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Col. Robert L. Howard

The legend behind name of veterans’ home

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Submitted Photos

The military heroics and achievements of Robert L. Howard are no secret.

They earned him the Congressional Medal of Honor, among many other medals and awards.

However, what may not be so well known about this man — who is the namesake of Col. Robert L. Howard State Veterans Home in Pell City — is that he appeared in two John Wayne movies, said his brother Steven Howard.

During his 36-year Army career, Robert completed multiple tours in Vietnam and received a commission from master sergeant to first lieutenant in 1969. He was a Ranger, Pathfinder, Paratrooper, Infantryman and a member of the Special Forces. Ultimately, he rose to command positions. He also was involved in Desert Shield/Desert Storm.

Information from the veterans’ home website reveals that he was an honor graduate as a Ranger, Pathfinder and parachute rigger and was deemed an “outstanding” Infantryman in his class. The site gives an extensive list of medals and awards Robert received, among them the Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star, Bronze Star for Valor, eight Purple Hearts, Legion of Merit and four Vietnamese Crosses of Gallantry.

The awards and medals that Robert received during his military career are, in fact, too numerous to fit in the shadow box display at the veterans’ home.

In 1956, 17-year-old Robert entered the U.S. Army, continuing a family military tradition that dates back to the Spanish-American War, Steven said.

In between Robert’s enlistment in 1956 and his retirement in the fall of 1992, the Opelika native earned degrees from the University of Maryland, Texas Christian University and Central Michigan University and graduated from the National War College.

Robert was also named to the Military Hall of Fame of the Hoover Institute; Military Hall of Fame of the Veterans of Foreign Wars in Alabama; State of Texas War Memorial; Ranger Hall of Fame, and posthumously to the Army Aviation Association of America Hall of Fame.

Robert earned “every medal for combat courage in what is known as the military ‘pyramid of honor’ at least once and, in some instances, multiple times,” Steven said in a speech July 11, 2014, on “Colonel Howard Day” at the veterans’ home. That date was Robert’s birthday.

“From rifleman in the Infantry, he rose to become a recon team leader … with the most elite of America’s special operations units, the Special Operations Group or SOG, as it is commonly known today,” Steven recounted in his speech. “Fifty-four months in Vietnam, 380 combat patrols, 1,683 parachute jumps and eight awards of the Purple Heart. It should have been at least 14 instead of just eight. But many incidents Robert just quietly shrugged off as insignificant and unworthy of another medal.”

Robert’s many acts of battlefield bravery and determination, especially in circumstances when the soldiers were surrounded or outnumbered, earned him nominations for the Congressional Medal of Honor. Oftentimes, Robert put himself in danger to rescue wounded soldiers, Steven said.

One time, Robert executed a daring mission in which he entered an enemy camp and captured a North Vietnamese Army colonel. During later interrogation, the enemy colonel gave vital information about troop placement that aided U.S. strategy and saved the lives of many American soldiers, his brother recounted.

As a result of the capture, the North Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong placed a bounty on Robert, said Steven, who, himself, is a two-time Purple Heart recipient in Vietnam.

Prior to that, Steven had served alongside Robert in Vietnam. After a price was put on Robert’s head, the Army separated the brothers out of security concerns, Steven said.

From battlefield to big screen

During one tour while Robert was a Ranger, he was wounded and sent to a hospital. President Lyndon Johnson and John Wayne visited the hospital. Johnson remarked to Wayne that Robert was a good-looking Green Beret. Wayne agreed and sought to have Robert take part in Wayne’s upcoming movie, Steven said.

Thus, Robert appeared in The Green Berets. He played the role of an Airborne instructor, according to the website, www.rlhtribute.com.

It was not long before World War II hero-turned-actor Audie Murphy joined Wayne in trying to convince Robert to become an actor, Steven said.

To tout the movie The Green Berets, Wayne, Murphy, Robert and Steven were seen going about New York City together for two nights.

“They were all so much alike,” Steven said of the two actors and Robert. “All of them were nice guys, the kind you’d like to hang out with.”

Steven was elated when he saw his brother on the movie screen the first time. “He was amazing!”

Robert also made a parachute jump in another John Wayne movie, The Longest Day.

Ultimately, Robert decided against a movie career in order to be involved in one of the most elite and covert of the Army’s Special Forces, Steven said.

