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Dam to Dam

It’s not an easy trip, but you can do it. Many have. And the adventure of it is a memory they won’t soon forget.

By boat, you can travel from Logan Martin Dam to Neely Henry Dam or vice versa. The lakes are easily recognizable. They’re the ones with the traffic. But between Riverside on Logan Martin and Ragland on Neely Henry, it’s seems like it’s just you and the Coosa River.

The wildlife, the pristine waters, the wooded landscape – it is all a sight to behold. Pell City’s Randy Royster calls it “the survival trip,” a trek he and a group of friends used to take annually in the fall.

But it’s worth it, he says. “The scenery is spectacular, and it just gives you a feeling of the great outdoors. We always went in late September or early October while the water is still up, and it is just so beautiful that time of year.”

By road, it’s more than 30 miles from one dam to the other through St. Clair County. That’s about a 30-minute drive. By water? Better pack a lunch … and a depth-finder. Alabama Outdoor News reports it as a 50-mile stretch, and there are plenty of shallow spots along the way. Come May 1 or before mid-October, when Logan Martin is full pool of 465 feet above sea level, the trip is a lot easier than a time of winter pool.

It’s not an easy trip in terms of time. “It takes us all day to get to Neely Henry, turn around and come back to our home in Pine Harbor,” which is about 20 minutes from Logan Martin Dam,” Royster said. “We have had a great time along the way with good friends, beautiful scenery and a boat load of memories.”

You can find a handy guide of the river between the two dams in the Maps and Guides section of loganmartinlakelife.com.

Neely Henry by the numbers

Neely Henry Dam was the first Alabama Power Co. dam on the Coosa River, which also saw the construction of Weiss, Logan Martin and Bouldin and the redevelopment of Lay Dam.

It was put into service June 2, 1966, and its concrete is 605 feet long and 104 feet at its highest point.

The lake’s elevation is 508 feet above sea level. It has 11,200 acres of water. The shoreline is 339 miles, and its maximum depth of water is 53 feet. It is 77.6 miles long, heading toward Weiss Lake.

Logan Martin by the numbers

Logan Martin Dam was the second dam built along the Coosa River. During its planning stages, its name was Kelly Creek, a familiar name around these parts.

Logan Martin went into service Aug. 10, 1964. Measured in concrete, its length is 612 feet. Its maximum height is 97 feet.

The lake’s elevation at summer pool is 465 feet above seas level. It has 15,263 acres of water. Winter level is 460 feet, although the US Corps of Engineers granted a variance Winter 2017 to keep the level two feet higher because of effects from the drought. It is 48.5 miles long heading to Neely Henry Dam.

Points of interest along the way

Starting out at Logan Martin Dam, heading north, don’t miss the public park just to your right of the dam. Built by Alabama Power on the Talladega County side of the lake, Logan Martin Dam Picnic Area offers a covered pavilion and places to swim and fish.

Birmingham Sailing Club

Up next is Birmingham Sailing Club. Founded in 1963, the year before the lake opened, it sits atop a hillside with a panoramic view of the lake on nine acres of land. On Sunday afternoons, you’ll find boaters and porch dwellers alike watching as the main channel fills with sails for regular regattas all year long. Monthly, one-day regattas are held during spring and summer, and invitational regattas attract sail clubs from all over the southeast.

Pell City Lakeside Park

Lakeside Park is a destination point for residents and tourists alike and is a recreational bonanza, whether your come by boat or by vehicle. It is located on 65 acres next to the Pell City Civic Center and Sports Complex. Picnic areas under the trees are available at not charge, and a pved 1.1 mile non-motorized nature trail is a walkers and runners’ favorite.

Kids Kastle is a playground the community built in a single weekend. The newest addition is a massive splash pad, which opened in 2016 and drew thousands of squealing kids during the season.

While at Lakeside Park, don’t forget to check out the Wetlands observation platform to get an up close view of dozens of indigenous species botanical experts have identified in Logan Martin’s wetlands. And the native plant walking trail nearby is a real outdoor classroom courtesy of the Pell City Garden Club.

Come back July 4 just after dark and enjoy one of the most spectacular fireworks displays in the state. Come by boat, by car or by foot to the park or to the channel leading to it to get the best views of fireworks lighting up the nighttime sky over the water.

Did you see what I saw?

Goat Island is a boating favorite for landmarks and usually gets double takes from new boaters passing by. The island sits near the main channel in an inlet with a semicircle of homes in the Riviere Estates area of Pell City. Years ago, owners of the homes placed goats on the island to keep things nice and trim and open up the view. It’s worked! And it is an enjoyable stop-off to see the goats on a day out on the lake.

Ahoy, Mate!

But, of course, the most coveted spot on a Saturday, Sunday or holiday, is anchored near Pirate Island. With a chest full of coins, beads and other ‘treasures’ for the kids, Pirate’s Island – complete with towering pirate flag – is a must see, must stop, must stay kind of place. The shallow waters around it make it perfect for standing in the water on hot summer days, taking to newfound friends while your kids swim and play on the specially placed ‘lily pad.’ Owned by private citizens, they open the island up for boaters to enjoy.

Splish, Splash

The Rocks, or The Quarry, is a hundred foot rock formation, and the deep waters below make it a great place to gather in boats and on personal watercrafts to enjoy the sun and an impromptu show. It is not unusual to see people jumping off the rocks as they would a diving board or demonstrating their Tarzan-like moves with a swing from a rope and a drop into the water, drawing a round of applause from those gathered below.

Lakelife icon

You may not be able to see the building from the water, but the historic Ark Restaurant, known virtually around the world for its catfish and Gulf Shrimp sits atop US 78 near the bridge. You can access it by boat from a small pier located on the main channel.

Open during prohibition, The Ark has a storied history on how it got its name. Its original home was on a barge, anchored some 30 feet from shore, making it neither Talladega County nor St. Clair County’s jurisdiction. Patrons accessed it by boat or long gangplank, and coincidentally, it was immune from prohibition because of its locale. It still sells libations today … legally.

Riverside Landing

On the other side of the bridge, Riverside Landing is a fairly new addition to the lake. The city built it a few years back in a slough that fronts the main street running through town and widens to the main channel on the other side. You can get gas on the water 24/7, launch your boat and pick up some supplies there.

