Category: Traveling the Backroads

A Railroad Runs Through It

Tracks from a bygone era cross St. Clair

Story by Jerry Smith
Photos by Jerry Smith and Jerry Martin
Submitted timetables from the Stanley Burnett Collection

Folks in Odenville, Alabama, often use the train trestle which crosses US 411 as a landmark for giving directions, but few except the very old are aware of the history of these tracks and of the tunnel at Hardwick Station, just a few miles east of town.

Both were built as part of Seaboard Air Line Railroad’s new trackage running from Birmingham all the way to New York City. For some 20 years, this line hosted Seaboard’s elite streamliner passenger train, The Silver Comet. Pulled by sleek new diesel engines, the Comet had everything a cross-country rail passenger might desire, including day coaches, observation lounge cars, diners and Pullman sleepers.

According to a 1947 Seaboard timetable, passengers who boarded the Comet in Birmingham at 2:35 p.m. could depend on being in New York exactly 25 hours later. The train passed through Trussville, Odenville, Wattsville, Wellington, Anniston and Piedmont before leaving Alabama; next stops, Cedartown, Atlanta, D.C., and eventually the Big Apple. The Comet competed directly with Southern Railway’s prestigious Southerner streamliner service.

Odenville resident Jack Stepp, a retired Southern engineer, said that even though it took a more circuitous route, Seaboard often beat Southern’s trains to common destinations.

Like many civil engineering projects of the early 20th century, both Hardwick and its sister tunnel at Roper near Trussville were plagued by design errors from the beginning.

E.L. Voyles was a Seaboard road superintendent at the Sanie Division from 1916 until the mid 1920s, and his journals give a detailed look at how Hardwick and Roper Tunnels came about: “As Seaboard construction crews traversed their way west of Broken Arrow, through the mountainous terrain, it became evident that two tunnels would be necessary to reach Irondale.

“In early 1903, Hardwick and Roper Tunnels were bored. In an effort to save time and money, the big brass at Seaboard’s Richmond headquarters decided to build [both] tunnels to minimum standards. So the tunnels were supported by wooden frames cut from trees in the area. Keep in mind that in 1903, Seaboard had no tunnels anywhere on their entire system, so tunneling through mountains was not their forte. And they didn’t consider the consequences of using wooden frames positioned within feet of steam engine smokestacks blowing out fiery cinders when an engine was pulling at speed.”

Voyles continues, “Seaboard ran its first train into Birmingham on December 5, 1904. … In 1909, they realized their mistake concerning tunnel construction when an eastbound coal-burning freight highballing through Roper Tunnel … spewed an abnormal amount of fire and cinders. The huge wooden tunnel support system caught fire. Within minutes, the wooden supports were consumed by fire and collapsed onto the tracks.”

The disaster proved a blessing of sorts. Seaboard hired a team of professional tunnel people to rebuild both tunnels, reinforcing them with concrete instead of wood. Historian Joe Whitten of Odenville writes that the re-lining of Hardwick Tunnel alone consumed some 38,000 sacks of concrete over a period of nearly a year.

Because they had to excavate farther to clear the old structures, the rebuilt tunnels gained much-needed head and side clearance, which proved a godsend as trains eventually got taller and wider.

Trussville resident Hurley Godwin relates that adventuresome folks often entered a ventilation airshaft beside his home on Roper Tunnel Road using ropes to rappel down into the tunnel. The rail company finally fenced the area to protect these reckless climbers from themselves.

As for Hardwick Tunnel’s problems, Voyles relates, “The section of track between Odenville and Wattsville gave us fits. … They used a rail construction method known as “follow the contour”, rather than merge the track with the terrain. This was great when they operated short trains, but when a 100-plus-car freight pulled by four or five diesels snaked through the 180-degree turn and the back-to-back high angle curve tangents of Backbone Mountain, a tremendous amount of tension was placed upon the tracks in both directions.”

If one looks at this stretch of trackage on a satellite computer map such as Google Earth, it appears to be a long stretch of railway curled into two tight loops as it follows contour lines in the valley east of Hardwick Tunnel, a feature which train crews called the Rope.

One major derailment resulted in several engines and railcars plummeting into a ravine. Especially prone to damage and derailments during extremely hot or cold weather, the Rope eventually forced an end to Seaboard’s passenger service on that line in 1967, although at one time they had been running four passenger trains and six to eight freights per day.

The area was also prone to landslides, so elaborate cable networks were strung along rock cliffs to automatically trigger alert systems when rocks fell onto them.

But Hardwick Tunnel’s woes were not limited to the tracks beyond.

