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Rising From the Rubble

By Loyd McIntosh
Photos by Jerry Martin and Loyd McIntosh

On a blazing hot Saturday in mid-June, Gary Liverett drives his white pickup truck onto the property of Alpha Ranch, the ministry for young adult boys he founded more than 20 years ago. Fresh from picking up his son, Chris, a real estate agent in Colorado, from the airport in Birmingham, Liverett takes a seat under a tent that serves as a meeting place, a work space and a welcome respite from the heat of the summer sun.

It’s been almost six weeks since the deadly tornadoes of April 27 tore through this remote section of St. Clair County. In just a three-mile stretch along County Highway 22, 15 people lost their lives; none, however, at Alpha Ranch. In fact, 37 people survived the storm in one of two homes on the property, despite the loss of the entire ranch to the storm.

There are signs of progress on the ranch. For instance, the wood frame for a new shop has been erected and most of the debris has been removed, but there are still tons of reminders all around. Liverett is still in the process of making sense of all that transpired.

As fate would have it, Liverett was recuperating from a heart attack at UAB Hospital on that devastating day in April. Helplessly, Liverett could do nothing but watch the television coverage as the storm moved from Tuscaloosa County into Jefferson and, finally, into St. Clair. “The first news we saw that pinpointed the area was Channel 6, I guess, I’m not sure, but they said it was dead on Highway 22, and I knew that was us,” Liverett recalls. “My wife called and got word that nobody was injured, but that we had lost everything.”

Three days later, Liverett finally got a first-hand look at the destruction caused by the tornado. His son, Chris, and other family members had tried to prepare him with photos and news of all that had transpired. He knew, for instance, that 13 people had lost their lives in a three-mile stretch. He knew that both houses at the ranch, the barns, the shop and three cows were lost in the storm.

“I wept. I drove in …,” he pauses, unable to complete his sentence. Almost a full minute passes before he fully regains his composure and continues. “I still get emotional. As good as things are, it’s still hard to take.”

An independent and deeply spiritual man, Liverett is not one to say “why me” even when facing the prospect of starting over. While saddened at seeing everything he had worked to build over the 23 years, he believes that God is in control, and it is through his faith that he remains confident about what the future holds.

“When we heard we had lost everything but I knew that everybody was safe, I was OK. I think God just really works in ways that we can’t explain,” Liverett says. “I really felt at peace. I was just blessed because I think God allowed us to see what things are really important to us.

“I guess God gives us the ability to process things in small segments at a time. If you had to process losing it all at one time, I don’t think you could take it,” he adds.

The good news is people like Liverett and others who lost everything — including loved ones — are already beginning the process of rebuilding. The events of April 27 revealed an ample supply of generosity, independence and strength of character of people throughout the community and beyond. St. Clair County is already bouncing back.

A COMMUNITY’S RESPONSE
Within hours of the storm, volunteers from the community sprang into action looking for survivors, assisting the injured, and helping in any way they can. As the hours turned into days, more help arrived from familiar organizations, such as the Red Cross and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). And, according to Liverett and others on the scene, these agencies also brought with them top-heavy bureaucracies that sometimes made applying for and receiving help difficult.

What really made the difference was the response of the local religious community. “I know FEMA and Red Cross and all have their place, but nothing, and I can speak for a lot of people, nothing met the needs like local individuals, churches and other ministries that were just right there with volunteers,” he said. “You don’t have to fill out papers, you don’t have to wait days and days, and they had no strings attached,” says Liverett. “I’m not putting down any of these agencies, but most of them have only certain things they can do, whereas individual groups like Extreme Ministries, just right off the bat, committed to building several houses and structures in this area, and they’ve done all they can.”

Extreme Ministries, based in Pell City and founded by the Rev. Jeff Huey, specializes in mobilizing volunteers for construction-related projects. By the time mid-June rolled around, Huey had volunteers working at as many as eight sites around the county, including Ragland, where a group of adults and teenagers are working to rebuild a house for an uninsured man.

In the triple-digit temperatures, high humidity and intense thunderstorms arriving out of the clear blue, the mood on the construction site is serious but upbeat.

“One thing you see is a mighty good attitude,” says John O. Sims, a retired builder from Pell City.

At this site, there are people from churches near and far – Pell City, Moody, Trussville, even Dallas, Texas. While there is a definite spirit of community and desire to help their fellow man, most volunteers throughout the community are working primarily to serve God.

“Everybody’s doing this because they love the Lord, and they’re doing it because they feel it’s a way of serving Him. It gives you a good feeling knowing that you’re helping somebody out in trouble and doing it in God’s name,” says Sims.

“Everybody’s just willing to do whatever has got to be done and it’s all in the spirit of God. It’s just a wonderful experience,” adds Mike Caldwell, a Pell City resident and employee at the Honda plant in Lincoln. “The attitude of everybody is just ‘whatever I can do to help. We’ll get it done.’”

