Generations of Business

Harbison’s Tire and Auto Service
Sylvia’s Birdbath and Beyond

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Graham Hadley

On the surface, automobile tires and motor oil have absolutely nothing in common with bird baths and concrete statuary. In Argo, however, they are the products of two independent, family-owned shops that share a similar history.

Harbison’s Tire & Auto Service is owned and operated by the Harbison brothers, who brought their dad’s 46-year-old shop to Argo from Roebuck in 2006.

Sylvia’s Birdbath & Beyond is owned and operated by Sylvia Johnson, who sold her grandfather’s concrete statuary at the Mini Market she and husband Jerry ran near Trussville before opening at her current Argo location.

Each business represents three generations of family involvement. Combined, they’ve been serving the people of east Birmingham and St. Clair County for almost 100 years.

The late Jack Harbison, a former airline mechanic, founded Harbison Automotive Service in 1960 in a two-bay Texaco service station in the Birmingham community of East Lake. He pumped gas for his customers and did small automotive repair services. He also washed cars, repaired flat tires and handled local road service duties.

Each of his four sons was introduced into the business during his teenage years, and three still run the place today. Their only sister, Charlotte, joined them in 1997 when she retired from a real estate career.

The business moved two times while in Birmingham, its last location being a six-bay repair shop in Roebuck. The Argo facility, located at 769 Highway 11, is a full-service, eight-bay auto repair shop and retail tire center operated like Jack Harbison taught his family.

“We care about our customers,” says Brandon Harbison, the oldest brother. “We take care of our customers’ cars as if they were our own.”

The Harbisons left Roebuck because their customers were moving toward Trussville and Springville, and business was going down. After the move, many of those customers began drifting back. “Some of them had died, but their kids are coming in now,” Brandon says.

He and his brothers, Frankie and Kim, are proud of the fact that Harbison’s was the fourth independent auto repair shop in the state to get a computerized tire machine, called a Hunter Revolution, that does not touch the wheel while removing or mounting a tire. “We got it two or three years ago,” Brandon says.

Ricky Harbison is the only brother who didn’t stay in the automotive business. A third generation is involved and may take over when his dad and uncles retire.

“My son, Brady, has worked with us for 13 years, since he finished automotive school at Walker State Technical College,” Brandon says. “His wife, Candace, will be taking over administrative duties when Charlotte leaves this Spring. She’s retiring to live near her grandchildren in North Carolina.”

Harbison’s waiting area doesn’t smell of oil and grease, and the seats aren’t torn from old automobiles. “We provide an attractive and comfortable waiting area for customers with television and free WiFi,” says Charlotte. “We always have coffee and doughnuts, too.”

One of the perks of working for Harbison’s is a home-cooked breakfast and lunch each day. When matriarch Juanita Harbison was alive, she cooked them in the shop’s full-size kitchen and break room, wearing a red apron embroidered with her nickname, “Ettamomma.” (The name was the result of a grandson who couldn’t pronounce “Juanita.”) It wasn’t unusual for customers in the waiting room to be invited to these meals. Since Mrs. Harbison died in 2015, Frankie has taken over breakfast duties, and Charlotte prepares the lunches. It’s up-in-the air as to who will take over lunch duties when Charlotte leaves.

“I’ve been trading here since they came to Argo,” says customer Bob Norcross, who sweeps the shop each morning to “earn” his breakfast. “They have a real combination of old school and new school, and they live by the first rule of retail, ‘Treat everybody like you would like to be treated.’ It’s the only place I’d let my wife take her car by herself.”

Harbison’s is open Monday through Friday from 7 a.m. until 6 p.m., but has a key drop-box so customers can leave their cars after hours. Envelopes for the keys provide a place for customers to describe the service needed.

Another family legacy in Argo

Just as the center of Harbison’s business is family, the same holds true for another Argo mainstay – Sylvia’s Birdbath and Beyond. Sylvia Johnson’s sister, Hazel Harper, swears that if you were to cut Sylvia, the owner, she would bleed concrete. It’s because the material has been in her bloodline since her grandparents made concrete yard art in Maryville, Tennessee.

She and her husband, Jerry, ran Egg-A-Day, which became the Mini Market, on U.S. 11 between Trussville and Argo for 28 years. They sold the concrete yard art her parents made in a chicken house behind the convenience store. They shut that store down in 2004, then opened Sylvia’s Birdbath & Beyond at the intersection of the Argo-Margaret Road and Farm Lake Road. The name of her business was the suggestion of a customer.

“I bought my mom and dad’s molds, but I don’t cast anymore,” Sylvia says. “I buy from family members in Tennessee that still cast them and during road trips around the country. Casting is a hard job because of the weight, even though the pieces are cast in sections.” Jerry found some of the old molds in their basement, however, and may start casting ducks, pigeons and other small birds himself.

