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

Seddon Baptist Church

From fishing creek to Ferryville to Seddon

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

Today, the recreational waters of Logan Martin Lake wash over the abandoned 19th Century towns of Ferryville and Seddon.

Ferryville grew up around J.D. Truss’ ferry that connected St. Clair and Talladega Counties, lying across the Coosa River from each other.

James David “J. D.” Truss, the son of Enos and Tabitha Bradford Truss, married Martha Cordellia Coleman, daughter of William and Marannah Roberson Coleman of Riverside, on June 10, 1854.

When the Civil War began in 1861, Truss and a group of men met under an apple tree in Cropwell, and organized Company C of the 10th Alabama Infantry Regiment, with J.D. Truss as captain. Thirty-three years after the war, his obituary in The Southern Aegis, Feb. 1, 1899, told of his courage, leadership and love for his companions, but also spoke of his compassion for all people, rich or poor.

 The June 30, 1876, issue of The Southern Aegis, published an unsigned letter, titled “Ferryville, Ala.” It stated that Ferryville “…is a little village situated on the banks of the Coosa River.” They listed Ferryville’s businesses as “…a carriage shop, a blacksmith shop, a post office, a good Templer’s Lodge, a Baptist church, and the dry goods house.” Post office records show that in 1868 Sylvester Coolidge served as the Ferryville Postmaster.

 W.H. Cather wrote a series of St. Clair County history articles in 1897 for his newspaper, The Southern Aegis, which he established in 1872. In 1972, the St. Clair County Library Board transcribed Cather’s articles and printed them as his History of St. Clair County. One article, titled “An Indian Story,” tells of Ferryville’s connection with the Indians.

W.A. Coleman of Riverside took his four-year-old son, Sidney, to Coleman’s father-in-law, John Roberson, to visit with his grandparents in Ferryville. By the second day, Sidney wanted to go home, and while everyone was busy, he started out.

“He had not gone far,” Cather wrote, “until an Indian by the wayside saw him and knowing him, followed him for the purpose of protecting him … On arriving at home, little Sidney fell down on the doorsteps with the exclamation, ‘Ma, I thought I would never get to your house anymore.’ The Indian who had watched him through the forests, followed in immediately after him, and of course, there was great alarm until it was all understood.” Cather said Mr. Coleman’s eyes filled with tears when he recounted this.

Ferryville to Seddon

Ferryville flourished until the town of Seddon arose about a mile north with the completion of the Georgia Pacific Railroad in 1880. A June 6, 1942, Birmingham News article titled, “This Date in Alabama History,” tells for whom the town was named. It records that the railroad village of Seddon is “…on the Southern Railroad between Birmingham and Anniston. It was named for Thomas Seddon who … was associated with interests that financed the building of the Georgia Pacific Railroad, now the Birmingham-Atlanta branch of the Southern Railroad.”

According to Pell City Library Director Danny Stewart, “Thomas Seddon’s first job was at the Sloss in their railroad section, before he became president of the company.” Seddon died May 10, 1896, and was buried in Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond, Virginia.

 The “Seddon” article in The Heritage of St. Clair County records the population as 500 when the town was incorporated (1880) and states that some worked at the “…Empire Lumber Company which operated both a sawmill and lumber yard.”

It also records that Ferryville families moved from there to Seddon.

Seddon Depot

Mattie Lou Teague Crow, in her History of St. Clair County Alabama, wrote “The first merchant [in Seddon] was J.K.P. Lacy. Dr. Harry Green Crump was the first doctor. Other settlers were Jack Maddox, W.H. and W.N. Roberson and Harvy Bell. When the timber supply was exhausted, the mills moved away.”

Today, any memory of Seddon is fading like a sepia tone photograph forgotten in the sun. However, one vibrant entity still survives – Seddon Baptist Church.

Organized in 1873 as Fishing Creek Baptist Church, the name changed to Ferryville Baptist Church in 1874. Richard M. Perry served as the first pastor.

Early records are scant, and no one knows where the members met for worship before they constructed a building. Nor is there a list of charter members. However, Stewart’s research found that Seddon Baptist sent J.D. Truss as representative, or messenger, to the Coosa River Baptist Association meeting in 1874. So, it’s probable that Truss was a charter member.

Seddon Baptist provided a first for that association in 1908, as recorded in Coosa River Baptist Association, 1833-1983, by Margaret Keelen Newman. “Early, only pastors of churches of the Association were given messenger status. … The most important change came in 1908 when the Seddon Church sent Mrs. Stella Brothers, Miss Minnie Crump and Miss Lenola Crump as messengers to the annual meeting. During the afternoon of the second day of a three-day meeting, the accepted messengers voted to enroll the women as messengers.”

