Kayak fishing

Story by Roxann Edsall
Submitted photos

Sitting out on the dock sipping your first cup of coffee, you watch the morning sun begin to cast a pinkish-orange glow on the water. Absorbed in the majesty of the morning, you startle as you catch the movement of the boat as it silently glides by just yards away.

 Silent, that is, until the snap of the line as it is cast again, all the while drifting past the dock.  Almost immediately, he jerks the line and reels in the prize. After a moment to inspect and admire his catch, the angler releases the fish off the side of his kayak.

Kayak fishing has exploded in popularity in recent years, thanks to huge improvements in materials, technology and available accessories. Fishing tournament organizers have even created competitive tournament series specifically designed for kayak anglers. Since having no live well makes transporting live fish to a weigh-in problematic, new rules were created for kayakers.

Kayak-specific tournaments and most tournaments with kayak divisions use cumulative length, rather than weight, as the unit of measure. Competitors in kayaks are often governed by the CPR (Catch, Photograph, Release) Rule, which includes catching, photographing the fish on a special measuring “ketch” board, then immediately releasing the catch.

Allen Norris and his catch

The evolution of the kayak from simple shell to tricked out vessel, loaded with fish-finding tech and gear storage has helped to define the growth of the kayak fishing industry. Technology and electronics originally developed for bass boats have been redesigned, and in some cases, retrofitted for use in kayaks. Live scope electronics can be added to fishing kayaks, too.

Arguably, the biggest development propelling its popularity has been the application of pedal drives to the hull, allowing the kayak to be moved through the water without the need for a paddle. The hands-free option allows anglers to cast and reel without having to switch to a paddle to maneuver the kayak.  As anglers are known to say, it’s a numbers game. And more casts equate to more fish.

“There are so many options when choosing a kayak,” says Allen Norris, co-owner of Cropwell’s Yak Shak and veteran kayak angler. “When you see something labeled fishing kayak, lights should go off to let you know it’s going to be more comfortable, more stable, and be able to carry more gear.”

He and Jessica, his co-owner and wife, ask a lot of questions of potential buyers to make sure they get them into the right kayak. Buyers will likely need to do a bit of research to be prepared to answer those questions, which would likely begin with what you want to do in your kayak and whether you’re looking for a sit-in or a sit-on type design.

The sit-on design, according to Norris, is more stable and many models are large enough to allow stand-up fishing. Also, with sit-on designs, there is no worry of taking on water, as they are designed to allow water to flow over the top and to drain through scupper holes.

After having the pedal/paddle, sit-in/sit-on, stand up/sit down discussion, then comes the question of motor versus muscle. Fishing kayaks can be fitted with small trolling motors, if desired, although Norris admits to being a bit of a purist. “When I’m kayak fishing, I want to be as tactical and stealthy as possible,” he says. “I don’t want to put more in the water than I have to. If you’re into lots of vegetation and stumps, you can’t use the motor anyway.”

Jessica Norris’ catch of the day kayaking on the Coosa

In a sit-in kayak, be prepared to use a different set of muscles while casting, as opposed to those you’d use performing the same activity while standing. “Casting and aiming are very different when you are sitting,” says Norris.

 “It’s very strenuous.  A lot of people would describe kayak fishing as intense.” Being so close to the water and to the fish adds to the intensity of the fishing experience, Norris explains. “You can get close to the nooks and crannies that boats can’t, places where the fish really are.”

Adding to the excitement, he says, “You feel every movement on a catch in a kayak. You can also see the movement of wildlife and fish along the shore as you move through the shallow areas in coves and among boathouses and piers. Kayaks are perfect for wildlife photography, for exercise, and for just getting out and enjoying the water,” he adds. “The tranquility and therapy are very real.”

Josh Tidwell agrees wholeheartedly. He’s a huge fan of kayaking and fishing. He’s combined the two for more than 25 years and now runs a kayak rental and tour company at Big Wills Creek, a tributary to Neely Henry Lake. “It’s quite a bit of fun,” he says. “You get to be out in nature and even if you’re not catching, you’re still enjoying nature.”