Approached on a curved track from the west, the tunnel itself is also curved inside. You cannot see light at the end of this tunnel (according to an anonymous observer). Voyles explains, “The track alignment through Hardwick was a tough section to maintain. … We constantly checked the rail for deterioration created by long periods of moisture that accumulated inside the tunnel. By the time an engineer could spot a broken rail inside the curved … tunnel, it was too late.”

Voyles says Odenville was a flag stop for local passenger trains, whereas Wattsville was a regular mail stop. He also relates that the conductor would drop off lunch orders while stopped for mail in Wattsville, and they would be ready at a trackside cafe when the train reached Piedmont.

In earlier days, a short line called the East & West Railroad connected Georgia Pacific’s line from Pell City to the Seaboard line at Coal City. Its wide roadbed, called Railroad Avenue on old maps, also hosted street traffic. Eventually this line was closed, the rails removed, and the street renamed Comer Avenue. It runs at an odd angle to every other street in town, passing by Pell City Steak House and the old Avondale Mills property before crossing I-20, and then toward Coal City.

As years passed and rail traffic dwindled, Seaboard went through various business mergers, eventually becoming part of CSX Transportation. The Roper-Hardwick portion is now leased by the Alabama & Tennessee River Railway (ATN) as part of a 120-mile freight short line from Birmingham to Guntersville.

Many segments of Seaboard’s old trackage have since been removed entirely, with some of their roadbeds eventually joining the Rails-To-Trails project. The well-known Chief Ladiga Trail is a fine example.

It runs on the old Seaboard roadbed from Anniston through Piedmont to the Georgia state line, where it continues as the Silver Comet Trail, with a combined length of some 100 miles. Legislation is afoot to make it part of the Appalachian Trail.

Those seeking physical fitness or outdoor recreation can get on the rail-trail at any crossing, and walk, run, jog, bike, rollerblade or whatever. It’s paved all the way, with no grades of more than 2 percent, so it’s also great for wheelchairs and baby strollers. Motorized vehicles are banned.

Want to visit Hardwick or Roper Tunnel? DON’T! All railroad tracks are the property of rail companies. Walking on any tracks is considered trespassing on private property.

Besides, it can be very dangerous.

Hardwick, for instance, is approached through a long, narrow, curved gap with steep sides that allow little room for escape if a train is coming. Also, as mentioned before, you cannot see through the tunnel, so an oncoming train might not be detected until it’s too late.

Best to explore railroad features on the printed page instead.

The Ark Restaurant

[Show as slideshow]

From skirting liquor laws to finding fame as the place for catfish

Story by Jerry C. Smith
Photos by Jerry Martin
Submitted photos

St. Clair folks are passionate about two basic food groups: barbecue and catfish. While the debate still rages among barbecue aficionados, the Pell City/Riverside area hosts a restaurant called The Ark, which has for decades set a gold standard in the catfish genre.

They also serve steaks, frog legs, shrimp and other fine fare, but the owner attests that about 60 percent of Ark customers ask for catfish. In fact, you can decline a menu and simply hold up one, two or three fingers to indicate how many fillets you want with your fries, slaw and hushpuppies.

Their Alabama pond-raised, deep-fried catfish entrees are excruciatingly delicious and served in a warm, home-style venue whose long, colorful heritage dates back to the Roaring Twenties. The Ark’s bio is like a story made for Hollywood.

At one time, St. Clair County was dry. If you wanted alcoholic spirits, you either went to Jefferson County or to a local bootlegger. Things got even tighter during Prohibition, when alcohol became illegal everywhere.

But E.O. “Red” Thompson had a better idea. He bought an old dredge barge at salvage, formerly used for deepening river channels and clearing debris, refitted it as a speakeasy, and christened it The Ark.

Thompson anchored it about 30 feet from the west bank of the Coosa River, near present-day US Highway 78. The Coosa borderlines St. Clair and Talladega counties, so The Ark was technically in either (or neither) county, depending on from which direction the law was coming.

It was known to be a rip-roaring establishment, catering to most any vice you can name. Patrons boarded The Ark from their boats, or they could use a 4-foot-wide catwalk. In a 1990 Birmingham News story by Marie West Cromer, George Scisson of Riverside related, “More than one inebriated customer had trouble getting back to shore on that walkway.”

Scisson continued, “They served river catfish and hushpuppies and all the beer you wanted, and neither St. Clair or Talladega law could touch them because it wasn’t located in either county. … I was too young to buy beer then, but I drank it on the old Ark. Beer was 15 cents a can, and a sign said, ‘All the catfish and hushpuppies you can eat, 60 cents.’ They put more fish in a sandwich for 35 cents back then than you get on a platter today.”

Eventually, the original Ark caught fire, burned and sank. Undaunted, Mr. Thompson built a new log building on the river’s west bank. In Cromer’s story, the late Bob Cornett described this second Ark, “It was a rustic building … breezes from the river whistled through cracks in the floor and walls. … Some customers came by boat, and some were served from a pier.”