The church didn’t send a messenger in 1909 but in 1910 sent Miss L.E. Smith and none after. Because of Seddon, other churches began sending women messengers, and in 1913 the Association agreed that “there could be no barring of anyone on the basis of sex.”

The date for Seddon Baptist constructing a sanctuary is unclear; however, the July 3, 1889, Weekly Age Herald article, “Festival at Seddon,” reports: “The supper last Friday night given by the ladies of Seddon for the benefit of the new Baptist Church was a complete success, the net receipts accounting $206.05.” 

The festival also sponsored a “bouquet” contest. “The contest for the bouquet which was to be given to the most beautiful young lady was very exciting and $130.00 was raised from this. Miss Leona Fowler … received the bouquet from Mr. J.S. Lacy.” A total of $336.05 in 1889 was a grand sum. It seems this money helped construct the first sanctuary.

Singings brought together church and community. One for Seddon was announced in Our Mountain Home, Talladega, Alabama, May 19, 1909. “There will be an all-day singing at Seddon on the 5th Sunday in May. It will be a Sacred Harp singing and everybody is invited to come and enjoy the occasion. The old-time music is getting a new start among the people of Seddon.” This singing was acapella because the voice itself was the “sacred harp.”

Regular worship services flourished in the first sanctuary until the demise of the town. From 1926 until 1938 there was no church in Seddon.

What caused this? The town’s economy lay in timber and lumbermills, so when the timber supply ran out, timber companies left. When the timber mills left, people left.

Jack Walker, who grew up in Seddon, recalled history he learned from parents and relatives when he wrote of Seddon’s decline.

“The clouds of a terrible depression were forming. Mills, factories, and stores were closing down. … Seddon which had been a thriving town was fast falling apart. We had a train depot, a drugstore, a general merchandise store, a grocery store, and other businesses as well as two large churches. Within a year, all these businesses were closed and boarded up. Both churches were closed. … Seddon had become a ghost town.” Walker’s memories were published in the Georgia newspaper, Jackson Progress-Argus, May 9, 2008.

According to Betty Clements’ Heritage article, Ruby Walker was the force behind resurrecting Seddon Baptist Church about 1938. At that time the only surviving church building was the Methodist church owned by Dr. John Roberson. Mrs. Walker met with Dr. Roberson, and he agreed to let the Baptists meet in the building; however, he soon asked them to meet elsewhere.

The Heritage article relates that Walter and Leona Crump had an unused barn, which they let the congregation use for church. The Crumps emptied the barn, cleaned it inside and out, painted the interior and exterior white, replaced the barn doors with two double doors, and added entrance steps.

Inside, they installed a wood floor. “They raised the floor in front,” she recounted, “so that the men’s choir would be on one side and the ladies’ choir on the other side. In between, they built a pulpit. The lighting was kerosene lamps.”

The Crumps donated both the building and the property to Seddon Baptist’s trustees.

Linda Haynes Grantham recalled girlhood memories of this church. “To get to church, we drove over the railroad tracks and down a slight hill … Seddon Baptist Church sat on the left, a beautiful church painted white. We had a potbellied stove in the sanctuary and a raised choir loft. A huge window fan was in the window on the right in the choir loft that kept us quite comfortable – even during hot summers.

“…Brother [Lewis] Nixon was our minister and Betty Williamson Turner was our talented pianist.” Lewis Nixon was pastor from 1952 until 1957.

The church thrived during these years, with yearly revivals announced in the newspaper, as in this News-Aegis of July 21, 1955: “The annual homecoming at Seddon Baptist Church will be held next Sunday. The revival will begin Sunday night. At Sunday’s homecoming, there will be singing and dinner served on the grounds at noon. The public is invited to come and bring a basket … Rev. J.S. Williams of Pell City, evangelist.”

In the 1960s, with the completion of Logan Martin Dam and the Coosa River’s waters filling the lake, Seddon Baptist purchased land on Cropwell Cutoff Road (Hardwick Road) and constructed a brick sanctuary. A News-Aegis article of June 4, 1964, announced the dedication to be “…on June 7th at 2:30 p.m. …Bro. Paul H. Mabe will bring the dedication message.”

“The new building,” the article continued, “is valued at $27,000.00. However, the work was done by members and friends in the community, thereby saving the cost of labor.” According to the article, Cady Bryan drew the plans and was in charge of construction. Rev. J.Z. Lipham was pastor.

