Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Mealer

The music of the Mealer Family Gospel Singers

Story by Joe Whitten
Photos by Wally Bromberg
and Submitted photos

Music sings to all of us, although some genres sing more melodiously than others. This is true with both secular and sacred music. Today’s generation enjoys a different style of church song from that of their parents and grandparents. However, many folks from all generations enjoy Southern Gospel – which originated long before Bill and Gloria Gaither made it an international staple.

The roots of gospel music can be traced to the spirituals composed and sung by 19th Century Southern slaves. For instance, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, coming for to carry me home” speaks of the slaves’ longing for freedom from bondage, which seemed to be possible only in eternity with God.

This same theme of escape inspired a farm worker to write “I’ll Fly Away.” In 1928, Albert Brumbley worked on his father’s sharecropping farmland and, according to his son, longed to be somewhere other than picking cotton. (Sharecropper farmers often lived at the mercy of the landowner.)

Everyone brings a range of talent to performances

So, in 1929, the first year of the Great Depression, he wrote “I’ll Fly Away.” It was first recorded in 1932 and became an instant favorite. The slaves sang “I looked over Jordan and what did I see, a band of angels coming after me, coming for to carry me home.” Brumbley sang, “Some glad morning when this life is ‘o’er, I’ll fly away to a home on God’s celestial shore,” expressing the same longing to be free of the troubles of life.

When it comes to “I’ll Fly Away,” Elizabeth “Liz” Mealer’s piano version of the song will have your hands clapping and your feet tapping.

Liz’s musical history begins with her grandparents. The Murphrees moved from Blount County to St. Clair County, and the Wyatts moved from Georgia to St. Clair County, and both families attended Cool Springs Missionary Baptist Church just off Highway 23 between Springville and Ashville. Grandfather Wyatt knew music and taught singing schools.

At Cool Springs Church Willie Mace Murphree met Alice Lucille Wyatt, and Liz described their courtship. “Most everybody walked to church back then or drove a wagon. When my mother and daddy started dating, he would come to her house, and they would walk to church. And my grandmother and granddaddy wouldn’t let them walk by themselves. They had to have the younger sisters and brothers walking with them.”

On those walks to and from church, love budded and blossomed, and on Sept. 10, 1940, the couple went to Rev. George Williams’ home, where they became husband and wife.

Liz recalled a family story: “After they married, they went to tell Daddy’s family. Daddy’s brother said he knew something was different when they drove up, because they were smooching in the car, and that didn’t happen while they were dating.” The marriage lasted for almost 65 years.

To the Murphrees were born Billy, Elizabeth, Linda and Alice, and they all grew up being nurtured by their parents and Cool Springs Baptist Church.

Church is where the three sisters learned to sing and began singing as a trio. Liz reminisced, “We just kinda picked up singing. From singing at church, we learned harmony from people showing us what alto and tenor and the lead, or soprano, was.” So, when Liz was 14, Linda 10, and Alice, 6, they began singing as a trio.

“My granddaddy Wyatt,” Liz recalled, “had always said he wanted a female trio, and he didn’t have three girls. So, he was very proud of my sisters and me when we sang.”

She also recalled when she and her sisters sang and entertained the community when they rode home after gathering vegetables. “My Uncle D.C. Murphree owned land through the woods from Daddy’s.  One day he came up to borrow Daddy’s trailer to go and gather vegetables and corn at his field through the woods. So, we three girls got in the trailer and went with him and helped him. On the way back, we started singing. And when we got to the house, my uncle said, ‘Boy, I felt like a King sitting up there driving and you girls singing.’ ”

They later found out that people in the community who lived about a quarter of a mile from each direction had heard them singing and had enjoyed the concert as the vegetable trailer rolled along.

How Liz taught herself to play the piano and read music makes an interesting story. “My Granddaddy Wyatt taught singing schools, and when I was about eight years old, I was at my grandparents’ house one day, and I was picking around on the piano. So, he wrote down the music scales for me and showed me the notes on the piano. That’s when I started trying to learn to play the piano.”

Did she teach herself to read music? “I did. When I had a question, I would ask Granddaddy. He taught me the flats and sharps. Also, my Uncle Ray Wyatt had a piano in his garage that he was not using, so he had it sent up to my mother and daddy’s house for me to practice on. I would practice one thing over and over. I would work on one thing for so long, trying to get it right,” she chuckled, “that sometimes my mother would say, ‘Go find something else to do. I’ve heard that all day long.’”

Those hours of practice made Liz a skillful pianist, a talent she continued to perfect. She recalled playing for Convention Singing, which is a Southern gospel genre unto itself. “Brother T.D. Scott was involved in the Convention style singing at that time, along with Curtis Lee and V.L. Bailey. Around 1971 or ’72, the St. Clair County Singing Convention sponsored a singing school – one week in Pell City and one week down at Moody at the Church of the Valley, and they asked me to be the pianist for that school. That was a really good experience for me, because I learned a lot. There was a lot about music that I didn’t know – and I still don’t,” she laughed, “but it was good for me to learn the techniques pertaining to Convention singing.”

The Murphree Sisters Trio continued through their high school years and for some time afterward. However, when the sisters married and had families of their own, it became more difficult to get together. The named changed to The Murphree Family when sister Linda dropped out and brother Billy Murphree started with the group.

Liz married Paul Mealer, and he also sang with The Murphree Family. Eventually Billy dropped out and the Sunrise Trio evolved with Paul, Liz and son-in-law C.T. Watters. This group continued until COVID brought about C.T.’s death. The Mealer children and Liz then formed The Mealer Family gospel group. Paul sang until his death in 2012.