The giant painted, concrete rooster standing guard near one of her entrances has been Sylvia’s trademark for 40 years. Her aunt and uncle in Tennessee made him and two others. Sylvia sold one and gave the third to Hazel, who has cast a few pieces of concrete herself. “I’ve mixed it, poured it, took it out of molds,” she says.

Sylvia and Hazel painted the rooster, whose likeness appears on Sylvia’s business cards. “People stop and want to buy him, but he’s not for sale,” she says. “I have had two or three people say their mom has a photo of them on that rooster from when they were kids.”

The statuaries are displayed by theme, so the fairies, gargoyles and dragons are in one area, bunnies occupy another area, planters, picnic tables and fountains still another. You’ll also find a dog land, and a section devoted to elephants, tigers and other college team mascots. Her western section has steer skulls, horses and cowboys, while an occupational section features men in military uniforms, coal miners, pilots and police.

Scattered throughout the yard and spilling onto the driveway to her house (she lives next door) are gnomes, benches, crosses, stepping stones, concrete cacti, a small T-Rex, pet stones (for graves), a pink elephant and a 5’5” tall statue of Jesus. There’s also a small replica of Michael Angelo’s “David,” with a battered cloth fig leaf Sylvia added so customers won’t blush at the statue’s nakedness. “Everybody has to peek under that fig leaf, though,” Sylvia says, laughing heartily. Of course, there are several bird baths, and two shops of gifts and decor for inside the home.

Interspersed among the concrete yard art are plants in repurposed sinks and teapots, as well as traditional clay pots. The soft sounds of trickling water emanate from several fountains, and water plants thrive in the gaily-painted galvanized tubs Sylvia formerly used for live bait. “I was known as the ‘bait woman’ at the Mini Market and here, too, until 2015,” Sylvia says. “I stopped selling bait because my hours weren’t good for fishermen, who like to get up early.”

Sylvia’s Birdbath & Beyond is open from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, but people often stop and browse when she’s closed, Sylvia says. “The only time we’re open on Sunday is during our annual Mother’s Day sale.”

Bowlin Bluff House

On A Clear Day You Can See Forever

Story Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Michael Callahan

When Todd and Liz Wheeles went house-hunting, they looked for something off the beaten path. They found it in a small hunting cabin on 115 acres atop Bowlin Bluff, a place so remote even the mail carrier and the garbage man have trouble getting to it.

“We have a post office box, and we carry the garbage out as we leave,” Liz says. “We often have to keep friends on the phone and guide them in or meet them at the bottom of the hill and drive them up.”

The only way in or out is via a dirt road that’s best traveled by truck or an all-terrain vehicle. The drive is worth the effort, though. The view at the top is breathtaking.

The house sits 30 feet from a granite bluff that’s about 1,070 feet in elevation. From their deck, the Wheeleses can see Bald Rock Mountain eight miles away. As for the sunsets, “breathtaking” doesn’t come close to describing them.

“The sunsets up here are spectacular,” says Todd. “But we enjoy the deck any time of the day, whether it’s coffee in the morning, wine in the afternoon, or whiskey by the night fire.”

By knocking out a side wall and adding a 30-by-20-foot den, gutting the kitchen and both downstairs bathrooms, then extending the back porch to wrap around the new room, they turned a cabin with a view into a cozy home with ample space for a family of six.

The original cabin had a small living room and eat-in kitchen when the Wheeleses bought it a year ago. Floors throughout the house were covered in mismatched linoleum, there was a small chimney and window on the side wall, and a small deck off the kitchen. “There were deer heads hanging everywhere,” Liz says. They replaced all the flooring with natural hickory, added wainscoting upstairs and painted every room in the house.

 Integrity Cabinets of Ashland built new kitchen cabinets and all the bathroom vanities out of solid hickory. The couple chose Integrity because Todd is from Ashland and went to school with its owner, David Williams. The countertops in the kitchen and bathrooms are made of granite. Removing the side wall opened up the kitchen to the new den and created a large dining area between them. Edison lights hang over a 10-foot long dining table and matching benches made of salvaged pine by The Vintage Station of Bessemer. The table’s length allows plenty of seating for Todd, Liz and their four children. “Thanksgiving, there were 11 of us here, and we didn’t take up half the table,” Liz says.

Todd wanted a larger shower in the master bathroom, so they closed up a tiny laundry closet in the kitchen that adjoined the master suite to get some extra space. They used re-claimed tin tiles for the bathroom ceiling.

The side wall they removed had one small chimney, but the house now has two. They stand back-to-back, in the den and on the deck behind it. Both are constructed of hand-laid, stacked stone. They share the same foundation, but the one in the Great Room is a wood-burning fireplace lined with firebrick, while the outside fireplace is a firebox with a stove-pipe chimney.

