Eden and New Hope Baptist

200 years and counting

Story by Joe Whitten
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.
Submitted Photos

Eden. What a lovely name for a town. It calls to mind the biblical Garden of Eden with visions of fertile soil, lush gardens, exotic flowers and green groves of sheltering trees.

One wonders if, in the first quarter of the 19th Century, the settlers to this area saw it like that. Probably not, for trees must be felled, new ground cleared and cultivated, houses and barns built, but it was a place of promise.

It’s uncertain when settlers first began migrating to today’s Eden, but family by family, a community formed. As the 19th Century progressed, businessmen opened stores and shops, and by 1900, it had become the town of Eden. 

New Hope Baptist

An April 4, 1906, Pell City Times article records that “…Eden…first bore the name of ‘Manchester,’ but there being another Manchester in the state, it was changed to Eden.”

Personal help with knowing the history towns and churches. In June 1970, Lailah Harris, in a letter to Mrs. E. N. Vandegrift of Oneonta, AL, wrote that although Eden eventually became a part of Pell City, it was a town “before the Civil War.” She also wrote that family tradition says Eden “…was so named by the Inzer family who came from Georgia to Alabama.” The Inzer family’s English ancestral roots were in Edensor, England, implying they left off “sor” and kept Eden as the town’s name. The online link letsgopeakdistrict.co.uk/listing/edensor states that “Edensor” is pronounced “Enzer.”

 Mrs. Harris’ great grandfather, Henry Inzer, and his siblings, LaFayette, Mark, Jim, John and Cathrine all settled in St. Clair County. “They lived on Wolf Creek and made their living mostly from the land, although my great grandfather Henry was a preacher, blacksmith and worker in wood and metal.” He served as New Hope’s pastor in 1877.

New Hope Baptist Established

Early settlers needed fellowship, and churches fulfilled that need. By 1824, enough families had settled in today’s Eden to organize New Hope Baptist Church as the only Baptist church in St. Clair County’s Coosa Valley.

It was the second documented Baptist church established in the county. Mt. Zion Baptist (now Springville First Baptist) was established earlier in 1817. In the 1820s, to go from Eden over Bald Rock Mountain to worship at Big Springs (Springville) would have been difficult and dangerous.

New Hope is a grand name for a church in a new land, for it expresses the hope of God’s blessings in the years to come. The organizational date of 1824 comes from the 1853 Coosa River Baptist Association which met at Spring Creek Baptist Church in Shelby County. That year for the first time, the association asked for member churches to record the year their church was established, and New Hope’s date was listed 1824.

Laney-Barber-Gossett Store in Eden

Hosea Holcomb, in his 1840 History of the Rise and Progress of Baptists in Alabama, gives some early history of the church: “New Hope in St. Clair County was formerly in Mount Zion Association, but united with the Coosa River (Association) in 1834. They have always, until recently, been a small band. Their number has increased considerably … Elder William McCain labors with them in word and in doctrine.”

Rev. William McCain was the first recorded pastor of New Hope, and we know much about him from his obituary written by Samuel Henderson and published in the March 11, 1883, issue of The Alabama Baptist.

Here are highlights: “Among all the ministers who have lived in the bounds of the old Coosa River Association … none have surpassed William McCain in effectiveness of ministerial labors. With scarcely education enough to read English correctly, he achieved a position in his calling that opened every pulpit in the region. … Learned and unlearned, lawyers, doctors, and merchants, mechanics and farmers, rich and poor, all flocked to hear him. …Although he never pronounced a grammatical sentence in his life, knowing it to be such, yet behind his broken English and awkward phrases, there was an unction and power that lifted his hearers above all his imperfections of style and delivery. …His thoughts would glow with a brilliancy and come with a power … entrancing and overpowering. He would sway vast congregations like fields of waving grain in a brisk wind … The salvation of souls was his passion of his life, and to this he consecrated his whole life.”

Houses of worship

For church building locations, oral history provides clues.

In his History of the New Hope Baptist Church, 1824-1972, Curtis Rush quoted information about the first building provided by Pauline Baker from an April 14, 1964, letter written by Rev. B.W. Inzer. “The oldest thing I ever heard about a church at Eden, Uncle Fealy Stewart told me about 1935. He said, ‘I used to walk down here when I was 7 years old and older with my Grandma Mullins. She told me about the only church anywhere in this area was about where Jim Stevens built. It was (of) logs, and split logs and boards made the seats, windows and doors.” The exact location of this building remains uncertain.

In the same letter, B.W. Inzer wrote about the second building, relating what Andrew Ginn told him about it. “He (Ginn) said when he was a small boy, he attended the First Baptist Church, which was later called New Hope, as we know it. It was at the foot of the mountain in front of the Jim Kilgroe place.

He said he would never forget seeing all the men stand their shotguns up in the corners of the church. They brought them for two reasons: There had been rowdy fellows molesting the services, and that must stop. Then after the services on Saturday, they would go out and kill deer which they would barbecue, and all had a feast.”

For Rush’s history, New Hope’s oldest member at that time, C.S. Alverson, wrote down his recollections of the third building. “I remember attending New Hope Baptist Church when I was just a boy (1880s). The building was on the site where the pastorium is now. (Today, the church gym is in that location.) There was one road called ‘Mud Street’ now Wolf Creek Road and the church building faced this road … The windows had no glass panes but only wooden board shutters and board doors. The floor was dirt.”

The fourth church building was constructed in 1888 and had two front doors and a back door. It was well-built, for a tornado in April 1929 twisted and damaged the church, but it was so sturdy that it did not collapse and, as recorded by Rush, “Miraculously, the building was straightened up and put back in good repair.” This was completed by the men of the church under the guidance of “Mr. Coach, a carpenter from Pell City.”

In 1937, the church gave the 1888 structure “a complete face-lifting.” They added a balcony with two Sunday school rooms, and on the first floor, a vestibule and two more Sunday school rooms. This fine old building served New Hope until the church erected a new brick sanctuary in 1949.

Memories of the 1888 building are found in the Oct. 17, 1996, St. Clair News-Aegis article by Ann Boone. Olivia Vick, then 85 years old, told Boone how she had attended New Hope for 81 years. “We went to church in the morning and had Sunday school in the afternoon … There were two front doors, one for the men and one for the women, and no one ever went through the other’s door.”

Recalling the 1929 tornado, Mrs. Vick said, “My mother always took flowers every Sunday, and when we looked in the church (after the tornado), we saw that her flowers and the vase they were in on the Communion Table were still there and unharmed.”

Mrs. Vick’s favorite New Hope memory was her salvation. “Newt Butterworth explained the plan of salvation to me … This was when I was 16, and we went down to Barber’s Creek (for my baptizing). I wore a light blue dress. It was August, so the water wasn’t cold. Afterwards we went up and had church.”

Eden Depot

Newton “Newt” Butterworth’s death remains an intriguing part of New Hope’s history, as recorded in his obituary published July 25, 1935, in The Pell City News. “N. A. Butterworth Dies while Testifying. Mr.  N. A. Butterworth died suddenly in the New Hope Baptist Church at Eden yesterday (Wednesday) while testifying in a revival service. Mr. Butterworth was 77 years old and was one of the oldest members of that church of which he was also a deacon. His last words were “I never felt happier in my life than I do this morning” and fell to the floor. … Burial will be at Mt. Carmel Cemetery.”

Included in the New Hope Baptist file at the Ashville Museum and Archives is a photocopied article titled, Pioneer Passes while Talking for the Lord, by Eloise Bowman. It noted that Butterworth prayed many times, “…‘Lord, let me die in the harness.’ (i.e. active until the moment of death) … (T)he Lord answered his prayer … when with his Bible under his arm, God called him home. He fell dead in the church.”

For a man to die in front of a congregation during a service would be a frightening object lesson that life is uncertain, and death is sure.

Revival week

Weeklong revivals were standard events in Baptist churches until about the 1970s or ’80s, when weekend and four-day revivals came into vogue. These yearly revivals usually resulted in conversions, baptisms and additions to church membership rolls.

In Rush’s history, he records that in 1864 during the Civil War, there were 41 baptisms and in 1866, a year after the war ended, there were 49 baptisms. These numbers are above average, for national conflicts and tragedies often draw people toward God and the church.

Churches ran revival announcements in local papers such as the one for New Hope in the April 7, 1955, St. Clair News-Aegis, “The revival at the New Hope Baptist Church will begin April 10th and continue through April 17th. Rev. Douglas Dexter will bring inspiring messages.” The announcement lists the titles of nine sermons, including the concluding one, Alibies, Lullabyes [sic], and Bye-byes.