Tidwell, an accomplished tournament fisherman, began fishing nearly three decades ago from creeks and riverbanks, either wading or by canoe. Kayak fishing made it easier for him to get to the tight places he wanted to fish. “Bass boats can’t get to where I go,” he says. “I like to fish smaller waters. I don’t want to look at the back of somebody’s house, when I could be looking at cliffs or waterfalls.”

Although he says he likes small water fishing, he says, kayaks are not just for lake fishing. He took his kayak to Gulf Shores a few years ago and hooked a 6-foot shark. His brother-in-law caught a 150–200-pound tarpon.  For reasons which seem obvious, they did not try to bring it aboard their kayaks. “We got dragged all over the place. That’s part of the appeal,” he laughed. “You just have to prepare for it. And don’t go alone!”

The Coosa River system offers a variety of fish, from crappie to catfish, to several species of bass, including the Alabama bass. “On Logan Martin, I’ve pulled in a 15-pound channel catfish in my kayak,” says Norris. “I’ve seen a 50-75-pound catfish pulled in, unfortunately not by me.”

Strategies for success in kayak fishing are somewhat different, Norris explains. “We attack fishing in a very different way. We don’t fish the open waters as much as we do the tighter places. Where the bass boat world is launch as fast as possible, get to your spots as fast as possible, and cover lots of water. We might launch and stay near that launch fishing the harder to get places and cover only a mile or two.”

No matter what type of vessel you use or how you fish, all nautical rules apply. Kayaks are no exception. Before sunrise and after sunset, kayaks must have a stern light. The same holds true for red and green navigation lights. These are especially important for kayaks, which sit lower in the water and are harder to see.

Equipment add-ons for safety and for convenience and comfort make kayaking an activity perfect for anyone ages 5 to 95. Your grandpa’s kayak may have given you the inspiration to learn, but it is definitely not the only design option anymore. Today’s kayaks are lighter and stronger. They offer options in how they are propelled, how you fit into it and how you maneuver it. They can be outfitted for whatever activity you want to do on the water.

A final reminder that whatever fun you’re having in a kayak, be sure to remember safety is paramount. Alabama law requires all boaters, including kayakers to have a personal floatation device onboard for each occupant.

While it’s not required that boaters wear them, it’s a good idea. It’s also a good idea to always include water, a hat, and sunscreen in your float plan.

You may catch a beautiful sunrise, too, so don’t forget your camera. And give a wave to the lady sipping coffee on the dock as you drift by.

Lighting the way for kayaking

Chad Watts knows all too well how hard kayaks are to see in the dark. Several years ago, while fishing in a tournament on Lake Jordan, he nearly ran over a kayaker.

They were fishing at what is considered “safe light,” just as it is getting light enough to see, but before the sun has risen. “I was running 75 miles an hour toward a wide cove. There was a piece of land that jutted out about 30 feet, so I couldn’t see around the other side of it until I got almost even with it,” said Watts.

“By that time, I was doing about 60. When I came around, there was a kayaker 20 yards from my boat. How I avoided running completely over the top of him, I don’t know. I was so rattled, I couldn’t fish.”

Watts went to check on the kayaker and wound up talking to him for 30 minutes (in the middle of the tournament). What came from the experience was a friendship and a product that makes kayak fishing safer.

Watts started Firefly Marine, a company out of Trussville, that produces the Firefly stern light. The difference in their product over what was available previously is both the height of the light (telescopes to over 9 feet) and the material of the light (refracting plastic to eliminate blinding light).

Friday night hero

Honoring Pell City High School Coach Pete Rich

“Success is based upon a spiritual quality, a power to inspire others.”
— Vince Lombardi

Story by Roxann Edsall
Photos by Richard Rybka

Coach Pete Rich is one successful man. He must be; he has a stadium named after him.

The reason for that honor, though, is somewhat of an anomaly. His namesake stadium is home to the Pell City High School Panthers. He never lead his Pell City football team to the most wins of any coach. He did not even serve as head coach the longest. His fame is less about statistics and more about relationships.

His biggest victories are still being realized in the lives of the young men he inspired in his 34 years of coaching high school football. And those former football players, many whom are now retired from successful careers, say Coach Rich was a powerful force in shaping them into the people they are today.