The first revival in this building was announced in The Anniston Star on August 31, 1963. “The Rev. Barlow Mason, pastor of Grace Baptist Church, will be evangelist for special services at Seddon Baptist Church Sept. 28. The pastor, Rev. J.Z. Lipham, announced the services would begin nightly at 7 o’clock.”

As the years passed, Seddon Baptist attendance ebbed and flowed as was typical of many churches. Current pastor, Dale Foote, accepted the pastorate when attendance was perhaps at its lowest. “I started as pastor of Seddon Baptist Church in April 1995. That was Easter Sunday, April 16. At that time, we averaged less than ten people a Sunday,” he recalled.

A turning point occurred in February 1996, 10 months into Foote’s tenure. The church burned down. “Seddon Baptist Church Destroyed by Fire,” reported Gary Hanner in a Feb. 8 News-Aegis article. Hanner quoted Pell City Fire Chief Mike Sewell, “It appears the fire started around two gas heaters that were behind the baptistery. I saw a tint of blue in the flame and that let me know that natural gas was involved.”

Bro. Dale told Hanner, “When I became pastor, we had six people who came the first Sunday. The last Sunday we met here, we had 60 for the morning service. We’ve had 18 saved and 33 additions to the church … We aren’t going to let this get us down. We will rebuild in the same spot. The Lord sent me here for a reason. I just want people to pray for us.”

And it didn’t get them down even though insurance covered only a fraction of the rebuilding cost. “We had $180,000 in insurance,” Foote recalled, “and the estimated cost of building back was half a million dollars. We were $300,000 in the hole.”

Campers on Mission were a Godsend for the rebuilding. “I have a friend – a general contractor – who is a member of Campers on Mission,” Foote said, “and he helped us to rebuild.”

In the March 13, 1997, issue of the News-Aegis, Anne Boone wrote of Campers on Mission in her article, “Building churches, fellowship and faith.”

She quotes Camper Bill Pilgreen., “We are Christians who travel to … disaster areas that need us.” Boone told of Pilgreen and his wife, who, although living in Pell City, “…set up their camper with others from their organization across the street from Seddon Baptist Church.”

Boone reported that other churches, community folk and community businesses came together to help Seddon Baptist Church in the rebuilding. Some donated food, some time and material. Cropwell Baptist provided their kitchen for preparation of noonday meals for the Campers.

At completion, the church owed $90,000 – a lot of money, yes, but far less than the $300,000 insurance didn’t cover.

The church’s Fellowship Hall escaped destruction, so the congregation met there for worship from February 1996 until December 1997. “There were weeks that we didn’t have power or HVAC or water in the Fellowship Hall because of the demolition. We had porta potties,” Foote reminisced, “and we used a kerosene heater in cold weather. We never missed a service.”

“Just before Christmas (1997), almost 40 people with active membership at Seddon Baptist held Sunday morning service inside the new church sanctuary for the first time,” Laura Nation wrote in her Jan. 24, 1998, Daily Home article, “Good will breathes new life into church.” Her article announced a revival running from Feb. 16-20 and a Feb. 28 benefit singing featuring the musical group, “Assurance.” The building dedication would occur on Sunday March 15.

With this new beginning, attendance and membership increased as months turned into years under Bro. Dale’s bi-vocational ministry. In 2003, attendance had grown to over 100 each Sunday and the church called him as their first full-time pastor.

“We filled that building. It held about 150, and we stayed full for years,” Foote recalled. “In 2010, we went to two Sunday morning services, and by the end of that year, we were averaging 300 in the two services.” Although the church desired to expand, the property was land-locked, and no adjacent property was available.

One day, Bro. Dale saw the “For Sale” sign at the old 84 Lumber complex on Cogswell Avenue. The property had gone back to the bank, and someone bought it. In 2010, the church located the owner and began negotiations. In 2013, the church made an offer for the property, and the owner accepted it.

The church renovated the property for a sanctuary, a children’s worship center, and a youth worship center.

So, a facility providing building materials for houses became a facility providing building materials for the soul.

On Sept. 24, 2023, Seddon Baptist celebrated its 150th anniversary. On this day, Alabama Baptist State Missionary Ben Edfeldt presented a certificate of recognition from the Alabama Baptist Association. After the service, the church family enjoyed an afternoon of fellowship, games and food.

Associate Pastor Chris Mayfield first attended Seddon Baptist in 2005 because his girlfriend, Megan Foote, invited him. He continued attending with Megan, and in 2006 he accepted Christ and joined the church. He and Megan married and are parents to two children.

Chris serves in several areas, including adults, but his main area is with children and their Sunday school curriculum. “I’ve been in children’s ministry here for a decade or more, now” Chris commented, “so I’ve had a lot of my former kids come and serve alongside me in children’s ministry.”

