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A Dog’s Life

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Rural paradise, Kelly Run Farm, known far and wide for breeding, training retrievers

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

It is one of those hidden-away places that you just might miss if you weren’t looking for it. But find the gated dirt road leading to Kelly Run Farm, round the bend and you come face-to-face with a rustic paradise.

A log home, wide-open pasture and ponds against a backdrop of towering trees make an ideal setting for Clarke and Dyxie Pauly, who wanted to get away from the harried pace of big-city life and pursue their passion for dogs.

To the Paulys, the land is their paradise. To their four-legged friends — some they own; some simply guests in their boarding operation — the land is their heaven.

Clarke Pauly has built a national reputation on this 30-acre tract that lies between Pell City and Odenville, breeding and training field Golden Retrievers. On a recent visit to Kelly Run Farm, named for the creek that runs nearby, the Paulys were playing host to two litters of Golden Retrievers, 13 in all. Theirs was a seven-week stay before moving on to points across the country, filling the wish lists of hunters and dog lovers and to be used as guide dogs in two instances.

The 9-puppy litter belonged to Taz, the Paulys’ 4-year-old field dog, and Mr. D.J. from Tennessee, who is a confirmation or show dog. It was the Paulys’ first attempt at breeding these distinctly different types of Golden Retrievers, but the result was nothing short of an absolute cuteness guaranteed to evoke a smile from all who see them. “They came out real pretty,” said Clarke, who had his hands full trying to get nine scurrying puppies to pause a moment to look in the direction of a camera.

Rebel, the Paulys’ 9-year-old, and Sky from Florida are true field dogs, and they are the parents of the 4-puppy litter. “They are true working dogs,” Clarke said. But at this moment, they’re just plain puppies, exploring everything around them.

At 5 and 6 weeks, he had them out touring the property, getting them used to all types of topography. “That way, nothing really scares them. They’re used to all terrains,” Dyxie noted.

While the puppies have been an enjoyable diversion at Kelly Run Farm, it’s the business of boarding dogs and training Golden Retrievers that keeps the Paulys the busiest.

When they moved to St. Clair County in December of 1999, it was to have just the right place to train dogs. Clarke began training after Dyxie’s Golden Retriever went jogging with him back in Birmingham. “She would stay to my left and I thought, ‘That’s cool.’ ” He began to do more and more and then started training dogs in city parks but soon found they weren’t ideal for his newfound hobby. “When the police were called on us, I knew it wasn’t working,” he said.

They began a search for just the right property and just as visitors do today, they rounded the bend and came face to face with their dream home.

“We always wanted a log home,” Dyxie recalled. One Labor Day, they saw an ad that said: “Log home with 20 acres.”

“It had to be just so,” Clarke said, remembering a mental checklist he had made for the perfect place before their arrival. “We couldn’t see it from the road.” But when they turned in, “both of us looked at each other and said, ‘Wow!’ It had a swamp. Every criteria was met. It was like the list. We built the ponds the way we wanted. It was just our dream house,” Clarke said.

“It was meant to be,” Dyxie said, echoing the sentiment.

And it has been. The Paulys have been partnering with Jackie Mertens of Topbrass Retrievers in Madison, Fla., on the training side of the business virtually ever since. “We raise. She markets. If you want field Goldens, Jackie’s the woman to see,” Clarke said.

On the boarding side, it was a business that eventually evolved. “We had enough runs for our dogs, but friends kept asking, ‘Can you keep my dog?’ We thought it was a good idea. In 2003, we started boarding,” Dyxie said.

Today, they can board up to 52 dogs at one time, and more than 1,000 clients have entrusted their dogs’ care at Kelly Run Farm, almost a doggie day camp with room to roam, exercise, play and swim. Among their more famous guests was a Golden Retriever who played “Duke” on the Bush’s Beans commercials three years running. In the commercials, Duke is the talking dog who tries to sell the secret family recipe for the highly successful line of beans.

No fear, he didn’t sell the recipe on any of his trips to Kelly Run, but his owners did thank Clarke and Dyxie for hosting their star with a special, framed photograph sequence of their boarder of notoriety in some of the advertisements in which he appeared.

Others may not be as famous, but they are no less loved. It is evident from the moment you step onto the property. And that love carries over to the discipline of training dogs.