“He had made the decision that the Army was for him,” said Steven.

Author John Plaster took note of Robert’s deeds and battlefield actions and has recorded them in two books, SOG: The Secret Wars of America’s Commandos in Vietnam and Secret Commandos: Behind Enemy Lines with the Elite Warriors of SOG, Steven said.

After Vietnam, Robert’s service concentrated greatly on teaching and training soldiers preparing for Airborne, Infantry, Ranger or Pathfinder assignments. He was also an instructor at the Special Warfare School, and Command and General Staff College.

“He loved his men,” Steven said.

Upon his retirement from the military, Robert settled in Texas and worked with the Department of Veteran Affairs. He retired in 2006.

“He was a straight-up guy. He was easygoing. You’d never know he was in the building, unless someone told you. My brother was the kind of guy I always wanted to be,” said Steven, who relocated to Pell City from Prattville to volunteer at the veterans’ home.

Robert – who was a husband, father and grandfather — died Dec. 23, 2009, and is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

“Much has been written and said about Robert’s chest full of medals — both U.S. and foreign,” Steven said in his July speech. “But I will never forget one statement that he made to me, and it was profound indeed. Looking down briefly at the left side of his uniform, he said, ‘I would trade all of these to train one soldier.’

“To many, he will be remembered as a larger-than-life Green Beret,” Steven continued. “And this, he was. But to me, he will be simply Robert, my brother.”

Additional assistance with this article was provided by the staff of Col. Robert L. Howard State Veterans Home.

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96 and going strong

Farmer once served as bodyguard for Gen. Eisenhower

Story by Linda Long
Photos by Jim Smothers
Submitted Photos

The old wooden farmhouse is typical of many found in rural St. Clair County. Surrounded by winter swept fields, a Black and Tan hound sits on its front porch poised to sound a welcoming bay to approaching visitors. Across the way, a patch of dark green turnip greens awaits, ready for the picking.

Yes, the old house may look typical, but the farmer who lives here is anything but. At 96 years old, W.M. (Ike) Murphree still works his 105-acre farm, the place where he is the happiest. “I was born to be a farmer and a gospel singer,” he says, but, fate and Uncle Sam had other plans for this quiet, unassuming gentleman. Back in 1943, Ike Murphree found himself on the front lines of history, an ocean away from his beloved country home.

Dressed in his usual starched denim overhauls and a plaid shirt, Murphree chuckled, “I’ve been accused of having a computer in my head.” That becomes obvious as the farmer turned story teller recalls memories of a life well lived. Sitting in his small living room centered by a braided rug and a blazing space heater, Murphree is surrounded by faded black and white photographs, family pictures which line the walls. An upright piano holds a hymnal open to one of the farmer’s favorite songs. And over it all, the American flag hangs proudly.

Reaching back in time to tell his story, Murphree’s steel blue eyes take on a faraway look as he remembers the day his life changed forever. It was 1943. The then 26 year-old young farmer walked slowly back from the mailbox that crisp fall morning, letter in hand containing news which he knew he must share with his beloved wife Alice Lucille. The letter announced his induction into the United States Army.

“One day I was working my farm, the next thing I knew I was packed and ready to head overseas. I had one son, Billy. We went down to the bus one morning. My wife was crying. Billy was saying ‘Daddy, don’t go. Don’t go.’ That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I didn’t know if I would ever see them again.”

Eventually, he did see his family again, but not before fighting in one of the bloodiest battles of World War II, narrowly avoiding disaster on the sea in the North Atlantic, being named a master marksman, serving as a member of the escort guard responsible for the repatriation of American held German prisoners of war and serving as a personal body guard to Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower.

It was January 1944 when Murphree saw some of his toughest combat operations. He was one of the American troops to storm the beach head at Anzio, a signature battle of World War II. Those scenes are etched forever in his memory. “The first wave went in and about 1,700 soldiers and nurses lost their lives at that landing,” said Murphree.

Though he started the war as a member of the infantry, his commanding officers soon learned of the young country boy’s sharp shooting skills, skills honed back home on Chandler Mountain while hunting for rabbit and squirrel. “I shot 198 out of a possible 220,” said Murphree, “everything the army had…30 and 50 caliber machine guns, a grease gun, a pistol, a rifle, the M-1 rifle, a shotgun, and the tanks. I would hit it (my target) every time. I was the only one of 200 people that did that, and it went on my record as a master marksman.”

