Communitywide project finds new home in municipal complex
Story by Eryn Ellard Submitted Photos
When the doors opened six years ago to a Museum on Main Street exhibition from the Smithsonian Institution and Alabama Humanities Alliance, the Pell City and St. Clair County community didn’t know quite what to expect.
The Smithsonian component, The Way We Worked, was intriguing and compelling and drew an inquiring audience. But it was the local exhibit, Pell City Works, that pulled it all together to form a vision that is now becoming reality.
Actual Pell City Works exhibit section
In coming months, Pell City will have its own historical museum – Museum of Pell City – featuring the original Pell City Works exhibit, the Making Alabama bicentennial exhibit and countless other features and additions all under one roof in a 4,000-square-foot suite at the Pell City Municipal Complex.
The Way We Worked and Pell City Works debuted in 2014 and drew over 7,000 visitors from multiple states during its first five weeks of exhibition. The primary focus of the professionally designed Pell City Works exhibit was on the city’s local history and how Pell City came of its unique footing. It tells a story of growth, family and hard work through photographs, stories and local artifacts.
After seeing its popularity and success, project co-chairs at the time – Pam Foote, Deanna Lawley and Carol Pappas – began to research ways that it would eventually become more permanent or perhaps grow into something even more special for the community. The exhibit was preserved intact and stored in the basement of the Municipal Complex while they worked off and on over the years trying to find and fund a permanent home.
That grassroots movement evolved into a partnership with the Heart of Pell City, a local nonprofit, and the city council. The effort has led to the founding by Foote, Lawley and Pappas of a separate nonprofit dedicated solely to the museum and its operation in the future.
Fundraising so far is over the $15,000 mark with a goal of $100,000 initially. The city is providing the 4,000-square-foot suite as a permanent home for the museum, and the Making Alabama exhibit, worth about $100,000, has been awarded to the group as a permanent exhibit. Pell City is one of only five communities in the state to be so honored.
Making Alabama focuses on the 200-year history of the state, its working class, families and complexities of its heritage. Making Alabama will be the perfect complement to Pell City Works, valued at more than $40,000, and is a project that organizers are proud to make a part of the community permanently, Pappas said.
“These will be an ideal centerpiece for the museum – the making of Pell City and the making of Alabama together under one roof,” Pappas said. “We have been waiting on this moment for a long time.”
“Every year that passes, more history is lost about our town, especially the years before the lake and I-20 so drastically changed it,” Lawley explained. The local exhibit from 2014 generated all kinds of interest in those early years. “Emphasis was put on the primary industry, Avondale Mills. People would stay for hours looking at pictures, often shedding tears or laughter.”
Without such a movement for a museum to preserve and protect those moments in history, “there will soon be just a void as those who experienced them leave this earth,” she said.
Artwork and digital storytelling come together in state exhibit.
Foote, who served as the actual project manager, agreed. “There were so many people who thanked us for telling ‘their’ history. They had a father, a brother, an aunt who worked at the mill. They grew up in the mill village. Everyone seemed to connect.”
Even though upwards of 7,000 people saw the exhibit, “others to this day come up to me and tell me they were so sorry they missed it – that they had heard about it and wished they could see it now. Now, they can.”
The museum space has been prepared by the city, and museum organizers are preparing to open within the year. The new museum is being designed by Jeremy Gossett, a professional designer who helped create the Pell City Works exhibit, as well as others across the state. The museum showcases a hearty collection of local and state historical exhibits, as well as interactive learning tools for students and history buffs of all ages.
“Traveling exhibits and cultural programming also are part of the vision for this new museum, engaging audiences from near and far,” Pappas said.
Pell City Manager Brian Muenger said the space above the library is the perfect home for the new exhibit – thanks to its open concept and three separate offices, and he is excited to see the project come to fruition.
“My hope is that the museum will become a bridge between generations and a means for newcomers to Pell City to gain an appreciation for the fascinating history of how the city was formed, has grown and how it has evolved,” Muenger said. “The preservation and presentation of this information, specifically to the youth of the community, will ensure that the contributions of the generations before are not soon forgotten.”
Pappas said the museum will feature a children’s area with STEM skills featured for students. Upon completion, the museum also could be a regional, multi-county field trip destination for fourth grade students learning about state history.
Planned is an oral history recording studio, which will help preserve the community’s history even more as the years go by. There is space for presentations, lectures and the showing of documentaries.
Its location above the Pell City Library, which features a genealogy section, enables a solid partnership between the two entities for joint programming and other projects.
Several unusual artifacts have already been donated to the project, including an 1890s player piano and a 1926 Victrola console in mint condition, both of which will be used to showcase state and local music history. In addition, the project will also be home to many traveling exhibits to keep the museum fresh and compelling for visitors for years to come, Pappas noted.
Fundraising efforts for the museum have been fruitful and many local businesses and citizens have donated time and money to the cause.
Urainah Glidewell, president of the Heart of Pell City, said the outpouring of support has been graciously received thus far, and there are many opportunities to get involved along the way. For instance, any business or person wishing to donate $100 or more will be recognized as a founding member of the museum, known as Museum 100.
“Plans are to have a donors wall to honor those who helped make the museum a reality,” Glidewell said. “Of course, once the museum is open, we will continue to need donations for operating costs, bringing in new exhibits, etc. As of now, the plan is to have free admission for visitors, but donations will always be welcome.”
“We are so excited that this dream is finally coming to fruition,” Pappas said. “We’ve had a lot of help along the way, and we’ll continue to need that support. But the end result is going to be an impressive museum that preserves, honors and treasures our history. This is truly a community effort and will benefit generations to come.”
Former Pell City Schools Superintendent Michael Barber pens uplifting book
Story by Scottie Vickery Submitted photos
Michael Barber was 10 years old the day he took his daddy’s prized Pontiac Catalina for a joyride. After returning it safely to its covered parking spot, he thought he’d gotten away with his grave sin. But a twist of fate and a dog named Whiskers caused things to take a terrible turn. Let’s just say a dog mistakenly left overnight in a car is capable of causing a whole lot of damage.
That’s not the only lesson young Michael learned that day. He realized his father loved him far more than his most prized possession. “My father never stood behind a pulpit and preached a sermon, but he taught me the most important spiritual lesson I carry in my heart to this day,” Barber recalled. “Total forgiveness is just that, it is total.”
A former teacher and retired superintendent of Pell City Schools, Barber has spent his adult life educating children, but the “eternal lessons” of his childhood were learned outside of a classroom. They often took place on front porches and came in the form of joyrides, dogs, shotguns and a cheap necklace.
Barber shares seven stories from his childhood – including the story of his father’s Catalina – in his new book, Vegetables for Sale: A Child’s Discovery of Redemption in the American South, published in November. “It’s a simple book for a complicated time,” Barber said. “These are stories of redemption, unconditional love, forgiveness and mercy.”
The title comes from a sign 5-year-old Michael helped his grandmother make, a testament of his grandmother’s wisdom. She was tired of him asking for candy money, so she set up a vegetable stand on the side of the highway and put young Michael in charge. “My grandfather had a third-grade education, and my grandmother only finished sixth grade, but they knew we needed to know the value of certain things, and one was the value of money,” he said.
“I didn’t make much money, but the lesson I learned was worth millions,” he wrote in the book’s introduction. “It is better to earn than to be given, with the exception of God’s love.” As a reminder, Barber framed the sign he made with his grandmother (“She wrote the letters and I painted it”) and hung it alongside his diplomas in every office he has ever had.