Pell City High School jerseys, jackets and other memorabilia

On a Saturday afternoon, more than 50 former players and coaches gather at the Municipal Building. They’ve come from as far away as California and New Mexico to honor their former coach and mentor on his 88th birthday. Just as they did in the lock room decades ago, the men form a huddle and Coach begins their time together by leading them in prayer.

One of those in the huddle was Alabama State Senator Lance Bell, who played nose guard from 1987 to 1989. Senator Bell read a resolution from the Alabama Legislature honoring Coach Rich for his many years of service to the people of Pell City and the astate of Alabama.

“Coach Rich was like a second father to me. He taught us about discipline and about life,” the senator remembers. He recalled a time that he suffered a significant injury to his knee during a game. “The call from Coach,” he said, “was the first phone call I received checking on me.” 

“He was a father figure for all of us,” adds former tight end Leslie Smith. “He is bigger than life. I mean, the man still lifts weights at 88 years old!” Coach Rich has had that weight room at his home since he started coaching Pell City football in 1969. And it has always been open to any of his players.

“Coach truly saved my life,” chimes in Bobby Watson, tight end and linebacker from 1975 to 1978. “He got me into weightlifting when I was 18 years old,” he tells. “That habit saved me later in life, when, in 2014, I suffered a bilateral quad rupture. I was told I’d never walk again.” Watson credits Coach Rich with teaching him the value of strength training through weightlifting. Weightlifting, rehab exercises and sheer determination, he says, helped him to regain his mobility. Not only is he walking again, he is now a strength coach and weight strength coordinator for the Trussville YMCA.

Sammy Brown, played defensive end during the ’74-’75 season and again the next year. He gets emotional talking about Coach. “He was always open to listen. I could go to his house and sit outside with him and when I left, it felt like a huge burden was lifted. He cared so much about others.” When Brown later had a wife and children of his own, he said Coach would often come to his home after his own family Christmas and share in the Brown family celebration.

A hometown boy, Pete Rich grew up in the Avondale Mill Village, played football for Pell City High School, and worked at the mill during the summers. He graduated from the University of Southern Mississippi in 1957 and immediately started coaching football, baseball and basketball at Jones Valley High School.

He started coaching at Sylacauga High School in 1961, where he stayed for eight years. He returned to Pell City as head coach in 1969. After five years as head coach, Rich stepped down from head coach to spend more time directly with his players as defensive coordinator. Rich retired from coaching in 1991, having served on the coaching staff at Pell City High School for 22 years.

In total, he coached for more than three decades.  In that time and since then, he has touched the lives of countless people, who consider him a friend and mentor.

His former players are devoted to him and, when you meet him, it’s easy to see why. When he’s involved in a conversation, he is committed to it. He does treat people as if they are the most special person in that moment. His sense of humor is part of his charm. He’ll often start a story off with “I ought not tell this …” and then chuckle as he tells it.

Former players talking with coach

Coach admits to working his boys hard, but it was second nature to him. “I made sure my kids worked hard. It was just the way I was raised,” he says. “My mama always made sure I worked hard as a kid. I remember coming home from school one day and mama said to get ready because I was about to be picked up to go out and help plow the fields.”

Although he had plenty of opportunities to advance in the world of coaching, he was committed to his community and remained with Pell City High School.

He and his wife, Gwen, raised their two children, Lori (Billingsley) and Brian, in Pell City. “We always had people around the house, either visiting my dad or using the weight room,” says Brian.  “It was like Grand Central Station, but it was good. Both Mom and Dad are great. I feel like I won the parent lottery with them!” Brian did play some football and basketball, but tennis turned out to be his best sport.

Former player Jerry Posey was not quite as lucky in his childhood experiences. His dad suffered from alcoholism and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Coach Rich, he says, was one of the first positive influences in his life. “I was from the housing project, and he was from the mill village,” said Posey. “He treated everyone the same. He was an unbelievable influence for me.”

As the lights come on and fans file into Pete Rich Stadium for Pell City home games this fall, just maybe some will think of the lessons Coach Rich taught. “Nobody’s more special than anybody else,” he said. “I’ve just always tried to make sure everybody felt equally special.” 