Clarke agrees to demonstrate years worth of work in training Taz and Rebel, whose playful personalities come out as they jump and run, circling Clarke and making them look like any other dog who loves the attention of their master. But when it’s time to go to ‘work,’ their keen focus is all on Clarke and the job at hand.

On this particular afternoon, Clarke demonstrates the hunt for a downed bird. A gunshot sounds. Taz is more than ready to take off, but she doesn’t. She is at complete attention — like a statue at Clarke’s side. He sounds a short whistle, and she is off and running like a strong gust of wind. Another whistle sounds, and the abruptness of the stop is amazing. She turns, faces Clarke and sits. With a hand motion to the left from Clarke, the gust catches hold again, and she speedily heads directly toward her prey. She can’t see it, but the whistles and the motions from Clarke telegraph the exact location to her.

She runs into the woods and in a moment or so, she heads back with the prize from the woods and the praise awaiting her from Clarke a hundred yards away.

It’s just another day at Kelly Run Farm, where a dog’s life truly is the good life. And in return, the Paulys enjoy the good life, too. Nothing tells that story quite as well their own words in “About Us” on their website.

Here’s a hint, the title reads: “About Us (and the dogs that own us).”

Features

Flying High

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St. Clair residents revel in the thrill of hang gliding

Story by Loyd McIntosh
Photos by Jerry Martin

Since the time the first human being turned his eyes upward and saw a strange-featured creature flapping its wings in the air, mankind has dreamed of flying. For thousands upon thousands of years, fulfillment of that dream remained elusive, even as Homo sapiens conquered practically everything else. But a millennia of frustration, experimentation and spectacular failure was erased when a couple of bicycle builders from North Carolina named Orville and Wilbur became the first humans to achieve flight a little more than 109 years ago.

Since then, flying has become, for the most part, ho-hum. Routine. Another day at the office for millions of people traveling from meeting to meeting, airport to airport every single day; security checks in shoeless feet with unfamiliar hands getting a little too familiar.

If this experience makes you want to jump off the nearest cliff, rest assured, you’re not alone. But, before you leap, be sure to strap a giant kite to your back and get ready to really experience the miracle of flight. Some people might consider this method of flight, known as hang gliding, to be a little dangerous and a whole lot of crazy, but to a handful of St. Clair County residents, hang gliding is one heck of a thrill.

“It’s awesome,” said Bill Turner, a Springville resident and a dentist in Center Point. Turner at first glance may appear rather conservative and measured for the risky sport of hang gliding. But this self-described extreme sports enthusiast was introduced to hang gliding back in 1999 and almost 13 years later, hasn’t yet become bored with the feeling and excitement he gets from flying.

“My best description is if you can remember the dreams you had when you were a young child where you were just flying. You know, arms out flying around over things,” he said. “If you take that and put a small fan in front of your face to blow air on you, that’s what it’s like.”

Turner is part of a group of local gliders who are members of the Alabama Hang Gliding Association, a group started by another St. Clair County resident and avid glider, Phillip Dabney, back in 1980. The group has seen some ups and downs among its membership ranks over the years, but throughout the winter and spring, dozens of hang gliders from around the state make their way to launch sites dotting ridges and cliffs along Chandler Mountain.

Peaking at an elevation of 1,529 feet and overlooking Springville on one side and Oneonta in Blount County on the other, the mountain is a popular spot for hang gliders hungry for a place close to home to pursue their passion, even if it means having to pack up their gear with little advanced planning. “I started my own landscaping company in order to have more flexible hours and to be able to go hang gliding at a moment’s notice,” said Dabney, who lives close to his favorite launch point on Chandler Mountain near Springville. He and Turner say the challenge is the unpredictable nature of the weather patterns on the mountain.

“Everything is sort of determined by the wind and the weather,” Turner explained. “That ridge happens to face southeast, which means in the winter time, when we have those unseasonably warm days — 65 degrees, when normally it’s been 40 all week long — you get the wind blowing out of the southeast that takes that Florida air and warms the area around here and makes it delightful for us to fly.

“You want the wind to blow into the ridge and be deflected upward so when you launch, you’ll get up in that airlift that’s running along the ridge and then from that you can run into thermals and get up much higher,” he added.

Turner caught the hang gliding bug a dozen years ago after agreeing to accompany his brother, Jim, to Lookout Mountain near Chattanooga, home of some spectacular flying and where one of the nation’s best hang gliding schools happens to be located. Turner said his brother asked him to come along and take some photos during a tandem flight with an instructor. Initially believing his brother had gone a little loco in the dome, Turner agreed to go and brought his youngest son, Grant, along. Before he knew it, his son was wanting to fly. Turner suddenly realized he had a decision to make.