A preacher, public speaker, and bluegrass musician, Barber didn’t set out to write a great work of literature or theology. He intended the book to be a ministry tool, one he could leave behind when he spoke at prisons, jails, nursing homes or revivals. “These are stories I’ve used from the pulpit,” said Barber, the pastor of Mt. Zion Baptist Church. “I knew some had the ability to move people because I’d seen how God had used them during sermons.”
The book is a small one, measuring 5 inches by 7 inches with fewer than 100 pages, and that was Barber’s intention. “It’s designed to be a book you could put in a purse, in a glove box, in a tacklebox,” he said, adding that his hope was to make the book more inviting by writing something that could be read in one sitting. “It’s written by a preacher, but it’s not preaching. Whatever God wants to do with it, it’s out there. He’ll put it in the right hands.”
A special place
Barber, 55, grew up in Pell City with his brother and sister in a time when life was simpler. “The American South has changed in the past half century of my life, much for the good, but I admit sometimes I find myself missing a place I never left,” he wrote.
His days were filled with bike rides, fishing, baseball, watermelon, peach cobbler and lessons he didn’t realize he was learning. “I’ve always had people invest in the right things in my life – my parents, my grandparents, church folks,” Barber said. “They made sure we learned the right things. We were held accountable if we did something wrong, and they didn’t always come to our aid bailing us out.”
They also served as wonderful role models. His father, who was the first in his family to go to college, was a certified registered nurse anesthetist and owned an anesthesia corporation. “I think he put everyone in the county to sleep at some time,” Barber said. His mother was a registered nurse, and Barber thought he would follow in his parents’ footsteps and enter the medical field. His plans changed, though, when he got a feeling he just couldn’t shake. “The Lord kept leading me to education,” Barber said.
Mother Pearl, Cobbler Cook Extraordinaire
His Sunday school teacher, Andrew Wright, was the principal of Iola Roberts Elementary School at the time, and his pastors were teachers, as well. “To have three men in your life who were elementary school teachers and in ministry showed me how God could use you in education,” Barber said. “God has always put the right people around me.”
Although he retired from the school system in 2019, Barber performs contract work for the Alabama Association of School Boards. “I’ve had a great experience in public education,” he said. “To me, education is ministry,” he said.
Barber was an assistant principal in 1995 when God called him to preach, as well. He had a guitar and his Bible, and he traveled around ministering at nursing homes and “wherever God placed me.” He landed at Mt. Zion as a deacon and has been preaching for about 25 years.
One ministry he particularly enjoys is Cake Walk, the bluegrass band he helped form that earned its name from the early days of playing at cake walks and fall festivals. “Mt. Zion is a musically blessed haven,” he said. “Anyone you pick out of a pew can pick something, play something or sing something.”
Barber, who plays mandolin, guitar, banjo and bass, said the size of the group fluctuates and the members range from 8-year-olds to 90-year-olds. “We’re not the best musicians in the world, but for some reason when you put us all together, it sounds pretty good,” he said. “It’s a joyful noise, I know that.”
The group plays live every Sunday morning on WFHK 94.1 The River, and before the coronavirus pandemic, the members regularly shared their music at nursing homes and other places. “I’ve seen people who were really sick wiggle a toe under the cover when they hear the banjo,” Barber said. “It’s a wonderful ministry, and members of the band have said they had no idea that service could be so much fun. For me, that’s when you really hit the mark.”
A tool for ministry
Barber’s outreach ministry was the impetus for Vegetables for Sale, and the idea had been in the back of his mind for a while. “I had a bunch of stories I wrote years ago, and I’d always planned on doing something with them, but I didn’t know what that would look like,” he said. Once the pandemic hit last March, Barber finally had time, so “I went to the attic and started gathering stories I’d written in old spiral notebooks.”
Although he’d planned to leave them behind at speaking engagements, COVID-19 changed those plans, so Barber started to give them away. “My idea of promoting it is leaving a copy on the table at Starbucks,” he said with a laugh.
After his wife, Legay, posted about the book on social media, it started taking off. “We accidentally, I guess, launched it,” Barber said. “The potential to reach people through the internet is mind boggling.” The book, which features a childhood photo of his father on the cover, is available through Amazon, Walmart.com, Barnes & Noble and Kindle. It will soon be available on Audible, an audiobook book service from Amazon.
Barber said he read the book for the Audible recording because the subject was so close to his heart. “This is a book about my mom, my daddy, my sister and brother and my grandparents,” he said. “I sure didn’t want someone reading it and having it be just a book to them. Besides, I hate when people try to fake a Southern accent.”
Although he never expected to sell a single copy, Barber said he’s heard from people from all over the country who have shared how the book has touched them. A hospice nurse shared how a family read it together during the last hours of their mother’s life, and it gave them a chance to laugh and cry together. Another woman wrote to say the book helped her after receiving a cancer diagnosis.
“If God doesn’t use it for anything other than that, it was worth writing it and putting it out there,” Barber said. “I’m definitely not a writer, and I’ll never be a best-selling author, but this was a labor of love. Whatever voice we have, whether it’s a guitar or an ink pen, as long as we’re giving God the glory, He’ll use it.”
Cannonball Man holds our past in his hands and heart
Story by Buddy Eiland Photos by Graham Hadley Submitted Photos
Searching for history can become a lifetime obsession. Just ask Steve Phillips. Although the guns of the American Civil War fell silent in 1865, Phillips has spent more than 50 years searching for the cannonballs and artillery shells, along with other artifacts left behind from that great conflict. In the process, he has become a knowledgeable student of Civil War history and has built one of the most extensive private collections of its artifacts in existence.
Phillips is a retired professional diver, having owned and operated Southern Skin Diver Supply Company in Birmingham for many years. His sons, Spencer and Forrest, still operate the business, and both are expert professional divers.
After leaving the Air Force and before he became involved in the dive business, Phillips was in the office machine business in Birmingham. He and his wife, Susan, live on a comfortable acreage straddling the St. Clair/Shelby County line. Their property has a lake, a creek and a secret mountain waterfall. Long ago, Native Americans lived there, and he and his family have found thousands of stone points over the years that they left behind.
Phillips has spent years reading, researching and learning where to look and how to find Civil War relics and artifacts. Searching by metal detecting on private land permissions and diving in public waters, he has found about half of his collection.
Cannister shot, made up of small balls, and other shells
The rest he has bought from other collectors, dealers and museums selling surplus items from their collections. Although his collection contains an unbelievable variety of artifacts, Phillips says, “I’m really all about cannonballs and artillery projectiles.” Learning from an early mentor, Tom Dickey of Atlanta, Phillips became an expert at disarming and preserving artillery projectiles. (Dickey is the brother of Deliverance author James Dickey). Over the years, he has disarmed and preserved over 2,000 cannonballs and artillery shells, developing his own methods from trial and error along the way.
The preservation is necessary because the iron will deteriorate from exposure to the air after being in the ground or water for so many years. The disarming process is extremely dangerous, as, even after over 150 years, the black powder sealed inside can still be viable and can explode if improperly handled.
He has designed a way to disarm projectiles safely and remotely, using a shed about a hundred yards behind his house and barn with a drilling apparatus controlled by ropes and pulleys to allow him to maintain a safe distance from the operation. “I don’t recommend people try this,” he says. “I’ve never had one to explode, but I treat every one like it might.”