Fifteen-year-old resident Austin Hamer is one of dozens of young people form Moody Baptist Church spending the week doing what they can to help. A normal teenager for whom a typical summer day would be playing his guitar at home, Hamer says he’s proud to be a part of the volunteer effort.

“We’re here to help build Shoal Creek back and Ragland back. I’ve heard people who were just doubting and sounded like they were giving up,” says Hamer. “I think it’s really good that so many people have come to help out because a lot of people down here don’t have insurance, and the churches are, pretty much, the only ones doing anything around here.”

The aftermath of the storm was felt not only by the community’s people, but the animals as well. Family pets, horses, cows and other livestock that helped the rural communities devastated by the tornadoes earn a living were significantly disrupted. Not wanting to leave any life, human or animal, without help it needs, the community sprang into action.

Rhonda Johnson-Bowles, account manager and equine and wildlife specialist for Land-O-Lakes Purina, helped organize an effort to care for the area’s animals after counting her own blessings following the storm. Having lived in the Shoal Creek area for more than 25 years, she felt the need to help and volunteered her time and skills to the community. “I was blessed to be the dealer and not the one being done for,” Bowles says. “We started out just helping farmers and then on Friday, my boss sent me a truckload of feed.

“I just went door-to-door and started in Shoal Creek and if anyone that was affected had an animal I gave them a month’s worth of feed,” Bowles adds. Before long, donations of food and supplies were arriving on her doorstep from as far away as Michigan and Wisconsin. To date Land-O-Lakes Purina and other individual benefactors have donated over 58 tons of premium feed in the effort.

GIVING AND RECEIVING, AND GIVING AGAIN
Back at Alpha Ranch, Liverett is taking stock of this turn of events. For 23 years, he has been a giver. He’s given young men with nowhere to go a place to stay, given them a place to learn a trade and to take care of themselves, and given them hope. Most of all, he and his family have given them love, support and a chance to turn their lives around. Now he finds himself in an unfamiliar position but hopes to be back changing lives sooner rather than later.

“We learned a lot. I don’t like to be on the receiving end. I’d much rather be on the giving end, but I think, probably, had people not rallied behind us so much, I don’t know if I’d have the heart to start back or not,” says Liverett. “We’d worked so hard to establish the place. I’m 61 and to start over, I don’t know if I would have had it in me, but God has used those people, and I feel stronger now than I’ve ever felt.”

Even after a heart attack and the loss of his ranch, Liverett is working every day not only to rebuild Alpha Ranch but to help his neighbors that suffered so much in April. He’s donated the use of heavy equipment to others and the use of his land for meetings and even a few fundraising events. And as soon as construction on the new shop is complete, he’ll let anyone who needs to saw some wood or hammer a nail be able to use it.

“I hope my heart has gotten bigger toward helping people. Giving is not just giving when it’s comfortable or when it’s notable, but when it hurts or gives what you need,” Liverett says. “I’ve seen people do that here, and that’s really been a lesson to me.”

“We’re blessed,” Liverett adds. “We’ve had people reach out and help us, and I’m grateful for that. I really am.”

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St. Clair’s Savory Summer Produce

By Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

The sign is like a portal to the South from spring and into the fall, beckoning one and all to come have a taste: FRESH PRODUCE, it says.

In the sweltering heat of a Southern summer, roadside stands and farmers’ markets peddle palate-pleasing delights straight from the garden.

It’s certainly no different in St. Clair County, where farms and backyard gardens — large and small — stretch from atop Chandler Mountain to the shores of the Coosa River below. Around these parts, cucumbers, okra, peas and beans with unsavory names like Rattlesnake are regular table fare, just like Silver Queen corn, eggplant, purple hull peas and yellow and zucchini squash.

Don’t forget the peppers — sweet and hot banana, green bells and even an Italian named Marconi.

Tomatoes? By far, they’re still the king. St. Clair County is home to one of the top five largest tomato crops in the country, perhaps the largest in the region. “We’re the tomato capital of the South,” said Judy Gilliland, who along with husband Hershel, raise five acres of vegetables and fruit on their Chandler Mountain Farm fit for the finest tables around.

And for dessert, Crimson Sweet watermelons are a farm favorite.

Up on Chandler Mountain is a treasure of thousands of acres of scores of varieties of tomatoes from traditional to heirloom. But there is plenty more to see along the countryside.

The Gillilands are third generation farmers on Three Oaks Farm, named for the trio of the more than century-old oaks that stand watch over their family home. Children and grandchildren, who lend a hand during planting and harvest, have become fourth and fifth generations of this branch of St. Clair County farmers.

“We grow as much as we ever need,” said Gilliland. They grow enough to sell all summer long at farmer’s markets in Trussville, Pell City, Sylacauga, Leeds and Ross Bridge, where city folks line up for their own taste of summer from early June to September.

