Tag: Features

Safe-Room Wine Cellar

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Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

Intricately hand-carved details of vines and grapes etched into the thick, wooden door hint that just on the other side lies a special room.

When John and Sue Pat DuBose built their new home along the shore of Logan Martin Lake, they knew winds on the open water could quickly turn into a damaging storm. So a safe room naturally was part of the blueprint.

They also knew their love of wine had to be central to the grand plan as well, so they turned their safe room into a wine cellar that even the savviest connoisseur would envy.

It is still a safe room. But it’s so much more.

John got the idea from a neighbor who turned his laundry room into a safe room. “I thought, if he can do that with a laundry room, why can’t we do a wine cellar?,” he said.

John installed the redwood shelving himself along the walls of the reinforced concrete. While it looks like a wine cellar, it fits all the specifications of a safe room. “It’s the real deal,” said John.

He put the bracing in, building what he needed in his shop. “The rest of it was just putting it together. I’m a woodworker wannabe,” he joked. But his handiwork tells a different story. It is a masterful blend of shelving and accents that make it as fine and rich as a bottle of Bordeaux and as light as a Sauvignon Blanc.

He cuts and solders copper as a hobby and added his own brand of art to the décor. An impressive piece, depicting grapes dangling from a vine, is just the right touch on a rear wall of the cellar. The lighting is equally perfect — a chandelier hangs in the center; its prominent elements simulating a grape vine with its bounty. A butcher-block table holding a bottle-sized wine opener centers the room underneath the chandelier.

The only ‘mistake’ turned out to be a complement to the wine collection and the couple’s circle of friends. John erred in ordering a portion of the shelves to accommodate half bottles of wine. His collection doesn’t include those, so he opted for diversity — those shelves now holding an array of beer cooled at 56 degrees. “We have a lot of friends who like beer,” Sue Pat said.

Much of their wine collection comes from trips made to the wine country in California and Washington with good friends Sandra Mullinax and Randy Royster. The foursome have quite a few tales from their treks that began in the early 1990s when Sandra was working for San Francisco-based Levi Strauss & Co. On her sales meeting trips, she would go on wine excursions during free time, and her discoveries eventually led to bringing her friends along for adventures in wine tasting.

“That got us started,” said John. “Sandra knew about wines. If I had gone out there, I would have been a tourist.”

As most do, they started in Napa but soon branched out to other areas, traveling further up to Sonoma, Dry Creek and Mendocino. Then it was on to Washington, where they once traveled 1,100 miles visiting vineyards “and never left the state,” Randy said.

They have stayed in every accommodation from bed and breakfast inns to larger hotels along their way. They have sampled the fruit of the Gods at vineyards large and small, getting to know the owners and always coming away with an entertaining story that inevitably begins with, ‘Remember when’ and an unmistakable smile that accompanies good memories.

Outside the cellar, wine themes abound at the DuBose home. A wine cask-shaped, wire basket holds an assortment of wine corks from some of their favorite bottles. A display of wine labels from vineyards they have visited doubles as a work of art in the hallway just outside the cellar. Hanging nearby is a painting by their daughter, Suzanne Garrett, of John’s grapevines he planted in Pell City’s Pine Harbor community.

Settling into the comfortable great room overlooking the lake once the “wine cellar tour” is complete, DuBose and friends share a bottle of wine, reminiscing about the trips they have made together, their favorite vineyards and their favorite glass of wine. For John, it is a “really good Zinfandel.” Sue Pat is partial to a pinot noir, “especially with a meal.” Sandra savors “a good red.” And Randy likes “all of it.”

They share a love of wine, memories of trips past and those yet to come. It is a bond that is easy to spot even if Sue Pat’s Tshirt didn’t give it away — “Wine & Friends,” it says. “The Older the Better.”

Features

Edibles Everywhere

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St. Clair forager finding culinary fame in Birmingham restaurants

Story by Graham Hadley
Photos by Jerry Martin

Where you see weeds, St. Clair’s Chris Bennett sees valuable food.

So valuable that he has been able to make a successful side business out of foraging for wild edibles and selling them to high-end restaurants in the Birmingham area.

His acumen for finding flavorful food in the wild is good enough, in fact, that some of Chris’ edibles were used by award-winning Chef Chris Hastings at the Hot and Hot Fish Club in Birmingham to prepare a meal for famous Chef Andrew Zimmern for an installment of his Travel Channel show Bizarre Foods.

The dish, called the Foragers Walk, included chickweed, Virginia pine, wild mushrooms, hoary bittercress, wild lettuce, cat’s ear dandelion, field mustards — “a lot of different stuff,” Chris said.

