Category: St. Clair Living

Blair Farm

An Odenville Landmark

Story by Carol Pappas
Photography by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

A weathered, vintage sign points the way from US 411 in Odenville. Tarnished by age, it’s hard to tell where its burgundy background ends and the rust begins. As you get a little closer, the white letters and arrow come into view, whimsically giving more specific directions: “Over Yonder.”

Follow the arrow’s path, and it leads you down Blair Farm Road to where else? Blair Farm.

In its 1950s heyday, its 240 acres hosted cattle, horses, ponies, a Clydesdale named Blue Boy Snow and a family by the name of Blair. Dwight Blair Jr., known as “Jobby,” bought the farm in 1952 and moved there with his wife, Margaret Drennen Blair, and their 2-year-old son, Dwight Blair III. Little sisters Dana and Carol would follow in the years to come.

It was the beginning of a new story for a World War II hero turned stock broker turned horse trader — or better yet, trader of all sorts — said his son Dwight III, now a prominent Pell City attorney. “He was a real wheeler dealer.”

His father would advertise horses and ponies for sale in the Birmingham News, and families would usually arrive on a Sunday to look them over. “Kids would become enamored with the ponies,” Dwight said. “They would say, ‘Dad, please let us have this pony!,’ and the father would say they would come back.” The thinly veiled excuse was they didn’t have a truck with them.

But Dwight says his father was not to be deterred from the sale. “He was a master at removing the back seat of a four-door car” to show kids and father alike just how those children’s dream actually could come true.

“Many a pony went from here with their head stuck out of the back window,” he said. Before they drove away, the wheeler dealer always added: “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll give you half of what you paid.”

The stories of his father aren’t always as lighthearted. In 1943, he was a bombardier in the Army Air Corps and was shot down in North Africa. He was in his turret, firing at a German plane and killed the fighter pilot.

The German plane started a nosedive and then quickly reversed direction, clipping the nose of the American plane. It spiraled to the ground, killing seven of his father’s crewmates. Only he and one other survived but were captured. He was wounded in his left leg, and 15 pieces of shrapnel remained. Reported missing in action, he spent more than two years in a German prison camp, escaping one time by jumping off a train. But he discovered he could not get far because of his leg injury, and he was recaptured.

In 1945, although presumed dead since his capture, he was released in a wounded prisoner exchange and headed back home to a hero’s welcome reported on the front page of the Age Herald, which later became Birmingham Post-Herald.

He went back to school at The University of Alabama and after graduation, he did post-graduate work at Wharton School of Business in Philadelphia and became a stock broker in Birmingham.

In 1946, he married Margaret Drennen, who was from a prominent Birmingham family. “Her father asked her, ‘Are you sure you want to live out in Odenville, where you will have nothing but chickens and horse manure?’ And she said, yes,” her son recounted the story his mother told him.

In 1952, they bought a small farm where Moody High School is today, but sold it and quickly bought the 240 acres on both sides of what is now Blair Farm Road.

He remained a stockbroker until 1958 when he decided to leave the big city working life behind for good and sell horses, ponies and cattle full time along with running a tractor and car lot in Leeds called Traders Inc.

He had about 50 head of cattle and 20 to 30 horses and ponies along with the farm’s familiar fixture — Blue Boy Snow — on the sprawling open pastures. “They were everywhere,” Dwight recalled as he motioned around the property. A monument to the Clydesdale, a Blair Farm resident from 1959 to 1991 who weighed more than 2,000 pounds, still stands in the shade of a towering oak tree in one of those pastures.

Today’s Blair Farm looks a bit different than those early days of wide-open pastures and a homeplace probably built in the 1890s. It was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. It was replaced in 1953 with the house passersby see now. A barn, believed to be built in that same turn-of-the-century time, still remains. Its square nails rather than round ones hint at its age. “It’s amazing it has weathered time like it has,” he said, noting that its only change has been adding a metal roof.

Other weathered barns and sheds are scattered around the property.

Austin Dwight Blair, the fourth Dwight in the lineage, now helps his own father with upkeep of the land. It helps to have Sheriff Terry Surles and Probate Judge Mike Bowling cut hay from it for their cattle. And friends and family come there to relax, skeet shoot or hunt. “It’s a place where everybody comes and feels comfortable,” Austin said.

Now a broker in commercial real estate for LAH in Birmingham, Austin likes returning to the place he rode horses as a child and had his very own pony, Freddy Boy.

For Dwight, it’s full circle. Up to about age 13, he thought it was a wondrous place. But teenagers tend to gravitate toward more action, and he took advantage of every opportunity to spend time away from the farm with friends in Leeds and Birmingham.

Then it was off to college, a scholarship to play running back at Vanderbilt University and later, law school at Cumberland School of Law.

In the midst of a successful and understandably busy career, Dwight likes coming back to the quiet of what has become a “weekend place” now. He raises pheasant and quail, and a couple of German Short Haired Pointers named Hansel and Gretel seem as content to call it home as his father did.

It is a story not unlike countless family farms in and around St. Clair County. They, too, have weathered time with their own tales to tell.

Blair Farm

81 photos

Features

Richey’s Grocery

Everything under one roof

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

Debbie Crump recounted some of the goings-on at Richey’s Grocery and then just had to chuckle.