Often in the 1950s and ‘60s, a traveling evangelist would hold a citywide tent revival with local churches promoting the event. Curtis Rush’s daughter, Margaret Rush, recalls one conducted by Evangelist C.J. Daniels from Orlando, Florida.

A May 16, 1965, Anniston Star article, Crusade Is Slated, reported about Daniels’ tent: “A unique poleless canvass cathedral with a seating capacity of 2,000 and auxiliary seating for another 2,000 has been erected on a lot just north of downtown Pell City on Highway 231 across from the dairy Queen … Dr. Daniels will be preaching with music directed by Dr. Lowell Leistner with John Roe at the organ.”

Margaret Rush recently recalled that Daniel’s promotional man, who came ahead to get things organized drove “…a Karmann Ghia car, and I had never seen one before. I thought it was very special.”

Daniels didn’t leave attendance to chance but promoted his revival wherever he went. Margaret remembered, “He had a plane – just a small plane – and he would take people up and show them the county from the plane. I went up with him… That was the first time that I’d flown in a plane.”

Daniels’ revivals were attended by throngs of worshipers as well as sight-seekers.

Homecoming and All-Day Singing.

Two other annual events were also observed on the same Sunday at New Hope in days gone by – the All-day Singing and Homecoming. No record exists stating when this second Sunday June event began. The June 7, 1945, announcement in The Pell City News reported, “Even the oldest of the old-timers are unable to say when the Eden Annual Homecoming started – 50 or 75 years ago, perhaps longer, most of them guess. No one seems to know, and no one cares much as long as the ‘Second Sunday’ celebration continues.”

In 1920, The Birmingham News reported the event in their June 14 edition. “Many citizens of Birmingham, Bessemer, Anniston, and other points who were formerly residents of St. Clair County attended the annual singing and homecoming at the Baptist church at Eden Sunday. Fully 2,000 persons were on hand. James Garrett, Circuit Court Clerk of St. Clair County, presided. Austen Hazelwood of Eden, one of Alabama’s sacred songwriters and singers, assisted in directing the music.

“Mrs. Lloyd Garrett, James Ragland of Pell City and Marvin Truitt of Anniston were among the leaders in the music. Rev. R.F. Funderberg of Cropwell, pastor of the church, was in charge of the devotional services. The affair this year proved one of the most enthusiastic ever held at Eden.”

The 1954 New Hope singing-homecoming announcement in the June 10 issue of St. Clair Times, reported that on Sunday, June 13, “…The Bama Boys will be guest singers. Also, local groups will be featured … Lunch will be served at noon. All attending are urged to bring a well-filled basket (of food).

In the May 25, 1951, issue of the Southern Aegis, Editor Edmund Blair reminisced about Homecoming at New Hope. “They come from far and near and from various states for this event.”  He noted that folk would come in automobiles, but in the past “…mules and horses hitched to wagons, buggies, and in some cases, shiny black surreys were the chief method of transportation.”

These events were church and community reunions and were anticipated with excitement because attendees would see friends they had not visited with since last year’s homecoming and singing.

The folk found spiritual food in the church building and baskets of food at lunch with “dinner on the grounds” of the church. So, newspaper announcements encouraged women to bring “well-filled baskets of food.”

A June 7, 1945, announcement in The Pell City News mentioned the gas and food rationing of World War II. “Because of the transportation limitations, the crowd won’t likely be as big as in pre-war years, but every friend of Eden will make every effort to be present, and many have no doubt been saving their gas rations for this special day. Likewise, because of food rationing, many items that have in the past graced the bords at the dinner hour won’t be served, but there will be plenty to eat.”

Progressing through the years.

Population growth in the Eden-Pell City area necessitated additional construction. A new worship center was completed in 1997, and a Family Life Center and Gym in 2007. The 1949 structure serves as the Youth Room and the Senior Adult Sunday school room. As New Hope enters the beginning of its third century, plans have been laid for further expansion of the church campus.

200th Celebration

On Sunday, October 20, 2024, New Hope celebrated its 200th birthday. As the 10 o’clock hour approached, a sense of excitement permeated the sanctuary. Church members greeted one another and made sure non-member attendees felt welcomed as well. No one was excluded.

Proclamations from Pell City mayor and council were read, and a video proclamation by Dr. Lance from the Alabama Baptist Convention were presented prior to the beginning of the worship service.

After Scripture reading of Psalm 100, the Celebration Choir sang the Call to Worship hymn, Great is Thy Faithfulness, directed by Joseph Smith with Hanna Stough at the piano. Especially effective was Dr. Michael Averett’s trumpet obbligato, which underscored the hymn’s proclamation of God’s faithfulness. The concluding crescendo of choir, piano and trumpet brought approving applause and exclamations of praise.

After Greg Davis, chairman of the Bicentennial Committee, welcomed the congregation, Joseph Smith led the packed house in singing How Great Thou Art and To God Be the Glory. The singing of those well-loved hymns “raised the roof,” as old-timers would describe it. The male quartet with Greg “Skeet” Davis, Joseph Smith, Matthew Pope and Brandon Haynes harmonized the old hymn Brethren, We Have Met to Worship. Their rendition resulted in applause and vocal affirmation throughout the sanctuary.

After the congregation sang three praise and worship songs, St. Clair County Baptist Association Missionary Dr. Danny Courson gave greetings from the association member churches before reading from Joshua 4:4-9, the Scripture for transitional pastor Dr. Bob Weber’s sermon, Memories, Markers, Mission.

The Joshua passage recounts the Israelites crossing the Jordan River on dry land as they enter the Promised Land, and God instructing them to gather stones and build a memorial of that event. Dr. Weber spoke of the importance of memories and memorials in the lives of Christians, and that they should honor God’s blessings in their lives, the most important one being when they came to a saving knowledge of Christ. These blessings from God should be recounted to children and grandchildren and memorialized by parents and grandparents.

At this point in the service, 12 families brought stones to make a symbolic memorial to what God has accomplished through New Hope Baptist. Taylor Funderburg and children, Everett, Hadley and Findley, representing a first-generation family, laid the first stone. Husband Tyler missed because of his work. The Pope family of four generations laid the 12th stone. They are, from oldest to youngest, Gilbert Stuart, John Pope, Matthew Pope, and Glover Pope. This element of the bicentennial worship was modeled after the memorial stones recorded in Joshua 4:20-24. This memorial will be placed on the church campus in days to come.

The service continued with Dr. Weber admonishing the congregation that the church doesn’t rest on memories and memorials, for the membership is involved in New Hope’s stated mission – “To Worship Christ, Serve Others, Share the Gospel, and Disciple Believers.”

The service closed with the singing of Victory in Jesus, joyfully accompanied by piano and trumpet.  Afterward, Johnny Gregg prayed the benediction and thanks before “dinner on the grounds” served in the FLC.

The history of a church is a history of God’s providence over a people whom He brings together to accomplish His purpose in a community.

As members die or move their membership for various reasons, God brings others to take their places, and the church continues to progress.

For a church to continue for 200 years is evidence of God’s blessings on those who organized New Hope in 1824. And although To God Be the Glory was not composed until 1872, every generation before and after would affirm its words:

Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord

Let the earth hear His voice,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,

 Let the people rejoice

Oh, come to the Father through Jesus the Son,

And give Him the glory, great things He has done.

And by God’s gracious providence, the church will sing that hymn 100 years from now when they celebrate their tricentennial.

To God be the glory, for indeed great things He has done at Eden New Hope Baptist Church.

Chandler Mountain

St. Clair’s place of sacred beauty

By Roxann Edsall
Photos by Mackenzine Free

For many, the mention of Chandler Mountain brings to mind images of big, beautiful, savory tomatoes.  But the roots of the mountain’s history run far deeper than those lovely fruits or even of those families that have farmed them for generations.  Archaeologists are now calling the mountain a place of profound Native American cultural significance, having documented several sites on and around the mountain.

Climbing the rock face on the mountain

These sites, formally verified by archaeologists over the last two years, include pictographs, which are paintings on stone using the pigment, called red ochre, found in the dirt.  There are at least eight documented sites containing pictographs, cairns, snake walls and other various rock formations attributed to the area’s Native American heritage.  Next month, archaeologists are planning to visit an additional five areas that may also contain significant indigenous findings.

Those culturally significant Native American findings were instrumental in saving Chandler Mountain residents from the fallout from a proposed Alabama Power dam project.  Alabama Power had planned to build a pumped storage hydroelectric facility that would have pumped water from Neely Henry Lake up the mountain to a reservoir and dam at the top, the intent of which was to created electricity by releasing water at peak use times to flow down the mountain to four dams below.

