The Cane Makers

A stick and a knife are tools of their trade

Story by Tina Tidmore
Photos by Michael Callahan

Walking stick, cane, hiking pole and pilgrim’s staff: just a few of the terms that refer to the humble weight-supporter often associated with disability, the elderly and ancient Biblical characters walking through a desert. At least two St. Clair County woodworkers add creativity to the sticks they find in the woods, giving them eye-appeal in addition to a practical use.

Marvin Little, a retired insurance adjuster, takes a simple approach in his creations. His focus is on using a variety of woods and a variety of handles. He retains the bark and enhances the natural beauty of the stick.

Little’s interest in making canes started when he moved into a new home 15 years ago. While walking through the woods, he noticed some small trees and branches that would make good walking sticks. He has learned many of his techniques through online cane-making clubs where ideas are shared.

His own sharing sparked interest from another would-be cane maker. Cook Springs resident Jackie Stevens, who retired from the banking industry, remembers her interest starting when Little regularly brought his canes to the old St. Clair Federal Savings and Loan in Pell City to show the employees.

Little tried to get her involved in the Logan Martin Woodcarvers group, but she regularly declined. Finally in 2006, “I went to a meeting and became hooked,” Stevens said. Then, with a few unprepared, seasoned sticks Little gave her, she started creating her own canes.

Using a knife, Stevens actually carves shapes and figures into the sticks, including one she worked on of two snakes this summer.

Both Little and Stevens said a love for working with wood was passed down to them in their families. “I enjoy making something with my hands,” Little said. “It’s always a challenge to make something pretty and useful out of wood.”

“I even love the smell of wood,” Stevens said.

Little’s approach is not only to provide something attractive and unique, he likes knowing he is making something with practical use that is helpful to people.

But Stevens’ focus is on adding to her personal wood-carving collection or creating artistic pieces for decoration or display. She has given some as gifts or done commissioned pieces. They are strong enough to be useful, but that’s not her main focus.

Because their canes have different primary purposes, they have different price ranges. He sells his canes at local festivals and is careful not to invest too much time or supplies into them. “You have to make something that will sell at the venue where you want to sell it,” Little said. So his price points are $18 to $28, which generally amounts to enough to cover his expenses. He’s not making any profit or even paying for his time.

Similarly, Stevens isn’t in it for the money, even though she’s sold one at $60 and others up to $400. She started her cane-carving while seeking a stress-reliever. “My shop is the only place that I can completely lose myself with no worries or fears and lose all track of time,” said Stevens. “To me, the entire process from harvesting the wood to applying the final finish is rewarding.”

But she avoids turning it into a job. “I want it to be my idea, my style, no demands,” Stevens said. “I bowed out of the real world and come into my fantasy world.”

In 2006, when Stevens first attended the Logan Martin Woodcarvers, she was the only woman. But now others are involved, and they have taken up carving dolls. “The biggest thing is the friends I’ve gained in the group,” Stevens said.

Cane-making Process

Making a walking cane starts, obviously, with the stick. Marvin Little, who lives just north of Pell City, has used sassafras, hickory, oak, bamboo, sourwood, cedar and many other species. “A lot of it I don’t know what it is because I cut it in the winter when there aren’t any leaves,” Little said.

Some are branches, but most of the walking canes started as trunks of young trees. Little often turns the root ball into the cane handle. Broken limbs lying on the ground cannot be used because they are weakened by bugs. “It has to be something that feels good in your hand,” Little said.

Both Little and Jackie Stevens say “twisties” are highly favored. They are trees that have been twisted into a cork-screw form by vines. “If I find a good twisty in the woods, I’ve got to have it,” Stevens said.

Both Little and Stevens have friends offering them sticks and other wood. “I hate to see wood discarded,” Little said.

The harvested stick must be allowed to season for a year. Then, Little cleans off loose bark. It’s at that point that he decides what he will make with that stick. Some need to be straightened using water and a clamp. Sanding and painting are next. Then he puts on the handles and adds the protective clear coat.