The Murphree sisters, Liz, Linda, and Alice with their father

The Murphree Family and the Sunrise Trio sang not only in St. Clair County but also in surrounding counties as they became well-known.

“We traveled some, when my husband was alive,” she said. “God blessed us with obtaining a bus, and we traveled to Georgia, Tennessee and some in North Carolina and a lot in Alabama.” Since Paul’s death, the Mealer Family has sung locally.

Paul usually drove the bus and was given the nickname “Possum Killer” because so many possums were frozen in place by the glare of the bus’ headlights.

Whatever the name of the group, their mission was to sing the gospel of Jesus Christ wherever they were invited. Many rural churches had a yearly Homecoming Sunday, and the group became regulars at these events. They also enjoyed singing for revival meetings.

Liz recalls a special revival. “We were singing for a revival at Bethany on County Road 22 in Shoal Creek Valley. We had sung, and the preaching was finished, and they had given the altar call. I was playing the piano with my back toward the congregation.” (At an altar call, those who desire to pray or those seeking salvation come to the front and kneel in prayer in front of the pulpit.) “I was playing softly while people were praying,” Liz continued, “and one of our group came up to me and said, ‘You know who they’re praying for, don’t you?’ I said, ‘No, I don’t.’ And he said, ‘It’s your granddaughter.’ So, Wayne’s daughter had come up to the altar for salvation, and I didn’t know it.” That was a happy occasion and happy memory for all the family.

Even in church services or revival meetings funny things can happen – sometimes proving that God has a sense of humor.

“We were at a small church one time in another county. It was their Homecoming, and we were on stage singing, and we kept seeing a head popping up and down behind a bench. They had spotted a mouse, and the preacher, who was very short, was trying to kill the mouse, and his head bobbed up and down as he chased it.” When asked if she remembered what they were singing, Liz laughed and said, “No. In fact, I think we got so tickled that we had to stop.”

The recollections continue. “Once at a church in north Alabama, there were two wicker containers beside the pulpit. And our guys shook them to make sure they didn’t have any rattlesnakes in them. They agreed that if the baskets rattled, we would not participate in that service,” Liz concluded with a laugh.

And children can cause spontaneous laughter. Wayne Mealer, being a guitarist, had given his little son a little guitar which he took along to singings with his dad and family. “We were singing at St. Clair Springs Baptist Church this time,” Liz reminisced, “and my grandson, Cody, about 4 or 5 years old, had a toy guitar and a harmonica. Of course, he wanted to play his guitar as we sang. So, he just stood up there, you know, and he was really getting into it with his guitar; he was going back and forth, when all of a sudden, he pulled that harmonica out of his pocket and started playing it.”

Laughing at the memory, Liz admitted, “There was just no way the Holy Spirit could move then, because everybody in the church was just doubled over laughing.”

However, let’s not forget that Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.” It is quite likely that God was smiling down at her grandson.

The current group consists of the Mealer children: Wayne, Sharon and Christie who sing. Terry Chapman plays bass guitar, Wayne’s son, Cody – who got his start with a toy guitar and harmonica – plays drums. Terry and Cody also sing occasionally as does Wayne’s daughter, Amber. A faithful friend, Brandon Jones, often goes with the group to help with sound equipment.

Where career paths lead

After graduating from St. Clair County High School in 1965, Liz attended a business college in Birmingham, which eventually resulted in her working in the two St. Clair County courthouses. However, her first job was with Baggett Transportation Company in Birmingham. And on a lunch break from this job, she and Paul Mealer had their first date.

Liz recounts how this came about. “My daddy worked at United Chair in Leeds, and Paul’s cousin worked there with my daddy. They wanted me to meet his cousin who had just moved here from California. So, he called me and we talked, and then we met one day for lunch at Shoney’s, which was close to where I worked. And that’s how we started dating.” They married in 1967 and the marriage lasted until Paul’s death in 2012. They had three children: Paul Wayne, Sharon Elizabeth and Christina “Christie” Lynn.

Working in Ashville, courthouses

In the winter of 1975, an attorney who had recently moved to Ashville needed an office worker. Liz applied and got the job. In filing documents and doing research at the courthouse, Liz got to know those working there. And although she stopped working for the attorney in 1977 to be a stay-at-home mom, it was this job that eventually led to Liz’s courthouse work.

She took care of home and family until daughter Christie was in the third grade, and not until then did she feel free to return to outside work.

Liz knew Circuit Clerk Jean Browning from local singing events as well as from the years she worked in the Ashville attorney’s office. Knowing that Liz was interested in returning to work, Jean encouraged her to take the state test to qualify to work in the courthouse.

She took the test, passed it, and was on the official list of available workers. In 1991, Jean had an opening in the Circuit Clerk’s office. Liz applied and was hired.

Stories unfold there, too. A friend of hers was doing research in the Probate Judge’s office where old newspapers, estate records, etc., were housed until they were moved to the Ashville Museum and Archives.

The friend showed up in the Clerk’s office and said, “Liz, I had to tell this to somebody and you’re it. I was copying newspaper articles and a researcher from out-of-state turned to me and said, ‘Where is the town of Crapwell?’ Without cracking a grin, I managed to tell her, ‘That’s Cropwell, and it’s below Pell City,’ but I had to tell somebody so I could laugh out loud.” Liz confessed the two still laugh about it today.

Liz worked in the Circuit Clerk’s office until 2003. In that year, she began working in the Revenue Commissioner’s office where she worked until she retired in 2017. During her time there, she was elected Revenue Commissioner.