That’s a win any way you look at it.

Finding adventure on the track

The pioneers who paved the way for Alabama stock car racing

Story by John Garrison Jr.
Submitted Photos

World War II had just ended, and America emerged victorious. The economic engine turned from war production to consumer production. People who, during wartime rationing of everything from rubber, gasoline, meat and butter, suddenly had plentiful supplies of everything.

American auto manufacturing had quit producing cars from 1943 to 1945 to support the war effort. American ingenuity, however, came alive after 1945. People felt good about America, and new inventions abounded and by that same year, Americans were saving on average 21percent of their earnings.

In a good economy, hard-working people like to enjoy some of the fruits of their labor with social activities, and many turned to sports events.

Couple all that with a re-emerged automobile industry, and the everyday American, blue-collar guy looked for ways to continue the good feeling that competition and another chance to win brought about.

Enter the thrilling stock car racing industry where an old family jalopy dragged from the barnyard would get a new lease on life as a racecar.

Imagine a group of guys coming together as a ragtag team to build a racecar. One might have mechanic’s skills, another as a body and fender/painter/welder type and yet another ex-soldier with courage enough to drive at breakneck speeds.

This is how a whole new enthusiasm for motorsports began in Alabama and across the nation. Despite automobile racing existing prior to this period, it was reserved primarily to a small population and cars built specifically for racing and not your typical old family coupe or sedan, thus the term “stock car.”

Around Birmingham, circa 1948, there was a track carved out of an old field near Roebuck called the lronbowl Speedway. The track was a dirt oval and on Sunday afternoons, crowds would gather to see the daredevil field of drivers and their home-built machines compete to be the first to the checkered flag. The hill above the track would be filled with wives, kids and neighbors with picnic baskets sitting on the hoods of their family cars taking in the spectacle. Everybody came home covered in dust.

As the early days of stock car racing in Alabama was forming, the fairgrounds at Birmingham had a 1-mile oval horse racing track built in 1906 that sometimes held an occasional motorcycle race or a car race of specially built open-wheel racecars.

During the same period as the old lronbowl Speedway, Birmingham Fairgrounds began running stock car races, as well. Then in 1958, NASCAR (National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing) brought sanctioned racing to Birmingham and other tracks in Alabama.

Checking out a wreck that was stopped by the fence

Stock car racing was being born from the crude beginnings of low-budget, home­built cars to a commercial industry that brought higher levels of engineering talent and corporate sponsor dollars emerging into the highly refined sport of stock car racing today. Racing was financially out of reach for the regular guy. The old days and ways were changing quickly.

There is still a group of traditionalists that have a love and devotion to the old days where it all began. Beginning days that produced such greats as Bobby and Donnie Allison, Red Farmer, still making racing appearances at 90 years old, and Neil Bonnet, who died racing stock cars in 1994 at 47 years old.

Although those became household names in the sport because of the entry into corporate racing, there were great racers that will forever have places in the hearts of the “purists” of the sport. People like Nero Stepto, Sonny Black, Fletcher Ford, Alton Jones, Fred Thompson, “Paddlefoot” Wales and those who went by aliases – drivers who changed their names so their employer wouldn’t fire them for engaging in such a dangerous sport.

There is an organization dedicated to the preservation of racing history in Alabama named the Alabama Auto Racing Pioneers (aarpinc.org) where hundreds of old photographs and stories abound on the history of racing here.

At the Talladega Motor Sports Hall of Fame, the Alabama Racing Pioneers room features photos and memorabilia from that bygone era.

Membership in the organization is only $35 a year to join. Current membership is 320 across the state and there are gatherings and banquets for those interested in preserving the history. l

In the beginning

Fats and the flag man: Two pioneers with St. Clair ties helped plant the seeds for modern stock car racing

Story by Paul South
Submitted Photos

Before Bill France Sr. saw his dream of big-time, big money stock car racing take root in little towns like Daytona Beach, Darlington and Talladega and big cities like Atlanta and Charlotte, seeds were being planted.

Two men – Perry Edgar “Fats” Layfield and Johnny Garrison Sr., both hard working, blue-collar husbands and fathers who made a living with their hands, were two of those planters.