Murphree’s job was to escort German prisoners captured on the battlefield to concentration camps, a dangerous and often deadly assignment. The old man is still haunted by some of his memories.

“We were climbing a mountain, German prisoners in tow. German snipers were in the trees, all around. I heard a gun go off. The bullet hit my buddy in the ankle. It tore his foot off, but I couldn’t stop and do anything for him. The next day I heard he bled to death. He had a wife and two little girls back home. I try not to think about that,” said Murphree in a soft voice, “ but I can’t help it sometimes. General Patton, one of the greatest military men ever to put on a uniform, said it best, ‘war is hell.’ You can’t make nothing else out of it.”

For most American soldiers in the European Theater that “hell” came to an end when — as Murphree explained — “the bombers were back on the ground, a peace treaty was signed and the guns were silent. Soldiers were loaded on the ships coming home. I said, ‘I want to go home,’” a simple request, but one that was not to be honored for almost one more year. “My company commander said, ‘No, you are still on special assignment. General Eisenhower needs you.”

That began the young soldier’s post war assignment as a member of the escort guard, whose duty was to protect General Eisenhower. One of his most memorable assignments in that role was to accompany the war hero on his first return visit to his hometown, Abilene, Kansas. It was on that trip that Murphree faced perhaps the most harrowing ordeal of his military career..

“The General flew to New York,” said Murphree. “Me and the other guards went by ship, the USS Sea Robin, a 55,000 ton battleship. About halfway there in the North Atlantic, we hit one of the worst storms in history. They told us we might have to abandon ship. We lost all our life boats and life lines. We were literally between the devil and the deep blue sea. The ship would rock up on its side and just hang there, and I would think well, it’s going over this time, but it would come back down and hit the water. It sounded like it was going to bust into a thousand pieces. Even the captain who had been sailing for 40 years said this was the worst storm in history.

“ Finally,” continued Murphree, “the USS Sea Robin limped into New York Harbor. Boy, it had taken a beating. I don’t see how in the world it made it through that storm.”

Then, pausing in his narrative, Murphree added, “well, actually, I guess I do see how it made it. I went down in the bow of that ship and I got serious with the Lord. I said, ‘Lord, there’s nothing I can do about it except for You. I’ve got a beautiful woman and a little boy back home, and I would like to go back to them.’ About half an hour later, it was announced on the intercom, that the storm had weakened. The captain said we had blown off our course, but he believed we would make it.”

By this time, Murphree just wanted to go home. “Each time I asked, all I was told was, ‘No, you are still needed here.’ I said, I don’t care nothing about being a big shot. I had been gone almost three years away from my wife and baby. All I wanted to do was get out of there, get this thing over and get back home. I wanted to get back on the farm, pick some cotton, grow some corn, smell some sorghum syrup a-cooking. That’s all I wanted to do.”

Finally, in 1946 , Murphree was discharged from the army. Once back home, he bought the farm where he now lives and where he and his wife raised their son William, Junior and three daughters Elizabeth (Mealer), Linda (Vaughan) and Alice (Cater). And, it was here where Murphree resumed his passion for gospel singing.

According to his daughter Elizabeth Mealer, “Daddy was into gospel singing from the time he was a small child.” As the story goes, one of his uncles took him to a gospel singing, and he actually got up there and directed a song.

Gospel singing was also on his mind in a fox hole in France. According to Mealer, “Daddy said he prayed if the Lord would get him home he would like to have a trio of girls that would sing. He always wanted a singing family, and that’s exactly what he got.”

“We had a wonderful life,” said Murphree, “Me and the Murphree sisters. We traveled around in a Greyhound bus singing the gospel all over the southeast from Montgomery to Georgia. That blood harmony. There’s no way you can beat it.” And his son sang bass in several gospel groups.

Murphree says about the only time he sings these days is when he’s out on his tractor. Neighbors listening closely might hear him bellowing out old favorites like, “What a Meeting in the Air,” That Heavenly Home will Surely Be Mine,” or Power in the Blood.”

