Art in Motion

The craft of making fast bikes look even faster

Story by Mike Bolton
Photos by Jerry Martin
Rider photos submitted

The rider on the sleek, screaming motorcycle shifted left on the seat and his left knee dragged the asphalt as the brightly colored rocket hugged the turn at a speed that seemingly defied physics. The rider was not alone in his insanity. He was surrounded by other riders and their cycles in a perfectly choreographed high-speed routine that made Dancing with the Stars look like some vacation Bible school production.

Despite the incredible skill level, this motorcycle race broadcast by the SPEED Channel from another state means little to most NASCAR-addicted Southern channel surfers. Scoffing that motorcycle racing isn’t real racing, they steer the channels with the remote to the safer and less insane confines of Pawn Stars or Storage Wars.

Scott Moore isn’t the typical Southern channel surfer. He watches the race with intense interest. While the motorcycle being shown on television can’t claim its soul was born in the unassuming beige workshop just outside Moore’s back door in Washington Valley, he knows its identity is fully rooted there.

To say Moore has found an unlikely niche in a world foreign to most Alabamians is a gross understatement. The quiet 1984 Springville High graduate is not a mechanic that can make a motorcycle engine perform at magical levels. He’s an artist who can make a motorcycle a one-of-a-kind rolling billboard that is easily identifiable at 160 mph.

Erase the thought of the Teutels painting motorcycle frames on American Chopper. Motorcycle racers from across the big pond and across the U.S. ship their fairings — those fiberglass and carbon-fiber additions that make racing motorcycles aerodynamic — to the small shop in Springville for Moore to work his magic on. His business is called Fast-Finish.

How does an artist that isn’t that well-known in St. Clair County become so well known across the United States and the world?

“In 1992, I painted a few street bikes and amateur racers for some friends in Birmingham,” Moore said from his shop in Washington Valley, a shop that doesn’t even have a sign touting what goes on inside. “My friends took those bikes to some national events and other people saw them and asked where they had their paint-work done.

“I started getting painting requests and it just grew. I never really set out for it to turn out like this. Now I have stuff all over the world. It got there for awhile you could pick up just about any motorcycle magazine and see a motorcycle that I had done.”

By providing the identity for the motorcycles for World Superbike champion Neil Hodgson, former Moto GP champion Kevin Schwantz and former AMA Superbike champion Ben Spies, Moore was able to display his artwork across the U.S. and world. It has resulted in word-of-mouth advertising that has branched off in many different directions.

UPS delivery drivers have the route to Moore’s rural Washington Valley shop memorized as they provide frequent deliveries of motorcycle fairings to get Moore’s touch. One day he may receive fairings from a national racing team, the next day from Grammy Winner Trevor Sadler. A delivery may be from a vintage motorcycle enthusiast one day, a delivery from China from an admirer of Moore’s work the following day.

One of Moore’s biggest customers at the moment is the National Guard racing team belonging to Michael Jordan Motorsports. The former NBA great has owned an entire team of racing motorcycles for several years.

“My dad called me one day and said some guy named Michael Jordan had sent me a package by UPS and he wanted to know if I wanted him to just leave it on the driveway,” Moore said with a laugh. “I told him that he’d better put that one up in a safe place.”

The paint schemes for some motorcycles come from Moore’s head but bigger race teams provide direction.

“The bigger teams use a graphics art department that will send me detailed artwork of exactly how they want it to look,” he explained. “It will include every decal with instructions of where they go.

“Others will send me a sketch of what they want and others will just tell me to make it look good.”

The interest in vintage motorcycle racing has increased dramatically in the South with the opening of Barber’s Motorsports Park and the Barber’s Vintage Motorsports Museum in Leeds.

It has opened up a niche within a niche for the humble Moore. He has done the artwork for several motorcycles in the Barber’s museum as well as some $500,000 vintage motorcycles for individuals. His work has won best in show at the prestigious Amelia Island Vintage Motorcycle show in Florida and the vintage motorcycle show in Pebble Beach.

Vintage racing motorcycles now make up a good portion of his work.

Moore says his evolution into this type of work has been pretty amazing considering it was never in his dreams after graduating from high school.