In addition to the joy of creating something attractive, there is the challenge of doing so within the limitations and features each piece of wood has. “The wood has to talk to me,” Stevens said in reference to what she decides to do with it.

Much of the character of a walking cane is in the handle. Little has used a variety of items to create decorative handles, including doorknobs, deer hoofs and elk horns. Even a golf ball has been turned into a cane handle.

The most unusual request Little received was to create a wood-carved human skull as a cane handle. He has been asked to do canes shaped like snakes. But he has refused. Why? Simple. “I don’t like snakes,” he said.

To be functional and stable, the top of the cane must be in the same plane as the bottom, even if the middle is twisted. Also, the height of the cane needs to come up to the person’s wrist. Shorter or longer and it will not provide the stable support needed.

A cane Stevens is most proud of is one that used material from the former Avondale Mills in St. Clair County. “I made this cane in the memory of my Big Daddy McCullough, who worked in the mill all his life,” Stevens said. As the Mill was being dismantled, she asked for some of the remnant material.

She got some wooden thread spools and a 1902 sprinkler head that she made into a cane that she treasures. “I took several of these old spools of various colors, stacked them on each other and ran a quarter–inch thread rod the length of the cane and then put the sprinkler head on top,” Stevens said.

She has agreed to have her canes included in an exhibit at Heritage Hall Museum. Little plans to be selling his canes at this fall’s Homestead Hollow.

But beyond that, they do it just for the joy found in creating a work of art with a knife and a stick.

Celebrating 37 years

Theater group is uniquely Springville

Story by Jane Newton Henry
Photos by Brandie Felice, Judy Shults
and Janet McBroom

It’s a true story that reads like the opening scene of a classic Broadway musical: June Morgan Mack returns home to Springville in 1976 with her college diploma, only to find that her summer job has fallen through. She talks with her neighbor, Archie Jones, about the problem, and he says, “Why don’t you do a show?”

So that’s what she did. She wrote a children’s musical titled, “Circus Magic,” and found about 25 people to produce and appear in the play. They built sets, made costumes, rehearsed and did one performance at Springville High School, now Springville Middle School. “Everybody got a charge out of it, so we decided to do it again the next year,” she said.

That production marked the beginning of Springville Children’s Theater. For five summers, Mack wrote and directed children’s musicals.  Thirty seven years later, the theater group in the St. Clair County town of about 4,000 people, is still going strong.

She credits the “incredibly talented” people of Springville for keeping the effort going.  In addition, the group’s unique operating philosophy has played a major role in its success.

Extraordinary talent

“When we started the theater group, there were so many talented people right here in Springville — all these incredible people who were singing in church choirs,” Mack said. “Since then, I’ve been in many other states and have done many other things, but I would still say that the talent in Springville is extraordinary.”

Mack recalled the performances in “Circus Magic.”  Twelve-year old Shawn Cushen worked as the stage manager and played the male lead in the play. Penny Burgess played opposite him. “They were terrific in the play. And they were brilliant kids. They were making all A’s in school, but to memorize all of those pages of the script and then to stand up and spit out their lines with gusto – that was something no one knew they could do.”

A unique philosophy

Our guiding principle is to cast every person who auditions, she said. “We believe that if it’s fun and interesting for people, and they learn a lot and are proud of themselves, the show takes care of itself.”

By 1981, the grown-ups wanted to do larger-scale shows requiring casts of all ages, Mack said.  That year, the group chose “Oklahoma!,” and it became the first in a long line of Broadway musicals that the newly named Springville Community Theater would produce.

“’Oklahoma!’ was expandable,” she said.  “We could put all the kids in it we could find, which is a big deal for us.”

The group has a particular interest in bringing first-timers to the stage – especially children. “We believe that a community theater not only fosters a positive community spirit, but builds confidence and forges lifetime friendships.”

The theater also plays an educational role. Mack explained that during the organization’s early years, there wasn’t any other live theater in the area, and children were growing up without it.