“So, we get up there and I sign him up and I’m thinking, ‘I’m going to have to come back here next Saturday and fly if the world finds out that my youngest son and my brother flew and I didn’t,” Turner recalled. “So, I plopped down another $125 and signed up for it.”

Before Turner could fly that morning, a warm weather storm came through, and his turn was postponed until the afternoon. By then, the choppy winds from the early morning were long gone. The conditions couldn’t have been more perfect. “My first flight was in air that had been calmed by the rain and was perfectly smooth, and I mean it just hooked me right in. It was so smooth, so nice and so much fun,” he said. That was in October 1999. “I’ve loved it ever since.”

Before long, Turner graduated from tandem flights to solo hang gliding and is now a tandem instructor himself. He said the thrill he received from hang gliding was so intense that it may have affected his judgment once in a while as a new pilot. However, even the most experienced pilots can have a close call or two — jumping off a cliff always comes with a certain amount of risk. Turner said he’s learned to dial back the adrenaline-junkie side of his personality over time.

“I probably let my love for it interfere with my common sense,” he said with a laugh. “I think I’m a little wiser now than I was then, but it gets in your system, and you love it so much that you just have to go every weekend.

“I’ve had a few close calls, more than I’d like to admit. Every pilot that has flown has had some close calls,” he noted. “There is a saying in aviation, ‘There are old pilots, there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots.’”

St. Clair County really is a sportsman’s paradise with plenty of lakes and acres upon acres of undisturbed land to take in and experience nature. But, Turner said, there is simply nothing like experiencing the surrounding area from the air silently and without so much as a windshield between the pilot and the world.

“We have lots of interaction with birds of prey up there. Not necessarily intentionally,” he said. “One of the things we look for when we try to find rising air is a bird, usually it’s a turkey vulture, but sometimes there are eagles or falcons, all sorts of birds like that, that will be circling, and we head into that air and try to get with them.

“Many times I have launched from Springville, and I have been on the wingtip of an eagle, and we’re circling each other. It is absolutely amazing. Sometimes we come up on birds that will be doing the ridge lift and really you’re just a few feet from them. Literally, I’ve been within 3 feet of a big bird, wings all the way out, and I could have reached out and touched it if I had wanted to,” Turner said. “The beauty up in the sky, particularly if you’re flying late at night and the sun is setting, is just amazing. And when the air smooths out, there are times when you can really fly with just two fingers on that control bar. It really is wonderful.”

For Dabney, who has been flying for almost 35 years, one of his favorite memories involved experiencing a certain weather phenomenon most people only hear about from meteorologists.

“I was flying with a friend over Blount Mountain. We were about 2,000 feet over the top of the mountain and flew out over the Big Oak Girls Ranch, and it started snowing. As we got lower, it turned to sleet then light rain,” Dabney said. “By the time we landed in the Washington Valley it was sunny, and none of the precipitation had made it to the ground. It had all evaporated in a drier layer of air near the ground. This phenomenon is called ‘virga.’ You may have heard (TV meteorologist) James Spann mention it.”

Regardless of the reasons for flying, which mountain you launch from, or whether it’s a tandem flight or solo, Turner said the idea of flying thousands of feet above the earth with only a helmet for protection is a buzz that never gets old. “There’s something incredibly exciting about having that big kite on your back, rolling down a hill, and realizing that you’re the only one controlling that thing.

“It’s so simple. It’s just pure flight.”

Features

Playing to a Full House

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Local Color is Springville’s ‘colorful’ music spot

Story by Mike Bolton
Photos by Jerry Martin

It’s barely dark thirty on a Friday evening, and a steady stream of vehicles with tags from Jefferson County, Shelby County, Blount County, Cullman County and other locales vie for a spot in the dimly lit parking lot of the indistinct brick building on Springville’s main thoroughfare. The occupants of the vehicles slip almost unnoticed through the side door and enter a world many Springville residents have no idea exists.

It is too obvious of a location to house something sinister, and its occupants are too nicely dressed and genteel for it to be a honky-tonk. Many a weekend passerby has seen the full parking lot across the street from Burton’s grocery store and with raised eyebrows pondered just what goes on in that place.