She divided her time between Ashville and Pell City and was fortunate to be in Ashville when a sudden weather event occurred in February 2010. This was after Paul had become incapacitated and homebound. Liz hired someone to stay with him in the daytime while she worked, and then she took care of him at night and on weekends.

This February morning seemed to go well. “They had not predicted any severe weather,” Liz recalled. “But then, all of a sudden, it began to freeze, I told those who lived furthest away from the courthouse to go on home. The bad weather got closer to us, and I told everybody to go home.”

Liz herself made it home to Paul safely, but she admits “It was treacherous. “I just crept along. It was about eight and a half miles from my house to the Ashville Courthouse, and I drove about 25 miles an hour all the way home.” Other courthouse workers that day got home by firetruck or police car.

A woman of faith

The care and concern for her work staff reveals Liz’s character formed at home, at church, and through her Christian faith. When asked about her faith in God, she told how it began. “I was saved when I was six years old. Brother George Williams was preaching the revival at Cool Springs that year, and we had daytime and nighttime services, and in the morning service on Friday of the revival, Brother Williams gave the invitation to accept Christ as Savior. I felt the drawing of the Holy Spirit. He must have said, ‘If anyone feels like they needed to be saved, raise your hand,’ because I remember raising my hand, and my mother saying, ‘Raise it high.’ I went up to the altar and was saved at six years old.”

However, she wasn’t baptized until three years later at the Cool Springs Baptist Church’s baptizing pool in Canoe Creek on John Ramsey’s property.

Liz described baptizing day at the creek. “The day before baptizing, Brother John Ramsey, a deacon, would build steps to go down into the creek. Then on Sunday before baptizing began, he would go into the creek and slash around and scare the snakes away.” Those reading this account will agree that this was an act of Christian compassion and love.

Other deacons would gather in the creek behind the pastor during the baptism. Liz’s father was one of those deacons when she was baptized.

“Baptizing was usually in August after revival,” Liz reminisced, “and usually there were several people saved in the services, so we would have a big baptizing. We would all gather down at the creek – and it was so pretty there. We would sing a song or two acapella. Nearly always we sang ‘Shall We Gather at the River,’ and maybe another one or two.”

As far as anyone knows, the Canoe Creek snakes were non-religious and never participated in a Cool Springs baptism.

Through all the changes that have come through the years, Liz’s faith has sustained her. And as a gospel singer, she loves many songs, such as “Who am I that a King would bleed and die for,” or “Hold to God’s unchanging hand,” or “The Old Rugged Cross.”

One that is especially meaningful to her is “The Unseen Hand,” referencing that although we cannot see God, He is leading His children through the joyful days and sorrowful days of this world.

There is an unseen hand to me

That leads through ways I cannot see.

While going through this world of woe,

This hand still leads me as I go.

I’m trusting to the unseen hand

That guides me through this weary land,

And some sweet day, I’ll reach the strand,

Still guided by God’s unseen hand.

One who rests in such a faith, faces life with a steadfast confidence in God. l

The stories beneath our feet

St. Clair native’s journey to preserve the people, places and memories that built our community

Story by Molly Gilbert
Submitted photos

Sometimes history hides in plain sight.

For St. Clair County native, Austin H. Stone, it was tucked away inside an old iron lockbox hidden in his great-grandfather’s house in Whites Chapel.

After purchasing the home from his grandparents in 2022, Austin was exploring a small area where an old water heater had once been when he made an unexpected discovery. Inside the lockbox were employment records, safety certifications and other documents connected to the Acmar mines – a chapter of local history that had largely faded from public memory.

“I couldn’t believe nobody had looked at this before,” Austin said. “I felt like I was meeting my great-grandfather and learning all about the community I grew up in at the same time.”

That discovery sparked years of research and ultimately led to the publication of The Ghosts of an Empire: The History of the Alabama Fuel and Iron Company in St. Clair County.

But for Austin, the story was never just about coal.

It was about people.

It was about family.

And it was about preserving the stories of his hometown.

Discovering the Story Beneath Familiar Places

Austin grew up surrounded by reminders of the area’s coal-mining past, though he didn’t fully understand what they meant.

Like many local kids, he spent his childhood exploring the woods, riding around town and gathering with friends in familiar places.

“We used to hang out in the old church, but didn’t know it was built by the company,” he said. “We’d see street signs for Acmar Road, but we never really thought much about it.”

As a teenager, Austin admits he was one of many who looked around and thought there wasn’t much worth noticing.

“I was one of those teenagers who said there’s nothing here,” he said.

The lockbox changed that perspective. Suddenly, the places he had known his entire life began revealing a hidden story.

“I didn’t even have a name of the mining company until I found that paperwork,” he said. “It kind of snowballed from there.”

Following the Trail

Austin began digging through newspaper archives and historical records, searching for answers.

Eventually, his research led him to the University of Alabama Libraries Special Collections, where he worked through five archival boxes containing corporate records from the Alabama Fuel and Iron Company.

The deeper he dug, the larger the story became.

At one time, communities such as Whites Chapel, Margaret, Acmar and surrounding mining settlements were part of one of Alabama’s most significant coal-producing regions. The Alabama Fuel and Iron Company grew into one of the state’s largest coal producers, employing generations of local families and helping shape the economy and identity of western St. Clair County.

“It used to be a big deal in our town,” he said. “I couldn’t believe how important they were.”

Austin learned that the company played a significant role in supplying coal during World War II and that entire communities grew around mining operations, supporting schools, churches, homes and businesses.