Although Liz got help with furniture selections and decorating from Cindi B. Jones of Savvy Shoestring Interiors, the two leather sofas in the den were Todd’s idea. The two mission-style arm chairs at the front window came from Liz’s father’s house in New Orleans, and an antique dining chair that belonged to her great-grandmother is placed next to the fireplace.

The fox skin hanging over the chair was Todd’s whimsical purchase from a shop near Gulf Shores. Jones helped Liz find the wing chair placed at another window, some lamps, side tables and art work. The den has a tongue-in-groove pine ceiling with cedar beams.

The stairs to the second floor were rebuilt using hickory treads and pine kick plates.

Upstairs, the Wheeleses added pine tongue-in-groove wainscoting, stained the same color as the woodwork throughout the house. All of the beds there, as well as the king-size bed in the master bedroom downstairs, were made out of reclaimed wood by The Vintage Station of Bessemer and have solid wood frames.

One child’s bed has a horizontal headboard made with random-length wood planks, some stained to match the woodwork, others painted white. In another child’s room, the headboard is made with a wood frame and tin inserts from an old church ceiling and is painted white. A third headboard is a reclaimed door turned horizontally. The upstairs bathroom ceiling is made from more reclaimed tin tiles, and its shower curtain has a deer motif. “We wanted the look of a log house without having to build one – a house with a woodsy feeling inside,” says Liz.

Sentimental family heirlooms add to the charm of the upstairs, too. Liz used a table that belonged to her dad in one child’s bedroom, and another of her great-grandmother’s dining chairs in another. A metronome that used to sit atop her grandmother’s piano rests silently on a window sill. Despite the fact that the sun comes up at the front of the house, it bathes the back of the house in a soft glow that penetrates the upstairs window panes. “The kids love it,” Liz says.

Because of the children, Todd and Liz did not want the upstairs shut off from the downstairs. So, their contractor, Rick Layfield of Rick Layfield Construction in Ashville, solved that problem by leaving the end of the hallway open to the Great Room. Layfield framed heavy-gauged wire with pine so the kids can see into the room below, without falling over or through the railing. He repeated that same type of structure as an extension of the stair rail at its bottom end, and again around the deck.

“We wanted the house to blend with its surroundings, so we painted the outside a mossy green,” says Todd. Layfield matched the cement-board siding outside and the metal roofing that was on the original house to extend around and over the room addition. He also built a small step porch in front and another, gated set of steps off the front of the deck.

Plastic chairs adorn the deck until the Wheeleses can decide what they want permanently. Meanwhile, they have to stack the chairs and place them against the house when not in use because the wind is so strong on the bluff that it will carry loose, lightweight furniture down the mountain.

“We are on a ridge, almost like a peninsula,” Todd says. “I’m a map guy, and in my topographical map book, the mountain we’re on is called Backbone Mountain.” Todd used that same map to chart the winding paths of the two trails he had bulldozed through the property, which come in handy when he and his son and their friends want to hunt.

Unfortunately, the trails don’t connect. “It’s so steep and rocky, we’d have to cut through someone else’s property to connect them,” he says.

Dayspring Dairy

Sheep-shearing, cheese tasting at Alabama’s only sheep dairy

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Susan Wall

It was like a cross between a fiber-arts convention and a school field trip. Some came for the free fleece, some to see the sheep, others to taste the cheese.

Sheep-shearing is an annual January event at Dayspring Dairy in Gallant, but this year was the first time it was open to the general public. “It gives us exposure and drives traffic to our products,” said Ana Kelly, who, along with husband Greg, opened Alabama’s only sheep dairy in 2013.

Their products are the cheeses, dips and caramel spreads that they sell at farmers’ markets in Birmingham (Pepper Place), Atlanta (Piedmont Park) and Huntsville (Madison City), and at their small farm store by appointment — or when someone drops by and tracks them down in the milking barn. Many people at this year’s event were regular customers from Birmingham who wanted the back story to the Dayspring products they buy. “Millennials want to know who makes their food and how the animals are treated,” Ana says. “About 150 people showed up. It was a great success.”

The Facebook “open house” invitation said 9 a.m. – 2 p.m., and by 9:30 cars and trucks were lined up on both sides of Dogwood Road to its intersection with Gallant Road. Both the barn and the small farm store quickly filled up with gawkers and tasters. Folks were wandering around the farm, some going into the pasture where the sheep, who were too young to be shorn, alternated between cuddling up to their visitors and cavorting like grade-school children at recess.