Chris and Megan work together in the church’s summer Vacation Bible School, an event for the entire and surrounding communities. “I write the VBS curriculum and lessons,” Chris said, “and right now, I’ve got about four years planned.” Megan oversees the teaching staff, music, and decorations.

According to Bro. Dale, VBS is one of the wonderful ministry events of the church. Attendance averages around 300 each summer.

Micah Kitchen is minister of Seddon Students. “We seek to encourage and equip students to live their lives to the fullest for Jesus,” he recently commented. “We are passionate about teaching students the Word of God and how to live out their lives to make the Gospel known at home, their schools and their communities.”

Kitchen and his students participate in the First Priority Club at Pell City High School. They also partner with the St. Clair Baptist Association for See You at the Pole Afterparty and St. Clair County Night of Worship. Yearly student events include Summer Camp and Disciple Now – an event where students stay at host homes, attend study sessions and spend intentional time in discipleship.

Seddon is a traditional Southern Baptist church, having a senior pastor and two associate pastors. However, it differs somewhat from other Southern Baptists in that Seddon has both deacons and elders. “I am privileged to have Biblical elders,” Bro. Dale said. “I have five to eight men who preach here.”

Chairman of Elders Rodney Ray joined Seddon in 2008. “My wife and I saw the vibrance of the church and how the Word of God was preached. It was so refreshing that we have never left.”

Of the church being elder led, Ray said, “We kind of grew into it. As we studied the book of Acts and the Apostle Paul’s epistles, we saw that Paul’s instructions were always to appoint elders. It was plural. We have eight serving as elders, and we call it our Church Council. Three are paid pastors, and five are bi-vocational, or lay pastors.”

Each lay elder teaches a class and serves in other areas as well. Ray emphasized that members other than elders also teach classes, “… but I do feel that the teaching and preaching of the Word of God lies with the Elders.”

When asked for a comment about Bro. Dale, he said, “There’s a difference between a preacher and a pastor – someone you know was called by God and placed in that position. Dale Foote is at the top of that list. I say that because of the effect he’s had on my life.”

Today, attendance averages around 400. In 2024, the church hopes to complete a Family Life Center in their complex – a gymnasium-fellowship hall. The church serves all age groups, but the median age is 37 years. “We have wonderful senior citizen members,” Foote commented, “but we are still a ‘young’ church and have been privileged to reach young people.”

Bro. Dale’s focus for Seddon’s congregation is that they “Invite, Invest, and Intercede.” Invite someone, invest in them, and pray for them. “Our goal is to continue to share the Gospel and to make disciples,” he said recently. “That doesn’t change; every year, that’s our goal.”

Proverbs 3:5-6 is Foote’s favorite Bible passage: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.” He has seen the assurance of these verses proved true multiple times in his 29 years of serving God at Seddon Baptist.

In 1873, not only was Seddon Baptist Church organized, but Fanny Crosby’s hymn, Blessed Assurance, also was published in July of that year. Whether or not Seddon’s congregation sang it that year, we don’t know. What we do know is the assurance of Proverbs 3:5-6 connects well with the hymn’s words:

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,
Oh, what a foretaste of Glory divine.
Heir of Salvation, purchased of God,
Born of His spirit, washed in His blood.
This is my story, this is my song;
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Knowing this blessed assurance, Foote continues to trust God and His guidance as he and the elders lead Seddon in sharing the Gospel and making disciples.

From 1873 to 2024 and onward, Seddon Baptist Church continues faithful as a beacon of hope in a dark world.

Heritage Quilts

180-year-old cloth square replicated in acrylics for
barn display

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Mandy Baughn

When Mike Jones’ great-great grandmother, Euphrasia Hannah Gibson, died in 1874, she left a box of quilt squares that she had intended to sew together. She probably had no idea those squares would someday hang in the homes of future generations, much less be replicated on wood and hung on a barn in Cropwell.

“My grandmother had the box of quilt squares, and when she died 15-20 years ago, her daughters rediscovered them when they cleaned out her house,” says Jones. “They got together and passed them out to each of the 14 cousins. So, we have had them that long. My daughter, Kristina Alexander, has one, too. I’m not sure who has the rest of that box of squares.”