After drilling into a shell, the black powder can then be safely washed out. Phillips uses a process of electrolysis to remove rust and scale that results from many years in water or in the ground. Then he boils the shell, usually several times, to remove salt and sulphites from the iron and help stabilize it. Finally comes a coat of preservative to complete the process.
Interesting among Phillips’ extensive and quite varied collection is probably the greatest number of “war logs” in any private collection. These are tree trunks from the Battle of Chickamauga, Georgia, that have artillery shells embedded in them. They speak to the intensity of the battle and were obtained from Tom Dickey’s collection after his death and from a museum in Atlanta.
The Enfield and the Coal Torpedo
What does he consider the most valuable item in his entire collection? Phillips is quick with an answer. “Monetarily, or to me personally?” he asks. “Probably money-wise would be the coal torpedo because it’s so rare. To me, personally, it would be my great-grandfather’s Enfield rifle that was left for me on the battlefield at Gettysburg. Of all the hundreds of items in my collection, it would be my favorite. It’s not the rarest, but it’s my favorite,” which leads us to two of Phillips’ most intriguing stories about his collection.
Rifle returns ‘home’
Some years ago, Phillips was attending the Nashville Relics Show, displaying some of his cannonballs and other items from his collection. “I subscribed to a magazine for The Horse Soldier, an antiques dealer in Gettysburg that sells relics and other artifacts from the Civil War. I was looking at a copy of the magazine, and, normally, I would just look at the cannonball and artillery section, but I was bored, and I began to look at other sections.
Phillips with the Enfield rifle that belonged to his great-grandfather, Private/Corporal John C. Deason, that was recovered from Devil’s Den, part of the battle of Gettysburg
“I saw a listing for a British-made Enfield rifle, a very well-made rifle, better than most people had. On one side of the stock were carved the initials “JCD,” and on the other side was carved, “Co B 44th Ala Infantry.” It was identified to a Private/Corporal John C. Deason of Company B, of the 44th Alabama Infantry. John C. Deason was John Columbus Deason, my great-grandfather on my mother’s side of my family.”
Deason fought in the battle of Gettysburg in the Civil War as a member of Company B of the 44th Alabama Infantry. They were involved in the part of the battle known as Devil’s Den. The fighting took place in close quarters among some large rocks. The rifle was picked up by the owner of the Slyder farm, which was part of the battlefield. It was missing the ramrod, and because of the close quarters of the fighting, the ramrod was likely bent, rendering the rifle useless. Without the ramrod, it couldn’t be reloaded, so he probably dropped it, picked up another rifle and continued to fight.” About 130 years later, Slyder family descendants sold their collection of relics collected after the battle.
Phillips contacted The Horse Soldier, expressing an interest in buying the rifle. Told that the rifle had been sold, he said he would like to contact the buyer and try to purchase it. “Don’t let him know,” he was told, “because he is a Yankee, and if he finds out you want it, you’re not going to get it.” He backed away from trying to buy the gun, and about five years later, he received a call from The Horse Soldier, asking if he was still interested in buying it. “I told them I was, so I bought it and brought it home.” This special rifle now occupies a place of honor, hanging over the mantle in his den.
Rare find
The coal torpedo Phillips found on an underwater dive. “I picked it up and thought it was just trash, but I kept it because I didn’t want to keep hearing it on my metal detector. I had found a 12-pound ball that day, and when I began to start cleaning it up, I threw the ‘trash’ into the tumbler with it to help knock some of the rust off.”
The tumbling cleaned rust from the odd piece he had found as well, and he noticed what looked like copper in the side of it. Comparing it with several artillery fuses from his collection, he determined that it was, indeed, a fuse plug. Taking the object to his veterinarian, who X-rayed it for him, he determined that it was hollow. Further research determined that what he had found was a coal torpedo, used by Confederate spies in the Civil War.
The coal
torpedo – one of
only four known to exist
It was cast from iron in the form of a lump of coal, filled with four or five ounces of powder, and, when covered with pitch and coal dust, disguised it so it could be placed in the coal bunker of a ship. Shoveled into the firebox of the ship, it would blow up the firebox. That would rupture the boiler, which, essentially blew up the ship.
Coal torpedoes were credited with destroying several ships during the war, and many, including Phillips, believe one was used to destroy the Sultana on the Mississippi River, resulting in the largest loss of life from a single ship in U.S. maritime history. Over 1,800 people died in the explosion and fire.
Phillips has the only coal torpedo known to have been found since the Civil War, and one of only four known to still exist. One was found on Jefferson Davis’ desk when Richmond surrendered, being used as a paperweight. Two were found at the Confederate spy headquarters, which was located in Canada during the war. According to Phillips, it is likely one of the rarest and most valuable relics of the war. “I thought I had found trash,” he said, “but what I had found was just wonderful. We don’t really know what its value to a collector might be because it will never be sold.”
The Alaska connection
If you are paying close attention, you might notice that Phillips quite often wears a solid, 14-carat-gold belt buckle. It was cast from a mold made from a Confederate belt buckle. In addition to being a Civil War relic collector, Phillips is also a gold prospector. For more than 25 years, he has spent about two months in Alaska, mining for gold. Diving and dredging in the Bering Sea at Nome, on claims he and his son, Spencer own, he has very successfully found gold over the years. He also has working claims further inland from Nome. Although he no longer dives, his son, Spencer does, joining him in Alaska during the summer.
According to Phillips, gold mining there is not as productive as it once was, but he continues to find gold. Inland, most of their pursuit involves dredging in the river there. The inland claim is extremely remote, so much so that, when they leave for the summer, the cabin there is left unlocked, providing refuge and shelter in case a hunter might become stranded there in the harsh winter. The greatest winter threat to the cabin is bears, who sometimes do damage to the property while they are away.
The remoteness of the area presents its own problems, according to Phillips, and resourcefulness and self-sufficiency become virtues. Failures to vehicles and equipment left to the elements over the harsh winters, along with poor access to spare parts, present their own challenges, and major repairs are especially diffiuclt … and frequent.
Phillips has made a hobby-business of fashioning jewelry from gold “pickers” he has found gold mining. These are gold particles larger than gold dust, but not large enough to be considered nuggets.
Phillips has generously shared his Civil War collection, placing many items on permanent loan to be displayed for the interest and enjoyment of the public. The museum at Tannehill State Park is furnished with items from his collection.
In keeping with that practice and with a personal desire that his collection will always be accessible for enjoyment and study by the public, Phillips’ collection will soon be moving to a new home. It will be placed on permanent loan at the Sons of Confederate Veterans’ headquarters and museum in Columbia, Tenn.
A number of videos Phillips has made to share his stories about collection are available on YouTube. Videos include the John Columbus Deason rifle, the confederate coal torpedo, artillery projectiles from Selma, Confederate mines, disarming and preserving artillery shells, and more. Also posted are videos about his gold prospecting adventures in Alaska. l
Dry cleaner escaped Holocaust,
traveled storied route to Ashville
Story by Joe Whitten Submitted photos
For Bernie Echt, the journey from Gross Kuhren, Germany, to Ashville, Alabama, included stops in Africa, China, the Dominican Republic and sojourns in various cities in the United States.
Bernie’s parents, Solomon and Erna Czanitsky Echt, already had daughters Ruth and Eva when Bernie was born on Nov. 4, 1937. Sister Sarah would arrive Nov. 4, 1938.