Layfield, the patriarch of a racing clan that drove dirt and asphalt tracks for three generations, and Garrison, who became a respected official as a flagman, didn’t know it then. But they, like the more famous Allisons, Pettys, Earnhardts and Waltrips, helped build the glitz and glamor of modern stock car racing.

“Fats” Layfield’s son, James, himself a short track driver, said it best. “All the little tracks are what made NASCAR.”

A brief history

 In the beginning, bootleggers and their sons ran booze through the mountains, hills and hollows of Appalachia, from West Virginia to Alabama. Trying to outrun Prohibition and feed their families, the daring drivers tried to satisfy thirsty customers.

 Then, after World War II, a booming American middle class – freed from the shackles of gas and tire rationing – pulled their old jalopies from barns and sheds and off blocks and souped them up.

The flag man

The vets who returned home from war were hungry for excitement. Automakers transitioned from a war footing to a consumer culture. America became a car culture that spilled over into movies like Rebel Without A Cause and songs that went like this:

“Son, you’re gonna drive me to drinkin’

if you don’t stop driving that hot rod Lincoln.”

To satisfy the public’s need for speed, dirt and asphalt tracks sprung up – Iron Bowl between Roebuck and Tarrant City, east of Birmingham, Birmingham International Raceway at the State Fairgrounds, Sayre Speedway and Dixie Speedway in Midfield.

At Sayre, James Layfield remembered, “Go up there and fight and hope a car race would break out.”

In black and white photos, the multitudes surrounded the tracks despite the blistering sun. There were farmers in overalls and straw hats, men in heat-wilted white shirts and sweaty felt fedoras, wives and children and seemingly enough picnic baskets to feed the 5,000.

Layfield and Garrison were there in the center of it.

James Layfield never saw his Dad race. He was a big man who looked like “Hoss” Cartwright from the TV series, Bonanza. After his son came into the world, “Fats” raffled off his race car, the Number 13 “Black Cat” Ford. When he tried to give the proceeds to a local church for a new floor, he was turned away.

“They said it was like gambling. He gave it to the preacher and told him to buy himself a new suit,” James recalled.

Tears come quickly when he talks about his Dad. He still remembers that once he took up the sport, his Dad never missed a race, even after work-related back injuries confined “Fats” to a wheelchair.

“He worked hard all his life, and age just caught up with him,” the younger Layfield remembered.

The elder Layfield could tell if an engine was right just by the sound. “I’d be out there working, and he’d yell from the house, ‘You better go back to where you was at. It sounded better before.’ He was my pit crew and my crew chief.”

“Fats” was a big man with a big heart, his son recalled. He checked on his neighbors, giving rides when needed.

“If there was somebody broke down on the side of the road, he’d stop to help them,” James said. “He’d either help ‘em fix it or tell them how to fix it. Or, if they could get it pulled to the house, he’d have the car waiting on me, so I could fix it for the folks.”

 His voice quivered as he talked about his Dad. “He could be kind, and he could be rough,” James said. “He was at the race track every time I went. He was crippled up, but every time I’d go to the track, he was there. He’d say, ‘Boy, you need to quit this. But he was always there.

“After he passed away, and my son started racing, I’d look up to see (Dad’s) truck, and it wasn’t there. It just wasn’t the same.”

Fats and daughter, Mary, in 1956

Racing was in the family’s blood. Before Fats’ grandson, Eric, was old enough for a driver’s license, he started working on his Dad’s race car. Soon, Eric Layfield was behind the wheel. Eric and James Layfield worked on each other’s cars.

“He was 15 on a Saturday night and turned 16 on a Sunday and ran his first race,” James said of his son. Needless to say, the Layfields were nervous.

“He had a little trouble getting his mother (Peggy) to sign the release form for him. But he had a level head on him and knew what he was doing. I think he finished third in his first race. The next year, he won the (season) championship.”

Peggy Layfield was a racing veteran of a sort. For years, as many as four race cars were worked on in the family shop at one time.

“We’d have the engines going, and the windows and dishes would rattle,” James said. “Peggy put up with that for 45 years, and we’ve been married 52.”