“They didn’t know the classical musical-theater literature, and that’s one reason I’ve been so dedicated to doing the classics,” she said. “We will do Rogers and Hammerstein forever.”

After the production of “Oklahoma!,” the theater has produced classic Broadway musicals every few years.  They performed “Oklahoma!” a second time in 2010, which was performed outdoors at nearby Homestead Hollow, and just this month, they performed South Pacific again — 30 years after their first production of that show.

June Mack

Mack, who founded the Springville theater group and has directed most of the shows, says that preparing for a production is difficult. “It’s not just for fun. It’s disciplined,” she said. “I’m regimented about people knowing their lines before I even see them.

“It’s hard work, but that raises the bar and makes people take it more seriously. People will always step up to the challenge. I expect great things; they surprise themselves — that’s how it works. So I keep upping the challenge; that’s my job.  As long as I can keep doing that, they will keep surpassing their expectations.”

She credits the people of Springville with helping her learn her craft. “They taught me to direct,” Mack said. “I am so grateful for the patience and devotion of these people for all of these years.

“We’ve hit obstacles and said, ‘That’s it. The show’s gonna be shut down. It’s never gonna work.’ But you give these people 30 minutes to regroup and think, and we’ll move forward again.”

Since Mack’s first summer with Springville Children’s Theater, she has worked on more than 50 theater productions and 70 films. In addition to her bachelor’s degree in composition for musical theater from Hollins College, she received master’s degrees in film and education from Florida State and Harvard University. Her films have garnered 22 international awards and have been seen on national television and at screenings here and in other countries.  She is a professor of film at the University of Alabama in Birmingham. Expect to hear about auditions for another summer musical in Springville in a couple more years. If you would like to get involved in Springville Community Theater, contact Mack at (205) 467-3105 or jmack@uab.edu.

Editor’s Note: If you have been involved in a production of Springville Children’s Theater or Springville Community Theater and have film or video footage from a show or shows, contact June Mack at (205) 467-3105 or jmack@uab.edu. She is collecting footage to have it digitally archived.

Dolores Hydock

Master storyteller gets ‘schooled’ on Chandler Mountain

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

In 1974, Dolores Hydock was on a hunt for folklore for an in-depth paper she was researching for a college class at Yale University.

That unlikely journey from New Haven, Conn., led her up a winding mountain road in northeast Alabama and clear up on the top, she found what she was looking for and some things she never dreamed she would find.

As a student in American Studies, this city girl born and raised in the north, set her sights on the Deep South for a paper on Alabama folklore. Recounting her early planning efforts, she said she traveled across the state and “discovered everything from Mardi Gras to snake handling.”

Alabama’s folklore was so abundant and so diverse, she faced the dilemma of having to narrow her focus. Enter Warren Musgrove, who owned Horse Pens 40 on Chandler Mountain at the time. She had been encouraged to go and see him because of his gift for storytelling and his ability to recognize where the best folklore could be found — right where she was — on Chandler Mountain.

For four months, she lived among its people, developing special relationships that would draw her back to the state after college and put her on a road that led to her life as one of Alabama’s master storytellers.

On her CD, Footprint on the Sky: Memories of a Chandler Mountain Spring, Hydock vividly recounts the people and the places atop the mountain. On the CD and in person, she talks fondly of those months, especially centering around two special friends — Hazel Coffman and Dora Gilliland.

Dwight Rogers, whose parents owned Rogers Store, happens by while Hydock is on the mountain. He points out old school pictures of people she might know.

She talks of their impact — just like people who make a difference in your life, people who are “not powerful but are strong; not wealthy but are generous; not famous but are loved.”

They are, she said, people who “work hard, live simply, love their families and make strangers feel at home.” Just like Hazel and Dora did for a college girl from up north in 1974.

Hydock traveled the snaky road leading to the top of Chandler Mountain with Discover, revisiting some of the places and remembrances that helped shape the story performer and actress she is today.

Her wit, charm and an innate ability to turn a phrase in any direction she wants it to go are simply part of her signature style on stage, much to the delight of audiences large and small.