Ferry boats were used in those days to cross the Coosa, which was much narrower than today’s impounded waterway. In 1938, a new highway bridge was built on US 78. Because the bridge had replaced a ferry, it was opened as a toll bridge at first. In fact, Cornett’s father, Sam Cornett, operated the tollbooth.

Thompson was described as a “gruff old gentleman who ran a tight ship.” Cornett told of two men who told the cashier their food was no good and walked out without paying their bill. Thompson forcibly brought them back in, and told them, “Now pay the lady for what you done et.”

Waitress Hazel Castleberry, who invented The Ark’s special fish sauce that’s still in use today, recalls her days of service with Thompson. “Menus were not used back then. Customers just told us what they wanted, and we wrote it down quick and got away from them as fast as we could because Thompson didn’t believe in his hired help socializing with customers.”

But, alas, this new Ark also burned. Thompson built yet another roadhouse on the other side of US 78, where today’s Ark is located, and renamed it Red’s Place. It was a true Southern hangout in every sense, much like the Boar’s Nest on Dukes of Hazzard. They say Thompson was much like Boss Hogg, and Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane also had a counterpart at Red’s. Many St. Clair middle-agers will tell you Red’s did almost as much business from the back door as from the front.

Eventually, the aforementioned Mr. Cornett purchased Red’s Place, and named it The Ark once again. That was some 34 years ago, just a few days after Bob and Sylvia Cornett were wed. Before long, the Cornetts’ Ark had built a reputation for fine food, atmosphere and community appreciation that still prevails today.

The Ark’s ambience is something you just have to experience for yourselves. In an Anniston Star item by George Smith, Cornett described The Ark’s decor: “This is no hoity-toity joint. Anyone is welcome here. Our only requirement is that you wear a shirt and shoes, and the reason for that is the health department. Shoot, if it were not for [them], we probably wouldn’t worry about shoes or shirts.”

Smith added, “The walls are Ponderosa pine paneling, the ceiling is plywood and batten, the tables wear checkered oilcloth, and the booths are hard as any church bench you can remember.”

It’s always been blessed with loyal, long-term employees. Hazel Castleberry’s daughter, Alesia Moore; her sister, Tammy Truss; and Tammy’s daughter Sheree Smith, have worked there for years.

Considering its present atmosphere and colorful past, The Ark might well be described as a road house for catfish lovers. Autographed photos, media clippings and other memorabilia cover every inch of wall space.

It’s been written up in a host of local and national newspapers and food and travel magazines. The Ark’s catfish platter is listed on the Alabama Bureau of Tourism and Travel’s coveted “100 Dishes to Eat Before You Die” list. The Ark was also pictured in a 1995 New York Times story by a photographer sent here when St. Clair first went Republican.

It has been featured in USA Today’s “Top Ten Catfish Restaurants In The Nation,” an annual list compiled by the Catfish Institute of America. In a 1997 St. Clair News-Aegis story by Stan Griffin, Bob Cornett said, “Anyone who wouldn’t take a national honor like that seriously would be very foolish. I feel very fortunate, and we try to maintain the quality of our food service to justify such a ranking.”

In a recent interview, current owner Sylvia Cornett named a few celebrities she and her late husband, Bob, have hosted. They include former Gov. Don Seigelman, former state Sen. Larry Means, movie director Terry Gilliam, “Little Jim” Folsom, Supreme Court Justice Mark Kennedy (George C. Wallace’s son-in-law), the Temptations on tour and CNN reporter John King.

Practically every major NASCAR driver has graced their tables, including Richard and Kyle Petty, Jim and Bill France, Neil Bonnett, Ryan Newman, Buddy “Leadfoot” Baker, the legendary Red Farmer who built Talladega Speedway, Mario Andretti, Tony Stewart, Dale Earnhart Jr., and Bobby and Davey Allison, to mention a few.

They’ve hosted large business groups from Norway and Japan, including the Honda folks. In fact, the deal that brought the Honda assembly plant to Lincoln was signed over a catfish dinner at The Ark.

In all its various incarnations, The Ark has long been an integral part of eastern St. Clair’s civic persona. Many families have dined there for several generations. In fact, two of the restaurant’s most loyal patrons, Jim and Ann Riddle Burton of Low Gap, became engaged to wed while driving to The Ark in Jim’s new ‘65 Corvette.

They’ve been together ever since and are still devout Arkies. When asked how Jim and Ann have lived together so happily for more than 47 years, he replied, “We’ve never had an argument. But sometimes neighbors a block away can hear us reasoning together.”

The Burtons weren’t the only folks to link The Ark to matrimony. Gloria Anderson, who still works at The Ark, was married there. Bob Cornett himself gave away the bride, who wore a long, flowing white gown. After the ceremony, The Ark opened for business as usual.