Folks had cameras around their necks and children in tow. The sounds of sheep bleating and chickens clucking mixed with the squeals of delighted children, while a shaggy white great Pyrenees strained on his chain in an effort to get some of the attention. Pecorino, Pec for short, has to be restrained around visitors until he learns some manners, such as not jumping up on people. Two other great Pyrenees, Brie and Camembert, were friendly but not as rambunctious.

Visitors came from Birmingham, Leeds, Pell City, Jasper, Calera, Madison, Goodwater, Atlanta and who knows where else, many of them spinners, weavers, knitters and crocheters who volunteered to help so they could get a share of the wool. They had to make their way past the farm store via a dirt path, carefully stepping over the cattle grate left behind by the former farm owners.

In the barn, the unsheared sheep waited their turn in a holding pen, temporarily crammed together so tightly they looked like a sea of fleece with bobble-heads. From there, Alex Bowen, a 17-year-old home-schooled kid who works part-time at the dairy, pushed them into a line between a wire fence and the back barn wall, then into a tip chute. The latter is a wooden platform with a side that drops so the shearer can grab them. The ewes strained against the fence, confused by all the commotion.

Daddies hoisted their toddlers onto their shoulders for a better view of the shearing process that took place in a large stall. Nibbleton Fuzzy was one of the “victims,” and master shearer Stuart Mathews wrestled her to the ground on her back, using his legs to hold her in place. Once shorn, a brown spot was revealed on her back. Close examination convinced Greg Kelly it was lice. “I’ve never seen that before,” he said. He tossed out Nibbleton’s fleece, and that of several other sheep that turned up with lice. One of the volunteers said that sheep lice won’t affect humans, and will die when the wool is cleaned in hot water, but no one really wanted to deal with it.

What’s in a name?

“I name them when I have a reason to,” Greg said, when asked whether he named each of the sheep. “Valentine was sickly when she was born, and we raised her at the house and she turned around on Valentine’s Day, so we named her Valentine.”

Eager volunteers hung on the door of the shearing stall, ready to grab their share of fleece. They laid it on a piece of wide-web pasture fencing stretched between two metal saw horses, where they picked out debris. A large pile accumulated beneath the makeshift “screen” as dirty pieces dropped through the holes. The good stuff was packed into garbage bags to be taken home, washed, carded and spun or woven.

“It’s not the best wool,” Greg said. “These are dairy sheep, they aren’t raised for their wool.” So, why shear them in the first place and why in the dead of winter instead of spring? “I should get a sign made,” he said, with a roll of his eyes that told you he’s answered that question umpteen times already. “Almost all of these are pregnant, and it makes for an easier birth,” he explained. “By shearing them in January, it allows them to re-grow their wool before the biting insects appear in the spring. The winters here are very mild, but this is also done this time of year in the North. We leave about 1 inch of wool, which is enough to keep them warm.”

After shearing, Greg and Jimmy Mays, who helps out on shearing and lambing (birth) days, dragged each ewe into a hammock against the wall, where they trimmed their hooves and vaccinated them. Everett Kelly, 14, son of Ana and Greg, prepared the syringes. The immunization is passed on to lambs in colostrum.

The spotless milking parlor is in the barn, where milk is pumped from the ewes and flows through stainless-steel pipes into the cheese-making room. That’s where Ana shines, and where daughter Sofia, 10, often helps by putting labels on the packages.

There was no milking or cheese-making going on during shearing time, but there was plenty of tasting and buying. Lilly Poehler, the Kellys’ goddaughter, helped out in the farm store, frying and browning tiny squares of the farm’s Halloumi, a Mediterranean-style cheese. Folks were leaving with sacks full of cheeses, dips, jellies and a caramel sauce that’s a lot like the milky-rich Dulce de Leche so popular in South America. Cheese with names such as Ewetopia, Shepherd’s Tomme and Angry Ram (a hot pimiento cheese) also jostled in their sacks, along with packs of Halloumi the Kellys gave away because their sell-by date was so close.

In another life

Prior to buying their 33-acre farm in 2011, the Kellys knew no more about sheep or cheese-making than their visitors. The family lived in Birmingham, where Greg held a high-pressure IT job. Ana, a trained chef, had worked in the test kitchens at Southern Progress, then became a freelance food stylist after Everett was born. A few years later, they adopted Sofia from Colombia. They grew tired of suburban and corporate life and wanted something different. After visiting a goat farm in North Alabama to sample the cheese, the idea of becoming cheese-makers was born.

“We had a feeling we just wanted to start some type of cottage industry,” Ana said. “We had taken a little trip and stopped at a cheese-making plant in Elkmont. We discovered that they didn’t raise goats there, but bought the milk to make their cheese. We figured we could do it better by raising our own animals.”