What surprised him most, however, wasn’t the scale of the industry. It was the sacrifices made by ordinary people.

Appreciating What Came Before

The more Austin learned about his great-grandfather’s life, the more personal the research became.

His great-grandfather spent 25 years working underground in the mines while raising five children – one of whom had special needs – during some of the most challenging years of the 20th century.

Exploring mouth of main entrance to Acmar No. 3 Mine. An explosion in 1922 killed 11 men in same mine

“The more I learned about the Great Depression and what my great-grandfather had to deal with, the more I became really appreciative of all the things he did,” Austin said. “It really brings to the forefront of your mind what it really took to get to where we are today.”

Just as important were the women whose stories often go untold, so Austin made a point of including their contributions in his book. While miners spent long hours underground, wives and mothers were growing food, washing clothes by hand and taking care of the children.

“It wasn’t just the men. They couldn’t have done what they did if the women weren’t keeping everyone fed and taken care of.”

For Austin, these stories offer a new appreciation for previous generations and the obstacles they faced.

It’s an important reminder that the communities we enjoy today were built through countless sacrifices made by people whose names may never appear in history books, but whose impact can still be felt generations later.

Preserving What Could Be Lost

As St. Clair County continues to grow, Austin sees another challenge emerging.

New subdivisions, businesses and developments are transforming parts of the landscape. While growth brings opportunity, it can also erase physical reminders of the past.

Stone’s generations of family from left, front row: Carolyn Lawley, Vivian Newton Lawley (great grandmother), John Lawley (great grandfather, coal miner at Markeeta, Acmar; Imojean Lawley Walker (grandmother), Helen Lawley Brown, Brenda Lawley Stewart, John Clayton Lawley

Many historical sites have already disappeared, and others survive only in photographs and memories.

“I have a problem with the way things get lost to history,” Austin said.

That concern became one of the driving forces behind his book. Rather than leaving fragments of stories scattered across archives, newspaper collections and family records, Austin wanted to create a single resource where others could learn about an industry that shaped the area for decades.

“I really wanted to make an even and concise record so anyone can go to one spot and get the information.”

His work continues beyond the pages of the book.

Austin has helped identify individuals in historical photographs, worked with local historians and residents who have shared family artifacts, and is involved in early efforts to establish historical markers connected to significant events in the area’s mining history.

A Gift for Future Generations

Austin and Jennifer Stone with daughter, Margaret, 3, at local book signing

As the father of a young daughter, Austin often thinks about the family members she will never meet. That reality has reinforced his belief that preserving history isn’t something to put off until later. He encourages readers to become historians of their own families, whether it’s a family story, an old photograph tucked into a drawer or memories shared around the dinner table.

“I would encourage people to ask questions of their older relatives while they still can,” Austin said. “If it’s important enough to you to remember, it’s important enough to write it down.”

In many ways, that’s exactly how The Ghosts of an Empire began – with a few forgotten documents, a sense of curiosity and a determination to honor those who came before us.

“The people who built these communities are gone, but their stories don’t have to be,” Austin said. “If we take the time to ask questions, write things down and share what we know, future generations can understand where they came from and what it took to build the places they call home.” l

Editor’s Note: The Ghosts of an Empire: The History of the Alabama Fuel and Iron Company in St. Clair County is available through Amazon. Readers can also follow Austin on Facebook for future author talks and community history presentations as Austin continues sharing the stories he uncovered along the way.

Eleanor Shirley Isbell

Living Moody’s amazing history for 92 years

Story by Joe Whitten
Submitted Photos

Come, travel the backroads to meet a 92-year-old lady whose life has exhibited the love, joy and peace of God throughout the years.

Eleanor Shirley Isbell always has a ready smile and a chuckle or laugh as she reminisces about her life.

Although born in Acmar on August 18, 1934, her birth certificate lists Atmore, Alabama, as her place of birth.

“Mamas didn’t go to the hospital to have babies in those days,” she explained. “So, on my birth certificate, they’ve got Atmore because in Montgomery, they had never heard of Acmar.”

Eleanor sworn in as first woman on Moody City Council Judge Edwin Holladay

Clyde and Edith Bishop Shirley lived in the St. Clair County coal mining community of Acmar when Eleanor was born, and Clyde worked the mines. Sisters Linda, Margaret and Mary arrived at regular intervals.

From Acmar, the family moved to a house in today’s city of Moody. She remembers well living there. “In one side of the house was mama and daddy and us kids, and in the other side was my grandmother and grandfather Bishop. I spent a lot of time running back and forth,” she chuckled. “And I remember grandmother had this wood cookstove. It had a warmer on it above the stovetop, and after breakfast, she would put the leftover biscuits in the warmer. So, when I was going through there, she would take a biscuit and put some sugar in the biscuit for me,” she smiled, relishing the memory. “It’s a wonder somebody didn’t give us a whipping for running through there!”

The Shirley family moved a few times, and then Clyde built a house on today’s U.S. 411, a dirt road in those days. Eleanor described Clyde’s method of construction. “When my daddy built something, he just built it. No measurements. No nothing,” she said. “At this house he built, it had a grocery store in front, and we lived in the back. But, again, not a professional builder,” she emphasized.

Her sister Margaret’s room was next to the store, and the plank wall had knotholes. The flickering shadows that came from the store through the knotholes frightened Margaret every night.

It seems Clyde enjoyed building because Eleanor remembers living in other houses he built with his “saw it and nail it” method. He may have been a little like the self-taught country carpenter whose policy was, “It may be a little cattywampus, but it’ll all come out in the wash.”