Despite his age, Murphree lives alone, still drives a car, and works his farm along with some help from grandsons Wayne Mealer and David Murphree and great grandson Cody Mealer. He says he’s often asked what keeps him going at his age, and his answer is simple. “Hard work. If hard work would kill somebody, I would have been dead 35 years ago.”

“Somebody once told me ‘you don’t have a bit of business out here doing this at your age. When are you going to quit?’ Well, laughed Murphree. “I said I imagine when my toes are up.” Does he ever think about retiring? “Oh, sure. I think about it every year, and every year I say well, this will be the last one. But, then the wild onions put up and you can smell them; and the fruit trees bloom out, and the bees go to swarming. It just gets in my blood, and I have to get out there and go.”

Now, with a new John Deere tractor complete with power steering in the shed, Murphree may have even more reason to postpone his retirement. “Yeah, I’m proud of that tractor. When you get my age, it gets harder to steer but now that power steering has taken care of all that.”

“I can say I’ve had a good life,” said Murphree. “I was talking to my cousin the other night. She said, ‘I guess you realize how the Lord has blessed you.’ I do. He’s given me a good life. He shepherded me through one of the bloodiest wars in history and one of the worst storms ever on the sea. I have had a very good life. I don’t go around bragging about my life, but I am proud of it.”

Other Stories

Jamie Merrymon

Artist’s work making television appearance

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

Jamie Merrymon sees possibilities when others simply see the object in front of them. Evidence of it hangs behind her mother’s desk in the Pell City courthouse – “a painting without painting.”

Fashioned from frame corners that don’t meet and scores of mismatched buttons from her great grandmother’s button tin, it is a work of art others would never have thought to create.

“I have an eye for it,” she said. That, she does. Jamie sees art in just about everything around her. A wine cork. Newsprint. Bullets. A stack of old license plates found in the courthouse basement. They all are possibilities in a Jamie Merrymon original.

She once carved a self portrait from a block of linoleum. It took her three months to finish, but when she was done, it earned her the Dean’s Merit Award at Auburn University and a cash prize.

She sees color as her greatest ally, and she isn’t afraid to use bright hues and bold strokes to tell her story on canvas. “Colorful makes me happy,” she said. Nor does she shy away from texture, using tissue and paint to create a three dimensional work of art.

Working in the garage of her parents’ Pell City home, she said, “When I get in the mood to paint, I get in and paint.” It is not unusual for her to spread materials on the ground, circling it as she works. Her professor once told her the best abstract looks good from any angle, words that drive her approach. It’s why she signs the back of her work. There is no true bottom or top. It is in the eyes of the beholder.

“Art to me is the freedom to be creative. There is no right way or wrong way,” she said.

It is that same eye for creativity that landed her a TV gig behind the scenes on the show of professional organizers, The Amandas, after graduating from Auburn in Fine Arts. And it is that same flair for creativity that moved her work in front of the cameras on that show as well as on Fix It and Finish It with Antonio Sabato Jr.

“I wanted to be a decorator, but I couldn’t get out of Chemistry,” she mused. That put her on course for a Fine Arts degree and a stint as a “starving artist.” She shotgunned 60 resumes and found The Amandas willing to take a chance on her. “I lived in Atlanta a month, New Orleans a month and Birmingham for a month,” helping behind the scenes with reorganizing rooms and making over houses for use on the TV show.

In New Orleans, after Hurricane Katrina struck, the owner of the house to be redone for the cameras mentioned she loved original art. “We have an artist right here,” Jamie recalled Amanda Le Blanc saying. And with that, she plopped down on the driveway and painted herself right into the show. It was a 5 x 5 foot abstract featured in a room makeover.

Although that show was later cancelled, she got a second chance when Le Blanc sent her a message about creating artwork for Fix It and Finish It. Yet another of her works appeared in that show. It gave her the opportunity to work with Orlando-based Pink Sneakers producers Craig Campbell and Trish Gold, who helped produce such reality shows as Project Runway and The Kardashians.

These days she spends her time crisscrossing the county as a court referral officer, carrying on what has become a family tradition of serving St. Clair County. Her mother is judicial assistant to Circuit Judge Bill Weathington. Her grandmother, Sara Bell, was chief clerk of the Probate Office.

“I love my job. I love people,” Jamie said. “I’m a good people person.”