Bridge over beloved water

As you come out of Riverside Landing, look to your right and spot the old railroad bridge. You can still see the hinges where it used to lift for barge traffic. Just across the way, check out what remains of Lock 4, when the Coosa River was a series of locks and dams and open to ferry traffic.

Skiing, anyone?

Riverside has a slalom water ski course that is a permitted ski course by City of Riverside, Alabama Power and Alabama Marine Police. It is removed in the fall and returns in the spring.

What’s biting?

Don’t forget some of the creeks running through that area, like Broken Arrow and Blue Eye. They are some of the best fishing around because of freshwater springs.

‘Twixt and ‘tween’

As the lake begins to narrow, it’s like entering a new dimension. Racing bass boats, large homes and plenty of traffic give way to a peaceful ride through woods, occasional wildlife and beautiful scenery, especially in the spring and fall.

When it opens up, you can see an imposing Neely Henry Dam, but there’s plenty more to see around this lake.

Civil War roots

Ten Islands Park has been called one of the most historic sites in St. Clair County. Discover Magazine once wrote: “The intriguing name is that of an Indian village that existed before the settlers moved in. It was called Otipalin, a Creek word meaning Ten Islands. The islands may no longer be visible, but the location and the story of the 1864 (Civil War) battle live on.” You can read all about it here: discoverstclair.com/traveling-the-backroads/ten-islands/

No planes, just birds

Today, Ten Islands is listed on Alabama Birding Trails as a top site for bird watching. In the winter, you may find “gulls and rafts of diving ducks, some loons (look for Pacific), grebes (watch for Eared or Red-necked), geese, and the occasional soaring Bald Eagle. Swallows, Chimney Swifts, and Purple Martins zip over the water in the warmer months,” according to alabamabirdingtrails.com.

Spotted on or near the islands are: Field Sparrows, Eastern Towhees, White-eyed Vireos, Gray Catbirds, Prairie Warblers, Yellowbreasted Chats, Indigo Buntings, Common Yellowthroats, Orange-crowned, Chuck-will’s-widows, Whip-poor-wills. Eastern Screech-Owls, Blue-winged Warblers, Prairie Warblers, White-eyed Vireos, Brown-headed Nuthatches, Pine Warblers, Worm-eating Warblers, Eastern Bluebirds, American Goldfinches, Cedar Waxwings, Barred and Great Horned Owls.

If birding isn’t your thing, the park offers parking, trail, picnic area, boat launch and fishing.

Greensport Marina

Opened in 1967, and it holds many a story and childhood memories just at the mention of its name.

It is open all year long for fishing and boating, and it is open May 1 – Oct. 1 for swimming, picnicking and island parties.

It has a marina with launching, covered boat storage, swimming, picnicking and a covered pavilion on the island for large parties.

Next big thing

Canoe Creek Park is ‘the next big thing’ on Neely Henry. Located in the Ashville area, it is being built by the St. Clair County Commission at the old Canoe Creek Park site. Engineer Kelley Keeton Taft of the Kelley Group outlined what will be in the park when it opens this summer.

The site will have spacious make ready lanes, four lane boat launch, parking for 100 rigs, two 100 foot floating piers, fixed shore perimeter boardwalk piers and lighting. These amenities will provide a targeted venue for large fishing tournaments and events.

Catch of the day … or night … or weekend

Logan Martin and Neely Henry boast some of the best fishing around. On St. Clair County’s lakes, you can cast for Bluegill Bream, Largemouth Bass, Striped Bass, Crappie and Catfish.

Dave McKinney of Dave’s Guide Service knows fishing. He rattles off Logan Martin and Neely Henry’s creek names like others might list the alphabet.

You’ll find crappie and bass at Canoe Creek and crappie, bass and bream at Palmetto Creek on Neely Henry. Shoal Creek on Neely Henry is a good spot all year long as is Greensport.

Choccolocco Creek on Logan Martin is a favorite fishing hole any time of year for bass and crappie.

And catfish? They’re in deep water most of the time. You can find them in the creeks, McKinney said, but usually, they’re in deeper waters. These can be monster fish. Just how big? McKinney’s largest was about 75 pounds.

If you don’t want to try it on your own, just ask Dave. He has trips of four, six and eight hours, guaranteed to get you some action.

His trips include pushing, shooting docks, tight lining and short pole. Don’t know the lingo? Here’s the abbreviated version:

Pushing and Pulling—pushing minnows and jigs against ledges or trolling by pulling jigs in deep water.

Shooting Docks—technique used for crappie fishing where you use a short pole, pull it back and let it go and shoot up under the dock.

Tight Lining—Throw your line out and then reel it as if it is a pendulum swinging back and forth back toward the boat.

What’s that up ahead?

Last stop on this trek is Neely Henry Dam. Fishing is good below and above it. Its mere presence has meant much to many.

Alabama Power says it, like Logan Martin, began as a story of energy. “It continues today as a story of flood control, recreation and economic opportunity, irrigation and drinking water, and fish and wildlife habitats. Power was just the beginning.”

[Show as slideshow]

Bowlin Bluff House

On A Clear Day You Can See Forever

Story Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Michael Callahan

When Todd and Liz Wheeles went house-hunting, they looked for something off the beaten path. They found it in a small hunting cabin on 115 acres atop Bowlin Bluff, a place so remote even the mail carrier and the garbage man have trouble getting to it.

“We have a post office box, and we carry the garbage out as we leave,” Liz says. “We often have to keep friends on the phone and guide them in or meet them at the bottom of the hill and drive them up.”

The only way in or out is via a dirt road that’s best traveled by truck or an all-terrain vehicle. The drive is worth the effort, though. The view at the top is breathtaking.

The house sits 30 feet from a granite bluff that’s about 1,070 feet in elevation. From their deck, the Wheeleses can see Bald Rock Mountain eight miles away. As for the sunsets, “breathtaking” doesn’t come close to describing them.

“The sunsets up here are spectacular,” says Todd. “But we enjoy the deck any time of the day, whether it’s coffee in the morning, wine in the afternoon, or whiskey by the night fire.”

By knocking out a side wall and adding a 30-by-20-foot den, gutting the kitchen and both downstairs bathrooms, then extending the back porch to wrap around the new room, they turned a cabin with a view into a cozy home with ample space for a family of six.