Most of that “stuff” Chris finds growing wild around his house.

Pointing to a small cluster of slender, dark-green stems poking out of the winter ground in a field near his house, Chris quickly identifies them as “field onions.” He breaks off a few of the stems and holds them to his nose, saying, “I just snip them off and use them as wild chives.

“They have a more aggressive flavor than regular chives. Why go to the store and buy chives when you can get these in your yard?”

And field onions are just the beginning. In just a couple of hours, he proceeds to identify all kinds of edible plants, all growing in winter within a few hundred yards of where he lives on his family’s old farm property in St. Clair not far from the Interstate 20 Chula Vista exit.

But, before he started showing off his talent for identifying wild edibles, or foraging, Chris was quick to point out that it took him years of research — studies that are always ongoing — before he was comfortable eating things he found growing in his yard and nearby fields and woods, let alone selling them to restaurants.

foraging_Hot-and-Hot-zimmern — The Foragers Walk dish that was served to Chef Andrew Zimmern at Hot and Hot in Birmingham

“People need to know … Rule Number 1 … make absolutely sure what you pick is edible. There are lots of tasty things in nature — but lots of stuff is poison,” he said.

It’s his knowledge of not only what is safe to eat, but how it tastes, that has created a market for Chris’ wild edibles in some of Birmingham’s finer dining establishments.

You can’t just walk up to a chef and say, “Look what I found in the woods” and have them buy it. You have to build a reputation for your product and also be able to speak their “language.”

For Chris, that is easy today — he has worked in restaurants all over the country, from Richmond, Va., to Chicago to Birmingham.

He grew up in St. Clair County, on the very property he now forages on — though it was an 84-acre cattle farm back then — before leaving for college to earn a business degree. He knew he did not like traditional farming and had discovered a love and talent for cooking.

“I grew up on the farm, but hated doing chores. I would rather be off having adventures in the woods. Back then, in the 1980s, you could still walk down the road and pick blackberries — which you really can’t anymore,” he said.

After college, “when I lived in Richmond, I got into cooking, I got more into food; got more into gardening,” he said.

And though he describes himself as an omnivore now — “I will pretty much eat anything” — Chris said he was a practicing vegetarian for a while, which made him pay more attention to what he was eating, reading ingredients labels more carefully.

That love of the outdoors, ability in the kitchen and growing interest in more wholesome foods combined to give Chris the foundation he needed to begin foraging.

“When I lived in Chicago, I read up on a lot of European chefs. They use a lot of wild edible plants. I learned there was a lot more out there than wild mushrooms,” he said. “There are things out there all around us.”

In 2005, Chris returned to Alabama to get the old family farm up and running. But he did not want to do traditional farming. Cultivating the land for foraging did away with a lot of the farm labor that did not interest him and allowed Chris to focus on his new passion.

Though he has a regular “day” job working as a cheese buyer for Whole Foods in Birmingham, Chris makes time to gather and sell his wild edible “finds” to restaurants.

Because he not only knows what is edible, he knows how it will taste, Chris can tell chefs exactly what edibles go with what dishes and how they can be prepared.

“I never sell anything I have not eaten,” he said. “My cooking background lets me tell them how to use it, how to cook it — or serve it raw, how it tastes.”

He also helps the restaurants keep track of what wild edibles are in season. “They come to me and ask is something still in season — like wild persimmons. Those are gone by now.”

As a case in point, Chris walks over to a cluster of what look like tall, leafy weeds with small, bright-yellow flowers on top.

“Wild edibles are mostly considered weeds by people who see them growing up in a yard or field. …”

This group of yellow flowering “weeds” grew where Chris had planted tomatoes and covered the ground with hay. “These plants came up. I am always looking at what things are. These, the leafs look like greens and the flowers look like Brassica” (a genus of plants that includes a number of vegetables, including mustards and cabbages).

“I finally figured out they are field mustard,” he said.

Chris uses several tools to help him identify new plants. He always carries a small bound notebook with him where he writes down everything about what he has found, sketches pictures, even takes pressings of the plants.

And, while he still relies on several books, Chris is quick to take advantage of modern technology to help him — using his iPhone to take pictures of the plants and Google and other online tools to identify them.

“It takes a while to learn what something is,” he said, reiterating, “People need to know — make absolutely sure what you pick is edible.” He also said it is equally important to know about where you are picking — since fertilizers and pesticides used in fields can be toxic, and some of the plants will actually draw heavy metals and other harmful chemicals up out of contaminated soil.

Chris is more than ready to help with that — organizing classes on his farm several times a year where he takes people out and teaches them his foraging skills.