You’ll get no argument from attorney Van Davis, who serves as municipal judge in several St. Clair County cities where Jamie works. “She’s amazing,” he said when he learned she would be the subject of a magazine piece.

There’s no argument from District Judge Alan Furr about her artistic talent, either.

He offered her mother $500 on the spot for her Painting Without Painting, she said. But it’s not for sale. Vicki counts it among her most prized possessions, a Mother’s Day gift from Jamie.

Other pieces are for sale, and Jamie continues to spend her off time producing them in an unlikely sanctuary – her parents’ garage she calls her ‘studio.’ There among the stacks of boxes and usual occupants of a garage, she has carved out her creative corner of the world. “I don’t have to answer to anybody but myself when I’m in my creative zone. I do what I want to do. It’s my zone.”

And as she works toward some of the same goals as other 20-somethings – a house, perhaps a family – her art is never out of the picture for her life. “If I could afford it, I would just retire and paint.”

Other Stories

More Scenic Drives

Driving directions to
St. Clair’s scenic spots

Words and Photos by Michael Callahan

As I stood on my deck overlooking Logan Martin Lake, the wind bore down with a crispness and chill that could only mean winter was upon us in St. Clair County. Above me, a whirling grey mass of clouds, blocked out the sunlight. However, it had been quite a few weeks since I had packed up my camera gear and headed out to bring our readers a scenic St. Clair drive.

While I was badly missing the beautiful colors of fall, I knew where I was headed on this day. With camera, tripod — and warm clothes — I set out. Driving north from Pell City, I turned onto Alabama 174 , then over to Kelly Creek Road. Turning left on Kelly Creek, I just settled back and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. Hay fields abound, and that means numbers of scenic pastures with livestock dot the drive along this idyllic road. Kelly Creek Road skirts the western side of Bald Rock Mountain. It had been quite a while since I’d made this drive, and I was taken in by the numerous horse riding stables and facilities.

Traveling down through the valley, I knew where I was headed. A couple of weeks back while working with one of our writers on an assignment in Springville, I had become quite interested in all of the older homes, churches and businesses in the area. I knew I wanted to capture some of what I had seen to share with our readers.

Entering Springville at the Highway 174 and US 11 intersection, I headed up Murphree Valley Road. At the top of mountain, I turned sharp left onto Pine Mountain Road . Just a short distance later, I came upon The Ridge Outdoor Adventure park. After suffering major tornado damage just a short time ago, they are back in business offering the thrill of off road ATV riding, and zip lines abound. Catch a look at the high flying riders. After watching these guys flying through the air, it was time to head back down.

Along the way, I came across Hullet Chapel Independent Methodist Church. As you can see from the photo, it was founded in 1870. That’s a whopping 145 years.

I came back into the downtown area and very quickly realized there is much history here. Taking the back streets, I came upon a very old business, as witnessed by the weathered boards adorned by father time. As you can see from the photo, it’s been time tested and still standing. Also had to grab a picture of the flag attached to the side of the old place. Just down the way and across from Homestead Hollow, another old business with the classic weathered wood made for a wonderful photo.

Now it was time for the downtown homes and business district. I will let the photos speak for themselves. Many of these classic homes have withstood a century or more of wear and tear. There, the architecture is from a different time and place in our county. Businesses are opening back up in storefronts that have not been occupied for many years. Laster Sundries is a good example of very old business that has reopened. Check out the article by our own Tina Tidmore on this historic business.

Traveling on through town on U.S. 11, I was taken in by the Springville Presbyterian Church circa 1873. Just up the hill you can find an old rock school house that has withstood time for more than 100 years.

As I left town traveling up U.S. 11, I knew where I was headed. About eight miles north of Springville on the way to Steele, a classic road cross still stands. These sign crosses are a fixture on roadways that many of us can remember from our childhood. Reverend Maye’s Crosses were once on our roadways throughout the United States. The one shown in the photo is located on U.S. 11 close to Steele.

Just a few hundred yards up the highway, I came across the decaying hulk of an original Pan Am service station. The Pan Am stations were the Rolls Royce service centers of their day, back in the 50s. While air conditioning was something virtually no business had in that era, Pan Ams did. You could also get gas, food and auto service if needed. They were something akin to our modern shopping centers, years before their time.

