Category: Landmarks

Overflowing Well on Campground Road – a Samantha Landmark

September 23, 2023 / Becky Williamson-Martin / 9 Comments

Several weeks ago a client, who is a longtime Hale County native, asked me if I was from Samantha. I told him yes. That I grew up there and live there now in the house I grew up in. Why, I asked? He wanted me to tell him about the “famous” overflowing well that has healing powers. Famous? Healing Powers? Hmm, that was a new one on me. I really didn’t have too much to tell him, except that it existed and lots of people get water there.

That night I told Benny about that conversation and he said, “you should write something about the overflowing well”. He’s always encouraging me to write. But I didn’t give it much thought for a while. Then, several weeks later a picture of a beautiful little girl standing at the well filling a water bottle popped up on my Facebook feed with a caption that said, “Nanna, it’s a miracle”.

Pictured is Adaline Alexander. She is the daughter of Joshua Alexander and Jonica Poe. She is the granddaughter of Wanda Smith. Photo credit: Wanda Smith

I decided it might be interesting to write a little blurb about it. It made me think about how things can become so familiar that we don’t see them, but to someone else who hears about it or sees it for the first time, will be curious and have interest in knowing more of the details. Sort of like when you travel hundreds of miles to vacation or camp somewhere when we have the exact same thing in our back door almost. Anyway, I began asking longtime community residents questions about the history of the overflowing well on Campround Road.

I started first with my family. My oldest brother, Larry, didn’t seem to know much more about it than I did except that it was on the property belonging to the Tierce family. He said I would need to talk to an “old” man in the community who could probably give me some history of how it came to be. He thought for a minute and said, “wait, I am an old man. Maybe, you need an older man”, and he suggested Mr. Skeet Boone because we all know Mr. Skeet knows everything. 🙂 Mr. Skeet didn’t know any details about the history, just that it had always been there.

Same with Ricky and LaWanda – that it has always been there. LaWanda knew more details about the Tierce family. John and Lura Tierce were the original owners but they have been gone many years. I attempted to find and did reach out to several Tierce descendants but was unable to connect with anyone. LaWanda asked her oldest brother, Wade Gilliam, about how the overflowing well came to be. Bingo! We hit pay dirt – or water in this case. Wade said when the road was built there was a spring or more of an artesian well in the middle of the road, so the County had to pipe it so it would run in the ditch. Now, I’m no geologist or expert on these sorts of things so I went to google to learn more. What I learned is that Artesian water is always under pressure to reach the surface. While spring water may emerge through pressure, it may need to be pumped. Springs become artesian when the water flows to the surface without the aid of a pump. I reached out to the County to see if there were any records from when the road was built and was told they only have records starting when the roads were changed from Rural Routes to named roads.

Next, Benny and I visited with Buster Bolton. Buster has lived on land for many years near the overflowing well that also borders Campground Road. Buster confirmed that when the road was being built, the county helped John Tierce pipe it. He said that from time to time the pipes will get stopped up from leaves and trash and that his son, Todd, will help keep it cleaned out. Buster shared a memory of eight or ten years ago when there was a serious drought one summer, folks would be lined up all the way to the Cabiness House to get water.

We were talking to my son, Shane, about our visit with Buster and our discussions about the overflowing well. Shane said that when he played football at Northside High School, before Carrolls Creek water was available, their water boy would fill the water coolers from the overflowing well. He said the school water had Sulpher in it and was undrinkable so the water from the overflowing well would taste so good when they were hot, tired and beat up during practice and games.

More times than not, when you pass by the overflowing well on Campground Road, you will see someone filling up water bottles, empty milk cartons, coolers and/or big tanks. It is a continuous flow of cool, clear water that serves our community freely. I can’t help but think about Jesus’ words to the woman at the well “…Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” John 4:13-14 NKJV.