“I worked in Birmingham for a land surveying crew and somebody wanted me to paint a truck for them and I just needed a place to do it,” he said. “My dad drove a truck and he paid me to wash the truck for him.

“I painted this truck and it turned out OK, and I started painting other trucks and cars. I figured out that the pay for painting them was a whole lot better than the pay for washing them.”

To see more of Moore’s work visit
www.fastfinishpainting.com

The Pond House

Fabled St. Clair County home now a retreat

Story by GiGi Hood
Photos by Jerry Martin

“Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, swiftly go the years!” The poignant words from Jerry Bock’s and Sheldon Harnick’s musical adaptation of Joseph Stein’s “Fiddler On The Roof” couldn’t be more true. And thanks to — or because of — today’s technological marvels, sunrises seem to run into sunsets, and very few even have time to notice the transition from one day to the next. Nothing seems to slow down, and humanity can often resemble the mouse or gerbil running on the wheel to nowhere.

Few places exist where one might find refuge from the world’s ever-quickening pace and yield to an almost forgotten chance to reflect quietly on the thoughts in their head and the matters of their heart. Such places would seem remote, far away, unbelievably expensive and most likely existent only in theory. But that is not always the case. They do exist, and one is right in the heart of St. Clair County. The Pond House, with 40 acres of land, a 3-acre stocked lake, walking trails and quiet quarters, is the perfect destination for the person seeking solace, rest and a time and place for personal reflection as well as the renewal of the body, mind and soul. Located in Pell City, just off Alabama 34, it is a peaceful utopia that is easily reachable without the need to travel great distance or spend a large amount of money to get there.

Col. Hugh Cort III, a Korean War hero, and his wife, Vi, traveled the world as he served his country. After the war, they settled in Mountain Brook when Hugh went to work at the University of Alabama in Birmingham. Always busy and involved wherever they lived, Hugh and Vi both were constantly thinking about and looking for the perfect place to retire.

Their dream, not unlike that of Henry David Thoreau’s life at Walden Pond, was to find a quiet oasis with an atmosphere conducive to spiritual healing, Sabbath rest, quiet reflectivity, as well as times of personal enjoyment for both their family and friends. In tune with one another, they both wanted acreage in which to quietly meander; a peaceful setting with beautiful terrain; a chance to see and commune with wildlife and the opportunity to hear the symphony of nature’s night sounds. Blissful surroundings, a place for fishing, a canvas for water fowl and a pond that would reflect the colors of changing seasons, as well as a place to provide for the daily reflection of one’s life were each a viable part of their search.

When Hugh and Vi stumbled upon the 40 acres in St. Clair County during the early 1980s, they knew they were home. They had arrived at their dreams’ destination. Soon after, they purchased the property and began building the home that had so long existed within their minds’ eyes. With the overseeing of each and every intricacy of the process, it became apparent to both Vi and Hugh that the entry to the property was as important as the house itself. The manifestation of such thought produced a lengthy, winding lane. It allowed visitors to consciously leave the constantly spinning world at the beginning of the driveway and transcend to a world of peacefulness and rest upon entering the home that was ideally nestled among woodsy terrain and included a pond-side view.

A stone path was designed and created to run parallel to the lane and allowed for an easy walk to what would become the family cemetery, where Vi was laid to rest. Hiking trails were developed for enjoyable access to the property and all that it had to offer.

Social and athletic aspects of life were not to be overlooked at The Pond House. The Corts built a world-class croquet court just to the rear of the home. And true to the tradition of the sport, friends would gather in the spirit of competition dressed in the white sporting attire that was then appropriate for such events.

During their years of living in St. Clair County, the Corts became heavily involved with St. Peter Episcopal Church in Talladega. As their involvement and love for the church grew, a strong bond developed between them and Rev. Bob Blackwell, who then served as St. Peter’s priest.

It was during one of their times together that the Corts shared another matter of the heart with their good friend, Blackwell. They informed him that they wanted to give The Pond House, its acreage and its lake to St. Peter’s Episcopal Church. Their wishes were granted in 1992, when their beloved property, as well as an endowment, were given to the church and accepted by the Bishop of the Diocese of Alabama in a grand ceremony.