People can check out his class schedule and sign up on his website and blog: hollowspringfarm.blogspot.com. He also uses the site as a way to spread information about what is in season and anything new he has found.

Which, despite the time he has spent roaming his family property, still happens frequently.

Walking across the road to another field that is part of the farm, Chris says, “I have been back here around eight years, and I am still finding new things.”

Pointing all around one side of the field, he identifies a number of small plants that make up a wild strawberry patch he uncovered after cutting the field. Though not in season now, when the plants produce fruit, they are what Chris describes as some of the best, most flavorful tiny strawberries you can find.

“They will ruin you for eating regular strawberries,” he said.

Another one of his favorite plants — a tree actually — borders the field. Chris strips off some needles from a Virginia pine and rolls them in his hands, producing a surprisingly strong citrus scent, with a hint of pine in the background.

“I make tea with the needles. It has a clean, pine flavor, but you can infuse it into any kind of liquid, everything from vodka to milk, even make a meringue with it.”

And, like many of the plants he gathers, the pine needles are good for you as more than just an edible, often containing high levels of vitamin C, especially in the winter.

“If I am starting to feel sick — I make tea with this,” he said, pointing out that many pine species have edible needles, but the complex citrusy-pine flavor makes the Virginia pine his favorite.

Chris has found and grows all sorts of other plants on the farm — sage, herbs, kale, cardoon (similar to an artichoke), chickweed (tastes like a pea pod), wild lettuce (which has the classic lettuce bitterness and is less tough than a dandelion green) — the list goes on and on.

And it keeps growing. Chris is always on the lookout for new edibles.

“You never know what you are going to find,” he said.

Features

Tiny Prancers

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Bigger is never better for
several St. Clair farms

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Jerry Martin

Did you hear the one about the horse wearing tennis shoes?

No, that’s not the first line of a joke. It’s a reality for folks who have seen Jelly Bean, a miniature horse owned by Odenville’s Dana Dowdle. Once a greeter at Pell City’s Home Depot, Jelly Bean visits schools, nursing homes and hospitals, wearing the tennis shoes to keep him from slipping on slick floors.

One might think that Jelly Bean is a novelty, but this tiny prancer isn’t the only miniature animal around these parts. Ken and Donna Hale of Ashville raise miniature brahmas, or zebus, while Susan and Al Maddox of Springville have miniature goats.

With the exception of miniature horses, which can’t carry riders weighing more than 70 pounds, you can do just about anything with the little fellows that you can with their full-size counterparts. You can show them, train them to pull carts and do tricks, or simply sit and watch them romp around your yard. They take up less space than the standard versions and eat less, too. Their primary appeal, however, seems to be the cuteness factor.

Standing just 26 inches tall from bare hoof to the top of his withers, Jelly Bean is a micro-miniature horse who weighs about 100 pounds and thinks he’s a dog. “He lives in our barn, but romps through the yard like a dog,” says owner Dana Dowdle. “If he could, he would bark.”

He prefers dog biscuits and French fries to apples and carrots and rides in the back seat of Dowdle’s pick-up truck, sticking his head out the window when they go through fast-food drive-through lanes. He was the first miniature horse in Alabama to be certified as a service animal by Hand in Paw, a non-profit organization that provides animal-assisted therapy to children and adults with mental, physical, emotional and educational needs.

Dowdle’s brother, who died in 2011, raised miniature horses with the idea of training them as service animals. He gave her Jelly Bean in 2002, right after the horse was born. Dowdle took him into her house, cuddled him and rocked him like a baby, which helped to gentle him. She put diapers on him and made him underwear, because she was “too lazy to go through the house training process.” She has worked with several service minis over the past 10 years, but Jelly Bean is the only one that is certified.

“My brother made a ramp for him to climb up into my truck, and I made him outfits for different occasions,” Dana says. “He has a Bob the Builder outfit, a Scooby-Doo outfit, baseball and police uniforms and holiday outfits as well.”

Jelly Bean participates in Christmas parades and serves as a mascot for the St. Clair County Humane Society, the Moody Miracle League and the Margaret Police Department, where he is an honorary sergeant.

During the six years that Dana worked as a greeter at Home Depot, he often accompanied her to work. He’s so tiny, people sometimes mistake him for a goat. “Even though he’s a stallion, he’s very sweet and gentle,” says Dowdle, who is known as Jelly Bean’s mom.

Her helper at these events is 17-year-old Krissy McCarty, who gets credit from the Key Club at Springville High School for assisting Dowdle. “She helps by standing close to Jelly Bean, in case kids run up to him and spook him,” Dowdle says. “So far, he has never had a problem, but it’s nice to be prepared.”