She is the most requested Road Scholar, a program of the Alabama Humanities Foundations that provides top-notch speakers for libraries and historical groups across the state.

And she is an award winning story performer with national accolades to her credit.

She has taken many an audience back in time to her Chandler Mountain spring, a time of seemingly endless learning for this Ivy Leaguer, the kind of lessons you just can’t get from books.

With a twang in an accent familiar around these parts, she lets audiences know some of the lighter lessons learned there: “Sand Mountain tomatoes are the most famous, but anyone who knew tomatoes knew Chandler Mountain tomatoes were the best.”

If you’re mountainfolks, it’s “on the mountain and off the mountain,” no going up or down.

That spring, she stayed at the Clarence House, a place used only in the summertime for tomato growing season. It had no electricity — only a fireplace to keep her warm.

There, she learned her first lesson. Those “long pointed sticks” piled behind the house were not kindling left by a thoughtful landlady, they were tomato stakes, which she learned after burning a whole stack of them her first week on the mountain.

At Rogers Bros. Store, whose sign advertised “feed, seed, hardware, groceries and gas,” she learned a little more. She had a ringside seat, a crate bench by a wood burning stove where people gathered to “tell stories and a lie or two,” she says.

She talks of their patience when a language barrier seemed to get in her way.

“You ever warm up?,” a woman asked her. Not knowing if she was referring to the weather or her demeanor, she was rescued when Hazel Coffman sensed her panic and stepped in to save the day. “She’s asking you do you ever eat leftovers, you know, warm up? She’s inviting you to dinner, honey, if you’ll eat what she has.”

With an obvious debt of gratitude, Hydock says, “Hazel and Dora Gilliland took me in — helped me understand you might come to Alabama looking for folklore but if you give it half a chance, odds were really good you’d end up finding a home.”

And that she did, moving to Alabama that same year after graduation.

She credits Hazel with unlocking her storytelling ability in later years with an iconic image of her — one leg shorter than the other making her “tilt” when she walked. Dressed in a bonnet, galoshes and overalls, she would scatter feed through the yard for dozens of chickens, calves, cows, a dog and a one-eyed cat. “Come on babies,” Hazel would call.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t easy to get around, there are “plenty ways of doing things if you want to,” Hazel told her.

“Come on babies,” she calls as they scurry toward her. “I hold this picture of her in my heart,” says Hydock.

In her stories, Hydock talks about the old Chandler Mountain Community Center. It’s closed now, but it once was a thriving gathering place, especially for the women who came to quilt and visit every Tuesday and Thursday.

It was there she made it over another language barrier. What is afternoon to some is strictly evening up on the mountain. “When you’re up at first light and don’t know anything after 8 when you go to bed, anything after noon is evening,” she was told.

How did they learn to quilt so well? “Grow up in a house where you can see through the cracks in the floor, and you know it gets plenty cold in the wintertime.” With five or six kids in a house, “You learn to make them pretty quick.”

Hazel’s best friend was Dora, who Hydock describes as having a high, funny laugh. “Everything just tickles her to death.”

Dora would offer tales of her Aunt Bertie who used to tell scary stories. Dora admitted they did scare her in her early years but as she grew older, she learned not to be so afraid.

One time, Dora told her, Aunt Bertie started one of her stories, saying a man without a head got in bed with her and Uncle Carl.

A sensible Dora stopped her right there. “A man with no head may have gotten in bed where I had been, but not in bed where I was. Imagine a man with no head getting in the bed with you.”

Hazel sold bonnets every year at the bluegrass and crafts festivals held at Horse Pens every fall and spring. She had the first booth next to the music stage, selling the bonnets she made. “She sold hundreds every year. Dora sold handmade quilts.” They were part of what made those festivals a featured state attraction every year.

In later years, Hazel moved to the city, Gadsden, and lived there 14 years before she passed away. Dora stayed on the mountain — “canning and quilting,” Hydock says. She was 96 when she died.