Holding their quilt squares in front of the Jones barn are cousins Joy Sanford, Kathy Callahan (standing in for husband Jimmy), Walter Jones, Mike Jones, Michelle Dowler (for her mom, Gayle Boone), Karen Ragsdale, Christy Robbins (for her dad, Don Callahan, deceased), Carol Tucker, and Quinn Stewart (second oldest cousin at 83)

Kristina’s daughter, Jules, was 16 when she translated her 4th-great-grandmother’s quilt piece to a wooden board during the summer of 2023. Jules’ mom did the math and figured out how to enlarge the quilt block pattern to scale for a 6-foot-2.5-inch square piece of plywood that Mike cut for that purpose.

She put a screw in the center of the board and tied a string to it to make a compass, then used geometry to figure out the ratios. That was after Mike had painted three layers of a white base coat onto the board. Jules used a pencil to draw the design, a Dresden Plate with a star in the center and some extra colors in the corners.

“It took me a good while, because I had lots of coats to do,” says Jules. “I had to tape off each section to get clean lines. My grandfather picked the colors. He wanted something fall but bright and festive.”

Jules has been involved in art a long time, and usually prefers working with watercolors. She has painted stationery for friends and family, and helped groups from her church, Pell City United Methodist, to paint murals in a local private high school. “So, when my grandfather asked me to do this job, I was excited.”

The quilt squares are about 180 years old, according to Mike’s wife, Sandra. “The blocks were given to all the cousins in Mike’s generation.”

On Aug. 31, most of those 14 cousins gathered at the Jones House to celebrate Labor Day and compare their quilt squares. Each one features the same Dresden Plate design, but in a different color palette. Some have framed theirs, others haven’t yet. Each is proud of the heritage, though.

The Joneses hope their barn quilt will become a part of the Alabama Barn Quilt Trail. An agricultural tourism project, the Trail is designed to promote travel and community pride by encouraging the public to explore the state’s roads, farms, businesses and historic towns, according to its website. “Barn Quilts are part of what has become known as ‘The American Quilt Trail Movement,’ featuring colorful quilt squares painted on barns and buildings throughout North America,” the site states. “It is one of the fastest-growing grassroots public art movements in the United States. Tourists come to discover the quilt squares on thousands of barns and buildings scattered along driving trails throughout the nation.”

A Jones Family scrapbook displays a photo of Euphrasia Hannah Gibson (woman on right-hand page), among other family members

Regina Painter founded the Alabama Barn Quilt Trail in 2015, primarily in five northwestern counties of the state because of grant money from the Northwest Alabama Resource Conservation & Development Council. “We are very concentrated in north Alabama, but now have grant money from the Alabama State Council on the Arts to cover the entire state,” she says.

A fabric quilter herself, Painter saw her first barn quilt at a quilt show in Tennessee several years ago. “I fell in love with the idea and wanted to see them in Alabama. So, I started the Alabama Barn Quilt Trail with assistance from several groups and individuals.”

 By registering with the Trail, a person encourages agritourism and promotes small communities across the state as visitors check out the beautiful quilt blocks and their settings, Painter says. “We promote the Trail with brochures, public presentations, social media and various television and printed publications.”

The organization will help anyone pick out a design and colors, and will register a barn quilt for the trail after forms available on the site are filled out and turned in. (See alabamabarnquilttrail.org). If, like the Joneses and at least half a dozen others in St. Clair County, you have already painted your quilt, you can still get it added to the trail. Interested barn owners may contact the organization by email (alabamabarnquilts@gmail.com)

According to the website, the benefits to communities and their small businesses include:

  • Providing an economic benefit from tourism for businesses and farms on the Quilt Trail
  • Promoting preservation of our historic barns
  • Honoring the agricultural roots of the State of Alabama
  • Creating public art and paying tribute to the uniquely American history of beautiful quilts.

The trail is supported by the Alabama State Council on the Arts, ALFA and the Alabama Farmers Federation.

Of the 204 quilts on the state trail, seven are located in St. Clair County. In some cases there may be more than one wooden quilt registered. The Ashville House of Quilts in downtown Ashville, for example, has three designs. Greensport Marina has one, and one of the marina owners, Beth Evans Smith, has three others registered at various buildings on Greensport Road. The Trousdale Family has three blocks at 22630 U.S. Hwy. 411 in Ashville.

A barn quilt at 4522 County Road 22 is registered to Mark and Emily Taylor of Ashville. But it actually belongs to Emma Bean, the granddaughter of Emily’s deceased sister and husband, Doris and Billy Bean.

Painted in 2022, Grandmother’s Flower Garden is the name of Emma’s quilt square. “This was her grandparents’ barn,” says Mark. “An Alabama Barn Quilt Trail crew drew the quilt pattern.” Father and daughter, Nathan and Emma Bean, along with other volunteers, painted it. The barn and the land it’s on was passed down to Emma from her grandparents.