The original cabin had a small living room and eat-in kitchen when the Wheeleses bought it a year ago. Floors throughout the house were covered in mismatched linoleum, there was a small chimney and window on the side wall, and a small deck off the kitchen. “There were deer heads hanging everywhere,” Liz says. They replaced all the flooring with natural hickory, added wainscoting upstairs and painted every room in the house.

Integrity Cabinets of Ashland built new kitchen cabinets and all the bathroom vanities out of solid hickory. The couple chose Integrity because Todd is from Ashland and went to school with its owner, David Williams. The countertops in the kitchen and bathrooms are made of granite. Removing the side wall opened up the kitchen to the new den and created a large dining area between them. Edison lights hang over a 10-foot long dining table and matching benches made of salvaged pine by The Vintage Station of Bessemer. The table’s length allows plenty of seating for Todd, Liz and their four children. “Thanksgiving, there were 11 of us here, and we didn’t take up half the table,” Liz says.

Todd wanted a larger shower in the master bathroom, so they closed up a tiny laundry closet in the kitchen that adjoined the master suite to get some extra space. They used re-claimed tin tiles for the bathroom ceiling.

The side wall they removed had one small chimney, but the house now has two. They stand back-to-back, in the den and on the deck behind it. Both are constructed of hand-laid, stacked stone. They share the same foundation, but the one in the Great Room is a wood-burning fireplace lined with firebrick, while the outside fireplace is a firebox with a stove-pipe chimney.

Although Liz got help with furniture selections and decorating from Cindi B. Jones of Savvy Shoestring Interiors, the two leather sofas in the den were Todd’s idea. The two mission-style arm chairs at the front window came from Liz’s father’s house in New Orleans, and an antique dining chair that belonged to her great-grandmother is placed next to the fireplace.

The fox skin hanging over the chair was Todd’s whimsical purchase from a shop near Gulf Shores. Jones helped Liz find the wing chair placed at another window, some lamps, side tables and art work. The den has a tongue-in-groove pine ceiling with cedar beams.

The stairs to the second floor were rebuilt using hickory treads and pine kick plates.

Upstairs, the Wheeleses added pine tongue-in-groove wainscoting, stained the same color as the woodwork throughout the house. All of the beds there, as well as the king-size bed in the master bedroom downstairs, were made out of reclaimed wood by The Vintage Station of Bessemer and have solid wood frames.

One child’s bed has a horizontal headboard made with random-length wood planks, some stained to match the woodwork, others painted white. In another child’s room, the headboard is made with a wood frame and tin inserts from an old church ceiling and is painted white. A third headboard is a reclaimed door turned horizontally. The upstairs bathroom ceiling is made from more reclaimed tin tiles, and its shower curtain has a deer motif. “We wanted the look of a log house without having to build one – a house with a woodsy feeling inside,” says Liz.

Sentimental family heirlooms add to the charm of the upstairs, too. Liz used a table that belonged to her dad in one child’s bedroom, and another of her great-grandmother’s dining chairs in another. A metronome that used to sit atop her grandmother’s piano rests silently on a window sill. Despite the fact that the sun comes up at the front of the house, it bathes the back of the house in a soft glow that penetrates the upstairs window panes. “The kids love it,” Liz says.

Because of the children, Todd and Liz did not want the upstairs shut off from the downstairs. So, their contractor, Rick Layfield of Rick Layfield Construction in Ashville, solved that problem by leaving the end of the hallway open to the Great Room. Layfield framed heavy-gauged wire with pine so the kids can see into the room below, without falling over or through the railing. He repeated that same type of structure as an extension of the stair rail at its bottom end, and again around the deck.

“We wanted the house to blend with its surroundings, so we painted the outside a mossy green,” says Todd. Layfield matched the cement-board siding outside and the metal roofing that was on the original house to extend around and over the room addition. He also built a small step porch in front and another, gated set of steps off the front of the deck.

Plastic chairs adorn the deck until the Wheeleses can decide what they want permanently. Meanwhile, they have to stack the chairs and place them against the house when not in use because the wind is so strong on the bluff that it will carry loose, lightweight furniture down the mountain.

“We are on a ridge, almost like a peninsula,” Todd says. “I’m a map guy, and in my topographical map book, the mountain we’re on is called Backbone Mountain.” Todd used that same map to chart the winding paths of the two trails he had bulldozed through the property, which come in handy when he and his son and their friends want to hunt.

Unfortunately, the trails don’t connect. “It’s so steep and rocky, we’d have to cut through someone else’s property to connect them,” he says.

Features

Dayspring Dairy

Sheep-shearing, cheese tasting at Alabama’s only sheep dairy

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Susan Wall

It was like a cross between a fiber-arts convention and a school field trip. Some came for the free fleece, some to see the sheep, others to taste the cheese.

Sheep-shearing is an annual January event at Dayspring Dairy in Gallant, but this year was the first time it was open to the general public. “It gives us exposure and drives traffic to our products,” said Ana Kelly, who, along with husband Greg, opened Alabama’s only sheep dairy in 2013.

Their products are the cheeses, dips and caramel spreads that they sell at farmers’ markets in Birmingham (Pepper Place), Atlanta (Piedmont Park) and Huntsville (Madison City), and at their small farm store by appointment — or when someone drops by and tracks them down in the milking barn. Many people at this year’s event were regular customers from Birmingham who wanted the back story to the Dayspring products they buy. “Millennials want to know who makes their food and how the animals are treated,” Ana says. “About 150 people showed up. It was a great success.”

The Facebook “open house” invitation said 9 a.m. – 2 p.m., and by 9:30 cars and trucks were lined up on both sides of Dogwood Road to its intersection with Gallant Road. Both the barn and the small farm store quickly filled up with gawkers and tasters. Folks were wandering around the farm, some going into the pasture where the sheep, who were too young to be shorn, alternated between cuddling up to their visitors and cavorting like grade-school children at recess.

Folks had cameras around their necks and children in tow. The sounds of sheep bleating and chickens clucking mixed with the squeals of delighted children, while a shaggy white great Pyrenees strained on his chain in an effort to get some of the attention. Pecorino, Pec for short, has to be restrained around visitors until he learns some manners, such as not jumping up on people. Two other great Pyrenees, Brie and Camembert, were friendly but not as rambunctious.