She attended Moody Elementary and Middle School, graduating from the ninth grade there. For high school, she rode the bus to St. Clair County High School in Odenville, where she graduated in 1953.

Eleanor and Milton’s 50th wedding anniversary

In 1954, she married Milton Isbell – and that’s a story of its own.

“You know how in Junior High there’s always one male student that all the girls are in love with,” she began. “There was no way that I was ever gonna get to date that one because his father made whiskey.”

With eyes still twinkling, she continued. “Here’s the deal. Milton was friends with the boy that all the girls were in love with, so my first date with Milton was a double date with the whiskey maker’s son – who was the driver – and his girlfriend. Me and Milton were in the back, and I dated him because the other boy was in the front seat.

“We dated a few more times – and Milton used to say I chased him, but I don’t remember chasing him. Anyway, we got married after he joined the Navy.” And the marriage lasted until Milton’s death, August 28, 2018 – 64 years.

Milton was in the Navy when they married and stationed in Alameda, California, so Eleanor bought a one-way ticket to San Francisco.

Crossing the US to California, she recalled, “I didn’t think much about it until I got that one-way ticket, and I thought, ‘Oh, no! I may never be coming back to Alabama!’”

Her fear was unfounded, though. About a year later, Milton was reassigned to Pensacola, Florida, where he worked in the print shop. He worked at that job until he was discharged from the Navy, and he kept the same print shop job as a civilian when he was discharged from the Navy.

Their son, Tim, was born in 1955 in Pensacola, and the Isbells lived there until he was about a year-and-a-half old. On the weekends, they would head back to Moody.

“One time when we were going back from Moody to Pensacola, and we hit a mule. I was in the front seat holding Tim – back then babies didn’t have to be in the back seat like they do today. We hit the mule, and it went up in the air, and it came back down, through the windshield the side I was on. And that mule got up, shook itself and ran off.”

Trying to locate the owner of the mule was a lost cause. “Nobody owned that mule,” she laughed. “Nobody claimed it, and of course we had to have a lot of work done on the car.”

The weekends traveling back and forth grew old, so the family moved to Leeds. Later, they moved in with Milton’s mom and stepfather. That house was right up the hill from the new Civic Center in Moody. Eleanor and Milton had two rooms at the back of the house and daughter Susan was born there in 1958.

Their next house was built by a company who just put up the outside walls. “So, that’s what we got,” Eleanor recalled. “We moved into that house and wasn’t anything done inside but studders. Not anything, and Milton gradually got it fixed, and we lived there 49 years.”

Father knows best

Pop, Clyde Shirley, could give good, blunt advice. Eleanor told of a time he kept her and Milton focused. “Daddy gave us a lot next door to them. So, we got the foundation built, and somebody was going to Florida, and we wanted to go. We didn’t have any money, so I went to my daddy to ask for money to go to Florida, and he said, ‘Do you want to go to Florida, or do you want to build a house?’” After a hearty laugh, she added, “So, we didn’t go to Florida.”

The Isbell family

Career paths

Including the Navy, Milton held down several different jobs. He worked for a little while at Ft. McClellan until they had a huge layoff. He was a milkman for a while and then he worked at Murry’s Garage. Then he went to work at Greystone Golf Course. Eleanor enjoyed several tournaments and met some famous golfers while Milton worked there. That ended one day when Milton had a confrontation with his boss, picked up his toolbox and said, “I’m going home.”

The very next day, Milton went to work at the Cahaba Country Club golf course, where his son Tim was employed. Tim had started working there when he was 14 years old. Milton worked there until he retired.

Eleanor also held several jobs during her working years. She spent 20 years with Dun and Bradstreet. “I worked a little while in every department,” she said. “Over the years, I must have been private secretary for eight or nine men at Dun and Bradstreet.” When she asked to be in sales because she knew those men earned the most, they refused her request, and she left the firm.

From there she spent 15 years in real estate. Then she tried retail sales for a while but quickly grew tired of that job. But that led to work she probably enjoyed the most.

The family was members of Leeds Assembly of God where Dan Ronsisvalle was pastor. One day she was at the church with others to go visit the sick and shut-ins of the church. The pastor pulled her aside and asked her if she would be his secretary. The secretary, his wife, wanted to give up the job. Eleanor agreed to take that church position

After she had been there for some months, she had surgery. As she recuperated at home, Pastor Ronsisvalle called and said, “I don’t like bookkeeping. I want you to be the church bookkeeper.” Eleanor said, “Well, I’ll have to pray about that.” Ronsisvalle replied, “You don’t need to pray about that.”

She became the bookkeeper, but it wasn’t long until the church needed a treasurer, and he asked her to take that job, and she did.

“At Leeds Assembly of God,” she reminisced, “I was secretary, I was bookkeeper and treasurer – and I did everything but sweep the floors,” she said. “I really enjoyed working for Ronsisvalle. I would go dragging in some days, and he’d come bouncing in, singing and carrying on, and say, ‘Good morning, Sunshine!’ And here I was with my head on my desk. He was always so happy.”

She paused and added quietly, “And I miss him, I miss him. I worked for my church for over 20 years. I worked until I was 81. My last day was July 4, and I turned 81 in August.”

Chronicling history

Eleanor wrote an article titled, “Moody, Alabama, “Then and Now,” which was published in Cherish, The Quarterly Journal of the St. Clair County Historical Society in October 1993. In it, she told how Benjamin Epps Moody arrived in St. Clair County. “He came with his family from the hills of North Carolina in 1820 to homestead a section of land granted to him when James Monroe was the country’s president.