“There’s a story every day. We could write a book, and it would be a best-seller,” said Crump, who with her husband, Jimmy, owns Richey’s Grocery.

According to her, Richey’s Grocery is “just a small-town grocery store.”

But a few hours spent observing activity and listening to conversation there reveals it to be plenty more than that.

The store is a quick stop, a fuel stop, a grocery store, a coffee shop, a meat market, a general store, a think tank, a curb market, a community meeting place, a springtime plant nursery, a social network and the fiscal accountability watchdog headquarters for all levels of government.

In addition, it is the first call for help in various life situations, such as rounding up wayward cattle or repairing a leaky roof.

As to what one might encounter at Richey’s Grocery, customer Kim Thweatt of Cropwell remarked, “There’s no telling.”

The store, located between the Pell City limit and the Shelby County line on U.S. 231 South, enjoys proximity to several lakeside communities, as well as Cropwell, New London and Mount Pisgah. Few are the hours that it is closed, even in snow. The store opens each morning at 5 a.m., closing at 9 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and at 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday.

It is a general store with a one-stop shopping concept and an old-fashioned atmosphere. Customers can find kindling, firewood, regular gasoline, non-ethanol gasoline, propane, kerosene, live bait, fishing tackle, grocery items, produce (some of it from local sources), automotive and pet supplies, health and beauty aids, meat cut fresh daily, poultry, fish and seafood, marinades, rubs, spices, candy, a quick snack or drink and a newspaper.

Then, there is the host of specialty items, such as muscadine hot sauce, rhubarb preserves, squash relish, moonshine jelly (which, by the way, does not have alcohol listed as an ingredient), Priester’s pecan pies, locally made cheese straws and fudge, hoop cheese (both red and black rind), local honey and Chilton County peaches, when in season.

Plus, the store carries many Amish products, for example, chow-chow, peach salsa, candied jalapenos, pickled mushrooms, Christmas jam, pickled baby beets, red sweet pepper relish and tomato basil noodles.

Anyone wanting another of Richey’s unique items – pickled quail eggs – has to be swift about it because those have a way of vanishing, said cashier Debbie Thompson.

“It’s a good place to stop by because you never know what you’ll find,” said Greg Crump, who co-manages his mother’s store with his sister, Jamie McLean.

Greg Crump mused that Richey’s sits right between the old and the new: Old U.S. 231 runs at the back of the store, while the newer U.S. 231 spans the front.

In a way, that does depict the store. It is a business functioning in modern day on principles from yesteryear.

Richey’s Grocery is a place where American flags fly prominently and six-year employee Wil Holmes describes as “home.” It is where Lisa Hardy, one of 11 employees, has chosen to work for two decades. The prices of items are keyed by hand into the cash register, and customers are called by name.

That latter was a practice Debbie Crump’s father, Donald Richey (now deceased), used from the day he opened the store in 1967 and instilled in his daughter.

“That was Pawpaw’s big thing, to call everybody by name,” said McLean.

Establishing relationships and giving good customer service are two other practices that Debbie Crump strives to uphold.

“We try to be friendly to everybody,” said Greg Crump.

Debbie Crump noted that customers are loyal if they are treated properly. “You treat them right, they’re going to treat you right.”

Tymarcus Simmons of the Surfside area said he appreciates that Richey’s treats customers with kindness and dignity. He said that is a rare quality to find these days. The father of three – Tamichial, Jacoby and Tymarcus Jr. – said Debbie Crump is known for the way she relates to and treats people.

In the years after opening the store, Richey and his wife, Sally, also established two nearby businesses. Richey’s Barbeque, right next door, is now run by Debbie Crump’s sister, Martha Price. Across a street, in a building currently occupied by Bullet’s Mini Storage, the Richeys operated Surfside Restaurant about 15 years.

Since 1967, the family has run Richey’s Grocery, with the exception of 10 years that it was under lease, explained Greg Crump. Debbie Crump took over the store at the end of the lease.

That was 20 years ago this past October, said McLean.

When Debbie Crump assumed the business, her dad urged her never to sell to an outside entity. As a result, buyout offers – like the recent one from someone in Atlanta – get turned down flat.

“There’s no way,” Debbie Crump said.

Crump would not dream of parting with the store, where her mother Sally Richey comes to visit each afternoon.

“She loves this place,” Crump said.

Moreover, Crump’s grandchildren — McLean’s sons, Luke and Colt, and Greg Crump’s daughters, Bailey and Allie – already feel like they are part of the business.

McLean said she and her brother will run it until they are just too feeble.

One of the major draws of the store is its meat market. Greg Crump oversees it, selecting and cutting the meat himself.

“We buy nothing other than the best grade you can get,” Debbie Crump said.

Ribeye, sirloin, New York strip, ribs, Boston butt, ground chuck, pork chops and chicken are among the cuts available. “It’s hand-cut and fresh,” said Greg Crump. “Nothing sits around.”

The meat market definitely appeals to Paul Graves of Pell City. “I get all my steaks there. They’ve got filet mignon.”

Some people even drive from other areas to purchase meat at Richey’s, said McLean.