Sylvia’s son, Warren Smith, related a story about the time when The Ark served dinner to a monkey. Other customers and wait staff did double takes as the little simian, about the size of a two-year-old child and well-dressed in a shirt and shorts, sat beside his (human) lady companion while sipping a drink.

Actually, he was a service monkey whose sole job was to push a medic alert button worn on a chain around his neck in the event his mistress had a sudden seizure. Smith said. “He had medical papers and everything, just like a seeing-eye dog, but nobody else knew that.”

The Cornett family is of St. Clair pioneer stock, almost from the time Pell City began. Cornett House Hotel was a frontier hostelry located near the railway in Pell City. It was heavily damaged in 1902 when a huge store of dynamite in a railroad warehouse blew up, doing some $1,500 worth of harm to the hotel (a very substantial sum more than a hundred years ago), also wrecking much of Pell City.

Mentored by noted Ashville author/historian Mattie Lou Teague Crow, Bob Cornett operated a popular local newspaper, the St. Clair Observer, before investing in The Ark. The Observer was later sold and absorbed into the present day St. Clair News-Aegis. Always the entrepreneur, Cornett had also owned a bar called The Fatted Calf, which he opened in 1967, just after St. Clair County voted to go ‘wet.’

Today’s Ark hosts a multitude of catfish fans, some of them third or fourth generation customers. The place teems with action during Race Week at Talladega. Regular customers often come from as far away as Georgia.

The Ark’s daily attendance is amazing, considering that they have only one tiny, time-worn sign out front, partially hidden by bushes. Like with any really successful restaurant, word of mouth is everything.

Features

Margaret’s Boom Town Days

Story and photos by Jerry C. Smith
Contributed photos courtesy of Marie Butler and Margaret Town Hall

Motorists passing through Margaret, Alabama, on County Road 12 are usually unaware that it was once the busiest, most densely populated community in St Clair County. Today it’s no longer that bustling industry town of the early 1900s, but rather a quiet little settlement whose vibrant history must be learned from books and old-timers.

In History of St. Clair County (Alabama), Mattie Lou Teague Crow speaks of the town’s birth in 1908. Founded by mineral magnate Charles DeBardeleben, a Welshman, it was named for his wife, Margaret.

The new town eventually had it all. Alabama Fuel & Iron Company provided employee housing, churches, parks, company stores, a movie theater, schools, community recreation venues, medical facilities; in short, almost everything a working man needed for his family.

In a 1974 St. Clair News-Aegis story, Jenna Whitehead relates that houses were rented to miners for $6.90 per month including water and electricity, which was deducted from their pay along with 75 cents for miners’ use of the bath house.

During the Depression, most employees only worked a day or two per week. To help make ends meet, the company provided utensils, supplies and mules for making home gardens. Small livestock and seed were furnished at cost. If a man chose not make a garden, he was laid off from work.

In The Daily Home, June 1990 issue, Marie Cromer relates that AF&I hired C.C. Garrison, a Clemson-trained agronomist, to landscape company properties and teach the miners how to make a proper garden and tend their yards. Garrison later became the superintendent of education.

Miners were paid in cash. However, most were indebted for their entire paychecks, and often more, to the company store (shades of Tennessee Ernie’s song, “Sixteen Tons”). These stores, called commissaries, extended credit as well as token money stamped with the company’s logo, called “scrip.”

Also known as clackers because of the noise they made when clicked together, scrip was good only at the commissary, but could be borrowed on demand or exchanged for regular currency at the rate of 75 to 80 cents on the dollar.

Marie Butler, a Margaret native, former town clerk and wife of Mayor Billy Butler, reminisces in her book, Margaret, Al — And Now There’s Gold:

“Ah, the company store! Imagine yourself in a one-stop shopping store and then envision yourself inside the company’s commissary, which was operated by Charlie Boteler. A glance down the aisles reveals shelf after shelf of only top quality products. Name-brand clothing was all that could be found here. … Practically everything a family might need could be bought at the company store and, of course, purchases could be made with clacker.

“The high steps that led to the entrance of this huge rock building were the setting for many games, as children waited outside for parents to gather up the family’s necessities. Many times, some of the youngsters would wait around to see the old steam engine chug into town with several carloads of dry goods, etc, for the company store.”

Next door to the commissary, which has since burned down, was a large icehouse that also served as a post office. It can be seen, now vacant and boarded up, on County Road 12 across from the present US Post Office. Margaret had a number of rooming homes for single men and visitors, among them actor Pat Buttram, who later played Gene Autry’s movie sidekick, Pat, and Mr. Haney on TV’s “Green Acres.”