Today, it is the mission of The Pond House to provide a home-like setting for individuals or groups who are looking for an avenue to become disconnected from the world for either a short time or an extended stay.

“While The Pond House is an outreach ministry of Talladega’s St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, all who appreciate the standards and way of the church are invited,” Dan Miller, director of The Pond House, explained. “We welcome both lay people as well as clergy, and we encourage anyone in need of time for reflectivity, rejuvenation and respite to take advantage of the peace and quiet The Pond House and its surrounding offers at a very economical rate.”

It is the ideal setting for group meetings, as well as a facility that provides accommodations for either a one-day gathering or overnight retreats.

Originally, the house was set up to sleep 10 people. After the house was obtained by St. Peter’s, the space once used for the master bedroom was reconstructed in order to provide for a chapel. Many individuals, youth groups and vestry participants have enjoyed the wooded surroundings, as well as the screened porch and the wrap-around decks.

Having moved to another state, but certainly not forgetting his love for The Pond House, Col. Cort once again fiscally provided for additional changes that occurred during 2010. At that time, the house underwent gentle renovations in order to be able to sleep 16, to improve the functionality of the house and to provide options for limited food service. At the same time, the garage was converted to a meeting room that would accommodate up to 25 people.

The changes, growth and opportunity for serving greater numbers of people in search of spiritual, mental and physical renewal created the need for someone to orchestrate all the activities for which The Pond House could be used. As a result, Miller was hired as its first director. A low-key person, he is excited about all that The Pond House has to offer. “We want to create the atmosphere of warmth, love and enjoyment and peace,” he said. “It’s important that when our visitors come through the door they have a sense that they are at home. And one of the traditions we have to help create that sense is all visitors are greeted with the aroma and then the taste of fresh cinnamon rolls.”

While The Pond House has undergone many changes in the years since Col. and Mrs. Cort stumbled upon that glorious piece of property, some things are still the same. It is still a utopia of serenity, beauty, simplicity and tranquility. It still provides a place for spiritual, mental and physical renewal. And it still transcends the chaos of the world that exists down the lane and just outside the front gate.

LEARJET 464 Juliet

A mission of hope, a story of perseverance

Editor’s note: Excerpts from Wood’s book are italicized.

Story by Samantha Corona
Photos by Jerry Martin

In 1981, Bobby Wood sat down with a pen and paper, and began to write.

His story would have all the exciting elements – foreign countries, constant travels, a clash of cultures, gangs of criminals, and a few good guys who chose morals over money. It would highlight corrupt governments, an illegal industry on two continents, and one man’s quest to bring a valuable piece of American property — and history — home.

Most importantly, Wood’s story would be real. No fictional characters and no exaggerations, it would be his own true-life experiences – him and 464 Juliet.

“I wrote it all down by hand. I sat down and started writing, and I filled up notebook after notebook,” Wood said. “I wanted to include everything, every detail.”

Now, more than 30 years later, that original story Wood scribbled down has become a memoir, a nonfiction novel finally ready to be shared with the rest of the world – Learjet 464 Juliet.

“I’ve had this story for years and wanted to share it, but because of certain people and certain events, I wasn’t able to,” Wood said. “Now that some people have passed on, I’m able to publish it.”

Owner of Wood Performance in Pell City, Wood grew up in Birmingham, detouring to Florida before now calling Cropwell, Ala., home.

He began his love for engines early. His father owned and operated Wood Chevrolet in Birmingham, and it wasn’t long before the car fever caught on. Wood became involved in professional drag racing and was named the NHRA National record holder twice. He later traveled the nation in the Coca-Cola racing circuit.

Wood’s business today is leading innovation and design of carburetors and cam shafts for Harley Davidson motorcycles.

“I’ve always loved working with my hands. I like putting things together to see how they work,” he said.

In 1972, Wood moved to Opa-Locka, Florida, just outside Miami, with his wife, Terry, and their children. He started Wood Engineering, which built and designed products for the aircraft industry, and in 1978, under the title of Air Unlimited, Wood also opened a Cessna aircraft dealership, flight-training school and FAA repair station.