His parents and grandparents owned a farm in Gross Kuhren and dealt in horses and cattle. Although Jewish, they conducted business with both locals and the German military before the war.
Relations seemed good with people in the area, for as Bernie recalled, “My parents and grandparents had lots of connections; that’s why we are still here. Otherwise we would be …,” he let those words hang, then added, “They helped us to get the hell out of there.”
Bernie wasn’t yet a year old when they fled the Nazis, so he recounts what he was told by relatives. In spite of the apparent good relationship, “At the end of 1937 or the beginning of 1938, one evening, they knocked on the door, and calling Solomon by his nickname, they said, ‘Sally, you need to go with us down to headquarters.’”
Solomon and Erna both asked for a reason, but the only answer they got was, “We can’t tell the reason; you just need to go with us. You don’t have to take nothing along.”
Erna asked where they were going, and they replied, “To town.”
“It was the Gestapo,” Bernie continued. “They took him to the concentration camp, Sachsenhausen, and put him to work in the stone quarry. He was in there until the end of ’38, or thereabout.”
Bernie is unsure of how this happened, but his mother and grandparents paid off certain Nazi officers to get Solomon out of Sachsenhausen. He believes they gave money and cattle, and that one of the officers was a close friend who used to visit on Sunday afternoons.
The officers warned that Solomon must disappear immediately, so within 24 hours of release, he was on a freighter to Shanghai, China. He lived in Shanghai a year before Erna and the children could journey there.
And what a journey Erna and the children had getting to Solomon in China. The grandparents hoped to emigrate to Palestine, but borders closed before they could leave. They never got out.
Along with other Jews, Erna and the children secured passage to China on an Italian freighter. Difficulties arose at the Suez Canal when authorities refused the freighter permission to proceed.
Low on fuel and food, the ship diverted to an African island where it languished for six months. A Jewish organization managed to get money to the captain so he could continue to China.
Finally, in 1939, Erna and children joined Solomon, where he worked on a missionary farm in Shanghai.
Because of the Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945), the Japanese occupied Shanghai. For the moment, things seemed peaceful. “The Japanese soldiers would come to the house,” Bernie remembered, “and my mother would cook them something. They had a good time.”
Concentration camp
All that ended Dec.7, 1941 – Pearl Harbor. “The Japanese came for us,” Bernie remembers, “put us up on a truck and took us to a camp. They took our passports. Everything. We had just the clothes we wore.”
There were 2,000 in this Japanese concentration camp with 16 people to a room. They devised privacy curtains with the bed blankets during the day, then took them down for cover at night.
The rabbis in the camp made sure Jewish boys received religious instructions. Going and coming from the place of instruction had its dangers, as Bernie recalls one night: “I remember rabbi took us one evening to the main building there, and the Japanese were shooting the guns with light-balls to light up the streets inside the camp, so they could see if anybody was walking around. And the rabbi said to us, ‘Just stand against the wall and don’t move.’ That’s what we did, and that’s how we always got through.”
The rabbis made sure that the kids who went to temple had kosher food for Passover, a sacred necessity for Orthodox Jews, such as the Echts.
World War II ended, and liberation finally followed. Bernie recalled, “McArthur came, and the streets were full of military. The Japanese commander who mistreated so many – he didn’t do it personally, but he had command over it – the teenage boys in the camp went to the Japanese headquarters, got the commander out, brought him to the camp and got sticks and hit him.”
Bernie didn’t participate in that. “That wasn’t my idea. I couldn’t join in beating him. He was only a man. I look at things a little bit different. I shouldn’t, maybe, but I do. A human being is a human being.”
The American nurses took the internees into the country, gave them food, and American military doctors gave physical exams.
The Americans taught them songs, Bernie recalled. “The first song we learned was ‘God Bless America,’ and then we learned the military songs – the Navy song and ‘This is the Army, Mr. Brown.’” He laughed and added, “We changed that one a little bit.”
Wanting to leave China, Bernie’s family went to the consulate and asked about being able to come to the United States. A Jewish organization (American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee) took over and organized the Echts’ and others’ exodus. They left for San Francisco on the Marine Lynx, an American transport ship. “We sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge, and it was wonderful,” Bernie said. “I was 9 or 10 years old.”
In San Francisco, the family stayed quarantined in a hotel for six weeks. Bernie recalls that the Jewish organization fed them and took them to a clothing store and bought them garments and shoes. He got his first pair of long pants and pair of shoes.
Dominican Republic
When the quarantine ended, the Jewish Distribution Committee came to tell the Echts the three countries available for relocation: Australia, Canada and the Dominican Republic. The family chose the Dominican Republic.
As early as 1938, General Truijillo of the Dominican Republic offered to the Jewish organization refuge to as many as 100,000 Jews fleeing Germany. On the north coast, now Sosua, General Trujillo set aside a large section of wooded land, and the Dominican Republic Settlement Association (DORSA), a Jewish group, cleared land and erected barracks. “It was similar to a Kibbutz,” Bernie said. “They all ate together, and the women did everybody’s laundry. There wasn’t that much that each one had separate.”
DORSA built houses on plots of land, families with kids got the first houses built, then couples without children. To get them started, for the father of the family, DORSA gave 10 cows; for the mother, six; and for each child, one. A family paid so much a month to DORSA until they had paid for the farm, house and livestock.
The Echts lived on one of the DORSA farms until Bernie’s mother died in 1949. After her death, Solomon left the farm and moved the family to the city. When Bernie turned 13, his father and sisters arranged his bar mitzvah. “I learned all the rituals,” he said. “I already knew a big part of it. I was very orthodox when I started out. Very orthodox until my mother died, then I slowly let it go.”
Home-life deteriorated for Bernie after his mother died, and a few months after his 13th birthday, he set out on his own. He had only the clothing he wore and no money.
He went to the Jewish organization in Sosua, met with the administrator, and told him about leaving home and needing a job. The administrator told Bernie he had no job for him because he lacked education and job skills.
Unsuccessful there but undaunted, he made his way to the farmers’ cooperative and told them his predicament. “I need a job. I need something to do to make a living.”
They listened to him, then, offered him the only available job, cleaning the animal intestines in the slaughterhouse, which paid $25 a month.
Bernie took the job. He lived in a barrack room for $3 a month, which included electricity and water. He commented, “I earned $25, paid $3 for lodging, and had $22 left. I didn’t need nothing.”
Work ethic rescues him
Although he started with a nasty job in the slaughterhouse, Bernie worked hard, and that served him well. The manager of the meatpacking plant soon took him out of the slaughterhouse and taught him about choppers and carvers. Mr. Meyerstein, who had worked for Armour and Swift in Chicago, taught him how to make sausage.
A careful observer and fast learner, Bernie said, “When I saw anybody doing something I wanted to learn. I caught it with my eyes and remembered it. I had no other choice. There was no Social Security, no unemployment, no insurance. Nothing. I had to learn.”
Management liked Bernie’s work ethic and raised his salary to $45 a month. He saved $10 a month until he had about $30 put aside. Then he went to a farmer to buy a calf. When the farmer found he had the money, he asked where he would keep the calf, and Bernie bargained with the farmer to pasture the calf for $1 a month.
They both agreed that when the calf became a milk producer, the milk belonged to the farmer, but calves born to those cows belonged to Bernie.