Dowdle has trained Jelly Bean to bow, rear up and to lie down so children can pet him. She figures he has another 10-15 years of service left. “I’m doing this in memory of my daughter, Mandy, who died at the age of 4 from cystic fibrosis, and for all the mothers who are going through what I went through with her,” she says. “But I’m also happy that we could carry out my brother’s dream.”

MINIS HAVE LONG HISTORY

The result of 400 years of selective breeding, miniature horses draw on the blood of English and Dutch mine horses brought to the U.S. in the 19th century and used in Appalachian coal mines as late as 1950. They also draw upon the blood of the Shetland pony. It’s almost impossible to know how many minis are in this country, though, because many are unregistered pets in people’s backyards.

“All minis are not registered through us or other registry organizations,” says Stephanie Haselwander, events and promotions director for the American Miniature Horse Association (AMHA) in Alvarado, Texas. “We register minis that are 34 inches and smaller, measured at the last hairs of the mane. Right now, we have over 213,000 in our database. And that number doesn’t tell us much, since some of those horses could have been registered with us and died.”

TINY BRAHMAS TURN HEADS

Apparently, it isn’t quite as difficult to determine the number of miniature Brahma cows in this country. According to the website www.drdoolittle.net, there are just 2,000 registered zebus in the whole U.S.

In a normal week, eight to 10 strangers will stop by Ken and Donna Hale’s farm on U.S. 231 to look at their zebus, and four will come back and buy one. Most people just want them as pets, but the Hale zebus are registered and can be used as show animals. They can also supply beef.

“Some people look at me like I’m a cannibal when I talk about eating them, but a 400-pound bull will yield about 200 pounds of meat, enough to last most families all year,” says Ken Hale. “Zebu meat has less cholesterol than the meat of bigger cows, and their milk has a higher butterfat content — 8 percent — than the milk of larger Brahmas.”

Zebus top out at 42 inches, measured at the withers, and weigh 300-600 pounds when fully grown. Hale has always loved Brahmas, but claims he is too chicken to deal with the standard variety, which can reach 6 feet in height and weigh around 2,000 pounds. He found the first stock for his herd in Athens, Georgia, via an Internet search. He purchased four — two brood cows and two young heifers named Miss Peaches, Bonnie, Millie and Sara, respectively — in April 2011.

“They are one-person animals,” Hale says. “They will eat out of my hand, but crowd around my wife, Donna, who is the brains of our operation. Sara will nuzzle her and put her head on Donna’s shoulders. Three of the smaller calves will lie down with their heads in my wife’s lap. Yet they run from strangers.”

Despite their gentleness, they are animals that have horns when they are grown and know how to use them. “A momma gored my brother when he tried to pick up her calf,” Hale says.

They are easy to raise, requiring only half an acre per animal and about one to one-and-a-half pounds of feed daily. A standard-size cow needs 15-20 pounds of feed per day. Unlike large cows, their hooves must be trimmed regularly. They breed late, starting at the age of 3, and weigh about 15-16 pounds at birth.

“They look like fawns when they are born, and their mommas hide them,” Hale says. “Like fawns, if they’re under a clump of fescue, the calves won’t move. So unless you step on them, it’s hard to find them. I have to go hunting them down.”

But they grow fast, doubling in size in their first three months. They get more docile as they get older and are sometimes used in youth rodeos. “They can live up to 25 years, and most people keep them until they die, unless they’re raising them for food,” Hale says. “They’re nothing but muscle.” They are primarily gray in color, but also come in black, red, spotted or almost pure white.

Raising zebus is a business for the Hales, but the business brings them lots of pleasure. “I’m handicapped, I have emphysema, and I’m on a breathing machine,” Hale points out. “It’s so rewarding to go out to the pasture in my wheelchair and feed ‘em and watch ‘em eat and play. The calves are so much fun. It’s almost like watching a Norman Rockwell movie.”

GOT HER (DWARF) GOAT

That’s the way Susan Maddox feels about the Nigerian dwarf goats she and husband, Al, raise at their Old Farts Farm on US 11 in Springville. When Susan gets tired of feeding her chickens, peacocks, ducks, rabbits, pigeons, quail, alpacas and miniature horses, she goes and sits in the goat pen, and all is right with the world.

And despite the fact that Al didn’t want Susan to buy any dwarf goats in the first place, he often gets down on his hands and knees in their pen and lets them crawl on his back. “I’m their play-pretty,” he says.

