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St. Clair Remembers

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 19^th 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 75^th 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 99^th 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 401^st Bombardment Group of the 8^th 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 – 2^nd 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 8^th 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.

Three Veterans, Three Wars

Stories from Korea, Vietnam and Iraq

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.

Whitney Junction

A place of memories, lore
and a storied past

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 133^rd 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!”

Wake Surfing Logan Martin

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.”

Features

Joy Varnell

Capturing the living
moment on her canvas

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.