That’s where the story begins, and a Learjet by the name of 464 Juliet enters Wood’s life.

In January 1980, Raul Soto, Colombian by birth and Wood’s “right-hand man” at Air Unlimited, arranged for Wood to meet with a lawyer in Colombia who was interested in striking up an oil deal and in need of private investors. It was a proposition Wood decided to explore.

As the deal unfolded, Wood was introduced to another Colombian lawyer who brought his attention to the opportunity of restoring and returning confiscated airplanes.

The “business” of Colombia at that time – drug imports and exports – made available several abandoned and hijacked aircraft throughout the country. Some were left to waste away, some stripped for any value they could provide to the starving, money-hungry population, and some were considered property of the Colombian government and military.

An aviator at heart, Wood’s interest was piqued at the possibility of repairing and restoring these planes, both for the financial possibilities and the fun.

While out exploring the area and surveying a number of planes, native Soto remembered a U.S. plane that had been grounded just a few years earlier in 1977.

According to Wood and several news stories, the Learjet N464J was on a rescue mission to bring an American who had been badly injured in a plane crash back to the states to receive care in Texas. The victim was severely burned and required treatment that Colombian hospitals couldn’t provide.

“464 Juliet, a Jet Ambulance on a medical mission of mercy, had been sent to retrieve an American named Bruce Douglas Allen, who had been horribly injured in a plane crash. As Allen lay dying with third-degree burns over 80 percent of his body, Colombian officials and agencies, with the possible blessings of their United States counterparts, detained 464 Juliet on trumped-up charges of violation of airspace, and then, days later, neatly confiscated her by planting only fifty grams of cocaine onboard to ensure she would never leave Colombia. Neither would Allen, who was left to die unattended, a few days after 464 Juliet was confiscated.”

Six Americans – two pilots, two paramedics and two passengers – were jailed for their involvement with the rescue mission, but the circumstances, and their eventual release, left a number of unanswered questions.

As Wood made his way to the Simon Bolivar airport, where Juliet was detained, he saw the tail with her name, and it was love at first sight.

“Learjets are something special. I’ve always loved them, and I was excited about the chance to get her up and running again,” he said.

That opportunity wouldn’t be as easy as Wood had imagined.

As the story will tell readers, over several weeks and months, every roadblock imaginable lined the path – self-serving locals, legal red tape, drug lords and corrupt government officials would all have a say in Wood’s new quest to uncover the true story of that mercy mission and free Juliet.

“At that point I made a decision: If I didn’t get 464 Juliet out, no one else would either. I could have been wrong, but I didn’t believe so. I would turn their game back on them and muddy up the waters so much as to actual ownership that it would take years to clear – by that time the jet would be worthless.”

Today, Terry said she still remembers vividly how she felt every time her husband would head back to the Miami airport, bound for Colombia and whatever obstacles awaited him.

“I was terrified,” she said. “I knew he had to do this because he wanted it so badly, but I hated it every time he left.”

A man of deep faith, Wood said there was scarcely ever a moment when he didn’t feel completely fortunate to make it through alive. Without a doubt, he says the adventure would not have been possible without the grace of God.

“I have always been a devout believer in God, and I prayed to him for strength. I had been so busy, I had almost forgotten that He was there, but as I prayed, rattling over that road to Cienaga (city along the northern coast of Colombia), I truly felt His presence and was comforted.”

Thirty years later, Wood says he still feels blessed to have witnessed everything he did, and to have made it home to Terry and his children. As for the fate of 464 Juliet, he said, that is something readers will have to discover for themselves.

 

Custom Candy

Independent business bringing its sweet operation to Moody

By Amanda Pritchard
Photos by Jerry Martin

Creating a candy wonderland for children of all ages, store owner and creator Hanson Watkins opened Indie Candy in Crestline Village with that goal in mind. The business has thrived, and now she is expanding production in Moody.

In looking for the perfect place to expand her business, Watkins searched within an hour radius all around Birmingham, but ultimately knew she wanted to settle in Moody. “My father has done business in Moody for 30 years. It has a great reputation.”