Meat sales, Debbie Crump said, constitute probably 50-60 percent of the store’s business. Richey’s also fills bulk orders for large gatherings, as many as 200 or 300 steaks at a time.

All in a day’s work

On a recent Saturday morning, the store was teeming with activity long before 7:45 a.m.

The aroma of boiled peanuts in their warmer filled the air. Cindy’s cinnamon rolls from the Galleria tempted anyone who approached the checkout counter.

Martha Price busily gathered what she needed for that day’s barbecue business, as a nearly steady stream of customers came and went. At times, there was scarcely a place to park.

Bobby Jones and Harold Hoyle were already well settled in their daily routine at Richey’s.

These two regulars arrive before the store opens. Each morning, one unlocks the bathrooms and the coolers out front, while the other brews the first pot of coffee for the day.

Then, the duo takes a perch behind the counter to “shoot the breeze” and pick at customers.

One regular customer after another — many holding coffee cups from home — came for some joe and a dose of “intellectual stimulation,” as Randy Bearden of Shelby County put it.

Though the morning was chilly and overcast, some took a seat anyway on the back porch, where a sign proclaims, “What happens on the porch, stays on the porch.”

Considering the amount of activity that transpires there each and every day, that vow of secrecy covers a lot.

That famous back porch is yet another attraction at the store.

“When it’s warm enough, (there are) six or eight guys on the porch in the morning,” said Pell City Councilman Terry Templin.

Sitting in the most comfy of the rockers, Templin casually explained to a newcomer that there is an “early” group and a “late” group on the porch. Most of the time, he is part of the early group, but likes to stay for the late one, too.

“We’ve been doing this for 15 to 20 years,” Templin continued. “We solve all kinds of problems, local, federal. …”

Pointing at Templin, Ren Wheeler of Cropwell gave his reason for being part of the porch patrol. “I have to bend his ear every now and then. I like to find out where he’s wasting my tax money.”

Soon, Rusty Hunter of Cropwell joined the group, offering lighthearted observations.

After, Greg Crump settled into another rocker, Jones and Hoyle migrated to the porch from behind the checkout counter.

The group’s discussions ranged from humorous recollections, the golf course and the local geese population to progress reports on porch sitters who were sick or had surgery.

The men would wave at passersby and yell comments at people exiting their vehicles.

Crump noted that the porch has a strange effect on some people: It causes them to alter their stories. “If you catch a 4-pound bass, when you step on the porch, it’s 8 pounds.”

Generally, the porch banter is jovial in nature. Nonetheless, the discussions sometimes give Templin valuable insight. Through some of them, he is able to know what the citizenry thinks about various issues, which he said helps him as a councilman.

It was not long before McLean came onto the veranda with her cell phone in hand. One of the regulars, she announced, had texted her to say he could not make it that day; he was hauling cows in Alexandria.

This morning like most mornings, the porch was male dominated. Yet on warm evenings, the porch belongs to the female folk, said Debbie Crump.

It is also a family gathering place for the Crumps and McLeans. “This is where we hold birthday parties,” said McLean. “This is where we live.”

Dancing With Our Stars

[Show as slideshow]

Taking to the dance floor for a good cause

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

Pell City Fire Medic Andrew Minyard grinned and said being asked to dance before an audience is akin to blackmail.

Laura Shier is uncomfortable being the center of attention. So agreeing to dance in a public setting was a stretch for her.

“I’m stepping out of my comfort zone, big time,” the Cropwell woman said.

Shier and Minyard demonstrate that human quality which moves people to go beyond what they think they are capable of in order to support a cause in which he believes.

On Valentine’s Day, there were probably other such cases as 42 people competed in Dancing with Our Stars, an American Cancer Society fundraiser of Relay for Life of St. Clair County-Pell City.

Patterned after the television show, “Dancing with the Stars,” each of the 15 “celebrities” and two “celebrity groups” was paired with an “instructor.”

Thanks to a lineup of bankers, professionals, business owners, elected and school officials, firefighters and others who were competing, the event raised more than $7,600. The opportunity to watch these people strut their stuff drew an audience of 398 to Celebrations, said Doris Munkus, Dancing with Our Stars event coordinator. In fact, an overflow crowd lined three walls of the ballroom.

Some of the performers – such as Bar Kirby, Helen Woods and Retha Goode – are cancer survivors. Other dancers – Ernestine Bowie, Ken Miller and Tim Kurzejeski, just to name three – have been affected by the disease as they watched loved ones battle it.

Though Dancing with Our Stars was a St. Clair effort, participants from Etowah, Talladega and Jefferson counties lent their time and dancing abilities to make it a success.

Star-studded stories
To tell the story of Dancing with Our Stars from rehearsal to championship, Discover magazine followed Shier and Minyard’s group.

For Minyard, the story begins at Pell City Fire Station No. 1.

The Haz-Mat vehicle sat in the cold, dark night as its bay transformed into a discotheque, minus the mirrored ball.

Four members of Pell City Fire Department – Minyard and Firefighter Steve Cavender, both of Trussville; Capt. Tim Kurzejeski of Riverside and Fire Medic Justin McKenzie of Fultondale — practiced a line-dance routine to the 1977 BeeGees hit, “Stayin’ Alive.”