Thank you to all who took the time to talk with me about the overflowing well. Special thanks to Lee Rutley from Moundville and Miss Adaline Alexander for inspiring me to take a second glance at this community landmark. Although this little blurb is just a bunch of my jumbled together words and I didn’t find any evidence of healing in the water, I have so enjoyed talking with you. Your stories and memories have caused me to pause and think about times gone by. We had such a wonderful visit sitting in the shade talking with Buster about life in Samantha and remembering some folks no longer with us. As time goes by so quickly I have come to love and appreciate history, especially when it is connected to me and my family and friends. Please share any memories you have about the overflowing well on Campground Road in Samantha, Alabama.

Always keep “The Son” in your eyes.

Becky Williamson-Martin

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Jones Mill Pond

August 7, 2023 / Nell Oswalt Naugher / 0 Comments

^Information ^{compiled from} ^{tales told by the “Jones Family”}

Contributor: Nell Naugher

JONES OR REUBEN’S MILL

In the 1870’s, Elijah Marshall Jones and his wife, Josephine Roberson, with their family left Tallapoosa County, Alabama, with a destination of northern Tuscaloosa County and

southern Fayette County. Being millers by profession, they were in search of suitable

locations for gristmills. The gentle headwaters of Binion Creek in northern Tuscaloosa

County was the choice location for the Reuben Jones family while the rest of the family

traveled on to locate on Bear Creek which is located west of Newtonville. Perhaps there

was already a mill on this property when it was procured from LeGrand Shepherd; how-

ever, it became known as Jones’ Mill.

Grandpa Rube set about building the first of several ventures on the property located in

Section 9, Township 18S and Range 11W. Local fieldstones were used to construct a dam across the creek to harness the massive energy of the water. The millhouse was built below the dam. Rosetta Jones Oswalt Logan, daughter of Rube, related to her daughter-in-law, Clara Mae (Jim) Oswalt, the story of how her dad and several men took 2-4 wagons and stayed about two weeks on North River to “harvest” rocks for the huge grind stones. The rocks were crafted into huge, round grinding stones with a hole in the center for the shaft to be fitted into.

Visions of a huge overshot waterwheel can be disregarded because the wheel was located

in a sluice box where it lay horizontally under the building. Water was let loose to go rushing down the box to turn the giant wheel which turned the cogs to which the millstones were attached.

People of the community would bring their shelled corn in sacks to have the it ground

into meal by the two huge rocks. You had a choice of coarsely or finely ground meal. Vandie (Lasco) Jones preferred the coarse. She also liked for the corn to be ground slowly so that the rocks did not cause too much friction and cause the meal to get hot and cause it to have a flat taste. The ground product was put back into the sack in which the corn was brought in. The hard covering of the corn, or bran, was left with the meal. It had to be sifted out before the most delicious product, corn pone, could be made with buttermilk and baking soda. The bran was not wasted; it was put into the slop for the hogs. As payment for the grinding, a portion of the meal was retrieved for the miller.

Along with the gristmill were a cotton gin and sawmill. Lasco Jones, a grandson,

remembers the day he had to take his Uncle Sam Jones to the hospital when his arm became entangled in the gin. Lasco had to sign for the doctor to remove the mangled

limb below the elbow. Uncle Sam did not let this injury slow him down. He went on with his life – scaring us kids with the nub of the arm, farming and driving a school bus.

Clara Mae remembers making mattresses in the gin.

The sawmill made the lumber from which the original New Hope Baptist Church was constructed. It was located on the old Fayette Road, just south of where the present

church now stands.

The isolated community received mail that was picked up at Berry and delivered by

horseback. Reuben came to the rescue once again. On September 13, 1880, he became the first postmaster of Reuben , as was in so many cases, the location was named for

the postmaster. The postoffice was in operation until November 10, 1905 when it was

removed to New Lexington. It was located in the store which was located across the

road from the mill.

Many imbedded memories remain with the few remaining people who visited Jones

Mill. The pond became a holy place as new converts from Phillips Chapel Freewill Baptist, Macedonia Baptist, Concord Baptist, New Hope Batptist or Concord Baptist

Churches were baptized. It became a place of great enjoyment as kids and parents

alike enjoyed the swimming hole as portrayed by our local artist, Willie Frank Logan.