Traveling westward on U.S. 11, I turned right onto Double Bridges road headed back to Ashville and home. Rounding a curve, I was really taken in by what is called a winter/green field. Taking a look at this photo, you just have to admit we have some big sky scenes in our county.

Entering the city limits of Ashville, I came across what was probably a very old apartment house. As you can see from the photo, folks back then used rocks for foundations. A few yards down the street, there’s a Masonic Lodge reportedly built in the 1850s. This building is on the historical register.

Just a few hundred feet down the street stands the historic John Inzer house. Built in 1852 by Moses Dean, it became a home to John Washington Inzer in 1866. One of the highlights of this place is a bullet hole in the beautiful colored glass on the front of this Greek Revival home. It is reported to have come from the pistol of a Yankee soldier who was occupying Ashville during the Civil War. A very active group of Sons of Confederate Veterans does a wonderful job of preserving this historic place. The photo you see is Mr. Bill Watkins, SCV 308 St. Clair County Chapter.

A block over and just off U.S. 231 north in downtown, I found another excellent example of historic architecture. It is now called the Quilt House, and its gingerbread highlights, are ornate examples of an era long past.

Leaving Ashville and heading back down to Pell City, I had to get a photo of one more historic house before my drive was over. Just off U.S. 231 in Wattsville, adjacent to the railroad, this house was once a hotel serving customers of the thriving Seaboard railroad that ran through the Coal City/Wattsville area. Another excellent example of historic architecture.

Thanks for once again, meandering across St. Clair County with me. We want to share more scenic drives with you in our picturesque county and explore more of our rich and historic past. Our buildings and structures say much about who we were and how we got here. I am glad St. Clair County is my home.

Photographers Note: Thanks to Jerry Smith , Discover St. Clair writer, photographer and author of Uniquely St. Clair for his help and willingness to share historical data with this photographer. Thanks again to Mr. Roland Thomas’ invaluable resources.

Scenic St. Clair Drives

34 photos

Other Stories

Revisiting the Lovejoy Slinghsot Hunt

Annual event continues to draw attention

Words and Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

Legend and tradition meet each year in Ashville when Lyman Lovejoy hosts the Lovejoy Slingshot Hunt in honor of his father, Sim Lovejoy. Breakfast and lunch, cooked over an open pit is always a treat, and the Lovejoys supply flips and ½ inch ball bearings for ammunition.

Today, the flips are produced by Don Hulsey. Don has succeeded in carrying on Sim’s design tradition.

Sim’s ability with the flip was legendary. As young as seven, he was known for killing running rabbits as well as squirrels running through the branches of trees. His accuracy has not been matched by his progeny, and they will not try to tell you otherwise.

His generosity in crafting flips for children was legendary, too. And there is no shortage of children at the Lovejoys each year. They are as much a part of the hunt as flips and squirrels.

Participants, young and old, practice with their flips and take to the woods for the grand hunt after breakfast in wagons pulled by tractors. Trees are shaken, dogs bark, and comparisons are made to previous years. Another spot is always better, so the hunting party wanders through the woods with heads tilted back, searching feverishly for any sign of a squirrel.

An occasional ball is hurled toward a bundle of leaves stuck in the high branches of a tree, in hopes that the elusive prey will be rousted from the suspected nest. Squirrels, wily as they are, either pretend well to not be there, or are not there at all.

Once one is spotted, the chase is on. Shouts of “Get ahead of him!” ring through the woods as men, old men, bound through the brush like youngsters. A fuselage of steel balls fly through the air as the squirrel dances from limb to limb, searching for shelter. “Get around him!” “There he goes!” “Knock him down!” “He’s comin’ back this way!”

Most escape. It is not easy to hit a squirrel with a slingshot.

Once a squirrel is bagged, adolescent boys will give sincere testimony that it was their ball that brought it down. If there is a dispute, the compromise is, “Well, I hit him right when you did,” which is acceptable, and ends any conflict.

The little girl, whose shot barely left the flip, is encouraged by her father saying, “Well honey, you didn’t hit him, but you sure scared him.”

Sim Green Lovejoy died one day after his 92nd birthday, on Oct. 14, 2006. Buried in his overalls with a flip in the front pocket, his fishing pole by his side, Sim was wearing his favorite cap.

That is not a bad way to go, and the annual hunt is not a bad way to be remembered.