There was already lots of good goat cheese being made here in Alabama, according to Ana, and cows were too big a leap. “Sheep are docile creatures,” Greg said. “They don’t smell, either. Sheep produce less milk than goats or cows, but its milder and richer.”

Greg trained at the Sheep Dairy School in Wisconsin, while Ana studied with cheese makers in Kentucky and Vermont. “He focused on the animals, and I focused on the cheese,” she said. Greg also went to shearing school in South Dakota. Why so far away? “Do you know of any shearing schools in the South?” he quipped.

Dayspring’s milk production resulted in 8,000 pounds of cheese last year, and the Kellys are shooting for 10,000 pounds in 2017. Their flock is a cross between East Friesian, the dominant dairy-sheep in the United States, and Gulf Coast Native, a breed that has adapted and thrived in Florida since the Spaniards brought their ancestors here in the 15th century. Lambs breed between the age of one-and-a-half and two years, and have a five-month gestation period. All the babies are born within a very busy, one-month window from mid-February to mid-March. “We had about 150 lambs born last year, and will probably have 200 this year,” Ana said.

Most of the boys will be sold, and eventually, the girls that don’t produce much milk will go, too. “We keep a milking flock of 100-125, but we may end up with 80-100 this year,” Ana said. “We have three to four rams, and each can cover 25 ewes, which only come in season one time a year.”

Their sheep graze all seasons on pasture untouched by pesticides or commercial fertilizer. The sheep are never given hormones, and the Kelly’s believe this combination makes healthier cheese.

“We milk our ewes from February through September, which provides subtle flavor changes throughout the milking season depending on the grasses growing in our pastures,” Ana says. “The rolling pastures of our land, along with our mild climate, give our cheeses a sense of place.” 

Saving the Old Rock School

A valiant effort and noble cause

Story and Photos by Jerry C. Smith
Submitted Photos

When Springville Preservation Society’s Frank Waid escorted me into the upper level of an old rock school building on Pine Street, I was immediately struck with its ambience of antiquity.

Even by flashlight, I could easily discern beautiful hardwood floors which were well-worn by thousands of young footsteps, as well as the aroma of stone, wood, blackboard chalk and paint, seasoned to a robust sensory patina by almost a hundred years of service.

Completed in 1921 by local stonemasons and a host of community workmen and volunteers, this fine structure replaced an even older one of wood that had burned to the ground.

Most of Springville’s core population has educational and emotional ties with the rock school. While its past was certainly illustrious, its present is in shambles. But if certain good residents have their way, it will arise from decrepitude and serve its people once again.

The school’s bones are of native rock, mostly immune to fire and other natural forces that easily erode and destroy lesser materials. Built upon a solid core of thousands of rounded chert “field stones” that make up its outer walls and foundation, it’s constructed in a manner that’s an art form unto itself.

It was an enormous job, even for master stonemasons like Jackson McFadden Riddle, who built most of the earlier fieldstone structures in St. Clair and its environs. He’s reputed to have supervised this job as well.

The usual method of building such walls is called “slip-forming,” wherein a long wooden box form is built at ground level, to contain stacks of stones imbedded in mortar. Only the stones show, as mortar is kept to the backside of the form, where it creates a flat surface for interior walls.

As each layer of stones and mortar harden into a solid mass, the form is loosened, moved up the fresh wall, and the process is repeated until the wall reaches a desired height. It’s very labor-intensive, requiring special skills and training.

Farmers and other citizens brought in thousands of stones by the wagonload, with horses and oxen laboring mightily to haul their weighty burdens uphill to the school site. In fact, how that hillside location was chosen is a story in itself.

Springville native and historian Donna Cole Davis explains that city fathers wanted to place it there so drivers on US 11 and train passengers could get a grand look at their local pride-and-joy – a fine new institution of education. Decades of tree growth has since blocked that viewpoint.

The early years

At first, the rock school had no indoor restroom facilities, relying on an outhouse, nor did it have central heat, instead using Warm Morning coal heaters. A coal-fired furnace and rock chimney were later added. This furnace still resides in the basement, but is no longer operational, and its chimney has since been removed.

The facility opened in 1921 as a high school, whose curriculum was scheduled on a trimester system; i.e. Senior I, Senior II, Senior III. 

Their yearbook, mysteriously called The Rocket, was first published in 1928, long before a national involvement in rocket science. In fact, the only real rocketry interest in those days was represented by Dr. Robert Goddard’s pioneering work.

He launched the world’s first liquid-fueled rocket in 1926, shortly before the Rocket yearbook was created. If this is the Rocket’s namesake, perhaps the folks in Springville were looking farther ahead than we realize.