Information gathered by Nell Oswalt Naugher and Estelle Jones Bolton Barger.

Painting by Willie Logan

_________________________________________________________________

Additional contributions by Nell Naugher

Grandfather Reuben owned approximately 1500 acres of land in this area and passed it on to his children. Louvinnie, Reuben’s second wife was paid $400 for her part. The children deeded all the real property to Sam Jones and he in turn made deeds to each child. This was done to save cost and expense of recording long deeds.

Uncle Sam Jones, one of his children, lost his hand and part of his arm working in the cotton mill, and enjoyed terrorizing us children with his arm.

For years the mill ground corn, ginned cotton, and sawed logs. My mother remembers making mattresses at the mill. At one point the cotton mill closed, but the old mill continued to grind corn,. You could make a real corn pone from this meal.

There was no money in those days and the miller would take a portion for grinding. Over the years, the mill had several owners and operators. Some of them were: Grandpa Reuben and all his children, Floyd Jones, Sam Jones, Mr. Anner Freemen and Mr. Hosea Camp.

Resident men would gather here to grind their corn, chew tobacco, dip snuff, discuss the news of the day, talk about crops, and tell stories. I would imaging some of them were real stories and some were exaggerated.

It was here I took my first boat ride. My brother, James and I were going to Grandma’s (Reuben Jones’ daughter, Rosetta), and Mama cautioned us to “stay away from the mill pond”. As we passed, James noticed a flatbed boat tied up above the same and suggested we take a ride. He paddled up-creek until he had to roll his pants up, get out of the boat and push us out of the mud. He paddled back downstream, tied the boat and we continued with our trip to Grandma’s. It was years later before we told our parents.

We knew when we got to Grandma’s she would have left-over biscuits and slices of salty ham in the old wooden safe (cabinet) that had tin in the doors. And we would be HUNGRY!

Also, I remember going with my dad to get corn ground into meal. We had a safe that Grandpa Logan made. It had a bin on either side in the bottom. The let side was for a bushel of flour and the right side for a bushel of meal.

A few hundred yards southwest of the mill, a Deserters’ Den was constructed. Men who did not wan to to into service hid out here to avoid serving in the Civil War. It was a mound with a rock levee surrounding it. Someone mentioned that the men made shoes or repaired them.

The mill pond like other bodies of water in the area was also used by churches to baptize new members.

I remember young people gathering at Jones Mill Pond to go in swimming. The artiest who did the drawing The Old Jones Mill was one of those teenagers. When I contacted him (Willie Logan) to see if he had done a painting of the mill, he stated he could do it from memory.

In these days, time was plentiful and life was sweet.

Do you know anyone who was baptized in Jones Mill Pond? We would love to hear about it.

Jones Mill Pond is located on Jones Mill Road just off Old Fayette Road: https://goo.gl/maps/1wm8HmsYK2bxoq9v6. It is near Williamson-Jones Cemetery

August 14, 2017 / Norman Naugher / 0 Comments

by Norman W. Naugher

A while ago, we had the opportunity to visit with Norman and Nell Wright in their home. They shared a wonderful written story of the life of Norman growing up in Samantha. The writing is attached at the bottom of this page.

Playing dominoes with friends

Cowden home, old Byler Road (Old Highway 43)

The photos were captured on our visit.

“…This writing is dedicated to my wife, Nell, who almost had to get a knife and cut me open to extract these stories. To my son, Marty, whom she said would enjoy reading it, to my daughter, Jan, who keeps us all together, and my parents who had a hard time raising me…” Click here to read Norman’s Story

If you enjoyed reading Norman’s story, please leave comments below and let him know.