Gilliland, a retired engineer from the state, and Mrs. Gilliland, who retired from a law firm, returned to their roots when they got the chance, moving back in 1990 from big-city life to the family farm in Steele.

Now they spend 14-hour days harvesting the fruits — and vegetables — of their labor. If you close your eyes and imagine the birth of a buffet of fresh-picked paradise, that would be the fields of Three Oaks.

The Gillilands are locally famous for their heirloom tomatoes, and Mrs. Gilliland explains the different varieties they grow as deftly as a seasoned teacher giving a history lesson. “They’re the ugly face with the great taste. That’s what you call an heirloom,” she said, noting a series of deep ridges of these oversized tomatoes with an unmistakably sweet taste.

There are Yellow Blush, a variegated variety; Brandywine, which is pink; Yellow, a milder type; and Cherokee Purple. They share a common benefit. “All heirlooms are low in acid,” she said.

Just down the road a piece, young Jake Owen lures passersby to his produce stand with a fresh cut watermelon perched atop a sign listing his family’s vegetables du jour. The flesh of the watermelon is the deepest of reds, arousing taste buds of no telling how many motorists happening by.

His family owns six acres flanking the fruit and vegetable stand — “five more across the road,” he said. He and his father handle the chores of growing and harvesting from the farm that produces enough “to feed all of us,” he said, referring to his family. Owen has been selling the farm’s produce for two years but plans to go to work on the commercial tomato farms of Chandler Mountain next year, he said of his future.

Then, he turned a moment to the past, talking about his farming lineage. “Daddy’s been growing stuff as long as he’s been living.” His grandfather grew cotton, and his “kinfolks” in Oneonta in the next county farm as well.

For Andy Kemp, who along with wife, Paula, started A&P Farms five years ago, it was the lure of land that helped them find their way to St. Clair County. Andy, who managed a parts distributorship in Memphis, Tenn., and Paula, who worked as a software developer for BellSouth, “dreamed of having our own property — acreage,” he said. “We found this, not knowing we’d farm,” pointing to field after field of fruits and vegetables nearing picking time. They own 75 acres “to the peak of the mountain,” he said, and they began growing and providing their bounty to one farmers market five years ago.

Today, they sell at seven farmer’s markets a week and supply a grocery store in Birmingham as well as Community Supported Agriculture — an outreach of East Lake United Methodist Church — to provide fresh fruits and vegetables to buyers and for charitable purposes.

“It’s a lot of work, but we enjoy it,” Kemp said. While there are plenty of vegetables readying for harvesting across his acreage, his favorite is growing fruit — 15,000 strawberry plants, 160 peach trees and four 200-foot trellises of blackberries. “We pick 150 watermelons every two to three days and 150 to 200 cantaloupes every couple of days.

Then it’s on to market in East Lake, Birmingham’s noted Pepper Place, Valleydale, Trussville, Pell City, Adamsville and Gardendale.

Between growing, picking and marketing, “It’s daylight to dark seven days a week.”

Heirlooms are A&P’s specialty, but he has plenty of the main ingredient to a good old fashioned tomato sandwich.

His crop these days is helped by a pair of high tunnels, similar to hot houses but strictly solar. The sides are rolled up during the day and let down at night, allowing Kemp to extend his growing season by four months. Planting season can begin March 1 in the tunnel instead of the traditional mid-April dates.

“I had 50 boxes (of tomatoes) in May. By May 15, we’re picking red tomatoes. I hope to have them into November.”

And there’s no waste for any of Kemp’s crop. They freeze what’s left, and over the winter, they produce jams, jellies and relish. Perhaps the T-shirt he donned said it best: “We grow it. You eat it.”

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Discover St. Clair Edition 1

Open publication – Free publishing – More alabama

Magazine

Catfish Noodling

noodling-logan-martin-4 — Stephan Goin (left) and Brandon Roe nab a big one on Logan Martin.

Noodling: noun

1. Fishing for catfish using only bare hands, practiced primarily in the southern United States. The noodler places his hand inside a discovered catfish hole.

— Wikipedia

2. A form of fishing in which someone runs into a lake and searches for holes on the bottom with his foot. Then he inserts his finger into the hole and lets something bite it. Hopefully, it’s a catfish.

— Urban Dictionary

By Loyd McIntosh

Photos by Jerry Martin

The following activities are illegal or prohibited in the State of Alabama: Bear wrestling matches, to chain an alligator to a fire hydrant, to wear a fake moustache that causes laughter in church, and to be blindfolded while operating a vehicle.

Those illustrations may be a bit far-fetched, but the overall point is adventure, and real endorphin-creating, adrenaline-pumping adventure can be hard to find — at least the kind of fun that doesn’t land you in the Graybar Hotel or get your face plastered on one of those mugshot magazines you see on convenience store counters.