AF&I was always supportive of its employees’ cultural and leisure activity needs. Margaret boasted a man-made lake, bandstands complete with company band, social occasions like plays, carnivals, square dances, wrestling matches, road shows, musicals, etc, all provided by the company to inspire contentment, loyalty and productivity.

Nor was faith neglected. According to Butler, practically every family attended church. The company erected places of worship for all their people, including a community church with an upstairs grammar school for the St. Phillip Methodist and Beulah Baptist black congregations, with electric lights on wooded paths leading to the church. The two factions shared this facility on alternate Sundays, and held a combined service with dinner on the grounds in every month with a fifth Sunday. It’s said these gatherings were the high points of their social lives.

The company-built Methodist church became today’s Margaret Church of Christ, a neat little white chapel on County Road 12 near the town park. A pianist at this old church, Lou Betts, later married U.S. Congressman Tom Bevill.

By 1935, Margaret was the largest coal-producing area in the state of Alabama, and the only one that generated its own electric power. More than 4,000 acres of company land was under cultivation as family gardens. Butler remembers Margaret as a town of flowers, particularly buttercups and ornamental hedges.

DeBardeleben sponsored a Quarter-Century Club to honor longtime workers, its 81 charter members each receiving a gold pin and $5 a month extra pay, which almost covered the rent on their homes.

Butler tells that, during the Depression, the company mined and gave away some 4,000 tons of coal to people in several states who could not afford it for home use. When Birmingham had no coal on a Christmas Eve because all the union mines were on strike, DeBardeleben again put his people to work, assuring them the coal they dug would only be used to heat homes. A turkey was offered as a prize for the man who dug the most coal; it was won by “Smokey” Turner, who had loaded 26 mine cars.

Since they provided so well for their workers, the company insisted that all their operations remain non-union. While most AF&I workers readily accepted this policy, the unions never stopped trying to insert themselves into St. Clair’s labor structure. News accounts from 1935 and 1936 say union forces more than a thousand strong began harassing St. Clair’s various mining camps, resulting in a multitude of injuries, acts of destruction and, eventually, one death. The company and workers resisted this intrusion, but the disputes finally culminated in what’s been called The Battle Of White’s Chapel.

A union-funded, 75-car motor caravan was confronted by a tiny cadre of 15 armed company men and deputies entrenched on a hilltop in White’s Chapel. Things came to a boil, and a union man was killed in the ensuing gun battle. Some 50 AF&I and union men were indicted on murder and conspiracy charges, including Charles DeBardeleben himself, but all were eventually acquitted in a series of very expensive trials.

Margaret and the Alabama Fuel & Iron Company had lived a vigorous, useful life of nearly five decades before its mines finally closed in the early 1950s. From the beginning, Margaret had embraced anyone who wanted to work. Among its earliest citizens were Italian, black and various Slavic people, many of whom did not speak English.

The town officially incorporated 840 acres in 1959, and held its first municipal election in 1960. Many original residents, mostly at rest now, had chosen to live their entire lives there. Margaret had proven to be a bounteous, embracing home over the years, so they saw no reason to leave.

One of Margaret’s greatest events was a visit by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen, who had a popular weekly 1950s TV show called “Life Is Worth Living.” He’d been invited by a highly optimistic local lady, and surprised everyone by actually coming to Margaret, where he delivered a fine homily to a huge crowd in the town park.

According to A.B. Crane, in a talk given to the St. Clair Historical Society in 1994, “… He spoke with the same interest, same detail, the same thoughtfulness, the same expression that he would have used if there had been five or ten thousand people there.”

Margaret was all about its people, the mines, and Mr. DeBardeleben’s Golden Rule. Today it’s perhaps best visited in the mind’s eye. Visualize the lifestyles of thousands of hard-working people who once lived and toiled there, their weekend activities in the town’s park, picture show, churches, company store and the mines with their back-breaking labor and high mortality rate, which everyone simply took for granted in those days.

Beulah Baptist now stands forlorn, abandoned and in severe disrepair, surrounded by a high fence and foliage so dense you can’t see the church except in winter. An occasional company home with its characteristic pyramidal roof can be seen along the road to Macedonia Baptist Church. The town park has a nice little gazebo built atop an old concrete platform from decades past. Little mementos are everywhere, but you have to look for them.

A look back at the rich history reveals that when St. Clair and America’s needs were greatest, Margaret did her share.

Features

Ten Islands

A tale of two campaigns

By Carolyn Stern
Photos by Jerry Martin

It’s been called “The County’s most historic site” by many. Fort Strother, which would be almost 200 years old today, was an important stepping stone for President Andrew Jackson in his campaign against the Creeks. But where is it? The answer is, you just can’t get there from here.