If the conspiracy-minded speculate something odd is going on within the building’s walls, at least give them credit for a lucky guess. Once inside, a visitor discovers a place that seems way out of place in Springville, Alabama. Step through the side door, and one might be immediately enveloped in the haunting sounds of a band from Ireland strumming Celtic music, or the toe-tapping music of a band cranking out Dixieland jazz. The next evening, a visitor might encounter the unmistakable sound of a banjo dominating a bluegrass set or watch incredulous that the twang of a bass fiddle from a folk group is shaking the liquid in their glass.

But for a few exceptions in major cities, music halls and supper clubs have pretty much gone the way of full-service gas stations. In Springville, however, Local Color is hanging in there like a rusty fish hook. For 10 years, the music hall has on weekends offered live music accompanied by a fanciful dinner. Despite the fact the business does no advertising, music lovers and a wide array of music groups find the path to the side door each weekend.

The business is operated by Springville residents Merle Dollar and Garry Burttram, who decided a decade ago to combine Burttram’s love of music and cooking and Dollar’s love of art into one of those dream ventures that for most people would stay just a dream. They both laughingly say their banks accounts attest to the fact that it is strictly a labor of love.

“We borrowed $10,000 to get started and have operated it on a shoestring budget every since,” said Dollar who served as an art teacher at Springville High School for 10 years and at Duran Junior High in Pell City for 16 years and now teaches art classes in the building. “Gary is a retired art teacher from Moody High School. He is truly an amazing person.”

Dollar says their idea was to incorporate music, art and good food in a quaint setting. The old building that once housed a boat-builder’s shop and feed store seemed like a natural. The building’s original windows have been replaced by stained glass, and memorabilia from everyone from the Beatles to Elvis adorn the walls along with Dollar’s artwork. Classic album covers and posters promoting coming attractions line the brick walls.

“We were looking for a name, and Local Color seemed like a logical choice,” she said.

Although he’s Local Color’s resident chef, and his food draws rave reviews from its patrons, Burttram insists it is all about the music for him.

“I had no choice but to love music because my parents loved music,” he said. “I can remember as a little boy hiding under the bed and watching people come to our house to listen to music. I can still remember seeing nothing but the bobby socks and penny loafers as they danced.”

Local Color has become a stopping off point for many diverse groups from Alabama, the South and even from around the world. Its reputation as a place that is a throwback in time makes musicians want to play there, band members say.

“Of all the places we have played it’s probably our favorite,” said Jerry Ryan of Three-on-a-String, the Alabama trio that has been playing across Alabama and the South for 40 years. “There’s no smoke and no TVs playing in the background like at most places today. They cater to musicians and make it a fun place to play. They know what it feels like to perform, and they enhance it.”

Ryan says music halls like Local Color have fallen by the wayside over the past several decades as television, cable and sports have become the primary entertainment. He says Local Color has survived because of attention to detail.

“It’s set up for music,” he said. “It’s one of the few places left that someone can sit right there close to the band and hear good, top-notch groups.”

There is a cover charge, and it varies according to what group performs. The entire cover charge goes to the group performing that night. Patrons may also eat dinner and can purchase wine and other alcoholic beverages.

“It is intimate, diverse, clean,” said Local Color regular Nancy Smith, a former Springville resident who now lives in Blount County. “It draws a lot of people from Birmingham. It’s just cozy and adorable.

“I bring a lot of people from Birmingham, and they are always surprised. It’s just not what you’d expect to find in little, old Springville. You can come here and listen to bluegrass, the blues, jazz and even rock and roll. I just love the diverse offerings.”

Local Color has no advertising budget and survives word of mouth and by the 1,900 e-mails it sends out each week, Dollar says. The music hall got a tremendous boost last year when the Alabama Department of Tourism and Travel, which declared 2011 “The Year of Alabama Music” promoted Local Color as a must-visit spot for live music in the state.

Local Color finds its musicians by word of mouth, too.

“I’d say about 99 percent of the groups contact us,” said Dollar on a night when a busload of patrons from Cullman had come to hear Three-on-a-String. “Four Shillings Short, a Celtic group from Ireland, was in the U.S. and heard about us and wanted to know if they could come perform.

“Another that surprises many people is Janet Hall of Fox 6 news in Birmingham. She performs twice a year. She is an incredible singer and songwriter.”