Becky Williamson-Martin

Visit to Reed Mountain Awakens the Imagination

August 9, 2017 / Delbert Reed / 0 Comments

by Delbert Reed
 Reprint -- Published in The Northport Gazette, April 7, 2004

I had to go back to Reed Mountain in northern Tuscaloosa County last week. Something drew me there to stand at the old home place of my ancestors and look out on the wide, breath-taking vistas to the East and wonder about the history of the Reed family.

There is little left to prove that anyone ever lived at the site now except a few rocks, likely from the foundation or chimney, and a thriving wisteria vine, which was covered with bumblebees on the late afternoon that I visited.

I listened for sounds from the past, like the tolling of the old dinner bell or the chopping of wood, and I watched for wispy images of people I might know as the sun began to cast shadows on the hill, but there was none of either.

I could see, though, why someone would want to live on Reed Mountain. That spectacular view toward the faraway bottomland beside the small, clear stream below had me dreaming for a moment, too, although the place is generally poorly suited for farming in many ways. Those red-land hills and hollows are far more suited for hunting.

But my great grandparents Wes and Leona Reed raised 12 children to adulthood on the place and farmed a large area first owned, by all accounts, by Wes’s father Thomas Reed, the first Reed known to have settled in the country near Haygood Methodist Church. Thomas likely walked or rode a mule or wagon from Georgia if he was typical of the Southern Scots-Irish settlers. All I know of his wife is that her name was Parthenia Moore and that she was from the Moore’s Bridge area.

I imagined the large Wes Reed family meal time and wondered just how much food they had to grow and can to manage through the winters. I wondered just how many biscuits Omie, as Leona was called, had to cook each morning before sending her family into the fields.

Wesley Washington Reed was just 16 years old and Leona Elizabeth Davis only 15 when they married on December 16, 1886, according to family records. My grandfather Ellis, born on December 20, 1887, was the oldest of the children, and he was 25 years old when his grandfather Thomas Reed, born in 1847, died in 1913. The youngest child of Wes and Omie Reed was Elliott, born in 1907. Three children were born dead, including two after Elliott’s birth, and another died at age three.

A photograph of Wes and Omie standing together shows tanned and hard-working people, and a similar photograph of Ellis and my grandmother Viola is quite similar. They seem to be typical of the proud, poor, rural Southerners of the early 1900s.

My dad had an old scrapbook that included several old receipts showing purchases by Wes Reed from the late 1800s until his death in 1938. One was for a yoke of oxen for $30 on May 13, 1897; many were for fertilizer and taxes; one was for a one-ton Ford truck purchased from Tucker Motor Company in 1923 at a cost of $451.40; another was for $9 as “full pay for his child’s tombstone.” Wes had signed some of the notes and mortgages with an “X” for his mark, indicating that he could not write his name.

Unfortunately, there are few photographs of the Reed family from the early days, but there are enough to trace a family resemblance, and there are markers at Haygood Cemetery that help trace the family back in time.

Fortunately, though, the dinner bell from the old Wes Reed place survives today, thanks to the late Carl Harris. That same bell that called the Reed family from the fields or marked a death in the community rests safely in my storage shed, and I promise soon to display it proudly for the memories it holds, for the hands that rang it, and for those who heard it ring so many times.

“I heard that dinner bell ring at 11 o’clock every day for years,” Brazzie Taylor Rodgers said in recalling her years as a neighbor of the Reeds. “Omie always had dinner ready at 11 o’clock. Wes Reed was a good man,” she added. “He walked by our house early nearly every morning on his way to the store to get a box of snuff, and I was at his house the day he died.”

The old Reed place on Reed Mountain was sold many years ago to some large corporation, probably a timber company, and the old house destroyed. When I visited, the timber around the old house place had recently been cut, leaving the area scarred and ugly except for the view across the valley eastward.

But the Reed place was surely a glorious place once, with hunting dogs and teams of mules and oxen and cows and a large family to care for it all. I’d like to think Reed’s Mountain in the old days was much like the mythical Walton’s Mountain depicted on television and that the Reed family was just as happy and loving as the Waltons.