Nigerian dwarf males get up to 28 inches in height, females 26 inches, according to Tara Maynard, who helps the Maddoxes with their farm chores. “Larger than that, they’re considered pygmies, not dwarfs,” she says. “Even though they’re little, dwarfs can supply enough milk for a small family daily.”

The Maddoxes have to buy food made especially for dwarfs, because the feed made for larger goats contains too much copper for their tiny systems. The dwarf nannies give birth once a year, and have one kid the first time and twins or triplets after that. So the Maddoxes usually have 12-15 dwarf goat babies every year. They weigh from one to two pounds at birth, and although they raise them to sell, sometimes Susan finds it hard to part with one. “Sometimes I cry, and the buyer feels guilty,” she admits.

Most people buy them for pets, but occasionally someone wants them for meat. Susan can tell the difference, and usually discourages meat-buyers by jacking up the price. “I normally get $75-$100 for a dwarf, but if I suspect they want to eat it, I’ll ask $500.”

As with all their animals, the Maddoxes put a lot of time into raising the dwarf babies. “We handle them and gentle them from the time they’re born,” she says. “I spoil ‘em. They’re no trouble to care for. If you ever get any, you’ll find yourself sitting out in the pen, just watching them play.”

For an additional story on Llamas in St. Clair, check out this month’s edition of Discover The Essence of St. Clair

Features

Tricky Fishing

Kayak fishing making a splash
at Neely Henry & Logan Martin lakes

Story by Loyd McIntosh
Photos by Jerry Martin

Spring time in St. Clair County: fresh air, blue skies, green grass and, of course, fishing — lots and lots of fishing. By the time the ol’ groundhog’s predictions have taken root, there will be – excuse the pun – a boatload of fishing tournaments on and around Neely Henry and Logan Martin lakes.

That also means hundreds of noisy bass boats, speed boats and other motorized watercraft making waves all in an attempt to sneak up on the legions of fish that call the Coosa River and its lakes home. Fishing is as ingrained in who we are in these parts as barbecue and football are.

But a new way of angling is making its way from salt water to fresh water. It began off the California coast around 15 years ago, and now kayak fishing is heading to fresh water fishing hotspots around St. Clair County.

Kayak fishing is on the rise with a growing community of anglers spreading the gospel of the sport as an alternative to traditional fishing. Interested to see it or to try kayak fishing out for yourself? Then clear your schedule and plan to compete in the Coosa Canoe and Kayak Fishing Tournament, organized by the non-profit group, Coosa Riverkeeper.

Frank Chitwood, Riverkeeper and chief watchdog for Coosa Riverkeeper, hopes his organization’s efforts will ensure a healthier Coosa River and surrounding waterways for future generations. “Coosa Riverkeeper is a citizen group advocating on behalf of the Coosa River for clean water,” explains Chitwood. “We stand up to polluters and the government when their actions are not in the best interest of clean water and a healthy river.”

The Coosa Canoe and Kayak Fishing Tournament is a charitable event to raise money and awareness of issues facing the Coosa River through an innovative three-stage tournament. Proceeds from the tournament will go toward helping the Coosa Riverkeeper fulfill its vision of a fishable, swimmable, drinkable Coosa River.

The first stage, Lake Neely Henry Open, is scheduled to begin at first safe light on Saturday, March 30, and for many in observance, this will be the first time to see some of the tournament’s interesting rules. For instance, competitors are allowed to drive to any spot they wish within the tournament boundaries to put their kayaks in the water. There are also no live wells and no weigh-ins, keeping the negative impact on the fish to a minimum.

“You don’t actually keep the fish,” Chitwood explains. “You put them right back after you catch them, so we call it a virtual stringer because it only exists on your camera.” Tournament scoring is based on length, which Chitwood says is just as fair a competitive measure as other tournaments that are weight-based.

At the beginning of each tournament, every competitor is given a special fish ruler, and once an angler reels in a catch, he or she places the fish in the trough-like ruler and then takes a photo of the fish on a digital camera or cell phone camera. At the end of the day, anglers arrive with a “digital stringer” instead of live fish they may have kept in a live well for several hours. “So, generally it takes a minute or two to do all that once you reel it in, take a picture or two of it and put it back in the water where it came from as opposed to a bass tournament, where they might give you a poorly ventilated live well where the fish stay for several hours,” he says.

Chitwood says this method is less stressful on the black bass varieties – primarily large mouth and spotted bass – that are allowed during a Coosa Riverkeeper tournament. The goal, Chitwood says, is to create an alternative to traditional fishing tournaments by keeping mortality rates low and, thus, a healthier Coosa River ecosystem. At a poorly run tournament, in the middle of a hot summer’s day with poor live well conditions, fish mortality can be high, Chitwood says. “At kayak fishing tournaments, we keep fish mortality rates really low. Almost all of them will survive and become larger bass.”