The building and operation of the project would have forever changed the landscape of the mountainside and residents banded together to fight.  They created Save Chandler Mountain, a 501c3 non-profit, and began working to build a case to oppose the dam project.  “The project was a net-negative program, meaning it would have used more energy than it created,” said Fran Summerlin, the organization’s president.  “It was going to get rid of so much farmland and so many houses.” 

 Summerlin explained that the organization reached out to archaeologists and cultural heritage people and found common ground with the people who originally lived on the land, members of the Cherokee Tribe of Northeast Alabama.  Both current residents and the Indigenous people of the area were desperate to save the land and protect its features. 

Seth Penn is a member of the Cherokee Tribe of Northeast Alabama and was, at the time of the proposed dam project, the southeastern coordinator for the Indian Nations Conservation Alliance (INCA).  Fighting to promote Native American culture and to protect sacred sites was his mission and that dovetailed well with Save Chandler Mountain’s mission.  Penn, who has degrees in both cultural anthropology and natural resource conservation management, with minors in Cherokee studies and language, lives in north Alabama, but has ancestral ties to both Etowah and St. Clair counties.

“Chandler Mountain and that area was a place where multiple tribal territories came together,” Penn explains.  “You had the Cherokee people, various branches of Muskogee, as well as Choctaws and Chickasaw too.  This was a special place where various tribes would come together to trade and to talk through things and to try to work things out peacefully.” 

A popular destination – Horse Pens 40 – for bouldering, entertainment, festivals and views

So, their work together began by inviting noted archaeologist David Johnson to visit the mountain.  Johnson, who is from Poughkeepsie, New York, had successfully documented Native American sacred and ceremonial landscapes along the lower Hudson Valley, which was instrumental in saving Split Rock Mountain, a land sacred to the Ramapo Munsee Lenape Nation. “We were having a ceremony celebrating the saving of Split Rock Mountain and Seth Penn and his mother came from northeast Alabama,” said Johnson.  “I walked him around that site and showed him the stone features.  He said I needed to come to Alabama.”

“I made the drive down to Huntsville and met with Seth’s tribe,” Johnson continued.  “Within the first two days, we found two ceremonial landscape sites that the Cherokee Tribe of Northeast Alabama knew nothing about.”    It was at the presentation he gave to the tribe about his findings that he met some visitors who came up from Chandler Mountain.  “They asked me to come look and I went down for two days for a quick look.  What I saw was enough that I went back and have documented eight major sites there.”

The shape of the mountain itself is unique in that, unlike typical mountains that rise to a peak, the top of Chandler Mountain is a plateau, flat at the top with a dip, or bowl in the middle.  The shape is a natural occurrence, formed during the creation of the Appalachian Mountains hundreds of millions of years ago.  The flat top made the mountain ideal for the ceremonial and tribal activities, according to Johnson, with plenty of room for tribes to meet, to trade, to work through disputes, and to pray.

The mountain is known as the tomato capital

“You don’t usually find a lot of artifacts at this type of site,” says Johnson.  “You don’t find a lot of broken arrows and firepits because that’s not what they did here.  This was a special place, a sacred place.”  Those types of artifacts, he explains, are found in habitation sites, archaeological sites where cultures lived and slept.

“There are ceremonially significant places on the mountain, as well as in the whole region,” Penn explains.  “There are places where you see the presence of that confirmed through various rock formations, art, and things along those lines that are centuries old.  It affirms the long-lasting presence of Indigenous people there.”  It’s a place that local Native Americans still go to pray.  “We go to these sacred places where we are able to stand in present time, but lock arms with our ancestors, the ancients, to pray.”

The land is sacred, too, to those who live and farm the land today.  “There are places there with history, with stories, with blood, sweat and tears that have been poured into that land,” Penn continues.  “If that dam project had happened, it would have erased the history of Indigenous people from thousands of years ago, but would also have erased a lot of history from the present inhabitants of that land and their families.” 

Charles Abercrombie’s family is deeply ingrained in the history of the area.  For more than 75 years, he has lived on land on the side of Chandler Mountain that was once part of the homestead of Joel Chandler, for whom the mountain is named.  Chandler received the land as payment for his work as a soldier in the Creek Indian War.  Abercrombie still has the land grant signed by Andrew Jackson.  The land has been owned by the Abercrombie family since 1894, and Abercrombie says he would fight to protect his land from any threat.  “When all this started, I went to an eminent domain attorney,” Abercrombie said.  “I was willing to go to the Supreme Court, if I had to.”

He did not have to go to the Supreme Court.  As a result of feedback from residents and pushback from Twinkle Cavanaugh, then Alabama Public Service Commission president, the application for the Alabama Power dam project on Chandler Mountain was withdrawn and the mountain, with its beautiful landscape and rich history was saved. 

“Bringing these potential cultural losses to the forefront may have contributed to the demise of the project, but important political opposition is probably what made the difference,” says Terry Henderson.  Henderson, whose family has been around the mountain and Canoe Creek since around 1850, has lived on the south brow of the mountain for two years.  He is married to Linda Derry, a professional historical archaeologist, and worries as much about “unrestrained and uncontrolled visitation” in the area.  “These properties, structures, and vistas should be protected through legal, enforceable, verifiable development and access restraints,” says Henderson.

Ben Lyon agrees.  He was drawn to the mountain as a rock climber 20 years ago and has lived there for the past 12 years.  His property contains red ochre drawings and other findings important to Native American culture.  “I believe it’s as important as anything to preserve these,” says Lyons.  “It’s one of the few examples of pre-Woodlands depictions in the Coosa River Valley.”

Lyon says saving the mountain and its cultural history is important for the future of the children and for the families who make their living on the land.  “There’s a way of life on Chandler Mountain that would have been lost, and about a third of the mountain would have been lost,” said Lyon. 

Chandler Mountain is a place of tranquil beauty, a place where families live off the land and spend time in the outdoors.  It’s a land of history, of promise, and carries with it the burden of conserving it for future generations.  Conservationist Aldo Leopold stressed the importance of that responsibility when he wrote, “The oldest task in human history is to live on a piece of land without spoiling it.”  Together, the mountain’s current residents and those representing their Indigenous predecessors have made sure this sacred mountain will not be spoiled.

Springville, AL

Historic preservation and revitalization done right

Story by Paul South
Photos by Graham Hadley

When Brad Waid, a Bloomfield Hills, Mich.,-based motivational speaker returns home to this St. Clair County town of Springville and pops into Nichol’s Nook Coffee Shop or Laster’s Sundries or any of the other downtown shops, the warm, comforting, kind feeling never changes.

“When my son visits,  he says (Springville) is a perfect little town, right out of a Hallmark  movie. You walk into Nichol’s and you could do a Hallmark  movie in there.”

Frank and Carol Waid, lifelong town residents lead a small army of volunteers who want to keep things that way, preserving the landmarks that give a deep richness to Springville.

People come from all over for cool treats at Laster Sundries

The Springville Preservation Society began its work restoring the 1902 Old Rock School, the  Presbyterian Church, the Springville Museum and historic homes that  adorn the city’s streets.

The Society celebrates historic buildings to be sure. But it’s also about people. Springville has its share of famous folks, like Detroit Tiger pitcher Casey Mize and Pat Buttram and  Hank Patterson, stars of the  wacky 1960s classic comedy sitcom, Green Acres.

But the human story runs deeper.  Families have called Springville home for generations. At the turn of the past century,  ancestors hauled boulders to help build the school, now part of the National Register of Historic Places.

 Work on the beloved school continues.

“The whole upstairs is completed,” Frank Waid said. “The floor’s completed. The kitchen is in. The bathrooms are in. Heating and cooling in the kitchen are in, and two of the main rooms are completed.

Close to completion is an event space made from two rooms where a wall has been  knocked out.

Restored original single traffic light in the Springville History Museum

“That’s where we’ve had to stop right now because we need to put heating and cooling in those two rooms, and we just don’t have quite enough funds to do that. We’re real close to having the funds.”

The Society needs another $2,000-$3,000 dollars to add the HVAC system.

The organization is also working to repair and restore the floors and the front of  Springville’s History Museum, housed in the old Masonic Lodge,  which was built in 1903. The organization is seeking grants to make needed repairs.

“The  whole front of the building is kind of like laying on the ground,” Waid said. “The beams have started to settle and the walls are starting to settle. That’s our big project right now.”

He added, “It’s a bigger project than we can do fundraisers for. It desperately needs to be done or otherwise, we will eventually have to close if we don’t have the funds to get it done.”