Ernestine Bowie of Pell City served as their “instructor.”

Originally, Bowie — a member of Pell City Line-Dancers and part of the praise-dancing ministry at First Baptist Church South – wanted to be a celebrity. But when she was asked to be an instructor and discovered who her students would be, she was thrilled.

“They are a great bunch of guys,” said Bowie.

McKenzie – another who was not comfortable dancing in public – found that he was actually enjoying this experience. “It’s fun.”

After running through the routine several times, the four John-Travoltas-in-training decided to don their protective gear, which was to be their dance attire for the performance.

That meant each man would bear an additional 35 pounds.

In between dances, the men would shed some gear in order to cool off a few minutes.

“It gets a little warm,” Minyard remarked. “It’s a lot tougher than I would have thought.”

Suddenly, an alarm summoned three of the four men to an emergency. That was when they demonstrated yet another 1970s dance – how to hustle.

Across town at Celebrations, Shier’s “instructor,” Ken Miller of Pell City, had to brag on his student.

“Laura has really taken to dancing,” said Miller, who has been dancing about 20 years. “Laura learned the steps quickly.”

To become proficient at the rhumba, which Miller called “the dance of love,” Shier had to learn to wiggle her hips in a sassy way, spin on the balls of her feet, lean into a dip and perform revolutions without growing dizzy.

As the couple rehearsed to the 1961 Dee Clark hit, “Raindrops,” Miller’s wife Sandy coached them through the routine she had choreographed.

Prior to becoming a celebrity, Shier’s dancing experience had been confined to what she has learned in the three or four years she has participated in the Pell City Line-Dancers. “That’s the only dancing (I do),” she said.

The thought of dancing in front of an audience made Shier nervous. Because some of Miller’s associates wanted to see him dance, the couple decided to do a trial run one Saturday at Miller’s place of work.

Dancing in front of people — and in front of lumber — at Home Depot helped Shier to practice focusing on her partner, as if no one else were in the room.

“That’s what I did Saturday — total focus,” Shier said.

Still, the night of the performance, Shier experienced pre-show jitters backstage.

“I really would like to hurry,” she said. “I wish it would get going.”

To occupy her mind, she went over the routine in her head, moving her feet and hands accordingly.

Then, she grew quiet and pensive. Finally, she said, “I’m trying to get my posture.”

Not far from Shier, the Fire Department disco-ers were facing hurdles. McKenzie was at home with a sudden, incapacitating illness.

Cavender, although present, was ailing. Usually the cut-up, he was now worrying aloud that he might start coughing during the performance.

Though Kurzejeski and Minyard were healthy, the captain could visualize disaster.

“I foresee a catastrophic failure,” Kurzejeski said. He could picture himself turning left instead of right and colliding with Minyard during the routine.

“I’m just glad that the lights are dim out there,” said Minyard.

Bowie pointed out that emergency calls, snow and the men’s work schedules had held the group to only three hours of practice total.

Nonetheless, Bowie had confidence in her students. “We’re going to bring the house down.”

Though Shier had hoped to be one of the first acts on the program, she and Miller had to wait nearly to the halfway point in the competition.

But when it was time, she and Miller glided regally and gracefully onto the dance floor.

The tiered, black dress Shier wore flowed elegantly, its embellishments shimmering.

Effortlessly, the well-rehearsed Shier and Miller floated from one movement to another. A dip near the end of the routine brought approval from the audience.

With her time in the spotlight complete, Shier expected to feel relief. Yet, she was puzzled as to why she was actually more nervous after the performance.

Nonetheless, Shier felt she and Miller had danced well.

“I think it was a real good routine,” Miller said.

Immediately following them were Bowie and the fire department trio.

Even before their introduction was finished, many in the audience rose and cheered. Cell phones and cameras nearly encircled the dance floor to record what was to happen next.

The three men, dressed in protective gear, moved in unison, with Bowie reposed in a Stokes basket on their shoulders. Skillfully, they lowered and turned the rescue basket until Bowie was in a standing position. Clad in neon protective attire that offered a burst of reflective color, Bowie stepped out of the basket.

Smiling broadly, the men stepped, tapped, pointed, clapped, turned and disco-ed to the delight of the crowd.

Not even waiting for the performance’s close, the judges issued their score of straight 10s. When the song did end, the group’s exit brought as much enthusiasm as the entrance had.

Backstage, they were elated, buoyed by the response.

“We hadn’t even done anything yet, and they were hollering at us!” Kurzejeski said. “It was an absolute blast. But the song felt about two minutes longer than we practiced!”

Minyard, though, made a confession: “It was a lot more fun than I thought (it would be).”

And Cavender, feeling slightly better by now, gave a report from the sources he most trusted — his wife, Sonia, and his daughter, Allie. “They said we did great!”

Bowie was ecstatic. “I am so happy and proud! I feel like we are winners.”

Bowie and her crew did place in the competition. They took second.

When approached for a comment about earning second place, Bowie’s actions spoke for her. She held the trophy above her head, screamed in delight, then threw her arms around the person asking.

Third place went to a tie-dyed, T-shirt-wearing group of eight, consisting of Bar Kirby, Teresa Carden, Blair Goodgame, Joseph Smith and Retha Goode, all of Pell City; Peter Boyle of Cropwell and Donna McAlister of Talladega. They danced to “Car Wash,” led by instructor Helen Woods of Hoover.