The first two stages of the three-stage tournament – the Lake Neely Henry Open in March and the Logan Martin Open in June – are each one-day, three-fish-limit tournaments where only the three biggest fish are counted. “That way it gives people who catch a larger quantity of fish an advantage, but not so much that you can just go out and catch a bunch of little ones. Good combination of quantity versus quality.”

The final tournament of the year is the Coosa Classic, a two-day event Oct. 26-27 at the Coosa Outdoor Center in Wetumpka and is a four-fish stringer, with only the two biggest fish from each day counted for the final score. The Coosa Classic is the final event, where the Blackjack Lands Angler of the Year will be crowned at the end of the tournament. The grand prize is a Primo ceramic grill, donated by Blackjack Lands.

To learn more about kayak fishing, Coosa Riverkeepers or to register for the Coosa Canoe and Kayak Fishing Tournament, go online at www.coosakayakfishing.com.

Features

Big Guns

Alabama Artillery recreates historic cannons

Story by Jerry Smith
Photos by Jerry Martin

Stewarts is a historic little community on Mineral Springs Road near Pell City. It’s scenic and pretty quiet, at least most of the time. But just up the road on Bowman Circle, a four-man group called Alabama Artillery occasionally punctuates Stewarts’ tranquility with sounds unheard since the Civil War.

About a year and a half ago, John P. Church approached two of his sons with an idea. “Boys, let’s build a cannon!” Inspired by a smaller project completed by John’s 16-year-old nephew, Jordan Church, they reasoned that between them they had enough technical expertise and manual skills to construct and safely operate a working reproduction of a Civil War field artillery piece.

John, Mike and Doug Church spent weeks assembling materials and information before the actual metal and woodwork began. From their previous involvement in the coal industry in Pike County, Kentucky, plus other interests, the trio sports a collective resume of gunpowder handling, hydraulics, millwork, carpentry, blueprint reading, blacksmithing, steel erection, metal fabricating and federal safety certifications, so this project was virtually assured of success from the start.

John’s mechanical ingenuity was first evidenced in childhood. As one of 11 children born to a coal miner’s family in Buchanan County, Virginia, he built many of their toys, like seesaws, wagons, merry-go-rounds and swings.

John was in the 17th Airborne Division during the Korean War. Like many other paratrooper volunteers, he jumped out of the first airplane he ever boarded. John went on to Officer Candidate School and at age 19, became the youngest drill sergeant in the Army. He’s also been an ordained Baptist minister for more than 50 years.

While work proceeded on Number One, as they named their first cannon, the Churches were joined by a neighbor, Joe Johnson, who became a sort of d’Artagnan to “The Three Cannoneers.” A veteran jet fighter pilot who served in Vietnam and other theaters, Johnson had later worked in airplane propeller repair, so precision machine work and fine wood finishing were well within his purview. Joe also is an active member of the Ashville chapter of Sons of Confederate Veterans. When he came aboard, the now-complete cannon team assumed the sobriquet of Alabama Artillery.

To look at these fellows, one would assume all four are in their late 50s like brothers Doug, 58, and Mike, 61. But Joe is 79, and John, who rides a Harley Davidson Road King when he’s not working on shop projects, is 81. Both men are admirably fit for their age — actually, for any age.

The Alabama Artillery performs cannon firings and static displays for a variety of patriotic and general-interest events. When asked about the team’s mission statement, John replied, “I can tell you in three words: We honor veterans”.

And they mean what they say. The group works entirely at its own expense. While their weaponry and self-chosen uniforms bear a proper resemblance to Confederate Army accoutrements, these men have equally strong feelings of patriotism and pride for American warriors of all battles, from the American Revolution through Afghanistan and Iraq.

Cannon Number One is a freestyle facsimile of a Tredegar Mountain Rifle. Its barrel is about a yard long, has a 2-inch bore and is mounted on a beautifully crafted, large-wheeled gun carriage with matching limber.

A limber is a separate, two-wheeled cart that carries an ammunition chest full of gunpowder, cannonballs, spare parts and other gun supplies and is rigged to tow the cannon for cross-country transport. A truly authentic limber also has provisions to hitch a team of horses, but the Alabama Artillery is more likely to move its piece on a flatbed truck or tow it with a trailer hitch behind a four-wheeler.