This natural gourmet sweets shop specializes in allergen-free candies. Still keeping its storefront in Crestline Village at 73 Church St., Watkins will over time be building her workforce from seven employees to approximately 25 once the expansion is complete.

Featuring treats that Watkins calls “super duper handmade,” Indie Candy provides sweets that are free from the big eight allergens — wheat, soy, peanuts, eggs, tree nuts, dairy, fish and shellfish. “If it’s on the market and fits in our all-natural, allergen-free category, then we have it,” Watkins said.

Producing hard candy, chocolate and gummies, Watkins says, “Indie Candy focuses heavily on quality ingredients, keeping things fresh and shipping immediately.” Citing its best-seller as flavored gummies, Indie Candy packages its edibles in festive seasonal wrappings. “Everyone’s gone crazy for our pumpkin pie brittle. We’ll have it packaged in our gift tins for Christmas.”

Making it a mission to bring new experiences to candy lovers, young and old, Indie Candy Public Relations Director Beth Norris said, “Watching kids come in and eat their first piece of chocolate is out of control. Women come in all the time who haven’t been able to have candy and ask which section can they have. When we say all of it, they get so excited.”

Celebrating brisk Halloween sales, the staff at Indie Candy shipped more than 8,000 individual pieces of candy.

Indie Candy does not just make candy for others. They treat themselves, too. Watkins and her family have had trouble finding the right edibles without allergens and food dyes, so she looked to herself to provide the goodies. Mango and cherry gummies are her personal favorites, while Norris says she prefers the truffle apple.

Offering alternatives to allergens, Indie Candy can be purchased at its Crestline location or through its website at www.indiecandy.com. New customers can also “like” Indie Candy’s Facebook page to find out what’s cooking in the kitchen.

Indie Candy’s move to Moody with its production facilities will be completed soon. The new location is at Moody Acres where Minnie’s Bakery once occupied space.

Looking forward to expanding her business, Watkins said, “This is such a big deal for families who haven’t been able to have candy before. We can’t help but feel like what we do matters.”

Inventive Mind


Master ‘tinkerer’ turning heads around the world

Story by Mike Bolton
Photos by Jerry Martin

For those who have never met St. Clair County’s Wayne Keith, the first impression is never what was expected.

To the Mother Earth News crowd to whom he is becoming a cult hero of sorts, he doesn’t have the long hair and tie-dyed T-shirt they envisioned. To the college professors who are flying him across the U.S. to speak to distinguished panels so his vast knowledge may be harvested, he’s neither the polished engineer with a pocket protector full of slide rules or the quirky inventor that they might have imagined.

Wayne Keith is just a 63-year-old farmer in overalls who likes to tinker. “He’s just a regular guy” is the resounding response from those who meet him for the first time.

On this morning, Keith arrives at the Jack’s in Springville, and his old, wood-burning Dodge truck that is causing such a stir across the U.S. and in foreign countries doesn’t even get a second glance. An old pickup truck with three big drums in the back is as common of a sight in Alabama as Hoverounds are in south Florida.

Inside, he joins the gathering of old men who assemble daily at what they jokingly refer to as the table of knowledge. There, the old men sip coffee and feign genius as they attempt to solve the world’s problems. Keith’s presence in the group is a paradox. To the old men, he’s just Wayne, the local farmer that they have known all of their lives. He is unique, however, in that he’s actually a genius solving the world’s problems.

While the old men tell their stories, Keith doesn’t bother to explain that he has just returned from the Go-Green Festival in Missouri, where his wood-burning truck was held in great awe by patrons. Nor does he explain that he was the keynote speaker at the Environmental Protection Agency’s national convention in Atlanta. There, the good old boy armed with nothing more than a Springville High diploma was surrounded by some of the most-educated environmental scholars in the world.

“When I sit on these panels, I’m the only one that doesn’t have Ph.D at the end of my name,” he says from the log cabin he built in the woods near the St. Clair Correctional Facility in St. Clair Springs. “It’s always a little humbling.”