Earning the first-place award were Dr. Danny Hancock of Rainbow City, a chiropractor in Pell City, and his instructor, Realtor Nicole Anderson Walters of Pell City. The couple executed hip-hop and ballroom movements to an upbeat mix of tunes.

The judges, of course, determined three of the Dancing with Our Stars winners. However, the audience chose who would receive a fourth award.

During the evening, a bucket for each couple and group was circulated about the room. People “voted” for their favorite performers by placing money in the corresponding bucket.

When the proceeds in each bucket were counted, “the people’s choice award” went to the foxtrotting principal of Duran Junior High School South – Dr. Cory O’Neal of Cropwell – and his instructor, registered pharmacist Liz Nelson Starnes of Cropwell. They garnered more than $573 in votes.

“There was a lot of competition, so many good acts,” remarked a gracious Shier after the awards ceremony. “I had a good time tonight and enjoyed it.”

Go here for more about Relay for Life.

Features

The Peanut Man

Bill Seals’ way
in the world

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photos by Mike Callahan

For almost half a century, Bill Seals has sold bag upon bag of parched or boiled peanuts.

This is why he is affectionately known about town as “Peanut Bill.”

Sometimes, he could be seen walking – basket of peanuts in hand — to the businesses in town. Sometimes, he was a pedaling peddler, riding his three-wheeled cycle along the city streets. Sometimes, he set up his stand at a grocery store.

To many, he has become a symbol of this city and of what is right and good.

“He’s just part of Pell City,” observed Tina Ailor, manager of Food Outlet, where he sometimes sells his signature goods.

Seals started selling peanuts when he was 17. And with a laugh, he said he did not plan for it to be long term.

Now, Seals — who will be 66 in March — never intends to retire from it.

“I like it too much,” he said.

Selling peanuts, he explained, has allowed him to meet many people and establish strong friendships.

“I’ve got real good friends in Pell City,” Seals said. “I love selling peanuts, and I love my friends.”

Just moments after birth, Seals suffered two strokes that left him with physical challenges. Yet, he decided as a young boy that he would not allow this to hold him back. Instead, Seals resolved, “I’m going to go forward, if it kills me.”

He spent his formative years in Chicago, Ill., and in Leeds, where his dad was a saw-miller. He credits his father, the late Clyde Seals, for instilling a strong work ethic.

“He put the want-to (in me),” Seals said.

“I’ve always wanted to work,” Seals continued. “The Bible says, ‘Work.’ It never hurt me!”

As a boy, Seals looked to adulthood with the aspiration of owning a car and a home and having food to eat. He was determined to meet those goals.

“When I was a boy, the man of the house was the provider,” responsible for his home and family, Seals said.

As a teenager, Seals cleaned chicken houses in Leeds. At one point, he was to be laid off for two months. For that reason, he came to Pell City to stay with his grandmother, Ruby Wright, who is now deceased.

Wright encouraged him to sell peanuts and even helped him to get started with the endeavor.

Geneva Bannister of Pell City, Wright’s daughter and Seals’ aunt, recalled that her mother parched peanuts in her oven and put them in “penny candy bags” purchased from A&P food store, where Food Outlet is now.

Wright placed the bags in a market basket, which Seals took to town. He sold the peanuts and has been “Peanut Bill” ever since, said Bannister.

“I would walk to town, walk all over town and walk back home,” Seals said, noting that his grandmother lived on Florida Road.

It would take about half a day to do this.

In those days, Seals’ peanuts sold for a dime a bag or three bags for a quarter.

What Seals discovered in those two months was that he was earning more selling peanuts than he did cleaning chicken houses.

So he continued.

About four years later, he got a three-wheeled cycle. His daily travels took him as far as Sutherlin Chevrolet (where Jack’s restaurant is now) on one end of town to a hamburger place beside Henderson’s Builders Supply at another end.

Prior to Seals, there had actually been another peanut peddler in town. Upon that man’s retirement, Seals purchased a peanut parcher from him.

Later, local businessmen bought Seals another parcher. That one served Seals until it was no longer usable. Thus, Seals returned to the first parcher.

“It runs on propane and me,” he said with a laugh.

Indeed, a significant amount of Seals’ energy and perseverance is required to complete the parching process. Once the peanuts are loaded into a drum that fits inside the parcher, Seals must spend an hour continually turning the handle that rotates the drum in order to keep the peanuts from burning.

In addition to parching peanuts, Seals prepares the boiled peanuts he sells. “I do the whole deal.”

The current price for a bag of peanuts is $1.50, while boiled peanuts are $2.50.

As Peanut Bill, he would work from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., every day except Sunday. Those hours did not include the time required to parch, boil and bag the peanuts. Even in the sweltering heat of July and August, he was diligently at work.

Seals believes selling peanuts kept him active through the years.

“If I hadn’t been peddling peanuts and going and doing, I’d be dead,” he said. “If you don’t get busy doing something, you won’t make it.”

Though preparing and selling peanuts did require a lot of time, there was still room in his schedule for walking two miles every other day, lifting weights, fishing, watching wrestling or just going for a leisurely ride in the car.