For those looking for a good time that will get the blood flowing and, literally, get you in touch with nature, look no further than noodling, an outdoor water sport gaining in popularity among young men throughout the area. Noodling, sometimes referred to as grabbling, is a type of fishing that eschews rod, reel and worms in favor of the bare hands.

From late-May through early-July, noodlers make their way to lakes, ponds and streams around St. Clair County. Mostly young men, these gonzo outdoorsmen look for holes near or in the banks, preferably under a dock or a boat ramp, where large catfish may be hiding. Once an appropriate spot is found, a noodler will leap over the side of their boat and into the murky water.

After a couple of tense minutes as God only knows what takes place under the water’s surface, the noodler emerges, one arm wrapped around the flapping catfish, the other inside the mouth of the catfish. And thus you have an emerging adventure sport that is growing in popularity on lakes like Logan Martin and Neely Henry.

“I’ve been dong this every summer since I was 14 or 15 years old and I love it,” says 19-year-old Cropwell native, Stephan Goin. “There is a just a rush you get when you catch that fish that I can’t explain. It’s just a lot of fun.”

Goin, an aspiring competitive angler, was introduced to noodling by a friend while out fishing on a hot summer day, one of those days when the high temperatures makes sitting in a boat with no shade unbearable. “We had been out there for a while and he said to me, ‘Have you ever been noodling?’ I said ‘noodling? What’s that?’ He went through the process and taught me how to land a fish, everything I needed to know,” Goin says.

After identifying a smaller hole and learning the basics, it was time for his initiation. Goin jumped in the water and noodled for his first catfish. The first few moments were tense and alarming, but, before long he was hooked.

“I felt something brush my hand then it hit me and scared me a little. It hit me so hard with this blunt force. I thought ‘I’ve go to do this’ and I pulled him out eventually,” Goin says. “I remember telling my mom and dad about it and if they had ever heard of noodling. It was like telling your parents you were going to buy a motorcycle.”

noodling-logan-martin-3 — Brothers Stephan (left) and Morgan Goin on Logan Martin Lake

His first catch was a 15-pound catfish, a dwarf compared to the monsters he and other noodlers catch now. Goin says he caught a 50-pounder while noodling in Logan Martin Lake and knows of a 70-pounder caught by some others, also in Logan Martin. With monsters like these and other creatures lurking in the water, not to mention the drowning dangers inherent in the sport, noodling can be a wee bit hazardous.

“It can be kind of dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. I’ve heard of people drowning because they’ve followed a catfish into a hole that’s too small to get it out of and can’t get back to the surface,” Goin says. “Really what you have to watch out for are snakes, beavers and snapping turtles.”

Noodlers also need to look for angry homeowners who may not want them digging around their boat ramps or those who think they’re up to no good. Goin says it’s also not uncommon to encounter a marine policeman or a game and fish warden while chasing catfish on the banks of Logan Martin. “I’ve never gotten in trouble. I always have my fishing license on me and that’s always seemed to answer any questions when we get stopped,” Goin says.

“I remember one old guy just started cussing up a storm at us one day and called the Riverside Police on us,” Goin says. “They handled it, and after it was all over he said ‘God bless y’all.’ How do you like that? He cussed me up and down and then asked God to bless me.”

For many, noodling is still a mystery and, of course, controversial. Young men get the police called on them for far less than going underwater and emerging with a 35-pound catfish in their arms. And, at the moment, noodling isn’t legal everywhere in the United States. Texas only legalized noodling in May of this year. So, the big question is what does the law in Alabama say?

“It’s completely legal but you must have a game permit, and you’re limited to one fish over 34 inches long per person,” says Jerry Fincher, a conservation enforcement officer with the Alabama Department of Conservation Division of Wildlife and Freshwater Fisheries and, himself a fellow noodler. Fincher says noodlers who get crossways with the law haven’t sought the blessings of the homeowner before jumping in the water.

“You have to get permission from the homeowner before you can noodle around their docks or boat ramps. We ask for permission and if he says ‘no,’ then we’ll go on to someplace else,” Fincher says.

Fincher says many homeowners believe that noodlers cause problems to the foundations supporting boat ramps and docks and, therefore, don’t want them around. However, he says noodlers actually eliminate the problem actually caused by the fish which burrow holes on the bank to lay their eggs. Still, he says, if and when permission is granted, remember to be respectful and help give this budding sport a good name.

“Don’t use any profanity, clean up after yourself and just be a responsible citizen,” he says. “It’s a growing sport and a lot of fun. It’s a lot more popular now than it used to be.”

Goin would like to make the sport even more popular in the future. He has introduced the sport to professional B.A.S.S. anglers, football players and local adventure seekers and envisions a day where noodling tournaments and organized events are regular occurrences.