“Mr. Moody built a one-room log cabin with a chimney at one end. He worked many long hours at building his chimney, digging the clay from his own land and molding the bricks by hand and baking them in an open fire. Years later, when the growth of his family demanded more room, the log cabin was torn down from around the chimney and a new house was built in its place.” The house has been reworked several times, but it and the chimney still stand in 2026.

Other families came to the area. “The good news had spread to North Carolina,” Eleanor wrote. “Soon there were homes belonging to the Moores, Kerrs, Lamberts, Taylors, Spruiells, Kirks, Adkins, Hawkins and Fulmers. Many of these family descendants live in Moody presently… These [early] folks were hardworking and loved liberty and opposed slavery. Not a single family owned slaves.”

People on foot, horses and wagons wore trails in four directions from the Moody home, and the community began to be called Moody’s Cross Roads.

Eleanor herself has lived and remembers a great deal of Moody’s history, since her dad, Clyde, rallied forces to found the town of Moody. Eleanor calls it “Pop’s last adventure.”

In 1962, Moody citizens learned that Leeds was interested in annexing the Moody area into the city of Leeds. Clyde went into action. He chose a group of men, one of them an attorney, who went to Montgomery and had the City of Moody incorporated.

“You’ll laugh at this,” Eleanor chuckled, “Pop hand-picked the first mayor and five counselors, and the election was without opposition. Mayor, A. E. Moore, and as counselors, he was counselor number one. Then, Hermon Waid, Hubert Adkins, Rodney Miles, and Jimmy DeShazo.” Milton Isbell was the first City Clerk, but that only lasted about two meetings, and he knew that job was not for him.

The first Town Hall was an addition to Clyde Shirley’s Swap Shop. “Remember, Daddy was not a good carpenter,” Eleanor laughed. “He just threw things up, you know. No measuring tape or anything. Well, that’s what the Swap Shop was – just thrown up. So, for the first Town Hall, Daddy just added a little more to the Swap Shop.” She paused and added nostalgically, “My daddy was something else!”

Living history

In 1980, Eleanor herself made Moody history for being the first woman elected to the Moody City Council. She recalled that she was preparing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when “a still small voice said, ‘Run for Moody City Council.’ ‘Why would I do that,’ I wondered, but I knew my Pop would love me serving on City Council.” She got her name on the ballot with two others who were campaigning for the office. The general election ended in a runoff. Eleanor won the runoff.

After winning, she had a lot to learn. She spent many hours reading legal papers and learning laws and procedures. She credits then City Attorney Jim Hill as helping her the most in learning the ropes.

She ran for re-election, losing by 35 votes in a run-off. During that election, she recollected, “My mom said, ‘I will vote for you, but I pray that you lose.’” She laughed, and added, “God delivered me from politics!”

In her Cherish article, Eleanor pondered the future of Moody. “Who knows,” she wrote, “where the [present] growth will end? My dad paid $300 for seven plus acres in 1948. A couple of years ago, an acre of that same land sold for nearly one hundred thousand dollars. No one can be certain how much bigger Moody will get. There are rumors of a large discount store such as Wal-Mart or K-Mart coming to Moody. The rumors come and go. However, no matter how big it grows or how busy it gets (thousands of cars traveling daily on Highway 411), I still can close my eyes and picture two dirt roads known as Moody’s Cross Roads, where there was little traffic and only two stores, Hannon’s and Forman’s groceries, and a few friendly folks. It was home then, and come what may, Moody will probably always be home sweet home to me.”

In God’s providence, Eleanor has lived to see and know how the City of Moody has grown. She recently expressed her joy, by saying, “In thinking back to the add-on first Town Hall, I stand in awe of our lovely City Hall today, the great library and Civic Center.”

Although she deals with several health issues, Eleanor is the same cheerful Eleanor she has always been. Retired St. Clair County Judge and current State Rep. Jim Hill’s observations about her suit her well.

“When I think of Eleanor Isbell, it makes me smile, because every time I saw her, she had a smile on her face. She had a great outlook on life and was a pleasure to see and to be with.

“I met Eleanor probably 40 years ago. She was a Realtor in the Leeds/Moody area. I was a young lawyer, and a fair amount of my practice was real estate. Many times in church, we talk about the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, etc. Eleanor not only knew what they were, she exhibited them and lived them.

“I would be remiss if I did not mention Eleanor’s husband, Milton, who was just like her. They were a wonderful couple and perfectly matched.

“They say everyone makes you happy. Some people when you see them coming, and some when you see them going. Eleanor always made you happy when you saw her coming. She is truly a special person. If the world were full of Eleanor Isbells, it would have a lot less problems than it has now and be a much better place to live.”

And all who know her agree. Thank you, Eleanor, for your 92 years of blessing the lives of others.

St. Clair Training School

Historic site receives official marker

Story by Carol Pappas
Submitted Photos

Jennifer Gover gazed up at the historic marker with gold letters etched across the deep blue background and smiled.

It was that unmistakable look of satisfaction at the end of a long journey home, her work was done. St. Clair County Training School is now an official, historical landmark.

The school is already listed in the Alabama Register of Landmarks and Heritage. Thee marker with the official seal of the Alabama Historical Association was erected by the St. Clair County Training School Alumni Association, led by President Don Allen and Vice President Barbara Collins.

Thelma O’Neal Jones addresses the crowd at the dedication

In late June, alumni unveiled the marker in a special ceremony at the Pell City school site, now known as The Legacy Center, during the Alumni Association’s reunion weekend.

The marker tells the story of the school and its origin – history Gover researched and worked in collaboration with the Historical Commission to develop.