For about seven years, Seals was a familiar face at Food World, where he sold his peanuts out front.

Shortly before the Food World location closed permanently, Seals approached Ailor about setting up a stand at Food Outlet.

“We just hit it off right then,” Ailor said gleefully.

Wherever Seals is, it is not uncommon to find him talking to or joking with those he encounters. Even people who have chosen to be unkind to him found that Seals responded in goodness.

“Billy is friends with everybody in Pell City,” Bannister said. “He always smiles. He never meets a stranger, and he loves everybody. I mean that from the bottom of my heart: He loves everybody.”

Others feel the same about him, it seems.

“There’s not words to tell you how much I love Billy,” Bannister said. “I would do anything in this world in my power for him.”

Ailor called Seals “the apple of everybody’s eye. He makes our day brighter.” When he is not at the store, people ask about him, Ailor continued. “Everybody misses him.”

To see just how much Seals is missed when he is not at Food Outlet, one needs to look no further than the store’s entrance: An empty chair sits at “his place,” expectantly awaiting his return.

By being the individual that he is, Seals’ character and personality seem to be an inspiration to others.

One bit of evidence is the fact that the Greater Pell City Chamber of Commerce named him “Citizen of the Year” in 1985. More proof would be excerpts from a note that holds a place of prominence on Seals’ refrigerator:

Dec. 20, 2013

Dear Bill,
For many, many years I have admired you and all that you have done to brighten the lives of others. I am proud and thankful to have you as a friend. … Thanks for being you.
Merry Christmas from your greatest admirer!
Bill

The note’s author — former Pell City Mayor Bill Hereford — simply put into writing what others are thinking.

“He’s a wonderful guy,” Ailor said about Seals. “He’s got a good soul. He helps everybody he can. He’s just a sweetheart.”

Hereford said every conversation with Seals is uplifting.

“If he’s down, he won’t let you know it,” observed Hereford. “You just don’t find people like Bill. (He’s) just a special guy.”

Seals’ cousin, Alice Kennedy of Pell City, agrees completely.

“He’s my hero,” said Kennedy. “And I think he is a hero to a lot of people in Pell City. I think he should be an inspiration to a lot of people. I just think the whole world needs to know him.”

Discover photographer Mike Callahan has witnessed the magnitude of admiration for Seals. Late in 2013, Callahan posted on his Facebook page Mike Callahan Photography an image he had taken of Seals.

That photo has become, beyond comparison, the most popular of all the images Callahan has posted. The previous record for an image on Callahan’s page was around 500 viewings. But the one of Seals was viewed 7,028 times in a month and received 42 comments.

“I promised myself, I would never get emotional about any assignment,” said the visibly moved Callahan. But I’ve “got to tell you, this one touched me deeply. This is one special human being, to say the least.”

While the story of Bill Seals is one of determination and compassion, it is also a love story.

It began one day while he was swimming at the lake. There, he met Karen Garrett of Birmingham, a woman with physical challenges of her own. The two married and bought a house.

“He thought she was grand,” Bannister said.

For more than 20 years, they were kindred spirits. When she could not care for herself completely anymore, he did.

During the day, Seals sold peanuts, then went home to do for his wife what she could not do for herself, Kennedy said.

“He was very committed to her,” remarked Kennedy.

For two years, Seals was his wife’s steadfast caregiver. “He took good care of her,” said Bannister.

All those years ago, Seals had made a commitment to his wife. It was a vow he took very seriously, one that he was determined to uphold, no matter what.

“When you say, ‘I do till death do us part,’ you’ve got to stay with it,” Seals said.

Ultimately, though, the time came when he no longer could give the level of care she needed, even with the assistance of home health. She had to go into a long-term care facility.

During his visits, she would ask him to take her home. “It was hard because I knew I couldn’t do it,” Seals said, sadness crossing his face.

Six years ago, when the couple had been married 27 years, she passed away. Yet, the memory of their union is ever present around him — in the home decor that conveys the soft touches of a woman and the photographs that chronicle their life together.

And two wedding bands — hers and his — grace the chain that encircles his neck.

Boats Built by Hand

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Bob Barnett’s love of boats comes alive in wood

Story by Graham Hadley
Photos by Wallace Bromberg
and courtesy of Bob Barnett

Sitting in what is easily described as a “dream” workshop a few blocks from Logan Martin Lake is a work of art in wood — a Pete Culler designed Wherry Yawl boat.

It is the pride and joy of professional structural engineer Bob Barnett — and though the boat-project was started by many hands, it will be his alone that finish it.

Every piece of wood that went into making the boat, every line, from bow to stern, has been carefully handcrafted and expertly fitted together, down to the brass caps where the wood is joined.

Though work on this particular boat has been going on for around four years, wooden boat building has been something Barnett has been moving toward his entire life.

“I grew up around boats. My family had boats, and I was always around the water,” he said. A photo of Bob, his wife Carole and their children on his father’s sailboat adorns the wall of what is possibly the ultimate woodworking shop in St. Clair County.