Those two special ladies, Hydock tells her audiences, may be people you know or you know someone just like them. “They live on in the memories of people whose lives they touched and the people who love them.”

And they live on in the stories Hydock tells about a spring spent on a mountaintop and a place where she found a home.

Ralph Compton

Western Author, Odenville Icon

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

It was a simple question, really: “Can you write a western?”

The reply was equally without complexities:  “I said I didn’t know, but I’d like to try.”

And beginning at age 56, Ralph Compton did indeed write a Western — 23 of them in just eight years — and is mentioned in the same breath with the likes of Louis L’Amour, Zane Grey and Larry McMurtry.

But this story didn’t begin with the birth of an author, it began with the birth of a baby boy in a little log home with a dirt floor. “You walked three miles along the Seaboard Railroad track, climbed a cut bank and trudged another three miles through the woods,” he wrote in his autobiography.

Townfolks and passersby on US 411 who see the sign that reads, “Home of Ralph Compton,” know the destination point of that long ago six-mile trek — Odenville, Alabama.

Born April 11, 1934, Compton says he missed the worst of the depression. “We were in the midst of one of our own when the rest of the country caught up to us. It seemed like we all started poor and went downhill from there,” he wrote.

His mother had a sixth grade education; his father, fifth grade. “By the time FDR’s ‘team of mules, seed and fertilizer’ stake got to us, there were no mules.” His father secured a team of oxen, seed and fertilizer and planted a crop. “In his best year, he made almost enough to repay what he owed the government.”

Compton grew up on Hannah Mountain near Lynch Lake and graduated from St. Clair County High School in Odenville, no small feat for the boy with less than meager means. “In those days, ‘welfare’ families were not looked on with favor,” he said. “There were four of us, and we received the staggering sum of $39 a month. I owe my high school graduation to understanding teachers who provided odd jobs so that I had the bare necessities.”

He singled out his high school principal, Nancy Wilson, who encouraged him not only to read, but to remember what he read. “Because I did read, she moved me ahead, encouraging me to read literature and history more advanced than my grade required. Before my graduation, I knew I wanted to write, although I wasn’t sure what.”

It would be more than three decades before he settled that question. The Goodnight Trail launched his western novels career, selling more than 1 million copies upon its release. The book’s dedication was to the spark that ignited his passion for literature. “To Nancy Wilson, principal of the St. Clair County High School in 1954,” it says.

Ten more “trail series” books would follow, along with a dozen other western novels. Six Guns and Double Eagles, The California Trail and the Shawnee Trail were in the top 50 most requested western novels the year before he died, according to a Birmingham News story on his death in 1998. The story quotes his brother, Bill, who talked of his songwriting days in Nashville. “He played guitar and liked bluegrass music.”

In his autobiography, Compton writes about Bill. After serving in the Army during the Korean War, Compton said he returned home to find his brother “an accomplished guitarist and singer, and the two of us set out to make big tracks.”

They played legion halls, armories, schools and radio stations. “Most little stations provided time for free on Saturday afternoon, usually 15 to 30 minutes for those enthusiastic enough (or dumb enough) to donate their ‘talent’ for the exposure,” Compton recalled. One time they were on three stations — live — and they raced from one station to the other just for the chance to play.

Bill Compton on the Country Boy Eddie Show

They split up in 1960, and Bill went on to play with Country Boy Eddie, a popular television show in Birmingham and in Alabama. Ralph headed north to Nashville with hopes of becoming a songwriter.

“Nashville wasted no time in giving me a hard way to go.” He and a friend eventually started a tabloid magazine, The Rhinestone Rooster. “We went broke, were able to borrow some additional money, and went broke again,” he wrote.

But he saved the logo and used it as a record label in producing recording sessions with limited success. He moved from one odd job to another before finally calling an end to his songwriting career. He had begun a novel in 1989 on a subject he knew all too well — growing up in the south during the Depression.

When he showed it to a literary agent, he acknowledged he had potential and said, “I like it, but I can’t sell it. Can you write a western?”