Visitors came from Birmingham, Leeds, Pell City, Jasper, Calera, Madison, Goodwater, Atlanta and who knows where else, many of them spinners, weavers, knitters and crocheters who volunteered to help so they could get a share of the wool. They had to make their way past the farm store via a dirt path, carefully stepping over the cattle grate left behind by the former farm owners.

In the barn, the unsheared sheep waited their turn in a holding pen, temporarily crammed together so tightly they looked like a sea of fleece with bobble-heads. From there, Alex Bowen, a 17-year-old home-schooled kid who works part-time at the dairy, pushed them into a line between a wire fence and the back barn wall, then into a tip chute. The latter is a wooden platform with a side that drops so the shearer can grab them. The ewes strained against the fence, confused by all the commotion.

Daddies hoisted their toddlers onto their shoulders for a better view of the shearing process that took place in a large stall. Nibbleton Fuzzy was one of the “victims,” and master shearer Stuart Mathews wrestled her to the ground on her back, using his legs to hold her in place. Once shorn, a brown spot was revealed on her back. Close examination convinced Greg Kelly it was lice. “I’ve never seen that before,” he said. He tossed out Nibbleton’s fleece, and that of several other sheep that turned up with lice. One of the volunteers said that sheep lice won’t affect humans, and will die when the wool is cleaned in hot water, but no one really wanted to deal with it.

What’s in a name?

“I name them when I have a reason to,” Greg said, when asked whether he named each of the sheep. “Valentine was sickly when she was born, and we raised her at the house and she turned around on Valentine’s Day, so we named her Valentine.”

Eager volunteers hung on the door of the shearing stall, ready to grab their share of fleece. They laid it on a piece of wide-web pasture fencing stretched between two metal saw horses, where they picked out debris. A large pile accumulated beneath the makeshift “screen” as dirty pieces dropped through the holes. The good stuff was packed into garbage bags to be taken home, washed, carded and spun or woven.

“It’s not the best wool,” Greg said. “These are dairy sheep, they aren’t raised for their wool.” So, why shear them in the first place and why in the dead of winter instead of spring? “I should get a sign made,” he said, with a roll of his eyes that told you he’s answered that question umpteen times already. “Almost all of these are pregnant, and it makes for an easier birth,” he explained. “By shearing them in January, it allows them to re-grow their wool before the biting insects appear in the spring. The winters here are very mild, but this is also done this time of year in the North. We leave about 1 inch of wool, which is enough to keep them warm.”

After shearing, Greg and Jimmy Mays, who helps out on shearing and lambing (birth) days, dragged each ewe into a hammock against the wall, where they trimmed their hooves and vaccinated them. Everett Kelly, 14, son of Ana and Greg, prepared the syringes. The immunization is passed on to lambs in colostrum.

The spotless milking parlor is in the barn, where milk is pumped from the ewes and flows through stainless-steel pipes into the cheese-making room. That’s where Ana shines, and where daughter Sofia, 10, often helps by putting labels on the packages.

There was no milking or cheese-making going on during shearing time, but there was plenty of tasting and buying. Lilly Poehler, the Kellys’ goddaughter, helped out in the farm store, frying and browning tiny squares of the farm’s Halloumi, a Mediterranean-style cheese. Folks were leaving with sacks full of cheeses, dips, jellies and a caramel sauce that’s a lot like the milky-rich Dulce de Leche so popular in South America. Cheese with names such as Ewetopia, Shepherd’s Tomme and Angry Ram (a hot pimiento cheese) also jostled in their sacks, along with packs of Halloumi the Kellys gave away because their sell-by date was so close.

In another life

Prior to buying their 33-acre farm in 2011, the Kellys knew no more about sheep or cheese-making than their visitors. The family lived in Birmingham, where Greg held a high-pressure IT job. Ana, a trained chef, had worked in the test kitchens at Southern Progress, then became a freelance food stylist after Everett was born. A few years later, they adopted Sofia from Colombia. They grew tired of suburban and corporate life and wanted something different. After visiting a goat farm in North Alabama to sample the cheese, the idea of becoming cheese-makers was born.

“We had a feeling we just wanted to start some type of cottage industry,” Ana said. “We had taken a little trip and stopped at a cheese-making plant in Elkmont. We discovered that they didn’t raise goats there, but bought the milk to make their cheese. We figured we could do it better by raising our own animals.”

There was already lots of good goat cheese being made here in Alabama, according to Ana, and cows were too big a leap. “Sheep are docile creatures,” Greg said. “They don’t smell, either. Sheep produce less milk than goats or cows, but its milder and richer.”

Greg trained at the Sheep Dairy School in Wisconsin, while Ana studied with cheese makers in Kentucky and Vermont. “He focused on the animals, and I focused on the cheese,” she said. Greg also went to shearing school in South Dakota. Why so far away? “Do you know of any shearing schools in the South?” he quipped.

Dayspring’s milk production resulted in 8,000 pounds of cheese last year, and the Kellys are shooting for 10,000 pounds in 2017. Their flock is a cross between East Friesian, the dominant dairy-sheep in the United States, and Gulf Coast Native, a breed that has adapted and thrived in Florida since the Spaniards brought their ancestors here in the 15th century. Lambs breed between the age of one-and-a-half and two years, and have a five-month gestation period. All the babies are born within a very busy, one-month window from mid-February to mid-March. “We had about 150 lambs born last year, and will probably have 200 this year,” Ana said.

Most of the boys will be sold, and eventually, the girls that don’t produce much milk will go, too. “We keep a milking flock of 100-125, but we may end up with 80-100 this year,” Ana said. “We have three to four rams, and each can cover 25 ewes, which only come in season one time a year.”

Their sheep graze all seasons on pasture untouched by pesticides or commercial fertilizer. The sheep are never given hormones, and the Kelly’s believe this combination makes healthier cheese.

“We milk our ewes from February through September, which provides subtle flavor changes throughout the milking season depending on the grasses growing in our pastures,” Ana says. “The rolling pastures of our land, along with our mild climate, give our cheeses a sense of place.”

Features

Saving the Old Rock School

A valiant effort and noble cause

Story and Photos by Jerry C. Smith
Submitted Photos

When Springville Preservation Society’s Frank Waid escorted me into the upper level of an old rock school building on Pine Street, I was immediately struck with its ambience of antiquity.