Over the years, Bob has owned a number of boats, from their Catalina 470 sailboat they keep in Pensacola, Fla., to a variety of Ski Nautique and similar watercraft — even a crab boat, the Lilly G, they converted for recreational use on the lake which resembles the boat from the African Queen, complete with a covered awning that runs the length of the boat.

But there was something special about wooden boats that Bob felt drawn to.

“I saw the wooden boats, but I had no idea how to build one. Then I saw the Wooden Boat School when I was reading Wooden Boat Magazine,” and everything changed, he said.

“I love that school — it is kind of like scout camp with beer,” he said.

The school is located in Brooklin, Maine — which Bob describes as being about like Cropwell, but without the adjoining Pell City.

Between his engineering job, his position as chairman of the board for St. Vincent’s Health Systems, a teaching position at the University of Alabama and a host of other activities, Bob said he can easily be working from 60 to 80 hours a week, sometimes more. So it was a bit of a trick to work in boat-building school.

He finally got his opportunity to take the first class — fundamentals of boat building — because it coincided with a business trip.

The connection to boat building, the school and his instructors was immediate.

“I walked in and there was this guy, my first instructor. He had white hair down to his shoulders — a classic hippie. … He lived totally off the grid — used all hand tools,” Bob said.

At the time, Bob said, he was the first registered Republican in St. Clair County — “but I learned to love that guy. He was very talented. He showed me how to use hand tools, and once you learn to use hand tools, you can do so much” — and you are much less likely to accidentally cut off a finger.

Before that, Bob had mostly been using power tools for woodworking — and he still does. His shop, which he built complete with a kitchen, full bathroom and “man cave” area, was custom designed with a dust removal system to work in conjunction with his power tools.

But his love of hand tools is immediately evident, with his hand planes lined, row after row, on shelves along one wall.

Since that first class, Bob — and his wife — have returned to the school again and again, taking classes in everything from boat finishing to sailing. The latter, he admits, was less about the learning and more about getting the chance to go sailing in Maine. Most recently, he was there as an assistant instructor.

Bob says the classes are not just a learning experience, but they are a way for him and the other participants to relax, work together and just enjoy themselves. They take away far more than just the knowledge with them when they leave.

During one sailing class, “there was this older gentleman. I was really worried about him. He could barely get on the boat. By the end of the week, he was climbing all over that thing, even steering the boat. I bet he is still grinning,” Bob said.

As part of those classes, he has built many different wooden boats over the years — always as a group project. But there was something about the Wherry Yawl that resonated with the structural engineer.

“I have built several others, but I have never worked on a boat that has as pretty lines as this one does,” Bob said.

He and his fellow classmates had been working on the Yawl — a sturdy little three-man boat that was used in the 1800s and turn of the century as a kind of water taxi to ferry people from ships at anchor to shore. It has oarlocks, but also a running board and small mast and sail.

“You would pay the man your money, and he would take you out to the boat in one of these,” Bob said. Because of its intended use, the Wherry Yawl is a very strong design, built to withstand even brushing between a ship’s hull and a dock.

He very much wanted the boat, and luck was on his side.

“At the end of class, we would all put our names into a hat. Whoever got their name drawn had to pay for the building materials and supplies and got to keep the boat. I put my name in, and I got to bring it home,” he said.

Though the boat classes can complete a project in a short period of time because there are so many people focused on the work, once home, the Yawl has taken years for Bob to finish because of his busy work schedule.

“I work full-time, plus there is St. Vincent’s, and I teach an engineering class at Alabama — I need to tell them I need to drop all that so I can go build boats,” he joked.

This will be the first boat he will have completed in his shop here — and the work is almost done. It needs a mast and running board set and some other details and then finishing and painting.

That last part is the big hump Bob said he needs to get past — finishing is his least favorite part of the boat build.

“I hate painting,” he said, and a large portion of this boat, especially the outside of the hull, will be painted.

Even so, Bob hopes to have the boat in the water by early summer — and then it is on to his next projects. He has a roll of boat plans in his shop — “I enjoy looking over boat plans more than I like reading a book. It’s the engineer in me.” He wants to build at least three of them.

But he has other projects on his plate, too. The Lilly G is a great crab boat, but that design leaves something to be desired with regards to passenger comfort. Bob plans to build some seating for the boat and relocate the console and controls to better suit its use as a recreational craft.

Then there is the beautiful 1958 Christ Craft Sportsman in another building in the shop complex. The vintage motorboat is a true project — it has minor hull damage on one side and the wood needs to be completely refinished and the interior and engine rebuilt.

“It came ‘what-you-see-is-what-you-get.’ Basically a hull and a pile of parts. I am still looking for original plans. I am not sure what goes where,” Bob said.

But like all his other projects, Bob will figure it out. And when he is done with that, he will move on to something else. Woodworking — he has built all sorts of cabinets and other pieces — and boat building, in particular, are his cathartic escape.

“I picture there always being a boat in this shop. When I finish this one, then I will start another one,” he said.

Features

Walters Farms

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A beautiful place for the Big Day

Walters-Farms-Wedding — Katie and Bryce Hunt/J. Messer Photography

Story by Tina Tidmore and Carol Pappas
Photos by Mike Callahan and Jessica Messer, J. Messer Photography

Weddings and farms may seem like an unlikely union, but Joe and Deloma Walters hope brides and grooms-to-be will find them their perfect match.