In the early 1800s, the new country of America was a mass of movement. Opening new land to settlement was never expected to be simple. In Alabama, it meant that the native Creeks would lose land they had long considered their own, and they began to fight back.

“Legend has it that late in the year 1812, Chief Cataula called a council of war at Littafatchee, a village on Canoe Creek, several miles from present-day Ashville,” writes Mattie Lou Teague Crow in her “History of St. Clair County.” Several skirmishes and a bloody battle at Burnt Corn Creek showed that the hostile Creeks (called the Red Sticks) had declared all-out war.

On Oct. 7, 1813, Gen. Andrew Jackson of Tennessee took command of a small company of infantry troops and headed toward the trouble spots in what is now Alabama. Many volunteers joined Jackson because they felt their homes and families wouldn’t be safe as long as the Indians were on the war path.

One of those volunteers was Davy Crockett, who was well known for being a troublemaker. An example is shown in a biography called “In the Footsteps of Davy Crockett” by Randall Jones. After 60 days with Jackson’s army, he and his volunteers began to get restless and were ready to go home. In one camp situation, Crockett said he and the volunteers loaded and primed their rifles and walked across a bridge to leave, despite Jackson’s order that a cannon be aimed and readied for firing at anyone who crossed. They weren’t fired on, he declared, but Jackson said they were “the damned’st volunteers he had ever seen in his life: that we would volunteer and go out and fight, and then at our pleasure would volunteer and go home again in spite of the devil.”

Jackson marched his army to Fort Deposit on Oct. 11 and established a supply depot. From there he headed directly south from the Tennessee River toward Ten Islands. Part of his army went ahead to cut a road that eventually stretched about 50 miles. This route became known as Jackson’s Trace and was still used after Alabama became a state.

No written evidence has surfaced that Jackson ordered a fort to be built at Ten Islands, but the indications are that his plan was to establish this second step in his supply system and work south. Some historians think Jackson gave the fort the name of Strother to honor Gen. George Strother Gaines, Indian factor to the Choctaws. Others say Jackson named it for his topographer, John Strother. An excerpt from one of Strother’s letters infers that was a dubious honor.

“The evil spirits, stated by the natives to reside in a deep hole in the Ten Islands, have surely employed all their mischievous machinations to prevent this post from being supplied with provisions. …”

Through the beginning days of General Jackson’s campaign in Alabama, his men had to forage en route because a supply system hadn’t yet been set up. Eventually four forts were established: Fort Deposit, Fort Strother, Fort Williams and Fort Jackson (built on top of Ft. Toulouse) close to Dadeville.

As soon as he reached Ten Islands, Jackson sent men to cut trees for the stockade. Fort Strother was used by the general during 1813 and 1814 as his headquarters throughout the conflict with the Creek Indians.

Charlie Brannon, who has researched the fort’s history for 40 years and has known about it longer than that, has the facts at his fingertips. “I grew up not far from where the fort was, and I used to wander around and find arrowheads and other such stuff there.”

Brannon says the fort was about 300 feet by 350 feet. “Jackson’s men cut down trees, split them, carved picket posts and stood them in post ports with the flat sides to the inside.” Jackson and some of his officers stayed inside the stockade while most of his men camped outside in mud huts, he adds.

Records show that the fort included three large parade grounds, four separate camps — militia, infantry, calvary and at least 300 friendly Indians, mostly Cherokees but some Creeks. They wore white feathers and white deer tails to distinguish them from the hostile Native-Americans.

Food was of primary importance since the army numbered 3,000 men when it reached Fort Strother on Nov. 1, 1813. (Crockett and his friends were in and out.) A hundred to a hundred and fifty cattle and hogs were maintained, and cribs and storage bins were built to keep the grain dry. The whiskey supply (for medicinal purposes) required a building measuring 144 square feet. It was always kept under lock and key and was well guarded.

After all the forts were established, wagons with supplies moved continually down the line of forts because Jackson wanted to have at least three weeks’ supply of everything needed to support his army when they met the Indians in their final battle. On March 27, 1814, Jackson’s army defeated the Red Sticks at Horseshoe Bend.

In 2000, a joint project by University of Alabama archeologist Carey Oakley, Charlie Brannon, Richard Perry and community volunteers, as well as students from Jacksonville State University and Troy University, examined the land. Perry has written a detailed report of the fort’s history, “The Historical Significance of the Creek Indian War of 1813-14, Land Use and Archaeology of Fort Strother in St. Clair County, Ala.”

A cemetery had already been identified, and a ground-penetrating radar device found anomalies in the soil. Some were confirmed as being human remains. Some post ports and evidence of the moat that surrounded the fort also have been found. Brannon says that 187 artifacts from that project are in the Alabama Archives at Tuscaloosa. “Also, 57 graves of those soldiers who served under General Jackson have been identified. Some of them were killed in battle, and others probably died of malnutrition, disease or injury.”