Work has also continued on the Presbyterian Church and the accompanying manse, where  damaged roofs were replaced on the two buildings. The church building is being used as an event venue, and the manse is a treasure trove of information for amateur and professional researchers.

“It’s a full heritage center,” Waid said.” It’s a  research center and a  genealogy center. We have lots of books and records that folks can use for family research and genealogy. We have a computer and Wi-Fi for research.”

The restored Presbyterian Church and Heritage Center

Are there other projects on the Society’s plate? “That is enough,” said Waid.

“It’s about all we can handle right now.”

The Society has a schedule of events to raise funds for its many efforts and to build community and awareness. A recent yard sale raised enough money to replace the heating and cooling system at the old Presbyterian church.

Springville has rallied to support preservation efforts and with good reason. The Rock School could well be called the cornerstone of historic Springville. “It has ties to all the families, all the way back to the original settlers of the area,” Waid said.

The Society has an active membership. More than half of the 65 members are involved, not just names on a membership roll. “The people who are our members are some of the greatest in the world,” Waid said.

 Along with its building and restoration efforts, Springville celebrates its storied heritage in other ways. It’s one of some 30 Alabama cities that hosts walking tours to highlight local history each April. “We get a lot of visitors,” Waid said. “And a lot of visitors tell us that they’re glad to see what we’ve done.”

If time allows, Society members are sure to take visitors, many born and reared in Springville, back to The Rock School. “It brings back so many memories. They love it,” Waid said.

Springville’s preservation push also brings repeat visitors from outside St. Clair County who are smitten with the town. Many make donations, and others even join the Society.

A section of the rock school before renovations get started

“A lot of people come to the area, and they just love the area, and they see what they are doing to protect the history and buildings so they can be maintained and used for the betterment of the community,” Waid said. “They just love what we’re doing.”

Earlier in June, the Preservation Society hosted a Tablescapes fundraiser, and representatives of the Alabama Cooperative Extension Service were expected in Springville to tour the Society’s work.

In the fall, Green Acres Day returns to celebrate Green Acres and the Hollywood careers of Buttram and Patterson.

Beyond brick and mortar, at its heart, Springville is special because of its people, who make it a place where friendship or a helping hand isn’t hard to find, Waid said.

A ramp has been added to the rock school to make it ADA compliant

“It’s just a loving, caring city. Anytime there is an event in the city, people come out to support it … Everybody just  jumps in to help. It’s that small town you grew up in and even though it’s gotten bigger, it’s more family oriented.”

As for the Hallmark movie analogy, walk into Nichol’s or Laster’s for a taste of something sweet or most anywhere in the heart of Springville and Frank Waid says simply, “It fits.”

And the Springville Preservation Society fits, too.

“We’re here to preserve our heritage and our history,” Waid said. “That’s what we do through all these buildings – telling the story of our little hometown and the people in it and try to save all those memories.”

Those remembrances of days gone by, like when downtown stores used to give away $10 gold pieces, or even Frank Waid’s own father, Fred, who didn’t miss a Springville High football game for 20 years, are sweet and rich like a Laster’s sundae.

What would previous generations who built the city think of society’s work? “I think they would be pleased,” Waid said. “We support our town. If it weren’t for those little Mom and Pop stores, which was all they (our ancestors) had, we wouldn’t have been able to make ends meet.”

Les Johnson

From St. Clair County, Michigan,
to St. Clair County, Alabama

Story by Joe Whitten
Contributed photos

For someone to live 78 years in St. Clair County without ever eating barbecue sounds like cuisine deprivation. But that was 90-year-old Les Johnson’s sad truth. He deserves compassion, however, for he grew up in St. Clair County, Michigan. “I came to Alabama for the first time in 2012, and I ate my first barbecue at Charlie’s in Odenville,” Les admitted, “and I’ve never stopped eating them since.” In St. Clair County, Alabama, he not only enjoyed barbecue but also collard greens, fried okra, butterbeans, and cobbler pie.

Les’s story starts in Canada where his father, Leslie Hontoon Johnson, was born. Leslie was awarded US citizenship for fighting for America in World War I. After the war, he worked as Chief Steward on a Great Lakes freighter. When he was on leave in Port Huron, Michigan, he became friends with Eva Fleming. They fell in love and were soon married.

Because Leslie was on the ship for months at a time, Eva moved back with her parents at the farm. Two daughters, Mary and Grace, were born there, and on July 4, 1934, Les joined them. Today he says all the 4th of July fireworks are for him.

Les enjoyed a special relationship with his grandfather. “I loved living on the farm,” he recounted. “My grandfather died when I was five, but I still remember him. He was over six feet tall, and there weren’t many men that tall then. He had huge hands, and he’d take mine and cover it with his.”

A creek flowed by their farm, and in winter he and his granddad would walk the frozen creek in the snow to the nearest town to buy supplies.

When his grandpa died, his mother ran the farm and his dad continued on the freighter.

Les spoke fondly of the farm. “We sold chickens and eggs and butter. My mother made butter with a churn. The Kroger and A&P stores would call us and tell us how many chickens they needed for the weekend, and we’d get the chickens, stick ‘em in the neck with a sharp knife, and hang ‘em on the clothesline to let the blood drip. Then we had to put them in tubs of hot and cold water and pull all the feathers out.” No automation in those days.

Les in uniform in his early 20s

The Johnson children peddled their products on Saturdays to regular customers in Port Huron. “We already had their orders,” Les related. “My sister would take one side of the road, and I’d take the other. We always had eggs and butter. And when strawberries were in, we sold strawberries for 25 cents a quart.”

Just like Alabama kids, Les took chances, without much consideration of consequences. He and sister Mary rode a horse that refused to cross a wooden bridge over the creek. “One day, we decided we’d get at the top of the hill and get him going as fast as we could downhill, so he’d have to cross the bridge.” However, the horse stopped stone still the second his hoofs hit the wood. “The hor se stopped, but we went across that bridge,” he laughed. “We were picking gravel out of our legs for months.”

Les got the better of his sisters many times. He would scrunch himself between his sister and her boyfriend until they paid him to leave. Sometimes he would lock a sister in a room until they paid up. But they loved him, and his 98-year-old sister, Grace, recently said of him, “Les was always so spoiled by everyone because he was so much younger and the only boy.  He got away with everything! He was and is so loved by everyone.”

As the ship’s Head Stewart, Leslie Johnson could take his wife on two trips a year and young Les went with her. They would drive to Lorain, Ohio, where the ship unloaded and uploaded. “We would get onboard there,” Les said, “and we’d go through the locks at Sault Ste. Marie and get a ship load up there and come back to Lorain. We had a ’36 Chevrolet, and I’d sit on the armrest on the back seat while my mother drove us back home.”

Les with sisters Mary and Grace

Those times ended when Les’s dad had a heart attack on ship. The crew lowered him on a stretcher into a Port Huron mail boat which brought him to shore. Leslie was at home for about a month before he died.

The Johnson family continued farming for about two years, then his mother sold the property, and they moved to Port Huron where she took a job as a butcher. Sister Mary had married. Sister Grace lived with an aunt, and 12-year-old Les lived with his mother.

Les recalled having to move. “It was terrible, moving to a city—a city I’d never been to except for shopping. I had to get new friends and go to a different school. The first couple of weeks, I hated it, but then I made some friends and liked it a little bit. But I missed the farm.”

Having learned how to work at the farm, in the city, 12-year-old Les soon had a newspaper route. When he turned 14, he got a job cleaning an appliance store, and when he got his driver’s license, he began delivering appliances. “My first car,” Les laughed, “was a ’29 Model A. It cost me $30.00, and then it cost me $50.00 for insurance.”

Les and Fay Johnson at a grandson’s wedding

On June 16, 1953, Les graduated from Port Huron High School, but perhaps the more memorable event had occurred a few weeks earlier on May 21, 1953. During the afternoon of that day, an F-4 tornado, over a mile wide, wreaked destruction throughout Port Huron, then whirled across the St. Clair River into Canada. In remembering the tornado, Les told how “It blew the roof off the back of our house where my mother was sitting in the kitchen. It never touched her, but she was so frightened that her hair turned white, and it never turned back to brown. The colloquial name for this phenomenon is the Maria Antoinette Syndrome, for her hair is said to have turned white overnight from the trauma of the Reign of Terror’s’ guillotine.

Les enjoyed building and remodeling houses. When asked about this, he said, “I worked for a construction company, and I always loved building stuff. The week before I graduated from high school, I got a job with a construction company, and they said they’d try me out for two weeks. I stayed there for 25 years. When I first started working there, I was in the union,  and I got $1.95 an hour. When I retired, I was getting $28.00 an hour.” That company built houses and factories, so Les developed expertise in carpentry and ironwork. He left that company in 1978, then worked for a power company until 1983.