“We have some at my business, Taylor Fence, at 4097 County Road 22, and at our home, 9463 County Road 31, both in Ashville, but they are not registered on the Alabama trail,” Mark says.

Quilter Joyce Foster, who lives on Belvedere Drive in Ashville, doesn’t have a barn and didn’t fancy mounting a large board on her garage, so she attached her 10-by-10-inch quilt square to her mailbox post. “It’s no particular design,” she says. “I just drew some lines on a piece of plywood and filled them in, then painted it. I think that was about four years ago.”

Rosie the Riveter

Springville’s Own Gatha Harvey

Story by Joe Whitten
Submitted Photos

It was 2011 when retired Pell City educator Deanna Lawley offered an idea to help boost the Pell City Schools Educational Foundation’s On Dec. 8, 1941, at 12:30 Eastern Standard Time, a solemn silence settled over the nation as stunned citizens heard President Franklin Rosevelt over the radio intone these stark words: “Yesterday, December 7, 1941 – a day which will live in infamy – the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”

Six and a half minutes later, President Rosevelt ended his address: “I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th,1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.”

Gatha Harvey of Springville, Alabama, remembers how she learned of the Pearl Harbor attack. “We had been up to my sister’s and were on our way home,” she recounted. “Daddy always liked to have music, so he had the radio on, and they interrupted the program and told about Pearl Harbor being bombed.”

Americans were galvanized toward winning this war. Scores of youths dropped out of high school to join the military. Women became part of the war effort by working jobs previously occupied by men now fighting in various parts of the world.

Gatha would soon become part of the women’s work force.

From Hartwell to Marietta, Georgia

Graduating high school in 1944 at age 17, she wanted a job, but Hartwell offered very few choices – working in a sewing factory or clerking in a department store. Not an exciting outlook for her.

Then her aunt and uncle came from Marietta for a visit one weekend. Gatha recalls the day. “Daddy’s sister, Ruth, and her husband were working in the Bell Bomber Plant in Marietta, Georgia. They made B-29 planes. She said, ‘Why don’t you come to Atlanta with us?’ ” And I said, ‘I don’t know if Daddy would let me go that far away.’ ” However, Ruth did the asking, and Gatha’s daddy did indeed let her go with them.

Gatha Harvey poses for a portrait

At Bell Bomber Plant, Ruth took Gatha to the employment office, and they hired her. “I started working on airplane wings, bucking rivets,” Gatha smiled. An online article, Buck Riveting Basics, explains the process. “A bucked rivet is a round fastener that attaches two or more pieces of metal together. The rivet is driven by a rivet gun (a specialized pneumatic hammer) with an attached rivet set (strike surface) shaped to match the rounded shape of the manufactured head of the rivet. During the process, the tail of the rivet is backed up by a bucking bar that acts as an anvil while the rivet gun and set are repeatedly striking the head. As the rivets are driven, the tail (blunt end) of the rivet is transformed into a flat mushroom called a ‘shop head.’ ” So, in June 1944, Gatha officially became a Rosie the Riveter – a group still famous.

“The first day I was working,” Gatha reminisced, “I’ll bet I had gone that far (measures about two or three feet with her hands), and the inspector came to check my work. He was a young man, and he marked every one of my rivets, and I had to take ‘em all out. And I thought, ‘Boy, you sure are mean.’ Every one of my rivets had to come out because they were too close to the edge. So, I got ‘em all put in, and got ‘em right, and kept going. If we hadn’t got ‘em out, that plane could have come apart when it got in the air.”

The inspector, Alfred Harvey, was not mean after all, because four months later, on Oct. 21, 1944, he and Gatha White were married – a marriage that lasted 47 and a half years until Alfred’s death in 1992.

In January 1945, expecting their first baby, James Richard, Alfred and Gatha quit their jobs at Bell Bomber and moved to Birmingham. Alfred worked for a while in an airplane plant, then drove a truck. His sister who worked in the Tax Assessor’s office and suggested that if he wanted to drive a truck, he should take the Civil Service Test and work for the city of Birmingham. He took the test, passed it, was hired and worked 29 years for the city.

“We had a good life,” Gatha reflected. “On Oct. 28, 1945, my son Jimmy Harvey was born., and seven years later my daughter, Alice Faye Harvey Stone was born. We weren’t rich, but we had a good life.”

Growing up

In the summer of 1926, a heatwave skewered Georgia, and on the day Gatha White was born, July 21, the sun blazed over the horizon and sizzled the thermometer up to 108 degrees at Reed Creek community, her birthplace. It’s still the record heat today.