Together, the limber and gun make up a complete field artillery unit. Limbers were also used in combat to tow caissons, which are similar two-wheeled carts with additional ammunition chests and, often, a spare wheel or two. A limber/caisson combo becomes essentially a four-wheeled supply wagon, totally flexible in the middle for easy travel over rough terrain. Ammo chests often doubled as seats for gunners when on the move, but in hilly or muddy terrain, they all walked to spare the horses.

The men recently completed a second cannon, called Number Two. Its cast-iron barrel was molded especially for them by Dixie Gun Works of Union City, Tennessee. It’s a 3/4-scale replica of what’s called a six-pounder — that is, its cast iron cannon ball would weigh 6 pounds. This was a common field artillery piece used by both armies during the Civil War and in previous conflicts as well.

All metal and woodwork was crafted in Mike and John Church’s home workshop, using a real blacksmith anvil and a combo metal and wood lathe that dates back to the 1940s. Johnson did the final wood finishing on both carriages in his own shop.

They invented some new methods for building carriage wheels with impressive results. Indeed, there’s evidence of constructive improvisation throughout every phase of both projects. For instance, for “live firing,” they use a 1 7/8-inch-trailer hitch ball instead of a much more expensive cast iron cannonball, and barrel swabs are tipped with fuzzy paint rollers instead of costly inlaid fur.

Both guns are mounted on wheeled carriages fabricated from actual Civil War-era engineering drawings, except they’ve been exquisitely finished in stained wood color rather than Army Drab. They’re real show stoppers in every respect. And yes, there will be a (much larger) Number Three.

Firing a field artillery piece is not a casual operation. Each man on a cannon team has a specific job to be executed in an exact way and sequence. Should any man not perform as directed, the entire operation could suddenly become quite dangerous and most likely would fail completely.

The basic field manual on artillery fire dictates a bewildering syllabus of exact instructions and commands, all set in stone and precisely repeated for each shot. During actual combat, especially in “batteries” of several guns, crewmen used hand signals instead of spoken commands because of the deafening noise.

Every cannoneer knew his own job and several others, which helped to compensate for casualties. Remember, the enemy was shooting at them from places of relative safety while the gun crew was totally exposed and unable to shoot back except with their cannon.

The loading drill was choreographed so that the enemy was never sure who’s carrying a live round. In fact, the man who carried powder and ball to the cannon’s muzzle was expected to shield the load with his own body, lest a stray bullet make it explode and kill the entire crew.

Alabama Artillery uses a four-man firing team, but a real Civil War combat gun crew would have numbered from six men to more than a dozen, depending on the weapon’s size and purpose.

Watching a field artillery piece being fired is an unforgettable experience, even if you’ve seen it before. The gun crew performs a customary setup and loading sequence, in full view of its spell-bound audience

Then, with every man in his assigned position and constantly alert to safety issues, the firing officer jerks a long lanyard attached to a primer cap in the rear end of the cannon. A second or two later, the cannon responds with a powerful burst of man-made thunder that’s guaranteed to get anyone’s undivided attention, even if you’re a half mile down the road.

Its muzzle blast kicks up dirt, grass and leaves in front of the weapon, and creates a huge cloud of fiendishly fragrant blue smoke extending many yards downrange. Those who witness a firing at dusk may also see cone-shaped shafts of orange flame boring a hole right through the center of the smoke cloud, comparable to shock waves often seen in supersonic jet engine exhaust.

Everyone reacts differently to the blast. At a recent home school benefit firing, several children screamed with delight, one lady dropped her video camera, and a black Labrador Retriever ran until he was out of sight.

Observers usually have lots of questions, especially after the first shot, and Alabama Artillery welcomes them all. After all, education, heritage and homage to veterans are what they’re all about.

Some of these questions can be quite funny. For instance, “Where’s the trigger?” or “Can you shoot a deer with it?” It’s great stuff from seriously inquiring minds — and as much fun for the cannoneers as the crowd.

Alabama Artillery does not normally load a projectile when firing at public functions, so there’s practically no danger of mishap as long as the crew does its job as proscribed by basic artillery protocol.

In September, artillery members fired their weapon to open a charity dove shoot near Montevallo, an event sponsored by local Masons to benefit Wounded Warriors. They’ve also provided static displays and firings at various school and veterans’ events.

Alabama Artillery requests that anyone who wishes a demonstration for patriotic, civic or school functions should call Mike Church at 205.405.1007 or Doug Church at 205.338.3373 for further information. The group is especially eager to perform for school children. Doug Church, patriarch of an entire family of teachers, will gladly provide a history lesson during the event.

It’s a real bang-up way to begin any celebration.