Next stop: USA
In 1957, when Bernie came to the United States, he was earning $85 a month and had 12 head of cattle, which he sold to finance his trip to the States and for Washington’s required $300 security deposit in case his job fell through.
Some Marines were the first who tried to help Bernie get to the United States. They said if he were willing to join the military, they would help him join the Marines. Bernie was willing, but the Marines weren’t – he was 2 inches too short at 5 feet, 5 inches tall.
Regulation height was 5 feet, 7 inches tall.
However, when a Mr. Weinberg came over from New York City, Bernie had success. He asked Weinberg if there was a newspaper in New York where he could run an ad for work in the United States. Yes, there was, the Aufbau, published in New York City for the German Jewish Club. Weinberg placed the ad: “Young butcher looking for a job in the U.S.”
Bernie waited. Then a letter from a Mr. Krucker arrived at the consulate in the Dominican Republic. Mr. Krucker owned a Swiss restaurant in Pagona, N.Y., and needed a butcher there by May 27, no later.
Bernie leapt into action. A visit to the consulate produced a list of “must do” things in order to leave. He took the list and returned in two days with everything else on the list.
Then he needed a “quota number,” but the consulate said that would take two weeks, and that would be too late to make it to New York by May 27.
Bernie tells it best. “It was hard to get out of the Dominican Republic at that time. Because of Nazi persecution, I was stateless – no passport. All I had was an ID from the Dominican government, like a driver’s license, but not a driver’s license.”
Bernie had to be in New York by May 27, so he begged the consulate to call Washington and get a quota number. “I will pay for the call,” Bernie said.
The consulate said, ‘Are you serious? We don’t do that normally.’ But with a little more pleading from Bernie, he said, ‘All right. Go outside and sit and wait. I’ll let you know. I can’t promise you.’
Bernie waited an hour and a half before the consulate came out and said, ‘I can’t believe it. I got you a quota number. Everything’s ready. Go to the airport and get yourself a ticket and you’re ready to go.’
Then, another problem loomed. Bernie had no passport, but he knew who could help. A German Jew named Kicheimer could work miracles almost. Bernie told Kicheimer why he was in a rush and gave him his paperwork.
Kicheimer returned the next day with the necessary documents, and Bernie was ready to leave. At the airport, Ruth and Eva were crying, afraid of what the police would do if they found out how he’d gotten his documentation. Bernie told them, “I did nothing; the man did everything. I’ve got a legal piece of paper.” He laughs and adds, “I was so glad when that plane went up and I looked down.” He was on his way to a new life that one day would land him in Ashville.
Bernie woking at Krucker’s Restaurant
When Bernie arrived at the restaurant, Mr. Krucker gave him a place to stay in his hunting shack, telling him to unpack, come to the restaurant and eat, then rest for the next day when they both would go to New York City to buy fish, meat and vegetables for the restaurant.
Bernie spoke of Mr. Krucker’s kindness to him, saying, “He treated me like I was his son. He was very good to me. When I bought my first business, he co-signed the loan for me.” Bernie’s respect for Mr. Krucker was evident when Krucker asked him not to wear his David Star because it made some German patrons uncomfortable. Bernie removed it, saying, “Mr. Krucker, I am Jewish in my heart, I don’t have to show it.”
Saying, ‘I do’
The restaurant’s head waitress, Pia, was a German gentile in an unhappy war-bride marriage that would end in a divorce. She was 10 years older than Bernie, but age presented no problem to him, and a few years later she became his wife. She converted to Judaism, going through the counseling sessions with the rabbis.
This was important to Orthodox Jews for descent is traced through the mother and gives both male and female children irrevocable Jewish status. It was a happy marriage that held strong until Pia died of brain cancer in 1979. The couple had three children: Bernhard “Bernie” Jr., Daniel and Katharina.
Bernie and Pia in the 1950s
Mr. Krucker had urged Bernie to ask Pia out. He was reluctant to do that because of lack of money. Pia knew this and said, “This time, I will buy you a root beer float and a hamburger. If you did have money, I don’t want you to spend it. You are new here, and you need to save your money.”
They didn’t go out again until Bernie had saved up some money. Mr. Krucker knew this and came to Bernie and gave him an envelope and said, “That’s for you.” It contained his $50 weekly pay, inside. “I was rich,” Bernie said.
Never afraid of hard work, Bernie worked in the restaurant through the summer and into the fall, and when the number of diners dropped, Bernie got a job in the meatpacking plant in Mazzolas, N.Y., earning $65 a week. When he got off work there, if an auction was being held, he would sell hamburgers at the auction house. “You know, a couple of bucks here and there, and I made money,” he said. On Saturday and Sunday, he worked at the restaurant.
Bernie and Pia were engaged now, and he wanted more income. One day he asked the man who picked up and delivered the restaurant’s laundry if there were money to be made in laundry work. He told him, “If you work hard you can make money. It’s on a percentage of what you collect.”
So, Bernie went to see the owner, Frank Senatores, who told him, “I don’t pay until you bring in work. You deliver it and collect, and I pay you a commission on that. You have to use your own car. I don’t supply no vans or anything.” Bernie accepted the job.
Making of an entrepreneur
He worked hard – and so did Pia. After working his dayshift at the meatpacking plant, he and Pia would run the laundry and dry cleaning routes until about 8 p.m. Pia would drive, and he ran to the houses delivering and picking up. “I’ve been doing that for 60 years,” Bernie said recently. “The same system. And it works. Believe me, it works.” They built up a good route and eventually bought the drop business.
In another village, he saw a laundry and dry cleaner that wasn’t doing well because of the lazy owner. Obtaining a bank loan, Bernie bought that company and gave up the restaurant job to concentrate on the laundry business.
Always the quick and thorough learner, Bernie learned the dry cleaning and laundry business hands-on. He bought a 1952 Chevrolet truck van, put hanging racks inside, and had a high school art student paint the truck white with a crown for Imperial Laundry and Drycleaners, with the address and phone number.
From the beginning, Bernie has never turned down a challenge, for he’s always assumed he could do it. Early on, a man came in with a wide lapel, double-breasted suit wanting Bernie to cut the lapels down to a narrower size. Although he had never done alterations before, Bernie said, “We can do that, but it will cost you.”
Pia thought he was crazy, but Bernie said, “Don’t get excited. We have a suit hanging here. I’ll lay it on top of the one to alter, mark all around the lapel but leave a half inch. Then we’ll cut the material off and turn the rest under and sew it.” They did, and the customer was so happy he gave them a generous tip. After that, Pia learned to do whatever alterations that were needed.
By the time Pia died of cancer, they were living in Florida, and Bernie had expanded into selling laundry and dry cleaning equipment.
Five years after Pia’s death, Bernie exhibited his machines at a convention in Atlanta. One evening after the exhibits closed for the night, Bernie went to eat a restaurant where there was dancing. There he met Doan, who was buying merchandise for her dress shop in Springville, Alabama.
The magic of dance
She and Bernie danced that evening, and that dance blossomed into a courtship that resulted in a wedding the next year, 1985. The love affair has lasted 35 years. Although Doan didn’t convert to Judaism, she attends temple with Bernie.
Doan and Bernie Echt in Ashville today
It was Doan’s St. Clair County roots that brought them to Ashville and the establishing of Imperial Laundry and Professional Drycleaners there in 1994. Their pickup and delivery routes extend into Jackson and Cherokee counties. Bernie’s original method of building a business by meeting and knowing his customers still holds him in good stead today.