Even by flashlight, I could easily discern beautiful hardwood floors which were well-worn by thousands of young footsteps, as well as the aroma of stone, wood, blackboard chalk and paint, seasoned to a robust sensory patina by almost a hundred years of service.

Completed in 1921 by local stonemasons and a host of community workmen and volunteers, this fine structure replaced an even older one of wood that had burned to the ground.

Most of Springville’s core population has educational and emotional ties with the rock school. While its past was certainly illustrious, its present is in shambles. But if certain good residents have their way, it will arise from decrepitude and serve its people once again.

The school’s bones are of native rock, mostly immune to fire and other natural forces that easily erode and destroy lesser materials. Built upon a solid core of thousands of rounded chert “field stones” that make up its outer walls and foundation, it’s constructed in a manner that’s an art form unto itself.

It was an enormous job, even for master stonemasons like Jackson McFadden Riddle, who built most of the earlier fieldstone structures in St. Clair and its environs. He’s reputed to have supervised this job as well.

The usual method of building such walls is called “slip-forming,” wherein a long wooden box form is built at ground level, to contain stacks of stones imbedded in mortar. Only the stones show, as mortar is kept to the backside of the form, where it creates a flat surface for interior walls.

As each layer of stones and mortar harden into a solid mass, the form is loosened, moved up the fresh wall, and the process is repeated until the wall reaches a desired height. It’s very labor-intensive, requiring special skills and training.

Farmers and other citizens brought in thousands of stones by the wagonload, with horses and oxen laboring mightily to haul their weighty burdens uphill to the school site. In fact, how that hillside location was chosen is a story in itself.

Springville native and historian Donna Cole Davis explains that city fathers wanted to place it there so drivers on US 11 and train passengers could get a grand look at their local pride-and-joy – a fine new institution of education. Decades of tree growth has since blocked that viewpoint.

The early years

At first, the rock school had no indoor restroom facilities, relying on an outhouse, nor did it have central heat, instead using Warm Morning coal heaters. A coal-fired furnace and rock chimney were later added. This furnace still resides in the basement, but is no longer operational, and its chimney has since been removed.

The facility opened in 1921 as a high school, whose curriculum was scheduled on a trimester system; i.e. Senior I, Senior II, Senior III.

Their yearbook, mysteriously called The Rocket, was first published in 1928, long before a national involvement in rocket science. In fact, the only real rocketry interest in those days was represented by Dr. Robert Goddard’s pioneering work.

He launched the world’s first liquid-fueled rocket in 1926, shortly before the Rocket yearbook was created. If this is the Rocket’s namesake, perhaps the folks in Springville were looking farther ahead than we realize.

For a small Alabama school in the Roaring 20s, Springville High was surprisingly urbane. Thumbing through the 1929 Rocket, you can find several academic and special-interest clubs, vocational courses, sports and a sizable faculty of well-trained teachers. The women’s basketball team was considered top-notch.

A 1971 St. Clair News Aegis photo of the Class of 1924 lists students and teachers whose surnames are still found in Springville and its environs: McGinnis, Futrell, Sterling, Jones, Gill, Davidson, Crow, Richardson, Perrin, Horton, Pearson, Martin, John, Moody, Wright, Taylor, Walker, McDuffie, Stevens, Meyers, Simmons, Woods, Vinyard, Robinson, Presley, O’Barr, Wilson and Box.

It served as a high school from 1921 until 1932, when a larger facility was built a few hundred feet away, then became a grammar school until the 1960s, when that function was also taken over by a more modern building in its very shadow.

Until its eventual closing for safety reasons in the 1990s, the building served variously for civic groups, clubs, Boy Scouts, band room, and a work office in the basement for the local water board. It was even used for a few years as a Halloween haunted house, whose ghoulish graffiti can still be seen on walls.

The next generation

Sandra Sullivan DeBerry, who attended grammar school there, was especially fond of a certain first-grade teacher, Margaret Byers, affectionately known by her pupils as Miss Margaret.

She was a dynamic, petite woman who would be called a Little Person in today’s world, but she made a huge impression on her students and the people of Springville. Sandy says, “You couldn’t ask for a sweeter person in the world than Miss Margaret.” But she wasn’t always a teacher.

Born 1901 and raised in Springville, Margaret attended Huntingdon College in Montgomery, where she developed a love of music that led her to perform in several Broadway shows, including Babes In Toyland. After returning to Alabama, she studied teaching, thence to Springville Elementary.

Sandy mentions another teacher, Mrs. Crandall, whom practically every kid raised in Springville will remember because she was known as a strict disciplinarian who put up with no foolishness. Mrs. Crandall played piano for Sandy’s wedding.

Mrs. Crandall’s classroom was at the foot of the main staircase. Any footfalls or squeaks from the stairwell during class times would bring her running to check it out.

Other teachers remembered by Sandy, Donna and Frank were Mses. Marshall, Cash, Hayes, Walker and Wright, who’s the only one still among the living.

There was no lunchroom. Both Sandy and Frank recall walking about half a block down the hill on a well-worn dirt path, which Frank likened to a cattle trail, to use the dining hall at the newer school. He said that on really bad weather days a school bus would transport them, but most of the time they were expected to walk.

Sandy relates that during recess they played jump rope, jacks, used the swings, snuck off into nearby woods, even visited a cemetery close byS.

There were no electric bells to signal class change or fire drills, only a hand-bell rung by the principal — easy to hear because of the building’s compact design.

Today

The school’s present condition inspires mixed feelings. For one, visitors cannot help but marvel at the solidity of the old structure and obvious quality of materials and skills used by its craftsmen. If there was ever a building with reconstruction potential, it’s Springville Rock School.

On the other hand, floors are littered with a veritable snowfall of white flakes of ceiling paint and decades’ worth of other detritus. In some secluded spots, there is bat guano. Leftovers from several former users are piled here and there. Reconstruction materials are stacked haphazardly among the chaos.

The Springville Preservation Society has already purchased a number of windows, almost identical to the originals, and is now in the process of priming, painting and installing them. Clearly, several dumpsters will be filled once work begins on a larger scale.

Among their goals is a room partly furnished in the appearance of a classroom. They also anticipate meeting rooms and assembly halls for everything from weddings to civic and club gatherings to reunions.

The old school fairly breathes nostalgia, from its main staircase with steps that show the wear and tear of many children’s feet to its ancient fixtures and random educational trappings.