And when she was 15 or 16, James Layfield recalls, even his daughter Keri got into the driver’s seat – sort of.

At the Talladega short track, she joined her Dad in a specially created, two-driver cruiser class. James steered and handled the brakes and Keri, the gas pedal.

“We were three or four laps in, and she got the stiff leg and had the gas on the floor,” James says. “We spun out between turns one and two and blew the engine. I was done.”

As for what drew him to racing, James, who also built his own engines, wanted to show the other drivers what he could do. He raced dirt and asphalt. And he had a favorite: “Asphalt is for getting there; dirt is for racing.”

 He always remembered his Dad’s advice. “I’d get out in front, and he’d tell me to slow down,” James recalled. “He wanted me to let them pass, then me pass ‘em back to put on a show. But I worked hard to get in front, and I wanted to stay in front.”

James had stretches when he was out in front often. “You get out in front, and you win every weekend there for six or eight weekends, it makes you feel good to know that you’re the one they hate the most or get cussed the most. But you just keep on going.”

The flagman

John Garrison Sr. kept racers going – safely – through hundreds of races. A veteran of World War II who served on Okinawa as part of the Army Air Corps, Garrison flagged his first race after volunteering on a dare at a California short track after the war. He had flagged informal drag races on Okinawa after the allies took the island from the Japanese.

He was a master of the flags – every color was racing’s code. But Garrison brought a color all his own to the track, waving each flag with a flourish, like a ballet against the roar of an eight-cylinder symphony. One photo shows him dressed all in white, smiling and clutching a checkered flag and wearing a tam that matched the flag.

And the fans loved it.

“It was a big thing back then,” John Garrison Jr., said. “Dad saw life as an adventure. My Dad and that generation of people were just unique in the way that they were raised. My Dad was the 13th and youngest kid in his family … In the early days, they didn’t have much. Dad was a colorful character all of his life. He didn’t take life very seriously. He always found a reason to laugh.”

Many like Garrison, had never left their hometowns before they went off to war. Survivors returned home “full of vim and vigor” and looking for excitement.

Racing at the Iron Bowl dirt track

“By and large, that was the fuel for the sport of racing,” Garrison said. “Those guys were daredevils. They were adventurers. Some were pilots, many were infantry. You had a generation that didn’t want to sit on the front porch in abject safety. They lived by risk, and they wanted adventure.”

The elder Garrison, a mechanic, taught his son to work hard and risk as well. Lessons were learned not by talking, but by doing. And though he loved to laugh, flagging was serious business for his father. It could be the difference between life and death on the track.

 “As a boy, I remember walking the track with my Dad at BIR (Birmingham International Raceway). Two hours before the race, he would walk the entire track, looking for pieces of metal that had come off the cars or were lying on the track. His concern was a piece of metal flying up. A lot of these cars didn’t have windshields. He didn’t want the drivers to be injured.”

Garrison Jr., who started his own structural steel firm at 40, remembered when at 16, his Dad gave him a crash course in flagging at Dixie Speedway. “Dad said, ‘Get up here. You’re going to flag this race.’

When his son pleaded that he didn’t know how. His Dad responded, “You’ll learn how. That’s the thing that he did that gave me confidence in myself. He didn’t spend a lot of time instructing me. But when he was involved, it was like that time at Dixie Speedway. Without knowing it, he was teaching me independence.”

Garrison Sr. is a member the Alabama Auto Racing Pioneers (aarpinc.org) Hall of Fame, joining the likes of Bobby, Donnie, Davey and Clifford Allison, Neil Bonnett, “Red” Farmer, Hut Stricklin, Don Naman and legendary racing writer, Clyde Bolton. In the future, “Fats” Layfield should join them.

Life’s lessons learned

The lessons learned from their fathers was like a gift handed down from generation to generation. While walking the track with his Dad looking for shards of metal may have quietly taught John Garrison Jr. independence and attention to detail so important in his future business efforts, “Fats” Layfield taught his son the power of possibility.

James Layfield was stricken with polio as a toddler. While a patient at the old Crippled Children’s Clinic in Birmingham, he would clutch his Dad’s finger and walk with him up and down the long tables where young patients were eating.