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Birmingham Sailing Club

[Show as slideshow]

Group’s history in St. Clair predates creation of Logan Martin Lake

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Jerry Martin

Atop a shoreline hill overlooking a mile-wide opening of Logan Martin Lake stands a piece of history.

On Aug. 7, 1962, it wasn’t there at all, but neither was the lake.

Even so, a group of sailing enthusiasts thought it was the perfect place to build a clubhouse when the lake did come, and the Birmingham Sailing Club was born.

The late Sam Caldwell Jr., who worked for Alabama Power Co., the lake’s creator, began his search for that perfect piece of real estate long before the contract was signed on that late summer afternoon.

His children, Skip Caldwell and Marietta Williams, remember the long rides in the back of the family station wagon as their father — armed with geotechnical drawings of the proposed lake — would scour the countryside.

Marietta remembers “endless dirt roads while Dad looked at property and spoke with owners — farmers in battered frame houses; of Dad explaining, ‘This will all be underwater,’ and me thinking, ‘No way!’ ”

Skip recalls those days, too. “I can remember spending a lot of time driving in the car, and Dad would tell us when we were driving into an area that would be underwater, or if it was close to the shoreline. I was too young to really grasp the concept as I remember looking as far ahead as I could see on the road looking for water so we would not accidentally drive into the new lake!”

On that August afternoon, as the sun was setting, Caldwell and Herb Hager sat on the front porch of the land’s owner and his family. When they explained their purpose, the family seemed “dubious about the use of the property for a club, apparently thinking about a night club or honky-tonk,” the elder Caldwell wrote in a history penned 50 years later. One family member even suggested that the contract specify no dancing allowed on the premises.

Caldwell used a blank Uniform Real Estate Sales Contract and filled it out in pen and ink. Four acres fronting approximately 418 feet on proposed Logan Martin Reservoir, it said. Purchase price? $6,000 with $1,000 earnest money and $5,000 due on closing. And the initial deal was done.

Additional lots would be purchased by July 1963, giving the club 1,000 feet of shoreline. The clubhouse would be built along with boat ramps and floating docks as the lake began to fill. The first boats in the water were launched Thursday, July 16, 1964, “with the Commodore beating the Vice Commodore by about 30 minutes,” Commodore Caldwell wrote.

A report dated Aug. 7 of that year put the lake elevation at 460 feet, which is normal winter pool. It was thought the level would remain there until May 1965, when it would rise to its summer elevation of 465 feet for the very first time.

Today’s club
A lot of winter and summer levels have come and gone since that time, but the constant has been the Birmingham Sailing Club.

Caldwell’s children say it is still what their father and founding members envisioned when they built it. Caldwell didn’t want a yacht club, he wanted a sailing club. “He wanted a club that is open to anybody that is interested in sailing, not a country club on the water,” Skip said, noting that over the years, members continued with the visions of the founders.

That, he said, “has resulted in one of the premier inland sailing sites in the country. I recently found some of the original plans of the sailing club and with small exceptions, today’s club is exactly as the original plans show.”

A new day, same goals
Tate Beckham counts himself lucky to be a part of it all. A relative newcomer to the club of 165 members, he joined in 2007. He sailed a bit as a kid in Florida, but he grew up in Sylacauga not knowing the club existed.

When he grew older, he wanted to get back into sailing, and someone gave him a boat. He eventually found his way to the Birmingham Sailing Club after being introduced by Rick Scarborough. “When I went to the club the first time, people were sailing. There were all walks of life — doctors, lawyers, construction workers. They had the same wants and enthusiasm. That was it. I was there. The common denominator was they love sailing.”

Now, Commodore Tate Beckham talks of the club and its impact with an apparent longing to share with others the rewards he has known.

There are plenty of crewing opportunities, which is “a great way to get into it.” It is a chance to crew with people who know what they are doing and to learn the functions of the boat.

“Come out any time and 85 percent of the time, if you show up, someone will take you out sailing,” he said. It is a sport and a love to be shared.

There are “learn-to-sail” classes twice a year in the spring and fall. A junior sailing program complete with a summer sail camp gets the younger generation started early.

Major October regattas draw sailors and spectators from all around the southeast, and locals often find their perfect spectator spot on land and on water just to watch.

Just about every Sunday at 2 p.m., you can see a core group racing — puffed white sails, then colorful spinnakers bob along the horizon. An intermittent horn blowing its signals, and sails flapping and snapping in the wind seem to be the only sounds you hear.

It is quite a sight to behold for novice and enthusiast alike. It is like a secret, buried treasure one would ordinarily want to keep for himself. Only this one is best when it is shared.

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