In 1954, Les married Fay Burns, and needing a house to live in, he built it. Having learned never to waste anything, he tore down an old house for material for the new house, salvaging everything. He and Fay pulled out all the nails and filled five five-gallon buckets and sold them for scrap.

Les worked his regular job during the day and worked on their home in the evenings. He had it roughed-in when his draft notice arrived. Three weeks later he was in the army. He boarded up the windows and put tarpaper over the top, and there it sat for two years until he was discharged.

The Johnson children arrived by adoption. Fay and Les adopted Lori in 1962, Steven in 1963, and Lynette in 1968. A few years after, Les’s sister-in-law and her husband both died close together, so, the Johnsons took his niece, Michelle, into their home as their daughter. 

Any time the siblings are together, they enjoy recalling good times growing up. “When I was a kid,” Lynette related, “we used to go to a campground called Pigeon River Campground in Michigan. One night when we were sitting around the fire, dad decided to do a rain dance around the fire. It worked! Not only did we have rain that night, we also had a tornado. He still performs a rain dance on occasion.”

Les and his four children, Michele, Lore, Lynette and Steve

Sister Lori added hers. “When dad lost his leg from the work accident, he gave us kids a choice: either a pool or go to Florida. We got both,” she laughed.  “When we wanted horses, he drove us all through the country and would say ‘How does that smell?’  We would respond with ‘That smells bad because it’s cow manure!’ Then we went by the horses and would say, ‘Humm that smells good! Must be horse manure!’ That worked too. We got our horses!  He taught us a good work ethic.  We couldn’t have asked for a better dad!”

Steve’s memory connects with horses. “In 1975, dad bought a frame for a one-horse sleigh at an auction, and he and I restored it in his workshop in the basement. He built the body, the seats, and everything. Some friends of his gave him the harness. We had a few horses, and one was able to pull the sleigh. So, he put bells on it, and at Christmas time he would take us for rides through the snow around the neighborhood in the sleigh. Those were extra special moments—both helping build the sleigh and riding it.”

Michelle’s memory shows Les’s ability to assess character. “I had a date, and our dates were required to come to the door. Les answered the door and told my date, ‘You have 30 seconds to get off the porch and out of the driveway—and you better move it because it’s a long driveway.’ I was so upset, and I cried and cried. But Les said, ‘That boy’s no good, I just know it.’ And low-and-behold, a couple years later that same young man went to jail! I hated to admit that my dad was right,” she laughed, “but he certainly was. He is an amazing man, and we are all blessed to have him in our lives.”

Les’ tomato harvest

The Johnsons enjoyed the outdoors, especially hunting. They owned a parcel of hunting land, but it had no cabin. Les, who never saw a job he couldn’t do, solved that problem. The Grand Trunk Railway Company’s nearby railyard refurbished boxcars, and Les bought a truckload of boxcar two-by-sixes. “They delivered them,” he said, “and I had a John Deere tractor with a 30-inch sawblade, and I sawed the two-by-sixes down to two-by-fours and framed a cabin in my back yard—bolted the sections together, numbered them, and took it down.”

A friend loaned him a truck to haul the cabin sections to the site. On Les’s brother-in-law’s trailer they put some furniture on, and the two headed out at 3:00 in the morning. They arrived onsite at 7:00 and started working. They finished at 7:00 that night and headed home.

Les enjoyed hunting even after an industrial accident cost him a leg. He and son-in-law Tim often hunted together. “We were walking out of the woods one night,” Tim laughed, “and Les fell over. He said, ‘I stepped in a hole.’ I helped him up. He took one step and fell down again. When I helped him up that time, I noticed that his foot was missing—it had broken off his artificial leg. We hobbled to the cabin and took three of his old legs and engineered a new one for him to get home.”

All of Les and Fay’s children married and raised families in Port Huron. Grandchildren came and the grandparents enjoyed being part of their lives. However, one day Tim dumbfounded everybody by announcing his family was moving to Alabama. His company had transferred him.

When asked how that news was received, Les chuckled, “Well, my wife had a fit. ‘You can’t take my grandkids and go to Alabama! I don’t know where that is.’ I wasn’t happy about it either,” he admitted, “but we helped them move. I drove the U-Haul with Tim. We came at the end of October 2012, and my wife and I stayed that winter with them.”

The tightknit Johnsons adjusted and started making the drive from Port Huron to Alabama. Les and Fay came each winter and enjoyed the warmer Alabama weather.

When Les’s wife died in 2016, he lived alone in their Michigan home for two years. Lynette and Tim encouraged him to sell his home and move to Alabama and live with them, and in 2018 he moved in with them.

Les began attending First Baptist Church Springville with the Hoffmans. He made friends easily and was soon involved with Sunday school and church, the Saints Alive senior group, and the Over the Hill Gang, men who meet at the Farmhouse Restaurant every Friday for lunch.

Desiring to join First Baptist, Les attended the New Members Class with the pastors. Having come from a Methodist and Lutheran background, he needed to be baptized by emersion. But how could a one-legged man get in and out of the baptistery? No problem for two deacons, as Les tells it. “I took my leg off, and Lee Love and Al Rayburn carried me down the steps into the baptistry, and Pastor David DuPre dunked me.”

After the baptism, Pastor Chip Thornton told his favorite story about Les. “He was put under anesthesia for surgery. When they rolled him out of the recovery room, he was flat on his back, still under the effects of anesthesia, but he had his arms in the air, and was saying, ‘Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!’ The congregation loved it and applauded.

One reason Les enjoys Alabama is the long gardening season. “I can garden almost year-round,” Les comments. “Certain things I can plant in the fall, and others in the spring” For early start, he needed a greenhouse, so he and Tim built one. They bought used windows, put a skylight on the roof, and heating bars inside. “I use it to grow tomatoes, peppers, cabbage and cauliflower seedlings, then I give most of them to people in the church,” he laughed. “It’s just fun watching them grow.”

Gardeners at church gave Les hints on Southern gardening, and his grand-son-in-law, Matt Hyatt, of Chandler Mountain, gave pointers as well. Les may be 90 years old, but he still enjoys learning.

And learning more about the Bible, God, and Jesus his Savior is what he enjoys most. When asked about the difference in church and preaching in Michigan and here, he responded: “Like between night and day! I thought I was getting the Word of God,” he lamented, “but I wasn’t. It is so different. Here they go through the Bible. When I first got down here and went to Sunday school class, they could a verse—or one word–and teach on that for a whole hour—what it means and where a word came from. They never did that up north. It’s just a blessing to be down here. I love all our pastors, and I love all the people in my church.” He paused, then added, “And they love me. I couldn’t get used to that at first. When people would say, ‘I love you,’ I thought, parents and my family say that.  But down here, they all say they love me!”

And they do. In the spring of 2022, Les was going through a down time resulting from events in October 2021 on a trip to Port Huron. On the first day of that trip, the airline misplaced his luggage, and someone hacked his credit card. On the second day, he stumbled and broke his hip, which resulted in hip-replacement surgery and two weeks of recuperation in a nursing home and three weeks at his daughter Lori’s home. When he finally arrived back home on Beaver Ridge Mountain, he said, “If you want to see me again, come to Alabama.” His spirits were so low that a Sunday school buddy, Chuck Whitiker, suggested to the Sunday school teacher that the class plan a surprise birthday party for Les. The class agreed and managed to keep it secret from Les.

Back, Les and Grace; Front, Mary and their mother, Eva

On the day of the party, Lynette and daughter Sara decorated the church’s Family Life Center. Jeri Jenkins prepared the food. Tim’s job was to get Les to the event. By creative subterfuge concerning a church meeting that needed Les in attendance, Tim got Les in the truck; however, Les, being significantly disgruntled, grumbled his discontent all the way to the church. Tim opened the FLC door and frowning Les entered to be greeted with shouts of “Surprise! Happy Birthday!” Thus, he was shocked out of the doldrums into good spirits to enjoy the day.

Les thinks of Heaven often and that his body will be in working order—he’s had 25 plus surgeries, has one artificial leg, an artificial hip, is blind in one eye and has macular degeneration in the other, and he has scalloped edged ears from removed skin cancers. “I’ll have everything new in Heaven,” he laughed.

He recently received a hand-held gadget that allows him to read and listen to the Bible, and that makes him happy. His grandson-in-law, Matt, built a prayer bench for him which they placed in a wooded nook, and in good weather, Les spends time there praying for his family and thanking God for all his goodness and kindness to him. If one happened to be nearby and unseen, he might hear Les singing “And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known,” for “In the Garden” is one of his favorite hymns. The time he has spent in God’s Garden of meditation is reflected in his life. Les Johnson is a one-of-a-kind inspiration.