And that single, simple question launched a stellar career as a bestselling novelist with St. Martin’s Press and Signet Publishers, his historical accuracy becoming his trademark.

He passed away at age 64 of cancer. But his works and his words are his legacy. In his hometown of Odenville the pride of what he accomplished runs a little deeper. A display case at the library features his cowboy boots and a cowboy hat he donated. Nearby are rows and rows of his books, the most popular western author by far at his hometown library, Librarian Betty Corley says. “L’Amour is very famous, very well known, but they still get Compton.”

Outside, the library’s western themed sign, too, proclaims his roots. Perhaps it is because his own story is as inspiring as his westerns are captivating. From dirt floor beginnings to bestselling author certainly has the makings of a story to be told and retold.

In a 1993 issue of The Roundup for Western Writers of America, he recounted the question that changed his life. “Can you write a western? I could, and thank God, I did. My one regret is that I lacked the confidence and courage to do it sooner.

“While the Old West lives only in the pages of history, I believe there’s something within each of us that longs for those days when there was yet another frontier to be conquered, another mountain to cross, and the thrill of the unknown. I believe the Old West will live forever — perhaps not in Hollywood, but in the hearts and minds of men and women who refuse to let it die.”

And the memory of Ralph Compton lives on in the town proud to call him its native son.

Blackwood Gallery

Springville home to art gallery of national note

Story by Mike Bolton
Photos by Jerry Martin

As college kids in love tend to do, Dean Black and Sharon Williams would hold hands on the front porch of the old house that Black called home in his college days and talk of marriage and exactly how their lives would play out.

What their friends and family chalked up to as a cute couple with big dreams was actually a game plan for the couple who in 1980 became Mr. and Mrs. Dean Black. It was a game plan that has come to fruition with Blackwood Gallery in Springville.
“We’d sit at that old house near Auburn and talk about how we’d have an art gallery one day and I’d draw and Dean would make the frames for my artwork,” Sharon Black said in their gallery on US 11 in Springville. “That was our goal in 1977, and that is how it has played out.”

Today, Blackwood Gallery houses the couple’s work as well as the works of more than 40 other craftsmen. Visitors are often surprised to find bronze work, blown glass, leaded glass, handmade furniture and other woodworking treasures from Alabama’s top craftsmen in a place like Springville.

But it was the only location they ever considered for their gallery, both say. Traditional places where you might expect to find an art gallery, like Mountain Brook, lacked that laid-back atmosphere that is so important to both. Besides, many larger cities tend to frown on people riding their horses to work these days.

“I grew up in Hueytown on a lake with horses, and Dean lived in Homewood, but he spent a lot of time in Springville around his grandparents’ summer getaway that had a lake and horses,” Sharon said. “When we built the gallery here, in addition to Dean’s woodworking shop he built in the back part of the gallery, he built a stable where we could put the horses when we rode them to work.”

For all their dreams of one day owning a gallery, surely the couple could never have envisioned the success Dean would find in the field of woodworking. In his college days, his woodworking consisted of building custom gun stocks at what he called Deano’s Gun Shop, an out-building at the home he rented in Society Hill.

In those days, being accepted into the prestigious Alabama Designer Craftsmen group and constructing many breathtaking pieces for the Birmingham Museum of Art and the Birmingham Botanical Gardens was even too much for him to imagine.

Chances are you might have seen his work and not even known it.

“I did the columns for the Asian murals at the Birmingham Museum of Art and that opened a lot of doors for me,” he said. “I came back and built the bell stand at the museum from wood that they presented me from the 1939 World’s Fair. I followed that by building the bases for the samurai helmet collection.”

In 1996, the Birmingham Museum of Art had a coup as it became one of a handful of cities in the U.S. to land the traveling Qin collection. The artifacts from the tomb of Qin Shihauangdi, who established the first empire called China, are hailed as one of the most awe-inspiring collections in the world. The collection was taken from a burial site the size of Manhattan and included full-size horses and protecting warriors made from terracotta.