He adds that other items found in the area, hand-wrought horseshoes and chains, rings and belt buckles, testify to the presence of early travelers. “Some of the articles have a Spanish connection, leading me to believe that Ferdinand De Soto or his men came this way.”

Andrew Jackson had a very personal reason to remember our county, writes Mrs. Crow. “It was in St. Clair County that he found a Creek baby without family. He sent him to a friend in Huntsville and later took him home to his wife, Rachel, in Tennessee. This Creek Indian boy, Lincoya, grew to manhood in the home of the Jacksons.”

Brannon says the Coosa below the dam “is pretty much as it was naturally.” Researchers have determined that the fort was located on the west side of the Coosa just below the present Neely Henry Dam, and the land has had a variety of owners. Slated once for a residential community, it also was mined for sand and gravel. The only marker that memorializes its presence is beside Highway 144 near the Ten Islands Recreation Area. Unfortunately, there isn’t an 1814 fort at Ten Islands that we could visit today. No glass cases of artifacts or armaments. No replicas of the stockade with the corner blockhouses, no designated cemetery area with markers yielding the names of those soldiers who died at Fort Strother. Instead, we have the connection between Ten Islands and Fort Strother, each a story on its own.

Blue and Gray Clash at the Coosa

In July of this year, shouts of summer fun echoed from the sandy beach along the Coosa River. Families picnicked within view of a cool swimming spot on a hot day. Most had passed a historical marker in a parking lot above the recreation area, but probably few had stopped to read it. The plaque tells of a very different scene on a July day.

Battle of Ten Islands

“On July 14, 1864, a small group of brave Confederate Cavalry under Gen. James H. Clanton, approximately 300 strong, were overwhelmed by a vastly superior Union Cavalry force under Gen. L.H. Rousseau. The Confederates were attempting to protect the Janney Iron Works near Ohatchee and Crowe Iron Works near Alexandria. The superior Union force destroyed both iron works and proceeded to Talladega.”

If you had stopped to read the sign (at the urging of an avid historian in the vehicle, like your grandmother), you might immediately train your eyes on the lake and on the opposite shore trying to count the islands. (I know this from personal experience.)

The intriguing name is that of an Indian village that existed before the settlers moved in. It was called Otipalin, a Creek word meaning Ten Islands. The islands may no longer be visible, but the location and the story of the 1864 battle live on.

Events leading to the battle began on July 12 when Union Gen. Rousseau and his “Raiders” invaded the small town of Ashville. Their intent was to load up on supplies that “the enemy might have stored there,” according to Rousseau’s Aug. 10, 1864, official report to the War Department of his actions. After securing feed for the animals and food and clothing for his 2,500 men, the general and his raiders moved on.

Rousseau continued in his report, “On the morning of the 14th, I proceeded with the main body of the command to cross at a ford at Ten Islands, four miles below Greensport.” The ford allowed crossing of the river, and here the Union soldiers met the Sixth and Eighth Alabama Cavalry.

“The advance was met by severe fire from the enemy posted on the east bank sheltered behind rocks and trees,” Rousseau wrote. However, heavy fire that was returned by his Fifth Iowa and Fourth Tennessee Cavalries allowed the Union troops to prevail. Rousseau reported 15 Confederate solders were killed, 40 wounded and eight taken prisoner. His army continued on its way south.

Tom Cooper, Alabama Power supervisor of H. Neely Henry, Logan Martin and Weiss dams for many years, says the area was the perfect place to cross the river. “The ford used by travelers and troops to cross the Coosa was at Wood Island, where a slough came up. Wagons and horses could get across there.” The crossing was natural limestone, he explains.

The 1864 battle of Ten Islands between Union and Confederate soldiers was fierce, but now the marauders are just everyday folks looking to have lots of fun. With a little imagination, they might just see Andrew Jackson and Davy Crockett crossing the river here to reach Fort Strother in the early days of the Indian wars. Or hear the guns and see the action of those long-ago events that are part of this county’s history.

Park attendant Alton Griffith has spent the past five summers watching over the recreation area at Ten Islands. “People don’t know about all this,” he says. “We have a boat-launching area and a fishing pier, a sandy beach and shallow water access, as well as picnic tables and restrooms,” he adds. “And it’s all free.”

After he retired from Goodyear in Gadsden, Griffith looked for something to do that he would enjoy. “On weekends in the summer we might have close to 1,000 people, and the license plates on the cars aren’t all from Alabama. I like to meet and talk with people, so I like it here.” So do a lot of others.