It was dedicated in 1922 as “the Colored Industrial Institute, also called the Rosenwald Negro School at Pell City.” It began as a one-room classroom on two acres with one teacher. The land purchase and construction were made possible through the Julius Rosenwald Foundation and local community matching funds totaling $2,900.

A 1922 Birmingham News story described it as “the largest and best equipped school for Negroes in St. Clair County.”

In 1934, the state Board of Education was requested to change the name to St. Clair County Training School and add an extra teacher. Four years later, the St. Clair Board of Education approved extending the high school department to meet training school requirements and the state department approved the name change.

Willie Mae “Snookie” Turner Beavers, the oldest living alumni at 99

As part of the federal New Deal Program, the Public Works Administration allotted funds to build two more classrooms and make repairs.

From its beginning in 1922, the school educated Blacks in the surrounding communities of Pell City, Cropwell, Riverside, Piney Woods, Ragland and Acmar with the final class graduating in 1969 when the school closed for integration – 15 years after the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education decision called for an end to “separate but equal” schools.

Over 100 people attended the June ceremony, where former elementary school principal and SCCTS alumnus Thelma O’Neal Jones delivered the keynote address. “Our grandparents dreamed of a better future for us,” Jones told the crowd. “We were the first generation of education achievements,” many of whom went on to college. 

The lessons they learned there extended well beyond academics. They were lessons “upon which our lives were built,” she said. “We celebrate more than a building. We celebrate a legacy.”

Videssa Woods talked of the history of the school and its importance in all of the alumni’s lives. “Without history,” she asked them to remember, “there is no present.”

Pell City’s historic mural

Sometimes the path to taking a good idea to reality presents more than a few challenges along the way. But when you see the 86-foot mural welcoming you to Pell City’s Downtown Historic District, you’ll know the journey was well worth it.

Three years ago, Pell City Historical Society envisioned and began discussion and planning for a historic mural, which led to a red-carpet ribbon cutting ceremony in late May paying tribute to the artists and all who played a role in making it happen.

“The mural is beautiful and nicely depicts Pell City’s historical past, and I believe it will inspire future projects our community will support and accomplish,” said interim Historical Society President David Murphy.

The mural isn’t the first project the Historical Society has spearheaded for downtown. Historic downtown flags were provided for Cogswell Avenue lampposts, focusing attention on the city’s historical roots firmly planted downtown.

Artists Sundi Hawkins (left) and Penny Arnold do the honors as Denise Olivastri observes

Local artists Penny Arnold and Sundi Hawkins created the new mural that majestically stretches across a white wall backdrop and depicts the founding of the town and key elements of its growth – a train, the mill, its businesses.

“When people look at this mural, my hope is that they feel a deep sense of pride in our city and see the boundless potential of our community,” Councilman Jay Jenkins said during the ceremony.

Denise Olivastri led the project, participating in the mural content along with Vicki Harmon, developing the letter of consent, securing the artists and the location at Glitz & Glamour, 2007 Cogswell Avenue. Pell City Council put its stamp of approval on the proposed artwork, and the artists went to work, completing it in record time.

“This amazing artwork serves as a visual bridge connecting our historic past with our bright future,” Olivastri told the crowd gathered for the ceremony as she acknowledged all who had a role.

She gave “a huge thank you to Pell City Sparklight for their alliance and cooperation in helping bring our city’s history to life! As funding co-sponsor and partner along with the Historical Society, they have joined us in giving our community a beautiful historic landmark that celebrates our roots. We are incredibly grateful to them for their kindness and generosity.”

She lauded city officials who were supportive of the historic mural undertaking throughout the project. “Your belief in the importance of public art and preserving the spirit of our downtown, helped make this vision possible. Thank you for recognizing how initiatives like this can bring people together, attract new visitors and create lasting memories for future generations.”

The mural’s location also deserved gratitude – “a huge thank you and much appreciation to Union State Bank who owns this building and to Pam Everidge and her husband, Steve, the owners of Glitz and Glamour, who generously and excitedly agreed to allow us to utilize the wall as the blank canvas for this incredible work of art.”

A special thank you went to Mason Roberts at Sherwin-Williams for supplying the vintage colors “to bring this mural to life.”

There were unexpected, but welcome role players as well. “We also want to thank Tim Mogren who just showed up and out and generously and freely provided the boom lift from THM Electrical which helped our artists complete their project in record time.”

Landon Honeycutt, who assisted with the scissor lift from The Rental Men, and Greg Gossett from the City Street Department, who installed the barriers around the wall perimeter to keep artists safe, were among those specially recognized.

Calling Hawkins and Arnold “incredible artists,” Olivastri stressed, “thank you is too small of a word for the talent, dedication and countless hours of hard work you put forth. Always smiling, always positive, you both worked diligently through long days and nights to bring this monumental vision to life, and your incredible creativity has added beauty, inspiration, joy and character to our dear city,” she said.

“This vibrant masterpiece of a mural will be admired by the masses for years to come, due to your tireless efforts, vision and skill. Our community is completely in awe of your work.”

Motioning to the crowd, Olivastri noted, “This historic mural belongs to all of us, and stands as a symbol of unity, progress and hometown pride. I hope it brings joy and a smile to your face every time you pass by.”

Mystery Man

How a train wreck inspired series of stories

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Mackenzie Free

In January of 1969, a freight train derailed in Springville, hitting propane tanks and triggering massive explosions that created a fire that scared the heebie-jeebies out of local residents and destroyed the train depot.