Katharina Echt says of her father, “My brothers and I were raised with a strong foundation of what it means to work hard. We each have a keen understanding, by our father’s example, of what is possible with sheer will and determination. Ever present is his steadfast belief in our ability to achieve anything we set our minds to. And so we have.”
Bernie never lost hope or purpose in the face of hardship, adversity or tragedy. He has focused on the good of life rather than the bad and remains a cheerful man who is a delight to know.
In 2017, Kathy Burttram and Rose Mary Hyatt had a bee of an idea
buzzing in their proverbial pioneer sunbonnets. Together, they developed the
idea into a reality that is as satisfying to a lover of local history as honey
on a hot buttered biscuit was to a family at breakfast in a log cabin. They
called their project The First Families of St. Clair County, Alabama, and
brought it to fruition during the county’s bicentennial year, 2018.
Having loved local history for years, the two women were
knowledgeable and capable of accomplishing their goal. The aim of First
Families is to collect and preserve the lineages of families who settled in the
county by 1818 or earlier. To be accepted as a member of First Families, the
applicant had to provide documented proof of descent from the settler-ancestor.
With plans finalized by late 2017, announcements appeared in
libraries and newspapers, and soon requests for application guidelines began to
arrive. As completed membership forms came in, the project team began vetting
documentation, the number of names on the eligible list increased, and on
November 20, 2018, First Families presented membership certificates to 51
descendants of early settlers.
Wendy Smith’s documentation as a descendant of James Ash arrived
first. Later, four others joined under his name.
From Franklin County, Georgia, James and wife Nancy Martin Ash
arrived in this area shortly after his brother John Ash had settled in Beaver
Valley in 1817. James Ash prospered as a successful farmer and acquired much
land. He died in 1860, leaving a large estate.
James’ son, William, born in Springville in 1819, also farmed and
owned 357 acres in Branchville.
When the Civil War began, William and his sons, James Lafayette
and William Gilbert, joined the First Tennessee & Alabama Independent
Vidette Cavalry at Bridgeport, Alabama. However, William’s brother, Gabriel
Simon, fought for the Confederacy.
In August 1864, William and William Gilbert, with a unit that had
loaded cotton for Union use onto wagons, had stopped for the night near
Woodville, Alabama. That night, Confederate troops ambushed them, killing all
but 14. William and son died. The survivors were taken across the Tennessee
River, where they were mowed down in a volley of shots. However, John Kenner
survived to tell of the experience.
James Lafayette survived the war and returned to St. Clair County.
St. Clair County had a number of Union sympathizers. In her History
of Steele, Alabama, Vivian Qualls noted that only 14 percent of St. Clair
landowners owned slaves. Most farmers took care of themselves, with family
members doing the work. Mrs. Qualls wrote, “…brothers fought against each
other, one with the North and one with the South.”
Twenty persons qualified for membership with ancestor Absalom
Autrey. (The name came to be spelled “Awtrey.”) Gerald Tucker, first to qualify
as a descendant of Absalom, lives today on the farm that belonged to his great
grandfather, James Monroe Awtrey, who was the great grandson of Absalom. James
Monroe had inherited the farm from his father, James Henry Awtrey. Gerald
Tucker records that James Henry wasn’t a wealthy farmer, but that he gave each
of his sons $2,000.00 and “…told them to go out and make their own way.” Tucker
also stated, “James Monroe Awtrey, having fought for the North in the Civil
War, chose to go to Missouri afterward. He and his wife both died of an illness
within five months of each other. James Henry Awtrey brought the two children,
Phillip and Zula, back to St. Clair County to live with him.” Frances Leona
Awtrey, daughter of Phillip, was Gerald Tucker’s mother.
One Autrey/Awtrey family historian states that Absalom came into
our area in 1806 or 1807, settling at the foot of Blount Mountain. Later he
owned 153 acres at Greensport on the Coosa River.
However, in a November 29, 2018, St. Clair Times article,
qualifying descendant James South stated that the Absalom Autrey family came
here toward the end of the 18th Century. “There was an Indian
massacre that killed his wife and two or three of his children. He moved back
to Georgia territory, and in 1800, he moved back into St. Clair County near
Greensport.”
According to oral history, Absalom died November 13, 1833 — the
night of the spectacular meteor shower which still lives in state history as
“the night stars fell on Alabama.” He was buried near Greensport.
Mary Dearman is the only woman through whom a membership in First
Families has come. Moving her family here from South Carolina around 1816-17,
Mary is known as the founder of Dearman’s Chapel Methodist Church near Steele —
a worthy remembrance by any measure.
Four joined First Families through Revolutionary War veterans Noel
Battles and Captain Edward Beeson.
Mattie Lou Teague Crow recorded that Noel Battles lived in
Albemarle County, Virginia, in 1776 when he enlisted in “Captain Clough
Shelton’s Company which saw service under Colonels Edward Stevens, John Green
and Samuel Cabell, respectively.”
At the Birmingham Library, Mrs. Crow discovered on microfiche Noel
Battles’ account of his three years in the American Revolution. In an article
she wrote, “He fought in the Battle of Trenton and stated that the battle was
brief and bloody. The enemy was soon overcome as many of them were drunk after
the long Christmas celebration. …The Battle at Brandywine Creek was a painful
experience as they were badly beaten by General Howe’s men. Seven hundred were
killed or taken prisoner and Noel Battles received a flesh wound in his right
arm.” Battles was wounded again at the Battle of Monmouth, June 1777.
After the war, Noel and his wife, Rhoda, moved to Georgia, and
from Georgia, into what would become St. Clair County Alabama. He and Rhoda are
buried in Old Shiloh Church Cemetery on Highway 11 between Steele and Attalla.
This church’s location is now in Etowah County, although it was in St. Clair
County when the Battles died. On April 19, 1998, the Etowah County Chapter of
the Sons of the American Revolution honored the memory of Noel Battles with a
grave marker.
According to local records, Edward Beeson / Beason and wife, Ann,
settled in today’s St. Clair County around 1814, where they built a log cabin
and “…lived among the Indians until they were removed.”
Edward enlisted in the army in the spring of 1778, Guilford
County, North Carolina. He was commissioned Captain in April 1779 and served in
Captain David Brower’s Company.
Edward and Ann are buried at Union Beason Cemetery. His grave was
marked by the Nancy Hart Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.
Edward’s son, Curtis Grubb Beason, participated in county and
state government all his life. He served on the Alabama Constitutional
Convention in 1865, according to The Heritage of St. Clair County, Alabama.
The antebellum home he built (c1840) still stands, well-kept, in Beason’s Cove
between Ashville and Oneonta.
Rev. Thomas Newton and wife Ann Martin Newton were the parents of
Margaret Newton who married John Ash, of political renown in St. Clair County.
In 1817, both families joined a westward bound caravan from South Carolina as
it journeyed through Georgia. The caravan had stopped to rest in today’s Beaver
Valley a few miles below present-day Ashville. When a tragic accident left
Betsy Ann Ash dead, John and Margaret Ash and Thomas and Ann Newton chose to
settle in Beaver Valley rather than abandon Betsy Ann’s grave.
The log home that Ash and Newton first constructed in 1817 stands
— the oldest surviving structure in St. Clair County. Both families lived there
until John Ash built his own dwelling in 1818.