Singers and songwriters and groups, including Jeff Otwell, the Dill Pickers, Martini Shakers, Sweetwater Road, the Legendary Pineapple Skinners, Once in a Blue Moon, Steven Young (who wrote Seven Bridges Road for the Eagles) and Clair Lynch perform at Local Color annually.

Local Color’s house band is Something Else, a trio comprised of Dollar, Sylvia Waid and Peggy Jones, who have performed together for 26 years. The trio plays music from the 1920s to the 1960s and is primarily a swing and boogie group. The three ladies are, in addition to the opening group, ambassadors for Local Color and greet patrons. l

Local Color is open on Friday and Saturday nights for live music and on Sundays for lunch only. Reservations are recommended for the live performances. To make reservations, call 205-467-0334.

Features

Custom Candy

Independent business bringing its sweet operation to Moody

By Amanda Pritchard
Photos by Jerry Martin

Creating a candy wonderland for children of all ages, store owner and creator Hanson Watkins opened Indie Candy in Crestline Village with that goal in mind. The business has thrived, and now she is expanding production in Moody.

In looking for the perfect place to expand her business, Watkins searched within an hour radius all around Birmingham, but ultimately knew she wanted to settle in Moody. “My father has done business in Moody for 30 years. It has a great reputation.”

This natural gourmet sweets shop specializes in allergen-free candies. Still keeping its storefront in Crestline Village at 73 Church St., Watkins will over time be building her workforce from seven employees to approximately 25 once the expansion is complete.

Featuring treats that Watkins calls “super duper handmade,” Indie Candy provides sweets that are free from the big eight allergens — wheat, soy, peanuts, eggs, tree nuts, dairy, fish and shellfish. “If it’s on the market and fits in our all-natural, allergen-free category, then we have it,” Watkins said.

Producing hard candy, chocolate and gummies, Watkins says, “Indie Candy focuses heavily on quality ingredients, keeping things fresh and shipping immediately.” Citing its best-seller as flavored gummies, Indie Candy packages its edibles in festive seasonal wrappings. “Everyone’s gone crazy for our pumpkin pie brittle. We’ll have it packaged in our gift tins for Christmas.”

Making it a mission to bring new experiences to candy lovers, young and old, Indie Candy Public Relations Director Beth Norris said, “Watching kids come in and eat their first piece of chocolate is out of control. Women come in all the time who haven’t been able to have candy and ask which section can they have. When we say all of it, they get so excited.”

Celebrating brisk Halloween sales, the staff at Indie Candy shipped more than 8,000 individual pieces of candy.

Indie Candy does not just make candy for others. They treat themselves, too. Watkins and her family have had trouble finding the right edibles without allergens and food dyes, so she looked to herself to provide the goodies. Mango and cherry gummies are her personal favorites, while Norris says she prefers the truffle apple.

Offering alternatives to allergens, Indie Candy can be purchased at its Crestline location or through its website at www.indiecandy.com. New customers can also “like” Indie Candy’s Facebook page to find out what’s cooking in the kitchen.

Indie Candy’s move to Moody with its production facilities will be completed soon. The new location is at Moody Acres where Minnie’s Bakery once occupied space.

Looking forward to expanding her business, Watkins said, “This is such a big deal for families who haven’t been able to have candy before. We can’t help but feel like what we do matters.”

Inventive Mind

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Master ‘tinkerer’ turning heads around the world

Story by Mike Bolton
Photos by Jerry Martin

For those who have never met St. Clair County’s Wayne Keith, the first impression is never what was expected.

To the Mother Earth News crowd to whom he is becoming a cult hero of sorts, he doesn’t have the long hair and tie-dyed T-shirt they envisioned. To the college professors who are flying him across the U.S. to speak to distinguished panels so his vast knowledge may be harvested, he’s neither the polished engineer with a pocket protector full of slide rules or the quirky inventor that they might have imagined.

Wayne Keith is just a 63-year-old farmer in overalls who likes to tinker. “He’s just a regular guy” is the resounding response from those who meet him for the first time.

On this morning, Keith arrives at the Jack’s in Springville, and his old, wood-burning Dodge truck that is causing such a stir across the U.S. and in foreign countries doesn’t even get a second glance. An old pickup truck with three big drums in the back is as common of a sight in Alabama as Hoverounds are in south Florida.