The fifth of nine children born to Judge Reese White and his wife, Arlie Maude Brown White, Gatha talked of her early years. “My daddy was a farmer. He raised corn, cotton and vegetable gardens.” All farm family children worked a farm thinning corn, chopping cotton, weeding the vegetable garden, gathering the vegetables – whatever the season required. “There were nine of us,” Gatha reminisced, “and as we got big enough to work, we all worked in the field.”

When the cotton matured, they helped with the harvest. “We would get out of school in September for six weeks to pick cotton,” Gatha recalled. This discontinuing of school for several weeks, called “getting out for cotton picking,” was a common practice in Southern states.

“We had a good time,” Gatha smiled, recalling home and her brothers and sisters. “On Sunday, my daddy would hitch up the mules to the wagon, and we’d go to church. And if there were any neighbors that didn’t have a way, he’d take them with us in the wagon.” The family mostly attended the Baptist church, but many churches had preaching only once a month, so the family attended whichever denomination was having church on Sunday.

Remembering those long ago preachers, Gatha reflected, “Sometimes they would pay the minister with chickens. Vegetables. They seldom got much money.”

She reminisced about school. “We went to a country school and rode the bus at Reed Creek. Then when we moved to Hartwell, Georgia, we’d walk to school. We all graduated high school.”

Gatha’s favorite subject in school was cooking class. “I used to watch my mamma cook, but she wouldn’t let me cook, so I would watch her. She could make some of the best biscuits.”

This recollection led to more food memories. “We’d go to the garden and pick beans, she’d can ’em. Pick peas, she’d can ‘em. Tomatoes, she’d can. Apples, she would dry. She had a frame that she’d put the sheets on, and we’d peel the apples and peaches, and she’d put ‘em out there to dry, and we’d have dried apple pies. You had to cover them up to keep the flies off.

“And we had homemade ice cream. And we made lemonade – got lemons and made it in a tub. We had a good life,” she smiled.

The family raised their own beef and pork. When hog killing time came, nothing was wasted. “Mamma and Daddy would cut pork chops, and they cured the hams with salt. We used everything but the chitlins,” Gatha recollected. “Mamma fried the sausage and put it in quart jars and canned it. She made souse meat.”

Souse meat, sometimes called hog’s head cheese, was the forerunner of sandwich lunchmeat. Gatha tells how her mother made it. “She’d boil the head and the pigs’ feet and get all the meat off that. And she put other stuff in it and she’d scrunge (squeeze) it up and put it in a big pan and put a lid on it and pressed it down to get all the grease out of it. It’s really good.”

Old recipes add various spices – pepper (black and red), sage, garlic, cloves and pickling spices. Old directions also recommended putting the souse meat in the smokehouse for a while before serving it.

Printed flour sacks and feed sacks were a godsend during lean economic days. Gatha recalled “Mamma would show daddy the sack design that she wanted him to get at the store, and when she got enough of the same design, she made our dresses. I never had a bought dress.”

From Birmingham to Springville

Gatha’s memories returned to her married life and living in Birmingham. “We lived in Woodlawn. We rented a house that had an apartment, and Alfred’s mother and daddy moved into the apartment. I cooked on Sunday to have ready when they come home from church, and my father-in-law liked pot liquor (turnip greens broth) with cornbread.”

After Alfred’s father died, the Harveys bought a house in Center Point and Alfred’s mother, who used a wheelchair, reluctantly moved with them. “She knew she was gonna have just one room and use of the house. Well, when all the neighbors made her welcomed, she was satisfied. She lived with us until ’74.”

After that, she moved in with her daughter for a while, and then into a nursing home. “She was a good lady. And she always said, ‘I hope you will have a daughter-in-law that’s as good to you, as you are to me.’ And if she was living, she’d know now that I did.”

Gatha’s eyes twinkled as she said, “My mother-in-law had a cough, and one of her sons, Ralph, was a policeman on the Birmingham police force. So, he brought her a pint. She mixed it with lemon and honey – made her a toddy. Well, that went on for about a month, and she said, ‘Ralph, bring me another pint of whiskey. I’m out.’ He said, ‘Mamma, you didn’t drink all that!?” Her reply was, ‘A little bit at a time,’ then added with justification, ‘Well, I had a cough.’ “So, he brought her another pint.”

Alfred had always wanted to travel, so prior to retiring, he had purchased a motorhome for traveling days to come. When he retired, they sold their home and headed out in the motorhome.

Alfred and Gatha

Their son, Jimmy, and his wife, Betty, had Springville property where Jimmy built a carport high enough for them to pull the motorhome under and a porch for them to step out onto when it was parked. He also put in a water hookup and installed a septic tank. They would come back from a trip and be at home in Springville in the motorhome until the next excursion.