Remembering the Revolution

DAR places war memorial marker

Story by Joe Whitten
Photos by Mackenzie Free

All through the night, clouds took turns sobbing over Hopewell Cemetery’s tombstones, cedar trees, and leafless dogwoods, and dawn broke dank and damp. In stark contrast in the older section, the recently cleaned tombstones of Jacob Green, Robert Hood, Sarah Hood and John Hood stood white against the gloom, and a new gray granite marker at Jacob Green’s grave glistened from the rain.

The marker drew members of the Broken Arrow Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) to New Hopewell Baptist Church Fellowship Hall on a Saturday morning in January to honor the tribute.

Event preparation began in 2024 when Washington’s DAR National Headquarters announced available grants of $500 to local chapters to celebrate the Semiquincentennial (250th) celebration of the United States. The grant guidelines stipulated that not only must the Revolutionary War veteran’s grave be in the cemetery, but that some of his descendants must also be entombed there, for the marker is in memory of the veteran’s descendants in the same cemetery.

Broken Arrow member Ann Coupland suggested Jacob Green because she knew he was buried at Hopewell Cemetery, and that the Gadsden DAR chapter had placed a tombstone at his grave in 1937. Further, Ann also knew that his name and John Hood’s were not on the Revolutionary War Veterans marker behind the Inzer House.

Joseph and Miranda Wyatt

Choosing John Hood was almost serendipitous. One day, Mindy Manners, Regent of Broken Arrow Chapter, was walking in Hopewell Cemetery near Jacob Green’s resting place. Just a few graves away from Green’s, she saw the tombstone for Robert Hood, “Born April 1793, Died April 12, 1858.” The 1793 date caused her to think Robert had Revolutionary War connections. Back home, she researched Robert’s ancestry and found his father, John Hood, and his service record.

Buried next to Robert is his wife, Sarah (1792-1855); and next to her is their son, Rev. John Hood (1820-1851); however, there’s no stone for John Hood there. Where is he buried?

John Hood lies in an unmarked grave which some writers and researchers have speculated is in the Ashville Cemetery. However, Hopewell Cemetery is more likely for three reasons. First, his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson are interred there. Second, Daniel Hood in his paper titled, “The Noah Hood Family,” states, “The Hood family has been associated with the Hopewell Baptist Church since its construction (organization) in July 1830. Five Hoods were charter members.

Indeed, in the Hopewell Cemetery, Hoods account for some of the earliest residents.” Third, from 19th century obituaries that the community of Hood’s existed, for it is recorded as place of residence, as in Roland Hood’s obituary, Aug. 29, 1889, in The Southern Aegis. “Died on Aug. 25, 1889, at his residence near Hood’s this county, Roland Hood, age 71 years. He had lived in the neighborhood where he breathed his last all his life, except for two years.” So, there exists a strong connection with the Hood family, the church, the cemetery and the community.

Broken Arrow members were busy in the Fellowship Hall, where some decorated tables with patriotic colors, miniature stars and stripes, and flower arrangements, while others set out refreshments. One of those members is especially noteworthy, Emma Scott Milam. She is the only surviving charter member of the Broken Arrow Chapter which was established a little over 70 years ago. As soon as she turned 18, her aunt had her sign the papers to come in as a charter member.

Members of the Green and Hood families and other visitors gradually filled the room as the Fellowship Hall program hour arrived.

Following the opening prayer by Chaplain Emma Milam, the Alabama Society of the Sons of American Revolution Color Guard, in 18th Century military attire, brought the flag to the front for the Pledge of Allegiance, then they placed the flag in its holder.

Next, the assembly read in unison The American’s Creed. Mindy introduced special guests: Rev. Johnny Wilson, host and pastor of New Hopewell; Joe Barker, commander of the SAR Color Guard; Kristi Averette, The Flag of the United States American State Committee Chair, Alabama Society Daughters of the American Revolution; and attending journalist.

Regent Manners related interesting facts about Alabama and St. Clair County Revolutionary War veterans, many of whom moved their families here, and records indicate that more than 700 are buried in Alabama.

Many of the grave markers have been weathered away or destroyed by the passing years, and it is believed that the last veteran to die was William Speer, who lived to be 101. He died in 1859 and is buried in Bivens Chapel Cemetery in Jefferson County.

After the Regent’s remarks, members of Jacob Green’s family were recognized and 8th generation Josiah Jacob Evans, eight years old, read Jacob’s brief history written by his Aunt Beth Evans-Smith.

Jacob Green’s history resonates with America’s and St. Clair County’s early history. He was born in North Carolina in 1767 and was only nine years old when the Declaration of Independence was signed July 4, 1776. Official records show that an 18-year-old Private Jacob Green was “…paid with interest, on 21 June 1785 for duty done in the Militia in 1782.”

In 1787, 20-year-old Jacob married Frances “Fannie” Baker in North Carolina. Over the years, 10 children blessed their home.

Family records state that Jacob also fought in the War of 1812, and that at the end of the war, perhaps around 1815, Jacob and other men journeyed to Alabama to explore land along the Coosa River. Then in 1818, Jacob and Fannie, now living in South Carolina, resigned their membership in the Buffalo Baptist Church and began the tedious trek to Alabama.

Although the date they arrived in St. Clair County with their six younger children is unclear, Green family researchers believe the family arrived here between 1818 and 1820. The 1820 census records show that Jacob Green owned land in St. Clair County and that he formerly resided in South Carolina.

Jacob built the family’s first home on today’s Greensport Road, a little south of Canoe Creek where U.S. 411 crosses into Etowah County. This spacious home also served for many years as a stop on the Montevallo stagecoach route.

Mary Ellen Sparks wrote in an article, Stagecoach Stop, published Aug. 7, 2019, in the St. Clair Times, “Springer and Pollard Stagecoach Lines ran between Pulaski, Tenn., and Montevallo for a total of 133 miles. The mail was delivered semi-weekly at $25 per trip. There were 13 mail stops along this route. It traveled through six Alabama counties. The stagecoach would leave Ashville at 4 a.m. and arrive in Montevallo the next day at 9 a.m. It was a 29-hour ride amidst wild animals, inclement weather and probably hostile Indians and Outlaws.”

By the 1830s, there was a need for a ferryboat on the Coosa River to connect St. Clair County with Calhoun County. When the federal government approached Jacob about operating the ferry, he accepted the challenge. Therefore, he left the Stagecoach house and built another spacious house by the river at what came to be called Greensport.

Jacob successfully operated the ferry for some years as age crept up on him. The 1840 census records list a man about Jacob’s age living with Jacob’s daughter, Nannie Green Dill, and her husband. Jacob’s wife, Fannie, must have predeceased him. His name does not appear in the 1850 census.

 When Alabama Power constructed Neeley Henry` Dam and Lake, the house was torn down and lake waters soon flooded over where it once stood. Today on Jacob Green’s Coosa River land is the Greensport RV Park and Campground, and the Greensport Marina, a beautiful and peaceful St. Clair County recreational center on Lake Neely Henry, operated by Jacob’s descendants.

John Hood

When the John Hood family was recognized, Anthony Hood read John’s brief history.

His birth date remains a mystery, but researchers think it occurred in the area of 1745 to 1750. He was the eldest son of Tunis and Elizabeth Harrison Hood of Frederick County, Virginia, now a part of Berkeley County, West Verginia.

The Hood families seemed restless, for in 1772 John was in Burk County, North Carolina, then c1775 they moved to Mecklenburg County, North Carolina. Tunis Hood, John’s father, and other members of the family relocated to Mecklenburg County around 1775, as well.

John’s American Revolution service was with the North Carolina Militia, Salisbury district, made up from Mecklenburg and other counties. Records also show that Tunis Hood gave material aid to Revolutionary forces. John’s brothers, Tunis Jr., Solomon and Robert, served with Mecklenburg County forces as well.

After the war, John moved his family to Greene County, Georgia, around 1792 and stayed there about 24 years before migrating to Alabama c1816. Hood descendants believe John died in 1835 and Sarah in 1837.

John married Sarah “Sallie” Austin in 1777, and they were parents to eight children: Austin, James, Amos, Isaac, Robert, William, Osborn and daughter Lovina. Robert is buried at Hopewell Cemetery.