You can almost imagine the kids’ respectful silence and quiet shuffle of feet between classes as well as the hum of teachers teaching and pupils responding, as all those muffled sounds of education in progress might have harmonized in common areas.

One is struck with rightful dread that such a finely crafted and historically important edifice would have ever been considered for demolition. This place deserves to live on, hopefully as a proud venue for an almost unlimited variety of future community service.

In short, this fine lady demands respect. The Springville Preservation Society is the key to making this happen.

Formed in 2009 for the purpose of saving several Springville heritage sites, the Society now owns or controls the rock school, the old Masonic Lodge that until recently served as the town’s library, and a small white house near the spring basin that was once part of a local hotel. Much work has already been done on the Lodge and house.

Donna Cole Davis only went to kindergarten there in 1966, but both her parents attended it as a grammar school. Donna explains her reason for getting involved: “One of my father’s (Don Cole) final wishes was that the old school be saved so that others could enjoy its history. I knew this was something I really wanted to do in his honor. There needs to be a beautiful lady sitting up there on that hill once again.”

Building a future

When asked how interested people could help this process, both Frank and Donna’s answers were virtually the same: Get involved.

The Springville Preservation Society is currently led by Frank Waid, president; Millicent Yeager, vice president; and Sean Andrews, secretary and treasurer. They meet the fourth Saturday of each month at the Springville Museum and Old Library and Masonic Hall.

The museum itself is open on first and third Saturdays. It’s one of the Society’s work projects that clearly showcases their expertise and dedication to purpose.

Any of these highly-dedicated folks can help you get into the school project at any level you choose. Even if you don’t elect to participate directly, simply telling others about it will help make more people aware of what’s going on.

Citizens are invited to join work parties whenever they can, even if only for a few hours. It’s a volunteer effort all the way, but the Society’s small cadre of dedicated workers can only do so much.

The restoration project is a perfect opportunity for civic groups, Scout troops, historians and anyone else who values heritage to the point of working up a bit of sweat. The Society hastens to add that monetary donations and fund raisers are a vital part of the effort and remind us that much of this kind of support is tax deductible.

Most of the stories I’ve brought to our readers over the years have had clearly defined endings, sometimes even catastrophic ones. It would be a special privilege for me to see this one take on new life as well as a dynamic future of community service.

Let’s work together for Springville’s old school and for St. Clair heritage in general.

Features

Praised Colors

From Sweden to Ragland, artist’s life takes many a turn

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photos by Michael Callahan

Marie Barber shooed chickens and a guinea to welcome a visitor one bitterly cold day.

Once inside her woodsy home with warm Gulf Coast decor, she smiled and said, “It does feel like Sweden out there.”

Living near Ragland and the Coosa River, this Swedish native quietly creates designs and artwork that are nationally known and have been featured in many books, magazines and retail outlets.

Her resume is extensive: she has been an illustrator for the magazines Paula Deen, Victoria, Tea Time and Southern Lady; a designer for Chapelle Ltd. of Ogden, Utah, and creator of cross-stitch designs that filled six or more books for Sterling Publishing Co. of New York. In addition, she illustrated leisure, etiquette and decor books.

During her 15 years as designer with Hoffman Media, she did “hundreds and hundreds of cross-stitch leaflets and cross-stitch designs for magazines,” and all cross-stitch chart conversions from the Disney movie, Pocahontas. Also through Hoffman Media, she fashioned fabric designs for the former Hancock Fabrics and worked on Hancock’s Paula Deen Collection.

A count even commissioned Mrs. Barber to replicate in his mansion some paintings of the Sistine Chapel.

Mrs. Barber spent three weeks on eight-foot scaffolds in Count Albert von Oldenburg’s living room to paint the scenes on a 37-foot tray ceiling. The palatial estate in Eastaboga in Talladega County was like a museum and a history book, Mrs. Barber said.

“When you went to his home, it was like you were in a fairy tale. You were not in Alabama,” she continued.

During those weeks, the count taught her etiquette in the presence of nobility and gave her keepsakes from all over the world.

That, Mrs. Barber said, “was probably the most memorable experience” she has had with her art.

Now working in the decorative art of needlepoint, Mrs. Barber produces “fun” designs and projects. She designs belts, pillows, eyeglass cases, phone cases, lampshade covers, jewelry, purses and bags, rugs and tapestries, and has done custom orders for dining room chairs.

The formative years

Marie Olsson spent her early years in Skåne (pronounced skone-neh) on the southern tip of Sweden. Skåne is about 20 minutes from the Baltic Sea. The region is flat and experiences snow four months a year.

“Sometimes, your eyelashes iced up,” she recalled.

Marie and her parents lived with grandparents in the countryside in a home without indoor plumbing.

When she was six years old, she and her parents moved to Tollarp to what she described as an elaborate home with an indoor sauna.

Each Christmas, she wanted art paper and markers. By second grade, she was an acclaimed artist, at least to her classmates who would ask her to draw Donald Duck, Goofy and Mickey Mouse for them.

Her father passed when Marie was 10, and her mother, three years ago.

Although Marie has no siblings, she does have 40 first cousins living around the world. One of them — Anna Steed — lives in St. Clair County not very far at all from Marie.

As a teenager, Marie applied to the American Scandinavian Student Exchange program to become an exchange student.

Interestingly, while in a music class in ninth grade in Sweden, she had sung the lyrics, “I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee.” But, Marie confessed, “I had no idea Alabama was a state.”

Nonetheless, that is exactly where she was placed as an exchange student. The girl from the southern tip of Sweden with a southern Swedish dialect found herself in the southern region of the United States.

Even though she was to be in Alabama only for Pell City High School’s 1983-1984 school year, Marie found she just could not stay away. One reason was Kinsman Barber, a Pell City native and Jacksonville State University student she met four months into her sojourn in the United States.

After completing the exchange program, Marie returned to Sweden, finished junior college and worked for a while in Stockholm. Then, at 19, she decided to attend art school either in Australia or the U.S. She chose the U.S., going first to California and then to Alabama by bus.

Marie traveled to Auburn University to stay with friend Wendy Bradshaw Weathers (who now lives in Ozark). Through an outreach ministry to foreign students, Marie heard about Jesus Christ, His love and the forgiveness He gives to all who will receive it.

“I utterly broke down and couldn’t believe anyone would love me in spite of all my unrighteousness,” said Marie. She asked Jesus Christ to save her.