Inside, he joins the gathering of old men who assemble daily at what they jokingly refer to as the table of knowledge. There, the old men sip coffee and feign genius as they attempt to solve the world’s problems. Keith’s presence in the group is a paradox. To the old men, he’s just Wayne, the local farmer that they have known all of their lives. He is unique, however, in that he’s actually a genius solving the world’s problems.

While the old men tell their stories, Keith doesn’t bother to explain that he has just returned from the Go-Green Festival in Missouri, where his wood-burning truck was held in great awe by patrons. Nor does he explain that he was the keynote speaker at the Environmental Protection Agency’s national convention in Atlanta. There, the good old boy armed with nothing more than a Springville High diploma was surrounded by some of the most-educated environmental scholars in the world.

“When I sit on these panels, I’m the only one that doesn’t have Ph.D at the end of my name,” he says from the log cabin he built in the woods near the St. Clair Correctional Facility in St. Clair Springs. “It’s always a little humbling.”

Before Keith got the world’s scholars attention with a truck that burns firewood instead of gas and travels 5,200 miles on a cord of firewood, he says he was just another bored high school student and an uninspired worker who was unhappy with his job for four decades.

“In high school, all I cared about was hunting, fishing and building stuff,” he said. “Going to college was never considered.

“I worked in the engineering department of a trailer manufacturing plant, and I spent five years building small trailers on my own. I was a Springville policeman for years with the K-9 unit, and then I went to St. Clair Prison as the dog trainer there. The whole time I farmed.”

The entire time he was working in a controlled environment, he yearned for something else, he says. An avid reader, he once read about vehicles from several countries being forced to run off of burning wood because gas was in short supply during World War II. That piqued his interest.

“When we had the oil crisis in the United States in 1973, and the price of gas shot up, I began reading more and more on the process of gasification (burning bio-mass to convert into a flammable vapor),” he said. “I learned everything I could find out about it.

“But in 1974, the oil embargo was lifted, and gas prices went back down. I just kind of forgot about it.”

Keith became somewhat of a noted tinkerer and inventor in the years that followed. He built a sawmill from junk steel he gathered from around his farm, and he cut wood for locals wanting to build their own homes. He estimates he has cut lumber for about 60 local homes.

He eventually cut wood from his own farm and built his own log cabin on the property. The beautiful home boasts oak floors and beams as well as numerous other woods throughout.

“No other human hands except those of me and my wife touched the cabin while we were building it,” he said. “We never bought anything to build the house except nails.

“The sawmill has operated 12 years, and there has never been a breakdown.”

Building your own home isn’t that big of a deal for many in rural Alabama, but Keith’s next invention got local tongues wagging. He took scrap metal from his farm and built what he called a “Flying Jenny.” The carnival-like ride had kids across the county clamoring for a ride, especially when they learned it would toss them in a nearby creek.

But it was Keith’s next project and the increasing cost of electricity that made local adults sit up and take notice. The 63 year-old built two windmills on his farm near his house, and the wind-driven fans supplied more than half of the electricity needs for his home. Soon after, others wanted plans, so they could build their own on their farms.

“The windmills have a generator that direct current to a battery bank,” he explained. “The battery bank has an inverter that converts the battery power into power that can run your home.”

Those windmills were destroyed in a storm earlier this year, but he plans to build them back.

Keith insists he is neither an environmental nut nor should he be a hero to the “Green” crowd, but almost reluctantly he admits he more and more is being seen as such. He insists he’s just a tinkerer who is looking for a cheaper way of getting through everyday life.

“I’m not a tree hugger,” he says with a laugh, “but if something I build allows me to do things more cheaply and it is more environmentally friendly, that’s fine, too.”

Gas prices fuel Keith’s innovation again
Rising gas prices in recent years once again piqued Keith’s interest in the wood-burning powered vehicles of World War II.

“I drew a line in the sand and decided that in 2004 if gas hit $1.50 a gallon, I was going to do something,” he said. “When gas reached that point, I started studying.”

The worldwide availability of cheap gasoline and the inefficiency of wood-burning vehicles caused the gasification process to pretty much be ignored following World War II. Keith by no means invented the process, but scholars say what he is done has perfected it to the point that it has now become viable.

What gasification does is take a bio-mass, such as dried wood, and burn it in a low-oxygen container. That converts the burning bio-mass into a combination of hydrogen, carbon monoxide and methane, the vapors of which are flammable. The vapors are piped from the three containers (one of which is a fuel filter made from hay) in the back of the truck to the engine where it burns like gasoline.