“I’ll take anyone out who wants to learn about it,” Goin says. “I don’t charge anyone. It’s just for the fun of it.”

For more on Logan Martin Lake, check out loganmartinlakelife.com

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Features

North by Northeast

chandler-falls-home-50 — Abundant windows give views galore of the beautiful natural scenery.

By David Story

Photos by Jerry Martin

Northeast of Birmingham, on the precipice of Chandler Mountain near Steele, sits an American classic: a rustic family home perched on the edge of a cliff like something out of a Hitchcock film.

The driveway to Chandler Falls Farm crosses a branch eerily named for a man better known for mayhem than family. There is a sign reading “Manson Branch” that according to homeowner John Ard, a surgical nurse at UAB, was a $3 thrift store find.

After crossing Manson Branch onto Chandler Falls Farm, visitors feel immediate relief at the sight of a bronze Foo dog on the porch of Ard’s family home and the hand-hewn logs flanking the front entrance and continuing into the interior living space.

Ard, who’s also known for officiating at tennis tournaments, says the logs were dismantled from a cabin in Andalusia, the front door’s an interior cathedral door from England, and the exterior lanterns are reproductions.

Ard directs visitors’ attention to the porch’s resident gargoyle, which was salvaged from a long-gone Brooklyn brownstone. Railings were custom-designed. No detail’s too small to overlook. At the house’s foundation are ornate vents found at an area estate sale.

Ard is almost apologetic in saying, “I wanted to do an all-brick exterior but went with cedar-shake vinyl siding.” But, he’s obviously proud of the porch’s support beams, the largest of which weighs 100 pounds, is a non-laminated beam cut in Louisiana and brought to Chandler Mountain.

The living room floors are from the same cabin from which the wallboards were reclaimed. Two leather armchairs and a matching dark-green love seat and sofa give off a masculine vibe. The rustic base of a glass-topped coffee table is an antique Alaskan sled, and flanking the flat-screen TV are two sets of stacked cabinets. Large-scale accessories include a taxidermist’s stuffed raptor and fox.

Ard explains the alcove between the cabinets: “I had to cut some corners as the budget excluded some things, such as a stacked-rock fireplace, although we poured the foundation so a fireplace can be easily added later.”

The large framed photograph over the sofa is Mad Ludwig’s Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria, and French sculptor Pierre-Jules Mene, born in Paris in 1810, was the originator of the sofa table’s reproduction bronze of a hunt scene.

Directionally contrasting rafters make for the transition from the living area to the kitchen, which is overseen by a large-scale angel carving. The custom-made kitchen countertops are Mozambique or “White Diamonds,” and the wooden hood above the stove is supported by ornate corbels.

chandler-falls-home-46-2 — John Ard takes in his scenic view.

A likewise angelic image of Julia Roberts, signed by the actress, is placed strategically on the kitchen counter. The cabinetry includes a built-in hutch with leaded glass doors, and the sunroom — with adequate space for dining — flows off of the kitchen.

It goes without saying the magnificent view of Chandler Mountain is the focal point of the sunroom. Expansive three-sectioned insets of windows, each about 50 feet wide, create a spectacular 150-foot-wide view that is panoramic in scope.

“What I think about when it comes to the view,” says Ard, “is the fog between the ridges, reminiscent of the Smokey Mountains, as it comes up and floats past the house. I love the view on winter mornings and when it’s sunny the rest of year. The property was previously used like a state park and has that same quality. Actually, a boy scout troop was once found camping out here, thinking they were at a nearby state park.”

The light of which Ard speaks is exquisitely filtered through stained-glass windows, circa 1871, from one of New York’s long-gone Catholic churches, both of which were made in memory of William S. and Elizabeth E. Corbett. The windows, jarringly juxtaposed with an authentic Ruby Tuesday’s door (a flea market find), depict St. Anthony turning toward the sea and speaking to the fish, who for their part, raise up their bodies and perch, as it seems, on top of the water. According to the homily upon which the stained images were based, St. Anthony then blessed the fish, which returned to the sea. In keeping with the sunroom’s theological theme, there are a smattering of crucifixes about.

A kitschy coat rack, circa 1970s, sports a vintage West Point cadet’s jacket. A bobcat, perfectly preserved by an adept taxidermist, pops in one corner.

The sunroom’s vintage 1895 solid walnut library table was refitted with a glass top and serves as a dining table. Across from the table hangs a black and white photo, titled “Flatiron No. 3”, which brilliantly depicts the legendary triangular Flatiron building in New York City, or the Fuller Building, as it was originally called, which is located at 175 Fifth Avenue.

The ornate staircase was salvaged by Burgin Construction from Selma’s pre-Civil War Albert Hotel (a replica of the Doge’s Palace in Venice), which was torn down in 1969. The staircase was later acquired and sold to Ard by Fritz Whaley of The Garages in Birmingham.