Directions

• The revived Janney Iron Works (Calhoun County) sits on Janney Road (Hwy. 77 north of 144, right on Spring Road and left to Janney Road.)
• To get to H. Neely Henry Dam directly from I-20, take Ala. Hwy. 77 north and turn left/west onto Ala. Hwy. 144.
• From the Ashville area, take U.S. Hwy. 231 south to County 26 and turn left. Continue to Ragland, pick up Ala. Hwy. 144. The recreation area is a left turn just before the bridge.

Coming home to the Cove

By Carolyn Stern
Photos by Jerry Martin

Traveling from Pell City or Ashville to Oneonta on US 231 North, you might easily miss a road sign on the right, just after mile marker 242. It reads “Beason Cove Road.” However, if it catches your eye, and you turn, following the narrow road down a hill and across Muckelroy Creek, you enter a valley that holds an enduring history of a family and of the area.

Beason Cove Road runs along the base of Chandler Mountain, parallel to US 11 North. A number of genealogies based on recorded documents shows that a son of the original St. Clair County settler brought his family to what became known as Beason’s Cove.

Today, almost two centuries later, a family reunion is held annually on the second Sunday in June (even in 95-degree temperature). These are folks who know who their “people” were and are. The meeting place for these reunions is a small white-painted, steepled church with an adjoining cemetery where many family members are buried. The church was, and still is, known as Union Church or Beason’s Union Church.

The first structure was made of logs. It was torn down in the late 1800s and replaced with a wooden building that was destroyed by fire on the second Saturday in June 1919. The present building was constructed in 1921.

But let’s back up a bit. How and when did the Beeson/Beason family happen to settle in St. Clair County, and who first came to the Cove?

Capt. Edward Beeson, who was born in Guilford, N.C., joined the army of the Revolution in the spring of 1778. He was commissioned captain of a company of foot soldiers. In 1814, after Gen. Andrew Jackson negotiated a treaty to end the war with the Creeks, more than 20 million acres of Creek land became available to settlers. Much of it was in the area that became known as Alabama.

Beeson was one of the many people who moved their families further south to take advantage of the open land and settled in St. Clair County, between what is now Ashville and Steele.

Records show he was married three times and had nine children. He later moved to Etowah County, where he was buried in Carleton Cemetery in the Aurora community. In 1925, his grave site was moved to the Beeson/Union cemetery. His military marker is located there, as is a large memorial marker installed in recent years by his descendants.

One of his sons, Curtis Grubb Beason, who was 12 years old when he came to St. Clair County, was the one responsible for the settling of the Cove area and spreading the ownership among his children.

Curtis married Martha Clark, who was part Creek Indian. Her parents were Henry and Margaret (Lightfoot) Clark. The couple had 10 children, five girls and five boys. Eight of them eventually owned farms in Beason Cove. Curtis Grubb was an influential man of the time. He held the office of county tax assessor and collector in 1843-1844. He was state senator from St. Clair County in 1863 and a delegate to the Constitutional Convention of 1865.

Around 1840, Curtis built the two-story Beason plantation home that you can see by taking the first left turn after entering the Cove. The last of the Beasons to live in the plantation home were Miss Allie Beason and Curtis Hinton, son of Laura Beason Hinton. When both died, the house passed out of the family. The once narrow, dusty road is now known as Curt Hinton Drive (an alternate route to the Horse Pens 40 access road). Trees flanking both sides of the sparsely populated roadway produce brilliant autumn color and thoughts of days gone by.

Curtis gave the land on which the church stands to his son William Spruell Beason. William Beason and his wife, the former Juliann Dearman, gave the property to the Methodist Episcopal Church of the United States on Oct. 10, 1880. Later, the property reverted to the family. William and Juliann were the grandparents of the Doctors W.D. and R.C. Partlow, who were connected with Brice Hospital and Partlow School for a number of years.

In the past few years, Beesons have given their support to Samford University, the Birmingham Museum of Art and other causes. Alabama State Sen. Scott Beason is a descendant, and his father, Tom, is president of the Beason Family Association, which maintains the church property today. Other family members make vital contributions to education, medicine, government, agriculture, the military, religion and business.

Edith Bowlin Tucker is the great-great-great-granddaughter of Curtis Grubb Beason, and many of those who come to the reunions are “cousins” of hers.

She writes in a summary of the family’s history, “William S. Beason’s home was a big log house located just beyond the church.” Her nephew, Jerry Payne, and his wife, Janice, built a log house on the corner of Beason Cove Road and US 231 in 2001.

Jerry and Janice are the only Beasons who live in the Cove now. Their home is just a short distance from the church and cemetery. Throughout the year, Jerry takes care of the church grounds. “I feel like that’s what my mother would want me to do,” he says. “Living here gives me a real connection to our family’s story.”

But wherever the parents, grandparents and, of course, the cousins live, they are sure to continue the proud history of the Beesons/Beasons, no matter how their names are spelled.