Auburn University and Texas A&M have run extensive tests on Keith’s trucks and have come up with startling conclusions. Since the vehicle completely burns the wood and emits no smoke, it results in 70 percent lower emissions than the total electric vehicles on the market today. The only real emissions are the ashes which are called bio-char, and they make excellent fertilizers for gardens. There is also water condensation that must be drained.

Tests show the process is 37 percent more fuel efficient than gasoline.

David L. Bransby, professor of bioenergy and bioproducts at Auburn University, says Keith is not some country bumpkin inventor. He says Keith’s near perfection of the gasification process has created interest across the U.S. and world.

“He’s an extremely smart individual,” Bransby said.

“I know of no well-qualified engineers that have been able to accomplish what he’s done. And he’s done it without any college education. His understanding of the process is exceptional.”

Keith’s plans are to work out a few more kinks in the process and then apply for patents. At that point, he plans to sell the process to a company that will convert trucks from gas to wood-burning.

Land-grant universities from across the country are interested in the process for an entirely different application. Bransby says he doesn’t see the process as being viable for most U.S. drivers but sees it as a low-cost source of energy for farms. An internal combustion engine coupled with a generator could produce electricity to power chicken houses and cattle operations and the waste-heat generated from the engine’s exhaust could supply heating needs.

Meanwhile, Keith is traveling the country speaking to universities about the process. He’s spoken in Michigan three times and in Kentucky, West Virginia, Florida and other states. He even drove one of his trucks to the Bonneville Salt Flats, where he set a world speed record for wood-burning vehicles.

“Some of these trips, as the one to Bonneville, are up to 2,000 miles round-trip,” Keith said. “You may literally see 1 million vehicles on the road on a trip like that.

“It’s pretty neat to think that you are the only one running off of wood.”

Volunteerism Defined

Terry & Sandy Gamble, Robert Hood help
Alpha Ranch rebuild after April’s deadly tornadoes

By Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Jerry Martin

“Hear that wind coming down the valley?” asks Sandy Gamble, turning her left ear toward the door, which sounds like it’s about to rattle off its hinges. She laughs nervously. “Yeah, it’s scary. There are no trees now to block it.”

Sitting in a folding metal chair in Alpha Ranch’s new shop building, she glances at the door and windows, as if expecting that wind to pick up the shop and carry it away. It wouldn’t be the first time. It happened April 27, when tornadoes tore through Shoal Creek Valley, destroying almost everything in their path.

Sandy and her husband, Terry, live in the Clay-Trussville area normally. But nothing has been normal for them since the storms. On May 23, they parked their 26-foot travel trailer at Alpha Ranch on County Road 22, better known as Shoal Creek Road. Volunteers extraordinaire, they have devoted themselves to rebuilding the ranch and helping Gary and Phyllis Liverett rebuild their lives.

They came out to Alpha Ranch with Bridgepoint Community Church (Clay-Chalkville) a few days after the April storms. Their congregation put in half a day helping with the cleanup. “We came home that day crying, saying we can do more than just half a day with the church,” Sandy says.

The Gambles met the Liveretts more than 20 years ago, when they worked together at Bridgepoint’s Camp Chula Vista. They had kept in touch, so the Gambles thought about the Liveretts when the storms hit. “We moved here to help clear debris and for her to cook and for me to work,” says Terry, taking a puff from his cigarillo.

After the tornadoes, nothing remained of the original 120-by-40-foot shop building but the concrete slab. Used to teach trades such as auto repair, carpentry and electrical wiring to the at-risk teenage boys who live at Alpha, its reconstruction was a priority so the Liveretts could store materials and machinery while rebuilding the ranch. Once the shop was 85 percent complete, most volunteers had gone home. Only the Gambles and Robert Hood, an Odenville man who has worked alongside them, remained.

“Robert and I did all the finish work,” Terry explains, while keeping a watchful eye on his 28-month-old grandson, Hayden, who is running around in miniature overalls asking grandpa to kiss his boo-boos. “We built the work benches, the cabinets, the roof and walls, did the electrical work and the plumbing.”

With the shop almost complete, attention has turned to rebuilding the two homes destroyed by the tornadoes. One will be occupied by the Crawfords (daughter, son-in-law and nine grandchildren of the Liveretts) and the other by Phyllis and Gary. Maybe the houses will be complete by Christmas, maybe not.