As visitors exit the sunroom, their attention is drawn to a print by Mexican American rock guitarist Carlos Augusto Selva Santana encased in an alcove of three windowed glass walls. The Santana graphic leads the way to a spiral staircase, meandering upwards to the guest rooms above. The view through the glass windows from the spiral stairs is dizzying. “When you walk down, you feel as if you might go over the edge, a la Hitchcock’s Vertigo, ” says Ard.

The second floor hallway leading to the guest rooms features a striking nude, painted by Agnes B. Taugner in 1952. “Agnes Taugner, who taught at Auburn,” says Ard, “is a sweet lady and was a neighbor in Auburn, where I grew up after we moved there in the 1960s for my mom to go to grad school. Agnes was part of a group of family friends who regularly gathered around our kitchen table to discuss art and drama.”

The smaller upstairs guest room features twin beds and is called “the grandchildren’s room” for its coziness and intimacy. There’s an antique Eastlake chair, circa 1910, and an unruly bobcat throw complete with feline fur. This overall monochromatic beige room’s accented with floral prints on the walls and floral spreads on the half beds. An antique white-washed French commode hides in the corner.

The guest bath is illuminated by a Pella transom-style window with a clerestory effect. Ard’s most treasured possession in this bath is a signed photo of Sting. A re-slivered antique mirror rests on top of an antique vanity refitted as a countertop for the sink. Gold-plated swan-shaped faucets and blue and white decorative, hand-painted tiles add bursts of sheen and color.

The most prominent of the second-floor guest rooms features another Taugner painting. In this larger room, an armoire from the 1930s proportionately offsets the mirrored double doors. Over the bed hangs the other Taugner from 1996, with its hues of red and blue, depicting the Mexican El Dia de los Muertos or the Day of the Dead, a festival honoring the remembrance of deceased loved ones.

The most private of the guest rooms is Ard’s older daughter’s room. “This white guest room has a canopy bed from Henredon,” he says. “Her desk is Toscana from the Philippines and is hand-carved mahogany. There are family photos throughout the bedroom, and the side panel door was salvaged from a college campus. It was actually shown on the cover of a student brochure at Columbus’ Mississippi University for Women, in Columbus, Miss., where my daughter Angie went one summer when she was a junior in high school to participate in a special program for secondary students.”

At the very top of the house is a loft, which doubles as billiard room and sleeping quarters for Ard’s youngest child, and is chock full of pop culture memorabilia. Music-related artifacts include signed poster-sized images of Motley Crue and Aerosmith.

In homage to Manson Branch, which borders the property, a likeness of Charles Manson can be found taking a time-out in the billiard room’s closet. Scattered about is more signed memorabilia from Rod Stewart, Dolly Patron, the Pointer Sisters, Whitney Houston and Bob Dylan, the bulk of which is numbered and comprised of Charlie Hall personal Arista record label collection.

As to the origins of the memorabilia, Ard says, “The provenance is through The Magic Platter, and the pieces were collected from the artists by one of the business’s partners. The collection’s a conversation piece and contributes to the ambience. People said I wouldn’t be able to use a collection of pop memorabilia, but it works, just as the state-of-the-art kitchen works juxtaposed with the vintage, log cabin-inspired living area.”

On a more traditional note, next to the pool table, which is the loft’s centerpiece, aptly hangs a hobnailed and faux leather-matted reproduction of Ron Henry O’Neil’s The Billiards.

Back downstairs, Ard’s penchant for unusual art pieces is reflected in the Donald Grant hand-signed and numbered limited-edition prints, Big Cats and Tigers, which hang against a sage-green wall over a grouping of two 1920s walnut and cane chairs.

A focal point is a piece by artist Iris Margagaliotti hanging over the fireplace, the surround of which is from the 1920s and original to an old Mountain Brook home. Next to the hearth resides a regal lioness. The wall treatments, which frame yet another stupendous view, and matching bed linens are in a pattern of bright plum and muted-green floral with a touch of beige. The carpet’s a white Berber.

The pediment over the bed came from an old wardrobe and, in a utilitarian sense, gracefully supports the bed hangings, and aesthetically, it perfectly crowns the mound of tapestry pillows on the bed.

Adjacent is the master bath, which immediately draws the eye to a stained-glass window over the tub. The most unexpected find is a signed photo of the 1960s pops group The Monkees. The bath’s theme is a cherub motif, as shown by the vanity’s pot metal or “monkey metal” candelabra, angelic sconces, and cherubic statuettes flanking the tub from windowsill to floor. Also of note is a crystal and stained bronzed chandelier hung from an authentic horsehair and plaster medallion, a detail which Ard is quick to point out.