There is a possible John Hood and Abraham Lincon connection as recorded by Anthony Hood. “John Hood’s mother was Elizabeth Harrison, daughter of John Harrison and granddaughter of Isaiah and Elizabeth Wright Harrison. Elizabeth Wright Harrison died soon after the birth of their fifth child. Isaiah married second to Abigail Smith, and they had three children, with Abigail Harrison being [their] daughter who married Alexander Herring. Abigail Harrison Herring is strongly speculated to be the great-grandmother of Abraham Lincoln, making John Hood a distant cousin to Abraham Lincoln.”

Of special note on other family ties, Elvis Presley is a direct descendant of John Hood. Elvis’s grandmother, Minnie Mae Hood Presley, is John Hood’s great-great-granddaughter. At the Tunis Hood plantation site at Hood’s Crossroads in Mint Hill, North Carolina, there is a plaque commemorating the Elvis connection. Minnie Mae Hood Presley is buried at Graceland.

Tombstones of Robert Hood, Sarah Hood, and Rev. John Hood

When the biographical sketches ended, the DAR ladies served finger foods, hot chocolate and coffee, after which the group reassembled at Jacob Green’s gravesite for the dedication of the memorial:

“COMMEMORATING THE SEMIQUINCENTENNIAL OF / THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA / WE HONOR THE REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIERS WHO LIVED IN / ST. CLAIR COUNTY, ALABAMA / AND WHOSE DESCENDANTS ARE BURIED HERE / IN HOPEWELL CEMETERY / JOHN HOOD / JACOB GREEN / MARKER PLACED BY BROKEN ARROW CHAPTER NSDAR / 18 JANUARY 2025.”

Regent Manners dedicatory remarks were thought provoking. “It is fitting that we praise especially here today no famous men. We come instead to honor those who fought and died without recognition.

“Their names and deeds are known only to those who were their comrades, families, and of course, known to God… These ordinary soldiers best symbolize such acts of quiet courage by ordinary people whose reward is that their nation and their freedoms remain secure for future generations.”

She ended her remarks with these words from General George Washington, who knew war and its conquests of exposure, wounds and death: “To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.”

Chaplain Milam prayed the dedicatory prayer, followed by the SAR Color Guard firing three rounds with their muskets, much to the delight of the children in attendance.

As the musket smoke wafted away, Rev. Johnny Wilson read the lyrics of Taps, of which the poignant last stanza was a fitting end to the ceremony.

All is well… Fare thee well
Day has gone, night is on.
Thanks and praise, for our days,
‘Neath the sun, ‘Neath the stars, ‘Neath the sky,
As we go, this we know, God is nigh.

As folk began drifting back to the Fellowship Hall or the parking lot, clouds drifted apart enough to reveal bits of blue sky above the gray, and feeble sunrays touched the tops of tombstones old and new.

And there in the silent quietness, one might think he heard from far away, the notes of Taps, echoing through the years, “All is well. All is well.”

Floyd Waites

Born to play the piano … and sing

Story by Joe Whitten
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr. and Submitted Photos

In the words of American Bandstand’s Dick Clark, “Music is the soundtrack of your life,” and that fits Pell City musician Floyd Waites like a well-tailored 5th Avenue tuxedo.

Born to Edmond and Beatrice Waites in the Glenn City area of Pell City, Floyd was the youngest of their five children – three boys and two girls. This was a loving family overseen by Mrs. Waites after Mr. Waites became an invalid from a stroke.

By his teenage years, Floyd’s siblings had left home, so his mother depended upon him with chores and cleaning. “I was always singing when I was helping around the house,” he recalled. He heard the music coming from the radio, and he knew in his heart that if he had a piano, he could play those songs.

“I went to my mother and said, ‘I want to get a piano.’” He smiled as he told her reply. “She said, ‘Floyd, I can’t get no piano!’ She wasn’t able to buy a piano. But a few months after that, I began to get a small check from Avondale Mills because my daddy had worked there before his stroke.”

Floyd and Marie Knight take a bow at a concert in Paris

With that income, another plan took shape. “I told my mom that I was gonna try to get a piano (with that money),” he reminisced. “There was a piano company in Anniston, Alabama, called Forbes Piano Company. So, someone carried me there, and I looked around and spoke to the man in charge, and he said, ‘I can let you have it for so much,’ – whatever it was priced at that time. And I said, ‘Well, how much will that be a month?’ He told me what it would be and said, ‘Could you pay ten dollars a month?’ And I said, ‘Oh, I can pay ten dollars a month!’ And, so, they brought the piano out to our house.”

Oh, happy day! Now, with the radio on, Floyd could sit at the treasured piano, with his fingertips eagerly searching out the notes and chords and runs of what he heard. He was a natural – born for the piano and music.

He must have played too much Fats Domino or Chubby Checker, because one day his mother said, “Floyd, I don’t want you playing just anything and everything. You’ve got to play for the Lord.” He chuckled at the memory. “I said, ‘Oh, yes, Mama, that’s what I plan to do.”

And he did just that, beginning at Rocky Zion Missionary Baptist Church under the guidance of Rev. Silas Woods, who encouraged him in his playing for the Lord.

Floyd enjoys recalling those early years with Rev. Woods. “We had a Sunday for the young group to sing, and I began playing for them – songs that I knew and could catch onto. Rev. Woods liked for the Junior Choir to go with him when he preached at other churches. And I would go with them and play piano. I was encouraged a lot by Rev. Woods.”

In the spring of 1965, Floyd graduated from St. Clair County Training School, began looking for work and found scant possibilities locally. The Waites’ across-the-road neighbors had moved to New York City, and they encouraged him to come live with them. “You could get a job up here in New York,” they told him. “We could take you to the state unemployment agency, and they will find you a job.” Therefore, with hope in his heart, Floyd boarded a Greyhound bus and headed to the Big Apple – without a clue as to the places God and his piano would take him in the years ahead.

His friends met him at the bus station, took him to their home, and gave him a room until he could find work and rent an apartment of his own.

At the New York Unemployment Office, the interviewer asked him what kind of work he was interested in. and he told them he was a church musician. “They went into the back,” Floyd laughed, “and came back with a uniform, a khaki uniform, and they said, ‘This will fit you very good.’ And I said, ‘What’s that for?’ And they said, ‘This is for you to become a New York City police officer.’ And I said, ‘Oh, no! My Lord, no! That won’t work! I don’t think I could handle anything like that! Don’t you think you could find me something else?’”

So, they sent him to another section where he had a more favorable offer. The lady interviewing him said, “Mr. Waites, we have an opening for a job in the Bronx at a school, and it’s dealing with food service.” This interested him, and the lady’s next question raised his spirits higher, “Can you cook?” Floyd, feeling almost back home in Pell City, replied, “Honey, that’s right down my alley!”

Then she told of a position at the Walton High School, and Floyd said, “I would love to do that because that’s what I studied in school.” He was referring to the St. Clair County Training School where he was more interested in cooking than in farming and had taken Home Economics rather than Vocational Agriculture.

Following the lady’s instructions, he went to Walton High School Monday morning, and after being interviewed there, he was hired. The school system sent him to various training sessions that prepared him for a career in New York City school food services – the job he worked until he retired.

Music opportunities in New York City’s Harlem seemed to find Floyd without his looking for them. The leader of the Jimmy Smith Singers came up to him and asked him if he could sing.

“Oh, yeah, I sing,” Floyd replied, adding, “I’ve got a friend who sings, too.”

“Bring him along,” the leader told him. The friend was one he grew up with in Pell City, and he and Floyd had connected again in New York. The two young men rehearsed and sang with the Jimmy Smith Singers for a while.

“But it was still like something was missing,” he said. His mama’s words, “You’re not gonna play just anything and everything” no doubt hummed in his mind along with sacred memories of Rocky Zion and Rev. Woods.

Floyd and Evelyn Waites

“The pianist for the Jimmy Smith Singers was playing for a church in my Harlem neighborhood, and he said to me, ‘Floyd, why don’t you come to my church? I play up here at The Gates of Prayer Church. There’s a lady that’s pastor of the church, and her name is Prophetess Dolly Lewis.’ I said, ‘I don’t live too far from there. Maybe I’ll come one Sunday.’”

Not too long after that invitation, Floyd attended The Gates of Prayer Church, and there, by God’s providence, he found his spiritual calling.

Living close to the church, he walked to the service, and as he got closer to the sanctuary, the organ’s chords and crescendos urged him onward. He opened the church door and looking up to the pulpit, he saw a woman dressed in gleaming white looking out over the assembling congregation – Prophetess Dolly Lewis.

Floyd remembers the day. “She looked directly at me and says, ‘Come on in. Go over there and sit down at the piano.’ I must have looked funny, because she said, ‘Yeah, you can play, and you can sing.’ Now, nobody in New York had heard me play, and I wondered, ‘How did this lady know this?’ But I never did ask her.”