A “long, winding road” brought her and Kinsman back into contact.

She enrolled in the Art Institute of Atlanta to study visual communication and, a week after earning her associate’s degree, she and Kinsman wed.

Marie, the artist, and Kinsman, the teacher and coach at Victory Christian School, have been married 27 years and have four children — Malin, 21; Peyton, 19; Daniel, 17, and Magdalena, 16.

They also have 18 chickens, three dogs, two cats, one guinea and an herb garden.

“I enjoy the simplicity of life,” said Mrs. Barber. To her, it is reminiscent of the childhood experiences she cherishes most. The years of living in the Swedish countryside as a child were simple and meager. But, “my best memories were in the country.”

In her Alabama country home nestled in the woods, she creates her art while listening to sermons by David Platt, president of the International Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention and best-selling author.

“God has allowed me to work at home,” Mrs. Barber said.

A diverse talent

Mrs. Barber’s art spans many genres.

“I used to do Christian art — cards and prints,” she said. “I did that for a little while.”

One of her pieces hangs in her church, which is Hardin Chapel in Ragland.

From the large floral acrylic on canvas that accents her dining room to the vibrant needlepoint pillow she had just finished, all her pieces show her penchant and flare for color.

“I’m all about pink leopard with some fur,” she said with a laugh. “… I like color. I’m not traditional.”

When she formed her own art design company, it was appropriately named Colors of Praise.

“Most designers use their name for their design,” she said. She chose, however, to use the name Colors of Praise because its gives her opportunity to tell others who Jesus Christ is. She said all her accomplishments are small in comparison to what Jesus has done for her.

Getting to where she is now in her art was the result of another “winding road” in life that started with an economic recession.

In February 2009, downsizing at Hoffman Media claimed her position as illustrator and cross-stitch designer. Because of that, she sought a new direction for her art.

Mrs. Barber had seen Kaffe Fassett’s color schemes in his decorative arts designs and noticed that they resemble her own use of color. When her love of color was paired with her appreciation for the tapestries of Europe, Mrs. Barber found a new direction for her art – needlepoint designs.

That April, she sent her application to The National NeedleArts Association and was accepted to a trade show in Columbus, Ohio. Her first show was in June, during which she received $15,000 in orders.

Since then, she has shown her wares in trade shows in Los Angeles and San Diego, Calif.; Phoenix, Ariz.; Dallas, Texas, and many other cities. The majority of her creations are marketed in Florida, California and the northeastern states. Locally, they can be found at Needleworks LLC in Birmingham.

Kinsman said his wife frequently gets ideas for needlepoint designs from sources like magazines and record covers.

And the designs are not “your grandmother’s needlepoint,” Mrs. Barber said.

“Her work truly is an original style,” said Judith Carter, owner of Needleworks LLC. “To me, she has captured the essence of a younger generation of needlepoint stitchers…She has been an exciting addition to our industry.”

One of the needlepoint belts Mrs. Barber recently completed boasts a spectrum of colors, flosses, textures, patterns and accents. Retail is estimated between $160 and $200.

She develops 200-250 designs for each January’s needle arts trade show and another 100 for the summer show.

“I like to design a lot of new patterns every year,” she said. “… I want it to be more of what they would have fun with.”

Plus, she has monthly trunk shows. “I sell to a lot of stores in California,” she said.

Her venture into needlepoint designs followed a different path from the norm, she explained.

“I am an illustrator coming in as a designer (who had to learn needlepoint),” she said. “Most are needlepointers becoming designers.”

To be able to do what she does, she had to become accomplished in the various needlepoint stitches and learn the difference in flosses and other aspects of the art.

Actually, her needlepoint enterprise has grown into a family endeavor.

“The girls are very creative,” Mrs. Barber said. “There are times I ask them for advice. Malin could run my business. She has done trade shows without me.”

The family sometimes travels to shows with her and, together, they see sights and tour landmarks. “That has been a fun, fun part of it,” she said.

Mrs. Barber is in an almost constant state of creativity, whether painting a canvas, stitching a needlepoint project or using seashells washed ashore by Hurricane Wilma to turn an accent mirror into a conversation piece.

“Taking away paint from me would be devastating.” She said it would be like telling her husband — who happened to be playing guitar in the background — to give up his music.

“… It’s my crazy world!”

For more about Marie Barber and Colors of Praise,

visit www.colorsofpraiseart.com

Argo, Alabama

Blossoming town grows but never forgets its people

Story Paul South
Photos by Michael Callahan

Sometimes a dream – even a city – can begin with a story first told long ago and far away.

That’s how Argo started more than two centuries ago, before there was a St. Clair County, or for that matter, a State of Alabama. Survivors of the battles against the Native peoples of the Creek tribe in the War of 1812, returned home to Virginia and the Carolinas from the then-Mississippi Territory, with tales of bountiful land, crystal waters and plentiful game, the recipe for successful settlement.

Today, 200 years later, the descendants of those original settlers, are part of a still-flourishing community that, like the rest of St. Clair County, is growing. New families, moving from the Birmingham metro area now mingle with the families that have been here for generations, sharing a common work ethic, deep faith and shared values, grounded in that original dream.

If it continues on its current pace, according to the St. Clair County Economic Development Council, Argo could become the county’s second-largest city on the Interstate 59 corridor. It’s already the gateway to the burgeoning corridor, and with 106,000 people living within a 10-mile radius of the city, Argo’s possibilities appear boundless.

Argo Mayor Betty Bradley is one of the many folks who returned to St. Clair County after living in Birmingham. Neighbors helping neighbors, taking time for each other, was what drew her home. She was elected to the city council for one term, then last year, she was chosen as Argo’s mayor.

“I like the friendliness, neighbors talking to neighbors,” she said. “In the bigger cities, it’s a fast pace.” Here in Argo, “people take time for you.”

And she expects others will recognize the value and follow her lead. “I really look for people to start moving into St. Clair County in the next five years. I really look for more people to be migrating this way,” she said.

But before gazing into the future, it’s important to glimpse the past. Claude Earl Massey, a descendant of one of Argo’s first families, displays a treasured historical artifact of the city’s past in his home, an 1820 letter, signed by Alabama Gov. Wyatt Bibb, commissioning Samuel Massey as Justice of the Peace.