“When you design a building, structure and function are the easy part, but the artistry lies in the details,” concludes Ard, citing an old German proverb often attributed to Mies van der Rohe. As it turned out, the cliffside house in Hitchcock’s North by Northwest was a Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired Hollywood set, designed by Henry Grace and Frank McKelvey, but by contrast Ard’s mountaintop retreat, designed by himself, is the real deal and a true American classic, down to the last detail.

North by Northeast Photo Gallery (slide the ball left or right to scroll through the photos; click on the photo to enlarge)
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St. Clair Rocks

climbing-Horse-Pens-1 — North Carolinian Conner Love begins Horse Pens ascent.

By GiGi Hood

Photos by Michael Callahan

Outstretched fingers and toes of well-worn climbing shoes find their way into tiny cracks and ledges barely big enough to hold a thimble in some places. Yet they slide a toe here, a few fingers there to steady their climb and make their way up gigantic boulders that have become the pinnacle of a sport rocking the country.

Its history dates back to the 19^th century, and it is thriving in modern-day St. Clair County.

Stop for a second and just visualize the mountainous area of the county, thinking about the rock formations, the crags and crevices, areas where the sun casts shadows, places where no sun shines at all. Think about the pinnacle and imagine standing at the bottom, looking up and in your mind, “mapping” the best way to make a successful ascension to that pinnacle.

With three sites scattered along the county’s ridges and even in an open field, rock climbers from all over are descending on St. Clair County, climbing boulders that define this sport of strength, power, agility and determination as sheer as the rocks they climb.

Anticipation, fear, exuberance, sense of accomplishment, agony, ecstasy, are all words used by avid climbers when describing the fete of attempting to conquer an immovable and, possibly, an insurmountable object. As one climber simply put it, “if you can’t move it, then master it!”

Some of the country’s best rock climbing exists within the boundaries of St. Clair County. The cliffs of Steele, the boulder field of Shoal Creek Valley and Horse Pens 40 are all venues that are rocking the sport.

St. Clair County, with its centuries-old rock outcroppings, is considered a “must visit, must-do” place among climbers. Located in the northeast corner of St. Clair County, near the city of Steele, the area is considered to be a premier place within the Southeastern United States and commands great respect and recognition within the sphere of climbing circles.

Boulderers travel from all over the United States to the Shoal Creek Boulder Field and Horse Pens 40 to challenge themselves by climbing awe-inspiring rock formations with names like Turtle Rock, Buzzard Rock, Mushroom Rock and Stone Fort. The rock composition, which is best described as a cross between “Fontainebleua” and English Grit Stone, has created a fine sandstone texture that is conducive to a great climbing experience. Add the multiple challenging toe and hand holds that exist along the route a climber plans, coupled with great platform landings among an overlay of trees and beautiful surrounding, and you have the perfect recipe for a sport called bouldering.

Conner Love, a 19-year-old from Rocky Mount, N.C., couldn’t resist the allure and challenges of Horse Pens 40. On his way to start a new job with a rock climbing equipment business in Tempe, Arizona, he made Horse Pens one of his last stops before heading west. “I just couldn’t imagine leaving the eastern coast area without personally engaging in a climbing experience here at Horse Pens,” he said. “Anyone who really knows the sport will tell you Horse Pens is the premiere venue for bouldering, as well as one leg of the Triple Crown, the most coveted championship event in the sport.”

Referring to it as just one of the three parts of The Triple Crown is an understatement. The event is recognized as the largest bouldering competition in the U.S. Participant numbers are always larger than usual and hundreds of spectators from all over the U.S., Canada and parts of Europe flock to the Horse Pens 40 outing.

Conner points out that bouldering is much less complicated and less cumbersome than some of the climbing alternatives. “It’s just so simple,” he said. “There’s not a lot of cost because there’s not a lot of equipment. It’s just you, your shoes, some chalk and maybe a crash pad if you’re learning or practicing,” he pointed out.

With all of its “no-strings-attached” simplicity, bouldering is an artistic experience. The rocks, themselves a molded work of art, are the canvas. The climbing experience with its toe holds, grabs, crimps and a carefully chosen path from bottom to top, sets the stage. The climber, a gifted artist, graces that stage with a brilliant display of core strength, physical, mental and technical prowess, coupled with agility and grace as the ballet of the ascent is performed.

The legend of Horse Pens

Horse Pens, with its wonder-of-the-world serenity and jagged outcroppings, has been in existence for more years than most can imagine. Throughout time, its usage has been diverse as well as multi-cultural. It has corralled wild horses, provided the backdrop for Indian peace treaty signings, hidden Civil War soldiers and their wagons laden with supplies and munitions for the troops, provided refuge to fugitives on the lam, and played host to many arts and music festivals.