I’d like to think those 12 children grew up with good memories of life on Reed’s Mountain. And I wish I had thought to ask them to share them with me years ago. Now I can only imagine how it must have been.

(Originally Published in The Northport Gazette, April 7, 2004)

Samantha Living would like to thank Delbert Reed for sharing this story. We appreciate his journalism and interest in the Samantha Community. We invite your comments below or send them and any photos you might have to editor@samanthaliving.

Please comment below

It’s the 4th of July – What Does that Mean?

July 4, 2017 / Becky Williamson-Martin / 0 Comments

Independence Day. Barbeque, hot dogs, beach parties, baseball games, and fireworks. But what does “Independence Day” mean?

The Fourth of July is our country’s birthday. The day our country’s founders declared independence from Great Britain. This meant they would no longer follow the orders of Britain’s king. To do this was extremely dangerous. At the time, Britain had one of the world’s strongest armies, and to go against the king was a crime punishable by death. But the king’s laws were unfair, so our founders decided it was worth the risk of war to win the freedom to govern themselves. In 1783, the new United States won that war, which we now call the Revolutionary War.

Why does the flag have those stars? At this time of year, American flags are easy to spot. Point one out to your grandchildren. Explain that each part of the flag stands for something. The 50 stars stand for the 50 states. The 13 stripes stand for the 13 British colonies, which declared their independence on July 4, 1776. It’s a symbol — a way to show the world what we stand for. It also shows that we are connected to one another — that we’re on the same team. And because the flag is special, we treat it with respect.

What makes our country special? That one thing that makes our country special is that it guarantees us certain rights, or freedoms. We use these rights every day when we pray (or decide not to), read a newspaper, or meet and talk with friends. We can do these things because our country guarantees us the freedom to practice religion the way we want, say or write what we want, and go where we want. These rights are spelled out in the U.S. Constitution and its Bill of Rights. Which rights are most important to you?

What does the government do for us? We pay taxes to our local, state, and national government so that, among other things, the government can build and maintain facilities that reflect our values. Education is important to us, for example, so we build schools. Safety is a priority for us, so we put up traffic lights. And we want open places where we can gather, so we set aside space for parks. It provides the people who help the community, including police officers, firefighters, crossing guards, librarians, postal workers, and sanitation crews.

What can we do for our country? Our country is like a family: Everyone has to pitch in or it doesn’t work. As members of the U.S. “family” — in other words, as citizens — we all have certain responsibilities, like going to school, voting, and obeying the law. Being a good citizen also means taking care of the country, by keeping it clean, looking out for people in trouble, and staying informed about the problems that we face. Of course, actions always have more impact than words, so set an example by dedicating some of your time to volunteering in the community.

What does it mean to be American? In countries like China or Ireland, most residents share a common culture or ethnicity. But the United States is different. Here, what people share is a common idea — that people should have the freedom to live the way they want, and to work and earn money the best way they can. These freedoms have inspired people from all over the world to come to this country and become “Americans.” This is a profound idea many may never have considered and it should make us feel especially proud of our country, as well as more connected to other Americans of different backgrounds. It can also lead to a discussion about our own family’s journey to the United States. Why did your relatives come? Why did they stay? Every family’s story is part of the country’s story. Make sure you AND your grandchildren know yours. Comments below.

God Bless America
God Bless Samantha

Happy 4th of July

Always keep “The Son” in your eyes.
Becky Williamson-Martin

Article Source

Information about Reed Family Requested

September 1, 2016 / Samantha Living / 0 Comments

Dear Samantha Living Readers,

I am new to Samantha and I just discovered Samantha Living. I don’t yet have a story to tell but I am working on one. I live on land owned by the Reed family and have been doing research on them. Etta Reed by all accounts was a kind and wonderful woman. One of 15 children. She passed away in 1976 and was still living pretty much as a pioneer woman. My home was built on her homestead site by her great nephew. If you or any of your readers know of this family I would love to have information. I have been able to trace them back for many years and they came to this area in the mid 1800s. Thanks for reading. My home is on Reed Mountain Road and based on stories from my son in law it is named Magnolia Hill – Etta’s Place. Thanks for your site. I retired here six years ago after living all over the country. I love this area and want to learn all of its history.

