after production began, Sewell said, “It has been a
phenomenal success story beyond anyone’s expectations.”