Black was chosen to do much of the accompanying woodwork that supported the treasures. That woodwork was seen by thousands of visitors from across the U.S.

The museum is home to one of the largest and most comprehensive collections of Wedgwood pottery in the world and the only collection of its kind in the United States. Black was chosen over other craftsmen to build the supporting woodwork for that, too. He also did the delicate woodwork in the museum’s Korean Room.

As word of his skills spread, Black was also chosen to construct the Tori, a large gate at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens.

Today, Black says he’s amazed at how word of his work has spread and at the inquiries he receives from across the country. His work has ranged from columns for a hunting lodge belonging to dog-racing magnate Milton McGregor to crosses and offering tables from large churches across the U.S.

All of the work is done in his shop in the back of his gallery in Springville.

“I have equipment that can do pieces substantially larger than many people can do,” he said. “It has opened doors for many of these larger projects.”

Black says he has made some inroads into one project that he really hopes never comes to be. An Auburn graduate and devout Auburn fan, he has offered to build museum-quality pieces for the school free-of-charge from the wood from trees at Toomer’s Corner should they not survive the poisoning.

“I love Auburn, but I haven’t been as diligent as I should have been in sending my money down there,” he said. “This would be a way that I could give something back. I just hope it never comes to that.”

Black said he is a firm believer that small things steer people along the paths of life and if not for a woman and her dog, there probably wouldn’t be a Blackwood Gallery today.

“I grew up an Alabama fan, but I wanted to be a veterinarian,” he said. “I went to Auburn to become a veterinarian and took all the pre-vet classes.

“I was working with a vet down there, and a woman brought in a large sheep dog that had been hit by a car. The vet did everything he could but couldn’t save the dog. He told me that I needed to watch how he handled it because it would be something I would have to do frequently in my career.

“We had this little window in the office, and I watched through the window as he told the woman and kids. I was looking at the back of his head as he was facing them. I saw him shake his head, and I saw them burst into tears.

“I knew I could handle the gory stuff, but I wasn’t prepared for that. I knew in that instant that I couldn’t be a vet. I went in and told my professors that I wasn’t even going to take the final exams because I was changing my major. I lost more than a year’s work but I changed to marketing.

“I will always be glad that I did.”

Playing to a Full House

Local Color is Springville’s ‘colorful’ music spot

Story by Mike Bolton
Photos by Jerry Martin

It’s barely dark thirty on a Friday evening, and a steady stream of vehicles with tags from Jefferson County, Shelby County, Blount County, Cullman County and other locales vie for a spot in the dimly lit parking lot of the indistinct brick building on Springville’s main thoroughfare. The occupants of the vehicles slip almost unnoticed through the side door and enter a world many Springville residents have no idea exists.

It is too obvious of a location to house something sinister, and its occupants are too nicely dressed and genteel for it to be a honky-tonk. Many a weekend passerby has seen the full parking lot across the street from Burton’s grocery store and with raised eyebrows pondered just what goes on in that place.

If the conspiracy-minded speculate something odd is going on within the building’s walls, at least give them credit for a lucky guess. Once inside, a visitor discovers a place that seems way out of place in Springville, Alabama. Step through the side door, and one might be immediately enveloped in the haunting sounds of a band from Ireland strumming Celtic music, or the toe-tapping music of a band cranking out Dixieland jazz. The next evening, a visitor might encounter the unmistakable sound of a banjo dominating a bluegrass set or watch incredulous that the twang of a bass fiddle from a folk group is shaking the liquid in their glass.

But for a few exceptions in major cities, music halls and supper clubs have pretty much gone the way of full-service gas stations. In Springville, however, Local Color is hanging in there like a rusty fish hook. For 10 years, the music hall has on weekends offered live music accompanied by a fanciful dinner. Despite the fact the business does no advertising, music lovers and a wide array of music groups find the path to the side door each weekend.

The business is operated by Springville residents Merle Dollar and Garry Burttram, who decided a decade ago to combine Burttram’s love of music and cooking and Dollar’s love of art into one of those dream ventures that for most people would stay just a dream. They both laughingly say their banks accounts attest to the fact that it is strictly a labor of love.