As years progressed, John Ash added to his home, until it stood a
welcoming home in the county.
Some of our older readers will remember the white-painted home
standing pristine in the sun; however, the home today stands forlorn in Beaver
Valley.
John Ash helped organize the government of St. Clair County.
Records show that he was the first elected judge in the county and that he
served three terms as state senator. The naming of the county seat Ashville
honored the legacy of John Ash. One person provided proof of John Ash lineage.
In his book, Branchville, Alabama: The History of a Little
Town, 1819-2007, Kenneth Hodges wrote about Rev. Thomas Newton, stating
that, as a minister of the Presbyterian church, “Thomas was an excellent,
impressive, emotional preacher with the ability to deliver sermons that would
often melt both the speaker and the listener to tears.”
In Georgia, Newton had been a circuit-riding pastor, preaching at
a different church each Sunday of the month. Hodges records that when the
westward migration began, church membership dwindled as the population of
communities decreased. Hodges gives this as a reason for the Newtons joining
the westward caravan.
Both a Newton historian and Mattie Lou Teague Crow mention that
the Newtons were instrumental in organizing the Presbyterian Church in
Ashville. The denomination first met at Mount Pleasant Meeting House, which was
also the place of worship for the Methodist and Baptist. In 1879, the
Presbyterians erected their own modern Victorian church, still standing in
Ashville today.
Three persons gained membership on Rev. Thomas Newton’s name.
Jeremiah Collins arrived here penniless in 1818—according to some
accounts. However, Jeremiah Collins’ great great granddaughter, Barbara
Goldstein Bonfield, stated in an email interview that Collins researcher,
Kathie Collins Jones, “…found land records from South Carolina with Jeremiah
and William Collins listed on them, tons of them.” Great great grandson Jimmy
Goldstein believes this indicates that Jeremiah didn’t leave South Carolina so
poor he had to bring his possessions to Alabama on a sled instead of a wagon,
as some researchers have written.
Writing for The Heritage of St. Clair County, Alabama, Bonfield
said that Jeremiah settled along the Coosa River and announced his goal of
becoming a landowner. Records show that he owned land in Easonville and Ragland
in St. Clair County and substantial acreage in Talladega County. Bonfield tells
of a deed, dated June 25, 1842, which transferred to Jeremiah 300 acres of land
in the “Coosa Land District acquired by the United States in a treaty with the
Creek Indians.” President Tyler signed the deed.
Jeremiah achieved his goal of possessing land, but his son, Jesse
Collins had other goals —preaching the gospel of Christ. What a disappointment
to Jeremiah, who desired his son to become prominent in Alabama politics.
Bonfield writes that Jeremiah told Jesse “…he was not raising a son to be a
‘back-woods Baptist preacher.’”
Jesse returned to South Carolina where he continued to study
theology, professed his faith in Christ, and became a minister of the Gospel.
Jesse returned to St. Clair County with his bride and began pastoring Baptist
churches in the county. During his ministry, he pastored several churches in
St. Clair, Shelby and Calhoun counties and helped found a number of Baptist
churches.
Jesse had obtained his goal of preaching the Gospel, but his
father, Jeremiah, had never embraced Christ nor expressed interest in
Christianity. Jesse longed for his father to accept Christ and be baptized. His
longing was fulfilled, when at age 91, Jeremiah became a Christian and was
baptized.
But who baptized Jeremiah? Mattie Lou Teague Crow wrote that
“…frail Jeremiah was strapped into a small chair and the preacher son lowered
him into the waters of the Coosa River in baptism.” However, Barbara Bonfield
records that in a 1927 written document, Jeremiah’s granddaughter, Magnolia
Embry, stated that “…her grandfather was baptized by Reverend Renfro in
Chocolocco Creek near Schmit’s Mill in Talladega County. Such are the mysteries
of family history.
Jeremiah died in 1873, age 94. Jesse died tragically of a pistol
shot. The fact that accounts differ on how the pistol discharged doesn’t
diminish the Gospel ministry of Jesse A. Collins and the spiritual legacy he
left in St. Clair County. Collins was well-known among Alabama Baptists.
B.F. Riley, in his History of the Baptists of Alabama,
recorded that “As financial secretary of Howard College, corresponding
secretary of the East Alabama Baptist Convention, and pastor in St. Clair
County, Mr. Collins rendered valuable service.”
One other minister must be noted. Hezekiah Moor settled in today’s
Moody/Leeds area. Moor history is recorded at length in Leeds…Her Story.
Hezekiah’s son, also named Hezekiah, was a Baptist minister who helped organize
churches in St. Clair County. The record of his death and the vengeance of his
son are matters of record.
Rev. P.S. Montgomery wrote in the Southwestern Baptist,
February 4, 1864, that Hezekiah was murdered by a bushwhacker on Kelley’s Creek
Road during the Civil War. “Having returned home on furlough, he found much
mischief was being done by robbers in this county. …Bro. M. gathered a company
of men and was indeed successful in catching them. But alas! About the middle
of May 1863, as he was returning home alone, a wretch secreted himself by the
way, and committed the awful deed and fled.”
The Leeds history states that the man who killed Rev. Moor was
Jeff Darty, a soldier who had deserted the company commanded by Hezekiah’s
brother.
Hezekiah’s son, Joseph, was eight when his father was killed. When
he turned 14, he set out to find Darty in Texas where he had fled. Joseph
joined up with a cattle drive, and within three years ended up in the same
cattle drive as Jeff Darty.
The cowboys ended a long-day’s drive, and “…after all the cowboys
had rolled up in their blankets for a night of well-earned rest, Joe slipped to
Darty’s bedroll, took out his knife and slashed Darty’s throat, killing him
instantly. Vengeance was his at last. Joe saddled his horse that very night and
came back home to Alabama.”
The enchantment of St. Clair County family history lies in such
stories as these.
In planning this project, Burttram and Hyatt took direction from
First Families projects in other counties in Alabama and other states,
Aware that Etowah County historian, Jerry Bartlett Jones, Sr., had
assigned to the Northeast Alabama Genealogical Society any proceeds of his First
Families of St. Clair County and Northeast Alabama, Burttram and Hyatt
wanted the proceeds from this project to be shared equally by Springville
Preservation Society and St. Clair Historical Society.
The Springville Preservation Society, formed in April 1992,
helps protect and maintain Springville’s historic downtown and collects and
preserves artifacts of the area’s history.
The Preservation Society owns three buildings in Springville:
the Masonic Lodge, which serves as a museum and archives on Springville and the
surrounding area; the Little White House, which also serves as the Springville
Welcome Center and is rented out for special events; and the old Rock School,
their current restoration project. Frank Waid is president of the society.
The St Clair Historical Society was organized in 1972 with the
purpose of preserving the county’s history. The primary focus of the first
years was restoring the John Looney double dog-trot log home, which is the only
surviving example in Alabama. Published from 1993 until 2009, Cherish: The
Quarterly Journal of St. Clair Historical Society, focused on both history
and genealogy. Cherish can now be accessed online at the Alabama
Department of Archives and History. The president of the society is Sandi
Maroney, librarian at Ragland Public Library.
There are African-American citizens in St. Clair County whose
lineage goes back to the earliest years of our county, and Burttram and Hyatt
are hopeful that some will make application for membership. Lineage can be hard
to establish, but here are some sources. Antebellum church minutes list first
names of slave members, and often gives the slave owner’s name. Antebellum
court records, accessible at the Ashville Museum and Archives, can provide
avenues of research.