Before Keith got the world’s scholars attention with a truck that burns firewood instead of gas and travels 5,200 miles on a cord of firewood, he says he was just another bored high school student and an uninspired worker who was unhappy with his job for four decades.

“In high school, all I cared about was hunting, fishing and building stuff,” he said. “Going to college was never considered.

“I worked in the engineering department of a trailer manufacturing plant, and I spent five years building small trailers on my own. I was a Springville policeman for years with the K-9 unit, and then I went to St. Clair Prison as the dog trainer there. The whole time I farmed.”

The entire time he was working in a controlled environment, he yearned for something else, he says. An avid reader, he once read about vehicles from several countries being forced to run off of burning wood because gas was in short supply during World War II. That piqued his interest.

“When we had the oil crisis in the United States in 1973, and the price of gas shot up, I began reading more and more on the process of gasification (burning bio-mass to convert into a flammable vapor),” he said. “I learned everything I could find out about it.

“But in 1974, the oil embargo was lifted, and gas prices went back down. I just kind of forgot about it.”

Keith became somewhat of a noted tinkerer and inventor in the years that followed. He built a sawmill from junk steel he gathered from around his farm, and he cut wood for locals wanting to build their own homes. He estimates he has cut lumber for about 60 local homes.

He eventually cut wood from his own farm and built his own log cabin on the property. The beautiful home boasts oak floors and beams as well as numerous other woods throughout.

“No other human hands except those of me and my wife touched the cabin while we were building it,” he said. “We never bought anything to build the house except nails.

“The sawmill has operated 12 years, and there has never been a breakdown.”

Building your own home isn’t that big of a deal for many in rural Alabama, but Keith’s next invention got local tongues wagging. He took scrap metal from his farm and built what he called a “Flying Jenny.” The carnival-like ride had kids across the county clamoring for a ride, especially when they learned it would toss them in a nearby creek.

But it was Keith’s next project and the increasing cost of electricity that made local adults sit up and take notice. The 63 year-old built two windmills on his farm near his house, and the wind-driven fans supplied more than half of the electricity needs for his home. Soon after, others wanted plans, so they could build their own on their farms.

“The windmills have a generator that direct current to a battery bank,” he explained. “The battery bank has an inverter that converts the battery power into power that can run your home.”

Those windmills were destroyed in a storm earlier this year, but he plans to build them back.

Keith insists he is neither an environmental nut nor should he be a hero to the “Green” crowd, but almost reluctantly he admits he more and more is being seen as such. He insists he’s just a tinkerer who is looking for a cheaper way of getting through everyday life.

“I’m not a tree hugger,” he says with a laugh, “but if something I build allows me to do things more cheaply and it is more environmentally friendly, that’s fine, too.”

Gas prices fuel Keith’s innovation again
Rising gas prices in recent years once again piqued Keith’s interest in the wood-burning powered vehicles of World War II.

“I drew a line in the sand and decided that in 2004 if gas hit $1.50 a gallon, I was going to do something,” he said. “When gas reached that point, I started studying.”

The worldwide availability of cheap gasoline and the inefficiency of wood-burning vehicles caused the gasification process to pretty much be ignored following World War II. Keith by no means invented the process, but scholars say what he is done has perfected it to the point that it has now become viable.

What gasification does is take a bio-mass, such as dried wood, and burn it in a low-oxygen container. That converts the burning bio-mass into a combination of hydrogen, carbon monoxide and methane, the vapors of which are flammable. The vapors are piped from the three containers (one of which is a fuel filter made from hay) in the back of the truck to the engine where it burns like gasoline.

Auburn University and Texas A&M have run extensive tests on Keith’s trucks and have come up with startling conclusions. Since the vehicle completely burns the wood and emits no smoke, it results in 70 percent lower emissions than the total electric vehicles on the market today. The only real emissions are the ashes which are called bio-char, and they make excellent fertilizers for gardens. There is also water condensation that must be drained.

Tests show the process is 37 percent more fuel efficient than gasoline.

David L. Bransby, professor of bioenergy and bioproducts at Auburn University, says Keith is not some country bumpkin inventor. He says Keith’s near perfection of the gasification process has created interest across the U.S. and world.