On their 400-acre, second-generation family farm just outside Ragland, couples are now saying, “I do” against the backdrop of a picturesque green hayfield and arbor overlooking the gently flowing waters of the Coosa River. And a huge, rustic barn — all built just for them — has become the ideal place for weddings large and small.

The drive from the main road meanders around the farm’s pastures. Black cows wander about in the openness, unfazed, as if they don’t mind sharing the scenery. Pass by the old barn, through the woods, and there it is — the wedding barn. “Guests say the drive in is like an adventure,” Deloma shared.

It has been quite a journey for Joe and Deloma, too. Walters Farms opened as a wedding venue in April, breathing new life into their family farm where cotton once reigned.

They needed a way to supplement the farm’s income to be able to maintain the sprawling acreage. Transforming it into a wedding-event venue was an idea inspired by a caterer friend of Deloma’s.

It was Deloma’s idea to build a wedding barn, and in time, her husband came to see how wedding bells, beautiful country scenery and mooing cows might make a successful combination.

“We hope that will be the drawing card — the novelty of it,” said Deloma.

So, with their savings, a loan and an entrepreneurial spirit, the Walters built a wedding and events barn that is drawing couples from near and far. “Our goal was to build a true barn,” said Deloma, explaining why she is allowing it to weather naturally. They started with 19th-century styles and emerged with exactly what she had imagined. With 2,880 square feet of floor space and 29-foot ceilings, festive celebrations past and future are easy to imagine.

“We can accommodate 1,000 people here, easy,” she said, pointing to a 10-acre field below situated along the Walters’ impressive one mile of Coosa River waterfront.

It seems fitting that the first wedding to be held at the family farm bought in 1945 by Joe’s parents, J.B. and Catherine Walters, and his uncle, Clyde Green, was family. The wedding of son Scotty and fiancé Nicole was the inaugural ceremony and celebration.

They chose April 27 as their wedding date, which stemmed from how the couple met. Scotty had bought a home in Pell City that was damaged by one of the deadly tornadoes that ripped through the historic district on April 27, 2011. And the restoration of it played a key role in bringing the couple together.

It was the prospect of that wedding that hastened the Walters’ timeline for their new venture. “It was coincidental that our son had recently gotten engaged and shared that he wanted to get married on the farm,” Deloma recalled. “Originally, they were considering a tent, but after we decided to go forward with building the barn, we did it with a vengeance when we realized that we would be able to have it finished or very close to finished in time for their wedding. Once we told them, then we really had to push.”

Since the first Walters Farms wedding, they have been marketing the business through a website, a Facebook page and a booth at the Southern Bridal Show. But Deloma said most of their bookings come from references from satisfied customers.

In October, UAB School of Medicine students Katie Marchiony and Bryce Hunt had their wedding at Walters Farms. Katie had two prerequisites for her wedding venue, according to her mother, Mazie Marchiony. She wanted a pretty, outdoor setting, and, she wanted to get married within four months.

Her criteria considerably narrowed the options in central Alabama. But someone at the hospital had attended a previous wedding at Walters Farms and told Hunt about it.

“She’s bent over backwards to assist and offer suggestions,” the busy mother-of-the bride said about Deloma, just days before the wedding. “It is so well done — spared no detail — and everything is landscaped.”

Marchiony said the contract was very thorough, so she knew exactly what she was getting.

Another advantage to Walters Farms, compared to another outdoor venue the Marchionys considered, is that the barn provides protection in case it rains on that all-important day.

For Katie and Bryce, the weather on Oct. 19 was as perfect as the venue they chose. Framed by an enormous arbor made of bent twigs and vines, they exchanged vows in the field atop the river bank overlooking the water. Guests filled white chairs lining each side of the natural, green-grass aisle and the hint of a seasonal change in color came from the towering trees all around them.

At dusk, the barn illuminated the nighttime sky with miniature lights strung inside and out. Round tables draped with white tablecloths and an eye-pleasing buffet welcomed guests to an experience they won’t soon forget.

Deloma said weddings at Walters Farms already have run the gamut of styles. From short pants to black tie, from cowboy boots to flip flops, the barn’s comfortable and relaxed atmosphere lends itself to any type of fashion and affair.

“We love the farm anyway, but we feel a special sense of joy each time the barn doors open to reveal a new bride as she walks down the rock steps toward the arbor overlooking the river,” Deloma said. “It is a special place for us, and to be able to share it with others on such an important day is extremely rewarding.”

It has become a new day for this farming relic. The older generation gradually passed away. Catherine Walters died in 1996, followed by Joe’s father in 2011. In the early 2000s, the farm had gone into disrepair with weeds and broken fences, but in 2003, Joe set his sights on bringing it back to a functioning farm.

It may not be what he envisioned back then, nor what Catherine and J.B. might have had in mind when they bought it just after World War II. But the new memories he and Deloma are helping couples create are as special as the place itself. “I think we have created the most unique wedding venue in all of central Alabama,” Deloma said, “and it is just going to get better as we add amenities.”

She calls Walters Farms a labor of love — “just as it was for Catherine and J.B.”

Special thanks to Jessica Messer and
J. Messer Photography, jessicamesser.com

Features