And don’t overlook obituaries of former slaves, for quite a number
were published in county newspapers, as in the following.
“Mar. 2, 1899, Southern Alliance: Oldest Man in the County Dead. Dock Collins, colored, age 106 years, died at his home near
Riverside on the 12th day of Feb. 1899. He was born in Lawrence
District, South Carolina, in 1793, and was sold at public auction at Lawrence
Court House when he was about 7 years of age, and bought by Jeremiah Collins, who was the grandfather of Attorney Jas. A. Embry, of our town. He was brought to this county just
after the sale, where he continued to reside up till the day of his death.
“He was also the first
Negro to own land in the county and a peaceable law-abiding man all his life.
He was owned by the same Jeremiah Collins when freedom was declared, having had no other
master since a boy. He was almost a life-long member of the Methodist church,
and the good advice which he had always given to his race resulted in many of
them securing homes around and near him. The influence exerted by this old man
among his people was wonderful, he never failing to advise them to be truthful,
industrious and honest.
“During his life, he
was married twice, and was the father of 14 children, 5 of whom are now living,
and some of them property owners. He died within a quarter of a mile from the
old home of his master, and the cause assigned for his death was old age. He
passed away seemingly without pain and retained his mental faculties till the
very last.” l
Editor’s Note: St. Clair County history is rich and exciting. Discover hopes our readers will become excited as well and join in the task of preserving our treasured past.Since the First Families of St. Clair County is an ongoing endeavor, if your family has roots in our county from 1818 or before please connect with Mrs. Burttram or Mrs. Hyatt at firstfamiliesstclairal@gmail.com. Descendants of families settling here in 1819 through 1820 may apply for membership in First Families as a Founding Family member.
Even the walls of the Maxwell Building in downtown Pell City have
a story to tell, just like the others lining the blocks of Cogswell Avenue.
The first brick building constructed in town, it still bears the
scars of a 1902 dynamite explosion at the nearby train depot. The accident
killed two people, injured several others, and left a large crack in the
building’s exterior.
The structure was built in 1890, a year before the city was
incorporated, and has been home to a boarding house, grocery stores, post office
and hotel over its 129-year history. It’s the only survivor of the handful of
houses and buildings that made up the original eight square blocks of Pell
City. Today, the building that boasts so much historical charm now counts art
galleries and a martial arts studio among its many tenants.
“It’s a monument to the humble beginnings of town and stands as a
testament to the resilient nature of its people,” Urainah Glidewell said of the
Maxwell Building and its many lives. The organizer of the 4th Annual
Pell City Historical Walking Tours held each Saturday in April, Glidewell said
the building is just one of many that participants can explore. “A lot of
people who live in Pell City don’t know much about its history, and there are
so many wonderful stories. This is a way for us to open the doors for the
community and kind of invite them in,” she said.
Glidewell, who has called Pell City home for 13 years, researched
the origins of the city, its founders and businesses for the tours, which
average about 150 participants each year. Led by community volunteers, they are
a project of The Heart of Pell City, a group dedicated to the preservation,
revitalization and cultural development of the downtown historical district.
More than 30 cities and towns across the state, including Springville, are
hosting tours this year as part of the Alabama Department of Tourism’s
initiative to highlight the rich history of the state.
“Everyone who calls Pell City home, who has a business here,
they’re now part of the history of Pell City,” said Glidewell, who serves as
president of The Heart of Pell City. “We’re walking in the footsteps of all the
people who came before us. We thought the tours would be a wonderful way to
educate people.”
In its infancy
Downtown Pell City, added to the National Register of Historic
Places in 2001, has a long, storied history. Founded by railroad investors, a
town charter was issued in 1887, and the city was officially incorporated in
May 1891. It was named for one of the financial backers, George Hamilton Pell
of New York.
Pell City was nearly abandoned following the Panic of 1893, but it
was redeveloped after Sumter Cogswell and his wife, Lydia DeGaris Cogswell,
moved to town in 1901 and bought the city for the bargain price of $3,000. “Mr.
Cogswell influenced the location here in 1902 of the Pell City Manufacturing
Company, subsequently Avondale Mills,” according to the historical marker in
front of the courthouse. “The town’s prosperity was secured after that time.”
Much of Pell City’s growth over the years can be attributed to the
construction of I-20 and Logan Martin Lake, both built during the 1960s. It’s
the historical district, however, that gave the largest city in St. Clair
County its start. The district includes two blocks of Cogswell Avenue, as well
as several buildings on 19th Street North, 21st Street North and 20th Street
South.
Here’s a look at some of the buildings and their stories,
according to Glidewell’s research:
Pell City Drug Company/Rexall Drugs, 1901 Cogswell Avenue, was built
in 1903 by Dr. R.A. Martin. When Comer Hospital closed in 1931, he opened a
six-bed clinic above the drugstore and started construction on the 42-bed
Martin Hospital, which was directly behind the store and now houses law
offices. The drug store, which closed its doors in 2001, sold everything from
prescriptions to school books during its nearly 100-year history and featured a
soda fountain and lunch counter, according to Carolyn Hall, Martin’s
granddaughter. Today, visitors can still enjoy a meal at El Cazador Mexican
Grill, which opened there several years ago.
Singleton’s Barber Shop, which opened in 1905 at 1911 Cogswell
Avenue, is now home to Partners by Design, a multimedia marketing company that
publishes Discover, The Essence of St. Clair, as well as other
magazines. They don’t offer haircuts, but today’s visitors who are having a bad
hair day can also buy baseball caps and visors there, as well as T-shirts,
sweatshirts and other products promoting Logan Martin Lake. Partners by Design
sells its brand of LakeLife™ products at its downtown office. The brand’s
origin comes from a logo the company designed years ago and trademarked.
The Maxwell Building, which once housed a herd of goats, was
originally built by John Maxwell, who was trained in the leather trade. The
original plans called for the building to be used as a tannery, but records are
unclear as to whether or not that actually happened. The building currently
houses a number of businesses, including Merle Norman Cosmetics Studio,
Artscape Gallery, Mission Submissions Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Dirk A. Walker Fine
Art Gallery, Mila Le Beauty Bar and Lilly Designs.
The Willingham Building, built in 1920 at 1922 Cogswell Avenue,
was originally home to a furniture store and grocery in the front part of the
building and a funeral parlor in the back. Joe Kilgroe later acquired the
funeral service, which is now known as Kilgroe Funeral Home and has locations
in Pell City and Leeds. The building later housed Hagan Drugs and is now home
to Judy’s PC Tees, which makes custom Tshirts.
Pell City Hardware Company was built in 1904 at 1910 Cogswell
Avenue and sold everything from tools to guns, cutlery, and dishes. One of the
original partners was Hardy Cornett, who at one point opened a hotel in the
Maxwell Building. Pell City Hardware was sold in the 1980s and became Gossett
Hardware Company. Today, the building is home to three businesses: Express
Shipping, Toast Sandwich Eatery, and The Old Gray Barn, an antiques and
collectibles store with finds that include cutlery and dishes of days gone by.
“I
love history,” said Glidewell, who dresses in period costumes for the tours she
leads. “I didn’t grow up in Pell City or have family roots here, but this is my
home now. I’ve loved looking back at all the people who helped build Pell City.
Being able to preserve that and share it in this way has been very rewarding.”