Regards, Jo Anne Gentine

Please send information to [email protected], put in comments below or email to [email protected]

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Jesus in a Box? – A Samantha Landmark

July 7, 2016 / Becky Williamson-Martin / 1 Comment

Standing in line at the Dollar General in Samantha can be entertaining at times, and this particular day was no exception. I overheard a couple of fellas who had not seen each other since high school catching up. “Hey man, where are you living now?” “Oh, I live about one mile down that road in front of the Jesus statue.” I thought about that conversation on my way home and as I turned into my drive I stopped at the statue in my yard and thought about the story behind this local landmark. After the death of my grandmother, Pealie Mae Williamson, in February 1998, my daddy, Johnny Williamson, was inspired to create a representation of the 23rd Psalm. It was her favorite scripture. A Cypress log was chosen for The Good Shepherd Statue because of the longstanding belief that the Cypress is the “gopher wood” (or kopher, which is the Hebrew word for waterproof) that Noah used to build the ark. Daddy worked alongside his longtime friend and local artist/sculptor, Willie Logan, to carve the 6-1/2 foot statue of The Good Shepherd.

It’s sort of amusing how you can become so accustomed to something that you no longer see it, or think about it. This statue has just been part of the normal landscape in my daddy’s yard for years. But, a few years ago I started noticing it when I would visit him. I developed a desire to know and understand what he saw, what his intentions were, and how he viewed The Good Shepherd Statue. I began to ask questions, and we spent hours sitting in the rockers on daddy’s front porch, shelling peas or peeling apples, as he tried to teach me.

Shelling peas with daddy on his porch

Finally, after a ton of my questions, he said, just read, Joshua 4. You see, my father was a great teacher, but he didn’t just simply give you all the answers. He was a deep thinker and that is what he wanted me to do: think about it, ponder on it, dig for it, and come to know it on my own. Local newspapers had done some articles in the past on the statue, and I dug them up. He had told those reporters, “The Statue is a testimony of my faith. It isn’t meant to be an idol. You don’t worship it, but it gets people to think and do good deeds.” Hmm, Good deeds. Well, I had certainly seen him do many good deeds over the course of my life. Time and time again, I saw my daddy give to others. He was selfless. I don’t recall ever hearing him say he wanted anything for himself. Giving to others was always on his mind. And somehow, he managed to know what their needs were. A friend told me once, “your daddy was like a magnet, you just wanted to be around him.

Daddy had a heart attack in March (2013) and died four months later. I had the privilege of living in his house with him during those four months. During many long nights, when he couldn’t sleep, he talked intently about life, pouring story after story into my heart and life that I will never forget. A few weeks after his death, I was looking through his books and found A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23 by Phillip Keller. I could feel my daddy’s big hands on the book as I opened it. Reading this book helped me connect the dots of what daddy had tried to tell me and it gave me a new understanding of The Good Shepherd. I went back and read Joshua 4. This time I really read it with my heart’s ears. Joshua 4 teaches us to set up memorials as a testimony of what God has done and so that our children and others will ask us “what does this mean”? If provides an opportunity to tell others about Jesus – to tell our story. Since 1999 when it was erected, The Good Shepherd Statue has caused much conversation. Some understand it, some don’t. It has certainly fulfilled it’s purpose of setting down stones as memorials according to Joshua 4. Folks from all over the United States stop by to see it and take pictures. The sheep was stolen once, but thanks to some good Samaritans it was returned to it’s place next to The Good Shepherd Statue. Some call it Jesus in a Box. Daddy never really liked that term. He would say, “everyone knows it’s not Jesus, and you cannot put Jesus in a box”. If you are ever traveling along Highway 43 in Samantha, you are welcome to stop and pay a visit. Check in on Facebook. Take pictures and ponder the meaning of The Good Shepherd.