Samuel Massey, one of the county’s original settlers, first came to the area as part of Col. Reuben Nash’s regiment of the South Carolina Volunteer Militia. Samuel’s son, William Duke Massey, married Ruth Reed, the first white child born in Jefferson County.

No one seems to know for certain the basis for Argo’s name. However, Claude Massey author of the book, Argo Through the Years, offers some fodder for speculation. On Nov.4, 1869, Sarah Elizabeth Hefner became the postmistress of the area’s second post office, which she named Argo. After numerous interviews and exhaustive research, three theories exist.

Earl Massey wrote: “Whether she had been reading Greek mythology, (in which appears the name Argo), named the post office after a friend, as some have said, or possibly named it after some ancestor on her father’s side is not known.”

Heart of a city

Like small cities throughout St. Clair County, railroads played a major role in growth.

The name’s origin notwithstanding, one of the pillars of Argo’s early economy remains today. The heart of the city’s economy remains home-owned, often family-run businesses, although more and more regional and national chains – like Dollar General and Southern fast-food mainstay, Jack’s, are coming with growth.

“If you drive through (Argo), there are a number of wonderful small businesses,” said Don Smith, executive director of the St. Clair County Economic Development Council. He pointed to Buckeye Grocery, which has served locals for nearly a half-century, Argo Hardware and The Crazy Horse restaurant, a white tablecloth eatery diners might expect to find in tony neighborhoods like Birmingham’s neighbor Mountain Brook or Atlanta’s Buckhead neighborhood. There is the father and son-owned Old South Firearms, a dealer in antique firearms and muzzle loaders, and Matthews Manor is also a popular spot for weddings and other special occasions. William’s Orchard draws visitors from neighboring counties for its produce and homemade jams, jellies and fried pies.

“We have things that are unique that you don’t find in a big city,” Bradley said. “We like to be unique.”

What’s made a difference for Argo in commercial and residential growth is improved sewerage infrastructure, Smith said.

“One of the drawbacks that Argo had was they didn’t have commercial grade sewer capability,” Smith said. “Argo partnered with another public entity to get sewer, not only to the residential areas, but to potential commercial areas. Once that took place, Jack’s opened up, Subway opened up. The Argo leadership has really been focusing on trying to solve the things that were limiting (the city’s) growth.”

The city has also renewed its focus on improving the overall appearance of Argo, Smith said. What was once a mosaic on plywood of flyers alerting residents to missing pets or upcoming events is now an inviting welcome sign. Money was raised locally to build the new sign.

“There’s really a focus on bringing local business owners together and on improving the appearance of the community,” he said. “They’re working to try to bring in larger national brand names to fill in areas that the locally-owned businesses weren’t able to do.”

Argo, which finds its footprint planted in both Jefferson and St. Clair counties, with only a small part in Jefferson, has a strong sense of “community buy-in” because of the locally-owned businesses, Smith noted.

“If you need volunteers, you don’t need to go to an absentee owner or some outside group. The folks that work there own the place,” he added. “They own the businesses. They live there. Their kids are there. It’s a really fantastic community because of that. You talk about why it’s one of the fastest-growing cities in the county over the past 10 years, and that’s why.”

Local real estate developer Lyman Lovejoy has witnessed the growth firsthand. He’s been in business in St. Clair County for more than 40 years. Proximity to Interstate 59 is a boost, he said.

“You can be on the interstate from anywhere in Argo in two to three minutes,” Lovejoy said. “That’s a big plus for them. Several houses are going up in Argo today.”

In a business where location is vital, Argo is in a prime spot. But the challenge is in finding available land, a priority for city leaders, Lovejoy said. However, two new subdivisions are developing. “They’re on the go for growth,” he pointed out. “You can be in Birmingham in 15 minutes.”

The future vision for the city includes better roads, investment in public safety and continuing efforts to enhance the quality of life. Bradley will travel with other county mayors to try to push for federal help to boost the I-59 corridor.

Argo sits adjacent to Margaret another community blossoming in St. Clair County. Bradley would like to see steps taken to ease traffic congestion from I-59, U.S. 11 and Argo-Margaret Road.

“We’re unique because we have an interstate right here in Argo,” Bradley said.

A city in its infancy

Gordon Massey became Argo’s first mayor when the city incorporated in the late 1980s. The Massey family arrived in what is now St. Clair County in 1815. And in 1987, Gordon Massey became the first mayor of the newly-incorporated city. He helped spearhead the construction of Argo’s first city hall and fire department. His business, Massey Paving, has been operating for 50 years, and has split into three businesses run by three generations. They’ve also invested in commercial real estate along U.S. 11.

“It’s our home” he said. “It’s a special place for us. We’re proud to be in St. Clair County.”

Talk to enough people about Argo, and it becomes clear that the city’s people care for each other from the time someone arrives until the time they leave. It’s a cradle to the grave sort of city. Consider Mr. Earl Massey, who’s tended to the family cemetery on the Old Georgia Road since the 1940s.

That’s even the case for temporary visitors. Camp Munger, a Young Women’s Christian Association camp, left generations of campers with wonderful summer memories.

But in this city that began with soldiers’ stories two centuries ago, Mayor Bradley has a modern-day story that tells more about the goodness of Argo and its citizenry than any statistic or historic date ever could. It’s part of what Bradley calls “a spirit of fairness, trustworthiness, respect and teamwork” among all the stakeholders in the city.

It seems a widower was walking along an Argo road, picking up aluminum cans. Bradley’s husband offered the man a lift home. The can collector was trying to generate enough money from the cans to pay for needed medicine.

The man lived in a small plywood home, a place of which he was proud.

“He thought he had a fine home. He didn’t think he was disadvantaged. He didn’t want to take anything from anybody,” Bradley recalled.

But the encounter with the man indirectly ended up impacting the lives of many hurting people in Argo, through the creation of a local food pantry. Bradley serves as co-director of the pantry, after many years as director, both volunteer positions.

“He (the can collector) had a big impact on this community,” Bradley said. And to this day, the pantry has never failed to help its own.

“Every time we start to run low, a local church or a business steps up to help. To this day, we’ve never run out of food to help our clients.”

Bradley defined Argo simply: “Argo is a community of small-city charm, a safe, family oriented community that is a great place to live, work and play. It’s a place where community isn’t just a word, but a way of life.”