During the 1970s, while under the ownership of Warren Musgrove, the property was the site of many large bluegrass festivals, camping and great times. The irony was that the only drawback to his successful business venture was the beautiful rocks that beckoned adventuresome visitors to scale them. Deemed a huge liability, insurance would only be provided to the owner as long as no one was permitted to climb on the magnificent outcroppings. So, Musgrove hired young men to sit atop the boulder platforms and keep the climbers at bay during Horse Pens 40 events.

Now mayor of Steele, John Wesley McHugh remembers being hired by Musgrove to be a rock sitter and then having his title changed by one of the festival goers. “We would sit on the rocks, watch for people attempting to climb (much like a lifeguard) and then holler for them to get down,” he explained. “Sitting atop my perch on Buzzard Rock, I was so intent on looking out and around, I didn’t see a fellow climbing up the boulder right behind me. When he reached the platform where I was sitting, we were both shocked to see each other. And then as soon as he got himself together he shouted down to his buddy and told him not to try to ascend because there was a rock cop sitting up there. After that time, the name stuck, and we were always referred to as the Rock Cops.”

Mayor McHugh is also quick to point out that while Horse Pens 40 is an awesome bouldering spot, the crags of Steele are second to none with regard to the free-climbing aspect of the sport.

It was a climbing hotspot from the mid 1970s until 1987.

“It had become so popular that the landowners and farmers were having their tomato crops trampled as well as their peace and quiet compromised. The climbers had to park on the road and then walk through the farmers fields to the walls. Tired of the situation, the locals petitioned to deny the climbers private access and they won,” he explained. With no public access to the climbing walls, the thrill of attempting to master the cliffs while enjoying gorgeous vistas became nothing but a memory of days gone by.

While the cliffs of Steele were off limits, stories of the adventures were never forgotten and the memories were passed down to the newer generations of climbers. As time passed the shared memories motivated climbers, and new dreams emerged about once again climbing those walls. Those dreams and determination, coupled with good fortune led to the birth of new days of climbing at Steele.

When a local landowner decided to sell 25 acres that adjoined the cliffs, the Southeastern Climbers Coalition raised the money and purchased the site. And, by so doing, climbing the crags of Steele was no longer a fond memory. Once again, it had become reality, and the glory days for climbers at Steele had returned.

Climber shares love for sport

climbing-steele-7 — Birmingham climber David Hemphill likes Steele’s challenge.

David Hemphill, a Birmingham native and part of that new generation of climbers, grew up with a love of backpacking, hiking and fishing. In 1994, he found the next level in the progression of his love for outdoor experiences while working at Alabama Outdoors. “One day, construction began on an indoor climbing wall at Alabama Outdoors. Once it was completed, they gave the employees climbing lessons. Talk about love at first sight, I was hooked from the get-go,” he fondly explained.

“Later I began teaching climbing classes, and from that point on, my enchantment with the sport has never stopped growing. It involves such a complexity of body, mind and soul. There’s always a spirit of inner challenge and a feeling of competitiveness. But there is also such a peaceful side — the side that provides camaraderie, wandering, exploring and just being in such a beautiful surrounding. It allows you to do so much on so many different levels of enjoyment,” he explained. “Not unlike the game of chess, it gives you the opportunity to think, to plan, to meditate, to find solace and finally, there’s always a sense of achievement and a sense of personal growth. I’m 46 years young, and I hope I can climb forever.”

Hemphill has combined his love of the sport with an educational aspect. He has completed Wilderness Emergency Medical Training at SOLO, which he pointed out is probably the best school in the country for such instruction.

“I want to be able to help when the time is needed,” he said. “As careful as we all try to be, there is always an element of danger, a chance that medical training may be needed. I just wanted to be equipped with the necessary tools should that challenge ever arise — either for myself or someone else.”

Thanks to the Southeastern Climbing Coalition’s endeavors of raising the money and purchasing the property just north of Horse Pens, more and more people take advantage of having a place to hike, climb and commune with nature, he said. “There’s a road up to a parking area, with a trailer and a path that leads to the cliff walls.”

There is an easy hike from the parking lot and trailer to the Nardo Wall, which is the closest. Only about 800 feet from point to point, with an easy ascension, there is better accessibility for climbers carrying their gear or for people who just want to watch and perhaps participate vicariously.

“The acquisition of the property has been a great success story and a wonderful achievement by a committed group of people,” he explained. “It has returned a wonderful sport to the crags where innumerable pleasures can be derived and at the same time, the locals can enjoy their peace and solitude and not fear that their livelihoods will be compromised.

“It has also provided this generation with a second chance to prove that we as climbers, while enjoying our sport, can be good respectful neighbors to the surrounding community.”

Summing it up, much like a tour guide, Hemphill said, “St. Clair County is full of recreational areas and natural beauty. Whether hiking, fishing, riding through one of the picturesque back roads, bouldering at Horse Pens 40 or the Shoals, or climbing at Steele, it really is a place that has something for everyone.”

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