Alfred and Gatha’s days of travel were cut short by Alfred’s emphysema. They returned from a Florida trip, and the drive home was difficult for Alfred. He had a doctor’s appointment but was so weak that Gatha drove him. His doctor put him in the hospital where he stayed 10 days, during which time he was put on oxygen. Gatha brought him home, where he died April 8, 1992.

Gatha kept active, and her four grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren, and her one great-great-grandchild, have all been blessed by her love and concern for them, for she speaks of them with smiles on her face. Each one has received a quilt – all hand-stitched and hand-quilted – with love in every stitch. Granddaughter Sonya’s quilt has scraps of dresses Gatha made for her when she was small. Grandson Richard commented on her grandmothering: “She took care of my sister and me when we were growing up, and we developed a special relationship with her. She was stern, but she was gentle. We loved her to pieces.”

The family also enjoys her cooking. At Christmas time, she always makes the dressing. She makes banana nut bread for granddaughter Sonya, her daughter-in-law Betty and herself. Grandson Richard Harvey – Springville’s Fire Chief – gets his favorite poundcake. Betty relates how “Gatha makes a buttermilk poundcake – it was my mother’s recipe – and she’s got the Springville Fire Department spoiled with it.”

Asked about the poundcake, Richard responded, “Oh, her poundcake. Yeah, she makes probably the best poundcake that’s ever been. But it’s not just me; it’s the entire Fire Station. The guys love it when she makes us poundcake.” Richard allows that the cake is especially delicious with strawberries and whipped cream.

Springville First Baptist Church

When the Harveys began parking their motorhome in Springville, Mrs. Barfield, their neighbor across the road, invited Gatha to go with her to church at Springville First Baptist Church where she was a member. Gatha accepted and went with her when she and Alfred would be in town between travels.

After Alfred passed, she became an active member of the church and was involved in its ministries – especially Sunday school and Saints Alive, the senior citizens group at the church. For Saints Alive, Gatha helped two directors, Geniva DuPre Smith and Linda Lee, by calling members to remind them of meetings or trips planned for the group.

At a recent Saints Alive lunch meeting, attendees sat by birth month at round tables, and Gatha lunched with five men who ranged in age from mid-60s to an 89-year-old. At the end of the meal, she got the group’s attention and said, “I’d like to say how much I have enjoyed dining with these younger men.” This is typical Gatha humor, as her neighbor, Dennis Jones, recently affirmed by telling, “Every time the TV says, ‘Check on the elderly,’ Gatha calls and checks on me – even though I’m 25 years younger.”

Today Gatha is the First Baptist church-member who has accumulated the most years of living. Until two years ago, she drove herself to church. Now Betty brings her.

At 97 / 98, Gatha rarely ever misses a Sunday school class or worship service. Her Sunday school teacher, Beverly Bullock, remarked, “Gatha Harvey is an example of a quiet soul who speaks loudly about her Lord and makes an effort to be in God’s house every Sunday.”

Tom Brokaw called the WWII era the “greatest generation,” and Eleanor Roosevelt said of the women of her day: “A woman is like a teabag, you don’t know how strong it is until it’s in hot water.”

Family gathers for Christmas 2023

Having lived almost 100 years, whatever “hot water times” Gatha has experienced has made her stronger. Whether the hot water of having to remove her first row of rivets or the twists and turns of living almost a hundred years, Gatha exemplified the strength Eleanor Roosevelt acknowledged.

Gatha’s grandson Richard Harvey agreed. “My grandfather treated her like an angel – he did everything for her, but at the same time she did everything for him. She was the classic housewife of that generation. Then when he passed, she was pretty much on her own and had to take care of herself. She had never driven when he passed, so at 65 she got her driver’s license.” He paused, then added, “She was never afraid.”

Whether Gatha Harvey is patriotic Rosie the Riveter, faithful wife, well-loved mother-in-law, or loving grandmother, she is an inspiration to all who know her, for she is an example of a life well-lived.

Richard recently told of his grandmother’s 90th birthday. “I said, ‘Grandma, what’s something you’ve never done?’ And she said, “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, and I’ve never flown in a plane.’ So, for her 90th birthday, I put her on the back of my motorcycle and drove up to Ashville to a friend who had a plane. We put her in the plane, and he flew her all over St. Clair County.”

In anticipation of upcoming birthdays, Richard says he keeps asking her, “When are we gonna jump out of that plane?” Her answer so far has been, “I don’t think I’m gonna do that.”

How about it, Gatha. Is that water really too hot?