For a small Alabama school in the Roaring 20s, Springville High was surprisingly urbane. Thumbing through the 1929 Rocket, you can find several academic and special-interest clubs, vocational courses, sports and a sizable faculty of well-trained teachers. The women’s basketball team was considered top-notch.

A 1971 St. Clair News Aegis photo of the Class of 1924 lists students and teachers whose surnames are still found in Springville and its environs: McGinnis, Futrell, Sterling, Jones, Gill, Davidson, Crow, Richardson, Perrin, Horton, Pearson, Martin, John, Moody, Wright, Taylor, Walker, McDuffie, Stevens, Meyers, Simmons, Woods, Vinyard, Robinson, Presley, O’Barr, Wilson and Box.

It served as a high school from 1921 until 1932, when a larger facility was built a few hundred feet away, then became a grammar school until the 1960s, when that function was also taken over by a more modern building in its very shadow.

Until its eventual closing for safety reasons in the 1990s, the building served variously for civic groups, clubs, Boy Scouts, band room, and a work office in the basement for the local water board. It was even used for a few years as a Halloween haunted house, whose ghoulish graffiti can still be seen on walls.

The next generation

Sandra Sullivan DeBerry, who attended grammar school there, was especially fond of a certain first-grade teacher, Margaret Byers, affectionately known by her pupils as Miss Margaret.

She was a dynamic, petite woman who would be called a Little Person in today’s world, but she made a huge impression on her students and the people of Springville. Sandy says, “You couldn’t ask for a sweeter person in the world than Miss Margaret.” But she wasn’t always a teacher.

Born 1901 and raised in Springville, Margaret attended Huntingdon College in Montgomery, where she developed a love of music that led her to perform in several Broadway shows, including Babes In Toyland. After returning to Alabama, she studied teaching, thence to Springville Elementary.

Sandy mentions another teacher, Mrs. Crandall, whom practically every kid raised in Springville will remember because she was known as a strict disciplinarian who put up with no foolishness. Mrs. Crandall played piano for Sandy’s wedding.

Mrs. Crandall’s classroom was at the foot of the main staircase. Any footfalls or squeaks from the stairwell during class times would bring her running to check it out.

Other teachers remembered by Sandy, Donna and Frank were Mses. Marshall, Cash, Hayes, Walker and Wright, who’s the only one still among the living.

There was no lunchroom. Both Sandy and Frank recall walking about half a block down the hill on a well-worn dirt path, which Frank likened to a cattle trail, to use the dining hall at the newer school. He said that on really bad weather days a school bus would transport them, but most of the time they were expected to walk.

Sandy relates that during recess they played jump rope, jacks, used the swings, snuck off into nearby woods, even visited a cemetery close byS.

There were no electric bells to signal class change or fire drills, only a hand-bell rung by the principal — easy to hear because of the building’s compact design.

Today

The school’s present condition inspires mixed feelings. For one, visitors cannot help but marvel at the solidity of the old structure and obvious quality of materials and skills used by its craftsmen. If there was ever a building with reconstruction potential, it’s Springville Rock School.

On the other hand, floors are littered with a veritable snowfall of white flakes of ceiling paint and decades’ worth of other detritus. In some secluded spots, there is bat guano. Leftovers from several former users are piled here and there. Reconstruction materials are stacked haphazardly among the chaos.

The Springville Preservation Society has already purchased a number of windows, almost identical to the originals, and is now in the process of priming, painting and installing them. Clearly, several dumpsters will be filled once work begins on a larger scale.

Among their goals is a room partly furnished in the appearance of a classroom. They also anticipate meeting rooms and assembly halls for everything from weddings to civic and club gatherings to reunions.

The old school fairly breathes nostalgia, from its main staircase with steps that show the wear and tear of many children’s feet to its ancient fixtures and random educational trappings.

You can almost imagine the kids’ respectful silence and quiet shuffle of feet between classes as well as the hum of teachers teaching and pupils responding, as all those muffled sounds of education in progress might have harmonized in common areas.

One is struck with rightful dread that such a finely crafted and historically important edifice would have ever been considered for demolition. This place deserves to live on, hopefully as a proud venue for an almost unlimited variety of future community service.

In short, this fine lady demands respect. The Springville Preservation Society is the key to making this happen.

Formed in 2009 for the purpose of saving several Springville heritage sites, the Society now owns or controls the rock school, the old Masonic Lodge that until recently served as the town’s library, and a small white house near the spring basin that was once part of a local hotel. Much work has already been done on the Lodge and house.

Donna Cole Davis only went to kindergarten there in 1966, but both her parents attended it as a grammar school. Donna explains her reason for getting involved: “One of my father’s (Don Cole) final wishes was that the old school be saved so that others could enjoy its history. I knew this was something I really wanted to do in his honor. There needs to be a beautiful lady sitting up there on that hill once again.”