“He’s an extremely smart individual,” Bransby said.

“I know of no well-qualified engineers that have been able to accomplish what he’s done. And he’s done it without any college education. His understanding of the process is exceptional.”

Keith’s plans are to work out a few more kinks in the process and then apply for patents. At that point, he plans to sell the process to a company that will convert trucks from gas to wood-burning.

Land-grant universities from across the country are interested in the process for an entirely different application. Bransby says he doesn’t see the process as being viable for most U.S. drivers but sees it as a low-cost source of energy for farms. An internal combustion engine coupled with a generator could produce electricity to power chicken houses and cattle operations and the waste-heat generated from the engine’s exhaust could supply heating needs.

Meanwhile, Keith is traveling the country speaking to universities about the process. He’s spoken in Michigan three times and in Kentucky, West Virginia, Florida and other states. He even drove one of his trucks to the Bonneville Salt Flats, where he set a world speed record for wood-burning vehicles.

“Some of these trips, as the one to Bonneville, are up to 2,000 miles round-trip,” Keith said. “You may literally see 1 million vehicles on the road on a trip like that.

“It’s pretty neat to think that you are the only one running off of wood.”

Volunteerism Defined

Terry & Sandy Gamble, Robert Hood help
Alpha Ranch rebuild after April’s deadly tornadoes

By Elaine Hobson Miller
Photos by Jerry Martin

“Hear that wind coming down the valley?” asks Sandy Gamble, turning her left ear toward the door, which sounds like it’s about to rattle off its hinges. She laughs nervously. “Yeah, it’s scary. There are no trees now to block it.”

Sitting in a folding metal chair in Alpha Ranch’s new shop building, she glances at the door and windows, as if expecting that wind to pick up the shop and carry it away. It wouldn’t be the first time. It happened April 27, when tornadoes tore through Shoal Creek Valley, destroying almost everything in their path.

Sandy and her husband, Terry, live in the Clay-Trussville area normally. But nothing has been normal for them since the storms. On May 23, they parked their 26-foot travel trailer at Alpha Ranch on County Road 22, better known as Shoal Creek Road. Volunteers extraordinaire, they have devoted themselves to rebuilding the ranch and helping Gary and Phyllis Liverett rebuild their lives.

They came out to Alpha Ranch with Bridgepoint Community Church (Clay-Chalkville) a few days after the April storms. Their congregation put in half a day helping with the cleanup. “We came home that day crying, saying we can do more than just half a day with the church,” Sandy says.

The Gambles met the Liveretts more than 20 years ago, when they worked together at Bridgepoint’s Camp Chula Vista. They had kept in touch, so the Gambles thought about the Liveretts when the storms hit. “We moved here to help clear debris and for her to cook and for me to work,” says Terry, taking a puff from his cigarillo.

After the tornadoes, nothing remained of the original 120-by-40-foot shop building but the concrete slab. Used to teach trades such as auto repair, carpentry and electrical wiring to the at-risk teenage boys who live at Alpha, its reconstruction was a priority so the Liveretts could store materials and machinery while rebuilding the ranch. Once the shop was 85 percent complete, most volunteers had gone home. Only the Gambles and Robert Hood, an Odenville man who has worked alongside them, remained.

“Robert and I did all the finish work,” Terry explains, while keeping a watchful eye on his 28-month-old grandson, Hayden, who is running around in miniature overalls asking grandpa to kiss his boo-boos. “We built the work benches, the cabinets, the roof and walls, did the electrical work and the plumbing.”

With the shop almost complete, attention has turned to rebuilding the two homes destroyed by the tornadoes. One will be occupied by the Crawfords (daughter, son-in-law and nine grandchildren of the Liveretts) and the other by Phyllis and Gary. Maybe the houses will be complete by Christmas, maybe not.

Two years ago, Terry retired from Norfolk Southern Railway and the Army Reserves, two positions he held simultaneously for 36 years. He was deployed five out of the final 10 years of reserve duty, serving in the first Gulf War, in Afghanistan, Iraq, the Horn of Africa and Bosnia. His job was humanitarian assistance, rebuilding roads, schools and churches that had been destroyed by war. He had seen plenty of destruction, yet none of that prepared him for what he found in Shoal Creek Valley after the April storms.