“The nurse would say, ‘You can’t do that,’” James remembered. My Dad would say, “My boy’s gonna walk out of here.”

And he did. No checkered flag win was as sweet.

Iron Bowl Tradition

Bell family love of game becomes national story of Auburn-Alabama rivalry

Story and photos by Carol Pappas
Photos courtesy of Bell family

Alabamians know there’s only two answers to this question: “Who’re you for?” As one old sports editor once wrote, “It needs no further explanation.”

“Auburn,” says one. “Alabama,” says the other. The replies come quickly and easily. Which answer depends on which way you lean. But make no mistake, you lean one way or the other. Have to. After all, this is Alabama.

From left, Mack and Brenda Bell, Yvonne and Jimmy Bell sport their colors

No one knows that much better than the Bell family of Pell City. Around here, they would call it a mixed marriage of allegiances. Part of the family roots for the orange and blue of Auburn. Other parts pull for the red and white of the Crimson Tide.

Their passion for their teams runs as deeply as their roots in the family. So, it’s no small wonder that when CBS was looking for the perfect story to illustrate the intense rivalry known as the Iron Bowl, they uncovered a treasured tradition – just like the Bells did nearly four decades ago.

“In the late summer of 1982, my dad was a contractor, and he was digging footing for a home in Skyline,” a Logan Martin Lake subdivision, recalled Mack Bell. At the time, it was one of the first homes being built there. When his father’s backhoe dug its first scoop, they heard a loud metallic clank. “It was an old iron pot full of dirt,” he said. “It had been there for years,” estimated at 140 to 150 years old.

“Mom cleaned it up,” Bell said, and it eventually led to a decades-old tradition for this family split by alliances. What better way to commemorate the Iron Bowl than with, well, an iron bowl?

Every year, the Bell family has a Christmas party, and talk naturally leads to ‘the game.’ Mack’s side of the family is Alabama. Cousin Jimmy’s side is Auburn. That year, 1982, Bo (Jackson) went over the top and Auburn won the title of Iron Bowl champion for the first time in 10 years.

Mack told his father, Bill, “This Christmas, let’s give the iron bowl to Jimmy.” Bill did indeed present the bowl to his nephew but with a playful nod to their opposite allegiance, he told him, “Here’s your bowl, and you know where to put it.”

And thus began the tradition.

CBS enters the picture

The national network, CBS, aired the game in 2021. Producers wanted to put together a five-minute story as part of its pregame coverage to show viewers across the nation just how divided the rivalry is in Alabama.

Mack and Brenda Bell on camera

Through research, they found an old newspaper story about the Bells’ iron bowl trophy, and they started trying to contact Jimmy. When he saw the New Jersey number coming up, he thought it was a scam. Voicemails to the contrary still didn’t convince him so he didn’t return the call.

Finally, CBS staff contacted the local newspaper that ran the original story and got in touch with Jimmy, saying, “Call this guy. He’s for real.”

Jimmy obliged but warned CBS not to come if they were going to portray the family as a bunch of rednecks from Alabama. Assurances satisfied the Bells, and a CBS crew arrived a couple of weeks before the game.

They spent hours filming, interviewing and re-enacting the awarding of the trophy and condensed it into a five-minute segment viewed across the nation. They even provided a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings to recreate the meal. Bright lights, moving furniture and placing everything just so turned Bell’s house in Pell City’s Hunting Ridge into a real set for a television show.

“Three big cameras, lighting, monitors” – and the stage was set, but not before they changed all the light bulbs and took out the TVs to cut reflection. A drone flew over the house, capturing even more footage. “Obviously, it’s an experience we won’t ever have again,” Jimmy said.

Tradition continues

The experience they will have – over and over again, they hope, is the passing of the trophy from family member to family member.

In the beginning, they passed it around for three years with just the score noted. “Uncle Dick,” Mack’s uncle and Jimmy’s father, Dick Bell, presented a new version when it was his turn – a base with plaques commemorating the member of the family who received it along with year and score. The deceased have their plaques inside the base, which is open to the back to read in remembrance. The trophy tradition is now on its second base, ready for a third.