From that Sunday, Floyd played piano and sang at The Gates of Prayer Church under the guidance of Prophetess Lewis.

When she went to other cities, he traveled with her to play piano at her preaching services. For one who had never flown, an added excitement was flying to and from these destinations. On these trips, she also held private sessions in her hotel room, and people would be lined up to get messages from her. “A word from the Lord” in today’s Pentecostal parlance.

Prophetess Lewis introduced Floyd to two famous gospel singers – Marie Knight and Sister Rosetta Tharpe. He enjoys recalling those singers. “One Sunday, this lady walked into the church, and everybody looked around. Prophetess Lewis looked at the newcomer and said, ‘Come on up, Marie Knight.’ She was a professional singer, and she would travel all around with this other lady, Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Rosetta was an electric guitar player.” He paused, smiling, “Oh, she could lean back on that guitar and play.”

Godmother of Rock ‘N Roll

Rosetta Tharpe was born in Cotton Plant, Arkansas, in 1915 to Katie Bell and Willis Atkins. Katie Bell played the mandolin, sang, and preached as a Pentecostal evangelist, according to the online Encyclopedia Britanica. She began playing guitar at age four and at age six she traveled and sang with her mother.

After moving to Chicago, she developed her own guitar style under the influence of Chicago’s blues and jazz musicians. When she moved to New York City in the 1930s, “…She sang traditional gospel songs with contemporary jazz tempos that she played on her electric guitar. With these performances, she introduced gospel into nightclubs and concert venues. Her work influenced early rock and rollers such as Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard and Elvis Presley.” She came to be called the “Godmother of Rock and Roll” and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2018.

The ‘Voice’

Marie Knight, born in Florida in 1920 or 1925, depending on the source, grew up in Newark, New Jersey. According to the online African American Registry (AAREG), Marie started touring in 1939. Sometime in the 1940s, she performed at the Golden Gate Auditorium in Harlem along with Mahalia Jackson.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe attended that concert and “…recognized something special in Marie’s contralto voice.” Rosetta invited Marie to tour with her, and they performed as a team for several years. Sister Rosetta and Marie’s 1947 recording of Up above My Head There’s Music in the Air reached number 6 on the Billboard chart in 1948. Marie sang both Gospel and Rock and Roll, but in her later years sang only Gospel.

When Marie Knight moved back to New York City, she began attending Dolly Lewis’ Gates of Prayer Church, where she organized the choir. Floyd was the pianist and his friend from Pell city the organist. “So, we started playing for Marie,” Floyd smiled. “I’ve got albums that I’m playing for Marie.” He lowered his voice to a baritone before saying, “She had a voice!”

When Marie began planning another tour, she came to Floyd and said, “How would you like to travel to Europe with me?” Floyd laughs as he tells it. “I said, ‘Oh, I don’t know about that!’ ‘Well, you’re gonna get paid,’ she told me. So, I said, ‘We’ll have to ask Mama.’ That’s what we called Pastor Dolly Lewis.”

Floyd asked Lewis’ advice, and after consideration, she agreed for him to travel with Marie, and assured him, “I’m gonna make sure she pays you, cause she’s kind of close with money.”

Floyd flew with Marie Knight and her entourage to Paris. Landing at the Charles De Gaulle Airport, they were met with the concert tour officials who took them to their lodgings for the night. From Paris they traveled to a city in southern France, whose name Floyd could not recall. From that city, Marie, accompanied by Floyd at the piano, gave concerts in various locations.

Then, it was on to San Sebastian, Spain, for the concluding few weeks of Marie’s tour. Then back to New York City.

“From that day,” Floyd recalls with pleasure, “Marie was happy to have me with her. But she paid,” he laughed. “Those hundred-dollar bills smelled good! And I kept on playing for her.”

Floyd met his future wife, Evelyn Keith, at Gates of Prayer Church. Evelyn grew up in Childersburg, so they had mutual connections back home. She was a singer, so she and Floyd sang together at whichever church he played for. They had one son, Kenny.

Floyd continued playing piano for Prophetess Dolly Lewis at Gates of Prayer Church until she died. When Lewis died, Marie Knight – now singing only Gospel – became pastor of Gates of Prayer. Floyd played piano at the church until Marie died in 2009 from pneumonia complications.

The Waites were on vacation in Alabama when Marie passed, Floyd relates. “They got in contact with me while my wife and I were down here on vacation, and we rushed back to New York.” When asked if he played piano for her service, Floyd responded, “I didn’t do too much playing, but I did sing some of the songs that she had sung, and I had played for her down through the years.”

Floyd also directed the choir in singing one of Marie’s best known Gospel recordings, Didn’t It Rain.

Dual roles

Most of the years that Floyd played piano at Gates of Prayer, he also played for another nearby church, Greater Hood Memorial AME Zion Church. “I was playing at Hood Memorial all along, because it was on a different time schedule for that church … And it was just around the corner from Gates of Prayer. I played the piano for them for years. And I played organ for them, too, because I had gotten into playing the organ. I played for the choirs – they had a nice senior choir that sang anthems,” Floyd paused, then added, “It was a fairly big church.”

Greater Hood Memorial is historic in Black churches in America. Established in 1824 as Harlem AME Zion, this oldest Black church in Harlem has survived economic downturns (the Great Depression put them in dire financial circumstances), several relocations and a few name changes. But it has survived with Sunday services continuing for 200 years.

Having reached retirement age, Floyd supervised his last school lunch, played his last Sunday service in Harlem, packed his belongings and returned to the place called home, Pell City, Alabama.

 Floyd relates how he and Evelyn came to Pell City every year for the month of August to visit relatives and churches in the area. They always visited Coosa Valley Baptist Church in Vincent where Rev. Willie Joe Posey was pastor.

Floyd in France at the Bosendorfer piano

“He would always tell me, when me and my wife would come down from New York, ‘Floyd, come on up here and sing, you and your wife,’ and we’d go up and sing for him. And he’d say, ‘Y’all see that man there? If he ever decides to come outta New York City, I want him right there,’ and he’d point to the piano.”

Today, Floyd is the full-time pianist at Coosa Valley Baptist where Rev. Posey still pastors. However, he ministers alone, for Evelyn died while they were living in New York. “I’ve been with Rev. Posey ever since I came back home to live,” Floyd muses quietly.

“I don’t charge them at the church, but Rev. Posey told me, ‘Oh no, you have to accept something, because people know how good you play and sing, they gonna take you away from us. The church will have to give you something. We don’t want you to leave us.’ So, I said, ‘Well, just sometime give me a love offering, but I don’t expect to be on salary. I don’t charge anything.’ So, every third Sunday, they give me a love offering, and I accept it.”

Rev. Posey has pastored the church for 48 years, and speaks highly of Floyd. “He has proven himself a believer in God and Christ. He’s a faithful man. He’s true to his word. … When he was in New York, I told him when he moved back here, he had a place (at our church), and he’s been with me.” Rev. Posey also noted the beautiful vocal harmony when Floyd and Evelyn sang together at the church.

In the community, Floyd is frequently asked to play for revivals, funerals and special events. At the 2024 Black History event at the Pell City Museum, he was one of the featured musicians of the day.

Many in the community call him “Uncle Floyd,” as did Amelia Beavers when she was asked for a comment. “There are so many things that I could say about Uncle Floyd, but the best thing is that he loves the Lord, and he loves people. He helps throughout his community any way that he can.

“If a loved one dies, he is willing to come to play and sing for the family. He has been a jewel of a friend coming back home to live. He is a beautiful asset to our community. I pray for him many years of serving the Lord and his community. All you have to do is ask and if he does not have another engagement, he is more than willing to accommodate.”

Floyd and Evelyn’s son, Kenny, lives in Childersburg, so Floyd is active in his life and the lives of his four grandchildren – two girls and two boys.

How would he like to be remembered? “I’d just like to be remembered as using the gifts that the Lord has given to me. If I was called to do something, it wasn’t for reimbursement. I thank God for the gift, and I thank Him that He allowed me to use it … It’s a gift that He has given, and I just want to give back.”

As a child and as an adolescent in Pell City, music captivated Floyd Waites and has held him fast all his years. One of the songs he played for Marie Knight was the traditional song Up Above My Head, and the lyrics are true for Floyd –

Up above my head, there’s music in the air
Up above my head there’s music in the air,
Up above my head there’s music in the air,
And I really do know,
Yes I really do know,
There’s a heaven somewhere.

So, Floyd Waites, keep on playing and singing “for the Lord” and sharing your God-given gifts, for without a doubt, you enrich the music life of Pell City and St. Clair County. l