“We borrowed $10,000 to get started and have operated it on a shoestring budget every since,” said Dollar who served as an art teacher at Springville High School for 10 years and at Duran Junior High in Pell City for 16 years and now teaches art classes in the building. “Gary is a retired art teacher from Moody High School. He is truly an amazing person.”

Dollar says their idea was to incorporate music, art and good food in a quaint setting. The old building that once housed a boat-builder’s shop and feed store seemed like a natural. The building’s original windows have been replaced by stained glass, and memorabilia from everyone from the Beatles to Elvis adorn the walls along with Dollar’s artwork. Classic album covers and posters promoting coming attractions line the brick walls.

“We were looking for a name, and Local Color seemed like a logical choice,” she said.

Although he’s Local Color’s resident chef, and his food draws rave reviews from its patrons, Burttram insists it is all about the music for him.

“I had no choice but to love music because my parents loved music,” he said. “I can remember as a little boy hiding under the bed and watching people come to our house to listen to music. I can still remember seeing nothing but the bobby socks and penny loafers as they danced.”

Local Color has become a stopping off point for many diverse groups from Alabama, the South and even from around the world. Its reputation as a place that is a throwback in time makes musicians want to play there, band members say.

“Of all the places we have played it’s probably our favorite,” said Jerry Ryan of Three-on-a-String, the Alabama trio that has been playing across Alabama and the South for 40 years. “There’s no smoke and no TVs playing in the background like at most places today. They cater to musicians and make it a fun place to play. They know what it feels like to perform, and they enhance it.”

Ryan says music halls like Local Color have fallen by the wayside over the past several decades as television, cable and sports have become the primary entertainment. He says Local Color has survived because of attention to detail.

“It’s set up for music,” he said. “It’s one of the few places left that someone can sit right there close to the band and hear good, top-notch groups.”

There is a cover charge, and it varies according to what group performs. The entire cover charge goes to the group performing that night. Patrons may also eat dinner and can purchase wine and other alcoholic beverages.

“It is intimate, diverse, clean,” said Local Color regular Nancy Smith, a former Springville resident who now lives in Blount County. “It draws a lot of people from Birmingham. It’s just cozy and adorable.

“I bring a lot of people from Birmingham, and they are always surprised. It’s just not what you’d expect to find in little, old Springville. You can come here and listen to bluegrass, the blues, jazz and even rock and roll. I just love the diverse offerings.”

Local Color has no advertising budget and survives word of mouth and by the 1,900 e-mails it sends out each week, Dollar says. The music hall got a tremendous boost last year when the Alabama Department of Tourism and Travel, which declared 2011 “The Year of Alabama Music” promoted Local Color as a must-visit spot for live music in the state.

Local Color finds its musicians by word of mouth, too.

“I’d say about 99 percent of the groups contact us,” said Dollar on a night when a busload of patrons from Cullman had come to hear Three-on-a-String. “Four Shillings Short, a Celtic group from Ireland, was in the U.S. and heard about us and wanted to know if they could come perform.

“Another that surprises many people is Janet Hall of Fox 6 news in Birmingham. She performs twice a year. She is an incredible singer and songwriter.”

Singers and songwriters and groups, including Jeff Otwell, the Dill Pickers, Martini Shakers, Sweetwater Road, the Legendary Pineapple Skinners, Once in a Blue Moon, Steven Young (who wrote Seven Bridges Road for the Eagles) and Clair Lynch perform at Local Color annually.

Local Color’s house band is Something Else, a trio comprised of Dollar, Sylvia Waid and Peggy Jones, who have performed together for 26 years. The trio plays music from the 1920s to the 1960s and is primarily a swing and boogie group. The three ladies are, in addition to the opening group, ambassadors for Local Color and greet patrons. l

Local Color is open on Friday and Saturday nights for live music and on Sundays for lunch only. Reservations are recommended for the live performances. To make reservations, call 205-467-0334.