Dick Bell had saved wood from an old barn on the Scott farm, which had been built of heart pine, pegs and square nails. He had the first base made and saved the wood to continue the tradition after he was gone. Small brass plaques affixed to the base were for the names.

As for the potential for towering bases underneath that old iron bowl, Jimmy said, “I hope it looks like the Indy 500 trophy,” which is over five feet tall.

Whoever receives it each year has the honor of choosing the next recipient. “It’s a reason for us to get together,” said Mack. “It’s a secret until they get it.”

More family are coming to the party because of the interest in the trophy, Jimmy said. As for the recipient, “They’re happy until they realize they have to give the next party.” The family gets together a week or two after the ballgame for a gathering full of family, fellowship, fun … and football.

“It was a tradition we thought would last a year or two, but Dad and Uncle Dick spurred it on,” said Mack.

And, of course, talk naturally turns to the game. “Obviously, the subject of the ballgame comes up,” Jimmy said, calling the 2021 version “a heartbreaker,” when Auburn lost in quadruple overtime. “It works both ways,” he added, noting the Bell version of the series is even. He counted the plaques this year – 18 on each side.

They can rattle off memorable moments in those 36 games, just like ‘Who’re you for,’ they need no further explanation to fans around these parts. “Bo over the top,” Kick Six, 1989 – the first time it was played in Auburn and Tiffin’s kick.

Mack and Jimmy talk of their earliest memories, going to Legion Field without a ticket but getting in anyway. Jimmy remembers his grandfather stopping at the old Golden Rule in Irondale on the way to pick up a bagful of barbecue and Cokes. “As a young kid, that was a highlight.”

His wife, Yvonne, adds a biblical reference for the lifetime of traditions. “Train up a child, and he won’t depart from it.”

Mack’s wife, Mary, agreed. “We’ve got to keep the younger generation involved and continuing the tradition. “It’s third generation now, and the fourth is coming.”

Mack, now retired and many years removed from his days at the University of Alabama, has a simple analogy for whether it means more to beat Auburn or win the national championship. To him, you can’t have one without the other. “The road to the national championship – you’ve got to go through Auburn and the Iron Bowl. It’s the first round of the playoffs.”

Looking back on years and generations that have gone into this family tradition, Mack said, “It’s been a helluva ride. I never thought it would grow to this.”

He and Jimmy and the entire Bell family hope it never ends.


Toomer’s tree finds home, tradition in Pell City

Story by Carol Pappas

There’s another tradition surrounding Auburn and part of the Bell family. This time it involves a tree, but not just any tree. It’s a direct descendant of the famed oak trees at Toomer’s Corner in Auburn.

Toomer oak descendant in Pell City

Following an Auburn victory, thousands of fans converge on the corner of College Street and Magnolia Avenue at what is known as Toomer’s Corner, across from the iconic Toomer’s Drugs, and they roll the trees with toilet paper to celebrate. The decades-old tradition becomes a sea of white waves dangling from the treetops – jubilant fans down below taking part in their creation.

In 2005, acorns from the stately trees were planted and nurtured by Forestry and Wildlife Sciences students, and a limited number of their seedlings were sold to raise funds for student scholarships. Jimmy bought three – one for his sister, Vicki Bell Merrymon, one for a friend and one for himself.

Jimmy’s tree died after being planted to close to his house and had to be moved. But Vicki’s tree thrived, now standing 30 feet tall in a field in front of her Hardwick Road home. The Merrymons may not be in Auburn for the traditional rolling, but when Auburn wins a big game, their tree gets rolled just the same.

“If we beat Alabama, we go out and roll it,” said Vicki. “We’ve rolled it some for basketball. You know, it’s Auburn.”

Grandson Owen has helped roll the tree when he was visiting. When he can’t be there, he and his family keep the tradition alive by rolling a tree in Chattanooga, Tenn., where they live.

Vicki and husband Dana’s most memorable rolling of the tree? When Auburn won the national championship in 2010. Playing in the Rose Bowl out west, it was late at night back in Alabama when Auburn was crowned champion. That night, Vicki said, “We rolled it in the dark with flashlights.”


Also check out our story Eric Bell: Auburn’s No. 1 Fan here!