In 2023, that explosion triggered the imagination of a local non-fiction author who loves to read mysteries and wondered whether he could write one. “What if that train wreck covered up a murder no one knew about,” Joel Dison’s thought process began. “And what if that murder was connected to a current murder and the investigator had to solve the old one to solve new one?”

That’s how the “conflict series” was born, and how Dison, an ordained Southern Baptist minister, went from daily technical writing and inspirational writing to the world of fiction. The series began in July 2024 with Conflict of Interest, followed by Moral Conflict (November 2024), Final Conflict (March 2025) and The Bookkeeper (July 2025). The latter was supposed to be the finale, but Dison says a fifth book is rolling around in his brain.

“When I finished the first book, I realized there was more to the story,” he says. “It stuck in my head and I had to get it out. I probably have one more to do only because I don’t like leaving certain things in the books unresolved.”

Raised in Chalkville, Dison is a 2011 graduate of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. Although he actually wrote his first novella in a long-lost notebook while in junior high, he started writing books a little after seminary graduation. “I did a lot of technical writing for work before that,” says Dison, a bivocational minister until 2023 when he moved to Springville to help take care of his ailing parents. By day, he’s an electrical engineer for PowerGem, LLC., having worked for Southern Company for 34 years before taking an early severance. He says hewas always good at tech writing. “There was a lot of writing in the seminary, too, and that re-ignited the spark that began in junior high,” he says.

All of his books are self-published. The first three were non-fiction, inspirational books. “The first was a study on the Book of James, and it was published on Amazon and Barnes & Nobles,” Dison says. “I didn’t get many bites on B&N, although I did sell some in the United Kingdom.”

Of the four murder mysteries, he has sold somewhere in the 600 range. “Not great but not bad,” he says. “The nonfiction books did okay, almost 2000 in the 2010-2014 time frame, but some of those may have been free giveaways. I was actually surprised to see the number that high when I checked it. I don’t do a lot of marketing.”

Dison holds up the book that started it all

Dison never thought he had the imagination for an entire book of fiction, much less four, but he surprised himself. “I really wanted to do fiction,” he says. “I love mysteries, and writing one became a personal challenge.”

At one point while writing that series, he asked himself why a pastor would write a murder mystery and whether he should.He came to a conclusion that satisfied him and enabled him to moved forward with the mysteries. “Evil is a reality in this world, and as believers (in Christ), how do we deal with that evil?,” he asked himself. “And how as believers do we approach it? I wanted this to be clean, without cursing or gratuitous sex and not too much grotesque violence.”

Book One ends and Book Two begins with a moral dilemma. The first dealt with a lot of internal doubts and overcoming one’s own failures. The second opens with the main character still dealing with some of those failures. The third deals with how all of those things create internal conflicts, although the story is about external ones.

Dison says he could have ended the murder mystery series at three books, but Book Four re-opens that over-arching theme of conflict between the main character and his nemesis. “It deals with concepts of justice, which does not always look like what you think it does,” Dison says. “There’s a possible fifth one in progress.”

His “conflict” books were written in the third-person. Then a prompt from his Springville writing group made him ask himself whether he could write sci-fi, and write it in the first person present. The latter proved to be more difficult than Dison thought it would be. “I kept switching to the past tense in the sci-fi book, the Cymbrian Protocol,” he says. “But some people think first-person is more engaging to the reader because it makes them feel they are present.”

His writing group, which has no name, often comes up with a topic, and each member writes 2,000 words in three weeks or more on that same topic. “Then we read, compare and critique,” he says. “In January, for example, the topic was a fairy tale.” The group is several years old, and Dison has been a member for about a year.

Dison self-publishes all of his books, a process that no longer carries the stigma it used to. “Self-publishing is becoming as viable and credible as traditional publishing,” he says. “But I would love to have an agent who could find me a publisher to edit and distribute my works. I’m not writing to be a best seller, but for the personal enjoyment and the hope that someone will read my books and enjoy them.”

Electronic publishing costs nothing, except for whatever an author decides to spend for editing and marketing. “So even with paperback it’s just my own printing costs,” Dison says. “It’s a low threshold, which is why so many people do it.”

He makes a couple of dollars on each book he sells, but says he’s not writing for money or fame. “I enjoy writing. It’s cathartic and calming, and exercises my brain. It’ a way of dealing with all the stress I’m going through, a coping mechanism. You lose yourself in your writing.”

Dison designed each of his covers himself, using a graphics editing tool called Canva, with a little help from ChatGPT. “Some images are AI generated,” he says, but he doesn’t use AI in writing his books. “That would be deplorable.” Readers can find his books by searching his name on Amazon, or by checking with Nichols Nook in Springville.

He hasn’t decided whether his sci-fi novel needs a follow-up. The first one came directly from one of his writing group’s prompts, which called for writing a short sci-fi scene. That led to the full book. “I want to find a good way to wrap up the Springville murders, then I’ll decide what’s next,” he says. He has thoroughly enjoyed the locally-set writing and would seriously consider that again in a different format, perhaps a historical fiction or maybe a ghost story.

Readers always wonder where a writer gets his inspiration. For Joel, who has always loved reading mysteries and sci-fi, it’s more about the challenge than the inspiration. “For the first book, the challenge was, ‘Can I write a murder mystery,’” he says. “For the sci-fi, it was, ‘Can I write a sci-fi and write it in the first person?’ I like to challenge myself.”

He has no aspirations of getting rich from his writing, but hopes people will read his books and enjoy them. “I want to provide the option of clean, enjoyable reading for those who like to read, but are bothered by the foul language, sex and violence in lot of popular literature,” he says.