Editor’s Note: This year, the hunt captured the attention of Fred Hunter and will be aired on Fox 6’s Absolutely Alabama Feb. 20.

Sim Lovejoy Squirrel Hunt

282 photos

Features

Laster Sundries

Memory-filled soda fountain reopens in Springville

Story by Tina Tidmore
Photos by Mike Callahan

On a 48-degree Friday afternoon in December, eight-year-old Clara Hughes sits at a small round table at Laster Sundries. Despite the temperature outside, Clara enjoys licking her multi-colored sherbet. In doing so, she is following the tradition of her mother and grandfather, going back to the 1960s.

Many in Springville fondly remember after-school walks down Springville’s Main Street to the combination soda fountain/gift shop. Yet, for at least a year and a half, Laster Sundries was closed. It reopened in December under new ownership.

“I came here when I was 12 years old,” said Sandra Tucker, a former owner of the business and current chairman of the St. Clair County Historical Development Commission. “That was the place to go for ice cream, candy, school books and school supplies.” Now that it has reopened, Tucker said she hopes local people will remember it’s there and support it.

“Everyone in Springville has a story to tell of the place,” said new owner Amy Harris. “I wanted to bring back a place for families to make memories. It tugs at my heart strings.”

The long-time Springville resident quit her 19-year nursing career in October to revive the landmark business. Even though her son Taylor questioned whether she’s going through a midlife crisis in making such a drastic career change, Harris is receiving much support from her husband, mother, son, brother and nephews. Usually, one or more family members can be found serving customers in the shop, including a young man wearing a period-style white plaid shirt with a red bowtie.

Harris’ mother, Dean Franklin, can be found there regularly. She is retired and also has lived in Springville for many years. As any good mother would, she’s helping her daughter’s dream come true and is a co-owner.

“I always loved cooking and baking,” Harris said. “I always dreamed of owning a business like this.” After the previous owners closed it, Harris said she just kept looking at the building, and the desire to act continued to build. “I loved the history,” she said of the building and the business.

Much of that “history” is in the mahogany, floor-to-ceiling display cases, along with a marble counter purchased in 1930 and a soda fountain purchased many decades ago from Pennsylvania. The building itself is included in the Springville Historic District, which is on the U.S. National Park Service list of historic sites. Harris did some painting and wiring work in the building and is keeping the dark green and white, checkerboard-style floor.

While reviving history, Harris is also looking forward to the future, hoping to create a viable business by making the right choices and offering food and gifts that her customers want. On top of the Laster Sundries ice cream case are bananas, just waiting to be sliced and put in a bowl with mint chocolate chip, butter pecan or one of the other cold and creamy delights.

In addition to the Blue Bell ice cream and cherry or vanilla cokes, the menu includes made-from-scratch soups and sandwiches. “I’ve been overwhelmed with how busy it’s been,” Harris said just two months after it reopened. “Most of the business has been the food.”

It’s no wonder. Their Facebook page has soup-of-the-day announcements that include hearty winter flavors, such as potato soup, tomato basil soup and wild rice soup. The sandwiches include Mama’s Favorite Chicken Salad, Triple Grill Cheese and traditional choices. The menu offers a Brown Cow, Black Cow, Purple Cow and Orange Cow; all float flavors.

One holdover from the previous owners is the Egg Cream Soda. Harris said she’s not sure why it’s called that because it doesn’t have any egg in it.

Harris is considering adding free Wi-Fi service to attract students to do their studying at the shop. The gifts, said her husband Brian Harris, will be trendy and for showers or birthdays. They plan to make the building available for after-hours events by appointment. As the temperatures warm up, customers can look for the shop to offer picnic lunches that can be taken to the neighboring public park. They have also been approached to do some catering for weddings.

This is not the first time the business has been resurrected. According to an excerpt from Heritage of St. Clair County, the Lasters started the business in 1927. It remained in the Laster family for years. But at one point, it stopped operating and the building ended up in disrepair. Then Gerald and Sandra Tucker, along with Lillian and Frank Buckner, did the repairs and opened it back up, still as Laster Sundries. Amy Harris said the Tuckers and Buckners owned it for 16 years.

At this time, Harris is using a Facebook page, Laster Sundries on Main, to communicate with the community.

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