Building a future

When asked how interested people could help this process, both Frank and Donna’s answers were virtually the same: Get involved.

The Springville Preservation Society is currently led by Frank Waid, president; Millicent Yeager, vice president; and Sean Andrews, secretary and treasurer. They meet the fourth Saturday of each month at the Springville Museum and Old Library and Masonic Hall.

The museum itself is open on first and third Saturdays. It’s one of the Society’s work projects that clearly showcases their expertise and dedication to purpose.

Any of these highly-dedicated folks can help you get into the school project at any level you choose. Even if you don’t elect to participate directly, simply telling others about it will help make more people aware of what’s going on.

Citizens are invited to join work parties whenever they can, even if only for a few hours. It’s a volunteer effort all the way, but the Society’s small cadre of dedicated workers can only do so much.

The restoration project is a perfect opportunity for civic groups, Scout troops, historians and anyone else who values heritage to the point of working up a bit of sweat. The Society hastens to add that monetary donations and fund raisers are a vital part of the effort and remind us that much of this kind of support is tax deductible.

Most of the stories I’ve brought to our readers over the years have had clearly defined endings, sometimes even catastrophic ones. It would be a special privilege for me to see this one take on new life as well as a dynamic future of community service.

Let’s work together for Springville’s old school and for St. Clair heritage in general. 

Dry Creek Farms

Cattle during the week, weddings on weekends

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Michael Callahan

What started as letting a few friends “borrow” their barn to hold weddings has turned into a full-fledged event venue for the St. John Family in Pell City. Unlike other barns built specifically for events, this one is a cow barn that houses registered Hereford heifers and gets pressure-washed for special occasions.

“We went public in January of 2016,” says Locke St. John, one of two sons of farm owners Joy and Kent St. John. “As of the first of November, we’d had 12 weddings, and we had 250 people here to celebrate the (high school) graduation of my brother, Carter.”

Like the farm itself, The Barn at Dry Creek Farms is a family-run operation. Carter, 19, is a freshman at Jefferson State Community College, but has classes only two days a week. The remainder of his time is spent on the farm. Locke, 23, is there all day September through March, the months that he isn’t playing pro baseball for the Connecticut Tigers, a Detroit farm team. Mom and Dad, Joy and Kent St. John, do chores before and after work each day.

“Locke handles a lot of the marketing details and promotions from wherever he might be in the Minor Leagues,” Joy says. “I work all day but when there is an event at The Barn, I go after work and help clean in preparation for or after the event.”

The family lives up the road in a log cabin on 20 acres of land. They purchased another 50 or so acres four years ago to expand their cattle business, and it came with the red barn. They run 60-70 cows, selling the commercial (non-registered) ones at the Ashville Stockyards, and show some of their animals, too. “We do two to five shows a year at the state and national level,” Locke says. “We’ve shown our cows in Colorado, South Dakota, Kentucky, Wisconsin and Texas.”

The St. Johns painted the front of the barn when they started hosting weddings, but left the back side in its rustic, weather-beaten state. They keep mini-lights strung up inside the barn, and small round bulbs at the back, where tables are often set up for a reception or a band might play while people dance on the concrete patio.

“We own 14 tables and 80 chairs, and we’re buying 20 more chairs,” Locke says. “People can rent more tables and chairs if they need them, and they can use the hay loft for over-flows, and some use the stalls, too. One wedding party had a cloth down in each stall to designate various stations, such as a kids’ play area, a crawfish table and a drink stall.”

The Barn has a bathroom and dressing room. Decorated with banners from the shows in which the St. John heifers have competed, the dressing room has bar stools with farm-themed backs, a leather sofa, wide-screen TV, small refrigerator and a deer head on the wall. “One couple brought their small camper for the bride to change in,” Locke adds. When not being used for a wedding, the changing room makes a great hangout for Locke, Carter and friends.

“I would absolutely recommend The Barn at Dry Creek Farms to anyone who wants their special day to be beautiful, easy, and affordable,” one reviewer posted on weddingwire.com, an internet site the St. Johns began using for advertising recently. “They basically give you the key and it’s yours to use. They will offer ideas if you have any questions about how other couples set up for their ceremonies and receptions. On top of that, the barn is located on simply gorgeous property. Overall, just a perfect venue for couples wanting a rustic barn wedding without breaking the bank.”

Martin houses made from gourds flank the barn, a six-stall shed to one side houses farm equipment, trucks and a travel trailer, a second shed protects a John Deere tractor and round hay bales, which the St. Johns bale themselves, and a small grain silo stands between the sheds. Fence panels lying to one side of the barn and the cattle chutes on the other side bear testimony to the fact that this is a real, working farm. The pond, the Dry Creek Farms sign hanging between two bent cedar trees, and the swing next to the barn make picturesque backdrops for wedding, graduation or birthday party photos.