“I was shocked at the devastation, but more shocked at the attitudes of the people out here,” Terry says. “These people lost everything, yet you did not see them down. They just took things day by day.”

Sandy often cooked breakfast for 50 and lunch for 150 workers and valley residents. At first, she and Terry bought the food, then donations started coming in. “One Saturday we didn’t have any food, and a pipe workers’ union pulled up with barbecue and baked beans,” she says. “We never ran out of food. We couldn’t keep water, Gatorade and ice, though. People were drinking four to six bottles a day during the hot summer. Hardin’s Chapel kept us supplied. I bet they bought 20,000 bottles of water.”

Cooking for hundreds of people and building a shop isn’t exactly what the Gambles had planned for their leisure years. They spent the first year of Terry’s retirement traveling the world, aided by Terry’s “space available” status on military flights. They were accustomed to helping people in need, giving money here, a spare bedroom there, but had never encountered the overwhelming needs they found in Shoal Creek Valley. “What got to me was the sentimental things I saw in the lake after the storms, like the teddy bears and the sofa and the dormers to the Liverett house,” Sandy says.

Terry has a brand-new bass boat that didn’t see water all summer, and he is building a street rod that he hasn’t touched in months. He has reduced his work load to three days a week, however, and manages to get in a little hunting.

So, what are the Gambles taking away from this experience?

“We thought we were going to be blessing other people out here, but we’ve received the blessings,” says Sandy, a retired school teacher. “I had surgery on my hand in October, and I was homesick for this place.”

Terry appreciates his new friendship with fellow volunteer, Robert Hood. After school started, most of the other volunteers went home, but the Gambles and Hood remained. “I never knew Robert before all this, but I’ve enjoyed working with him immensely,” Terry says. “Gary will make a list and Robert and I will go down it, checking off as we get something done. We work well together.”

Like the Gambles, Hood thought he would put in a few days at the Ranch, then return to his normal routine. “Extreme Ministries (a Pell City-based organization that mobilizes volunteers for construction-related projects) sent out an email through our church (First Baptist of Pell City) asking for volunteers for three weeks,” Hood says. “I said I would work three days, Monday through Wednesday, for those three weeks. The need was so great, after one day I realized that wasn’t going to be enough.”

Hood says he could find plenty to do at his house, such as picking up limbs and raking leaves, but in Shoal Creek, he gets a sense of satisfaction knowing he’s giving something back to the community.

A retired plant manager for O’Neal Steel, he is accustomed to volunteering, though. For eight years he put in 2,000 hours a year as a certified reserve deputy sheriff for St. Clair County. He gave that up in 2008 when congestive heart failure made it difficult to wrestle detainees to the ground. He had never wielded a hammer much or installed a toilet before his stretch at Alpha.

“Now I’ve done roofing, plumbing, wiring, carpentry, I’ve set trusses, whatever needed to be done,” he says. “But I tell people I just come out here for the lunches.”

Neither the Gambles nor Hood know when their lives will regain a sense of normalcy. “We’ll go home for Christmas, but we won’t go home permanently until the Lord tells us to,” Sandy Gamble says.

“How much longer will I be here? My wife wants to know, too,” says Hood.

“She has no problem with it, though. Since the latter part of September, I’ve cut back to three days. I volunteer two days a week for the county, filing papers at the courthouses in Ashville and Pell City.”

Ann Bobo, Terry’s first cousin and fellow church member, says the Gambles always have been very giving, very kind people who love to do things for others.

“They are always willing to help somebody out, but privately so that they don’t get any accolades for it,” she says.

Gary Liverett can’t say enough good things about Hood and the Gambles.

“Terry and Sandy have such heart. Sandy has helped feed people up and down the valley. They are a good example of what real volunteerism is,” he states. “Most people have gone back home. They’ve sacrificed and stayed.”

He never knew Hood until he came out with Extreme Ministries. “He has worked constantly and tirelessly; he, too, is the epitome of volunteerism,” Liverett said.