Two years ago, Terry retired from Norfolk Southern Railway and the Army Reserves, two positions he held simultaneously for 36 years. He was deployed five out of the final 10 years of reserve duty, serving in the first Gulf War, in Afghanistan, Iraq, the Horn of Africa and Bosnia. His job was humanitarian assistance, rebuilding roads, schools and churches that had been destroyed by war. He had seen plenty of destruction, yet none of that prepared him for what he found in Shoal Creek Valley after the April storms.

“I was shocked at the devastation, but more shocked at the attitudes of the people out here,” Terry says. “These people lost everything, yet you did not see them down. They just took things day by day.”

Sandy often cooked breakfast for 50 and lunch for 150 workers and valley residents. At first, she and Terry bought the food, then donations started coming in. “One Saturday we didn’t have any food, and a pipe workers’ union pulled up with barbecue and baked beans,” she says. “We never ran out of food. We couldn’t keep water, Gatorade and ice, though. People were drinking four to six bottles a day during the hot summer. Hardin’s Chapel kept us supplied. I bet they bought 20,000 bottles of water.”

Cooking for hundreds of people and building a shop isn’t exactly what the Gambles had planned for their leisure years. They spent the first year of Terry’s retirement traveling the world, aided by Terry’s “space available” status on military flights. They were accustomed to helping people in need, giving money here, a spare bedroom there, but had never encountered the overwhelming needs they found in Shoal Creek Valley. “What got to me was the sentimental things I saw in the lake after the storms, like the teddy bears and the sofa and the dormers to the Liverett house,” Sandy says.

Terry has a brand-new bass boat that didn’t see water all summer, and he is building a street rod that he hasn’t touched in months. He has reduced his work load to three days a week, however, and manages to get in a little hunting.

So, what are the Gambles taking away from this experience?

“We thought we were going to be blessing other people out here, but we’ve received the blessings,” says Sandy, a retired school teacher. “I had surgery on my hand in October, and I was homesick for this place.”

Terry appreciates his new friendship with fellow volunteer, Robert Hood. After school started, most of the other volunteers went home, but the Gambles and Hood remained. “I never knew Robert before all this, but I’ve enjoyed working with him immensely,” Terry says. “Gary will make a list and Robert and I will go down it, checking off as we get something done. We work well together.”

Like the Gambles, Hood thought he would put in a few days at the Ranch, then return to his normal routine. “Extreme Ministries (a Pell City-based organization that mobilizes volunteers for construction-related projects) sent out an email through our church (First Baptist of Pell City) asking for volunteers for three weeks,” Hood says. “I said I would work three days, Monday through Wednesday, for those three weeks. The need was so great, after one day I realized that wasn’t going to be enough.”

Hood says he could find plenty to do at his house, such as picking up limbs and raking leaves, but in Shoal Creek, he gets a sense of satisfaction knowing he’s giving something back to the community.

A retired plant manager for O’Neal Steel, he is accustomed to volunteering, though. For eight years he put in 2,000 hours a year as a certified reserve deputy sheriff for St. Clair County. He gave that up in 2008 when congestive heart failure made it difficult to wrestle detainees to the ground. He had never wielded a hammer much or installed a toilet before his stretch at Alpha.

“Now I’ve done roofing, plumbing, wiring, carpentry, I’ve set trusses, whatever needed to be done,” he says. “But I tell people I just come out here for the lunches.”

Neither the Gambles nor Hood know when their lives will regain a sense of normalcy. “We’ll go home for Christmas, but we won’t go home permanently until the Lord tells us to,” Sandy Gamble says.

“How much longer will I be here? My wife wants to know, too,” says Hood.

“She has no problem with it, though. Since the latter part of September, I’ve cut back to three days. I volunteer two days a week for the county, filing papers at the courthouses in Ashville and Pell City.”

Ann Bobo, Terry’s first cousin and fellow church member, says the Gambles always have been very giving, very kind people who love to do things for others.

“They are always willing to help somebody out, but privately so that they don’t get any accolades for it,” she says.

Gary Liverett can’t say enough good things about Hood and the Gambles.

“Terry and Sandy have such heart. Sandy has helped feed people up and down the valley. They are a good example of what real volunteerism is,” he states. “Most people have gone back home. They’ve sacrificed and stayed.”

He never knew Hood until he came out with Extreme Ministries. “He has worked constantly and tirelessly; he, too, is the epitome of volunteerism,” Liverett said.