Peak seasons for 2016 were spring and fall, but any season, people have the choice of getting married at the barn or in front of the lake under an arch that was left behind by a wedding party. Rates are different during the week than on weekends, and some wedding parties will rent the venue for two days and hold rehearsal dinner there, too.

While people use their own wedding photographer and planner and do their own decorating and cleaning up after the wedding, the St. Johns move the cows and hose down the floors before the wedding party descends. “During peak seasons, we won’t have the cows in the barn as much so there is less pressure washing to do,” Locke says.

The St. Johns have a web page for their farm, DryCreekFarmsCattle.com, and the event venue has its own Facebook page, The Barn at Dry Creek Farms.

“The Barn at Dry Creek Farms was amazing,” another weddingwire.com reviewer posted. “It was an actual red barn and the pond in front adds so much. It’s a lot of DIY, which makes it fun and the way you want it to be. Many options for ceremony and reception. Also Kent and Joy are great to work with!”

Another reviewer said her party built a dance floor in the middle of the barn and used the stalls as stations for food and drinks and a photo booth.

Although his primary role in the operation is the day-to day farming side of it, Carter helps out with weddings when needed. “The farming side is where my knowledge is at,” he says. “But when there’s something that needs to be done for The Barn venue, I’m there for it.”

His mom says the family works together to do all the chores each day. “That usually entails getting up early to get things done, like checking cows, putting out hay and feeding, before everyone starts their own schedule for the day,” she says.

Working on the farm and helping to run the event venue is a lot of work, Locke says, but he vows that he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t love it. “They have taught my brother and me responsibility and the business part of life,” he says.

New Movie Theater and More

Buffalo Wild Wings & Theater Just the Beginning

Story by Graham Hadley
Contributed art

When it comes to the local economy, growth builds growth.

That is exactly what is happening along the I-20 corridor in Pell City. What started with a simple gas station at the I-20 and US 231 interchange has grown into something of a retail and dining mecca, now boasting big box stores like Wal Mart and Home Depot, a full shopping center and a number of restaurants.

The most recent of which, Buffalo Wild Wings, opened its doors in November and has continued to see a steady stream of business ever since.

According to developer Bill Ellison, that is exactly the kind of restaurant Pell City residents have been asking for — something he, along with the city, the EDC, county and other agencies have been working years to make happen.

And aside from giving people living in Pell City and surrounding areas one more quality dining option, Ellison said it is important in another way.

“This is a very big deal,” he said. When restaurants like Buffalo Wild Wings locate in an area and succeed, it is a bellwether of the economic health of a region that other companies look at when considering places to locate.

When businesses like that come to an area, it puts it on the map for other businesses, like the movie theater and bowling alley under construction right around the corner from Buffalo Wild Wings.

“The fact that Buffalo Wild Wings was coming said something about the community, that there was enough business here to support that. It all works together,” Ellison said.

Following closely on the heels of Buffalo Wild Wings, Premiere Cinemas is in the process of building a massive entertainment complex consisting of a movie theater, bowling alley and arcade, entertainment space, café and concessions.

The multi-million-dollar project has been years in the making and is something that Ellison and others involved say the Pell City community had been hoping for over the past decade or more.

“This is going to be huge,” Ellison said. “I have seen the plans, and they far exceed anything we expected to be able to do for Pell City.”

It will not only stand as a major quality-of-life improvement for Pell City residents, “it is going to bring more people to Pell City; it is going to bring more people to spend their money in Pell City.

“It will keep people here. Kids won’t have to drive on Interstate 20 to go to movies or eat out. People can stay in Pell City on weekends to have fun.”

Premiere Cinemas is an excellent company to be working with, he added, and they are cutting no corners with this project.

“We are fortunate to have a company like this coming to Pell City. This theater is going to be as nice any anything around, any theater in Birmingham,” Ellison said.

And just like Buffalo Wild Wings, the theater and entertainment complex is expected to be another big indicator that Pell City is ripe for new business growth.

“I think there are at least 100,000 people out there who will come to the cinema and bowling lanes,” he said.

“Not every town gets a movie theater and bowling lanes. Getting that in here means there is a large enough population to support it. People will drive long distances to come to something like this.”

Ellison was quick to point out that neither of these projects would have been a reality if it weren’t for the receptive atmosphere of the economic environment in Pell City, from the cooperative efforts with local government to the passing of the seven-day liquor sales.

“This has been a three or four-year project. Everyone has worked hard … then it all came together. We all worked to bring it in. It is something the community has been asking for for years, and we all made it happen,” Ellison said. “Everybody is really excited, the whole community is. It’s fantastic.