Dispatches from the LP-OP

George Singleton tells of the ghostly woman at Bradley Ridge

2026-10-19T16:05:34.171-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Ghost of Bradley Ridge still visits,” was originally published in the Dec. 3, 1998 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

About three weeks ago, I received a telephone call from a lady requesting that I write again a story I had written about 15 years ago. The story was about the ghost of a lady I had seen in the area of Bradley Ridge, near a small stream. Looking through my past articles, I discovered that I had come in contact with the ghost lady in the long dress three times. Since it had been several years since I had seen her, I decided to ride to Bradley Ridge and perhaps, if I was lucky, or unlucky as some would believe, our paths might cross again by the small creek.

As I have written on several occasions, Monroe County has several “ghost stories” or stories of the “supernatural” that I have investigated since my arrival in 1964. These stories are due to the age of the county and the many settlements that could be found here. If one studies the early history of this county, one will find that many of these old settlements date back to the middle 1700s.

I was first told about this strange event by two dear friends whom I got to know and respect shortly after my arrival. Raymond Fountain and Tom Snider, both elderly gentlemen, and both now deceased, had a great knowledge of the early happenings throughout the county. When the two found out that I was interested in strange events, both spent many hours guiding me around, showing me the area and relaying these events to me. Each, in their travels around the area, had seen firsthand, most of these stories, or knew someone who had witnessed the event.

So, a few days back I decided to return to the area where I had seen the ghost lady in the long white dress. I was glad that hunting season had not opened and my chance of coming in contact with a hunter was almost zero. Taking the narrow back trail, I slowly headed my motorcycle through the wooded area, around the steep curves and crooked declines. As I slowly made my way down toward the small streams, I wondered if I would witness the same event that I had seen on three other occasions.

As I rounded the sharp curve in the narrow trail, just before reaching the first small creek I looked where I had first experienced contact with the ghost lady in the long white dress. I glanced off to my right along the small stream. Low and behold, there stood what appeared to be a young woman. She was dressed in an ankle-length white dress. As before, the sighting almost blew my mind.

It took a minute for this to register. On two other occasions, I had called out asking if she needed help, this time I remained silent. Almost as a replay from previous times, I lost sight of her for a moment. Looking down the pathway to the bend in the small creek, I saw her walking toward the stream and the deep woods.

By this time Shadows from the tall timber had shaded the area and it was beginning to grow dark. I got off my motorcycle and began to slowly walk down the patch where I had just seen her. As I had on the other occasions, I began to look for tracks. I felt sure that I wasn’t going to find any, but for some reason I searched the path anyway. Searching for twisted leaves and broken twigs, searching for any evidence of her passing, to no avail.

Then, I discovered a large spider web stretched across the path. I knew that no one could have come this way without disturbing the spider web. I had seen the ghost lady in the long white dress once again.

As on the three other occasions, I began to feel that I was being watched. I felt the hair on the back of my neck begin to tingle. There in the deep shade of the heavy timbers, I realized that I wasn’t as excited as I had been during the other sightings. It was almost like seeing an old acquaintance again. I found myself relaxed and normal, when on times before, I was frightened out of my wits.

Looking again down the narrow path, I saw nothing. Turning, I walked the 50 or so yards back up the dim path to my motorcycle. Turning the motorcycle around before starting the engine, I looked one last time down the dim path. There she stood, motionless, in the deep shadows, looking toward me as if about to speak. Not realizing what I was doing, I raised my hand to wave. I received no response. Then, before my eyes, the ghost lady in white disappeared. I saw her no more.

As I made my way toward the highway, I promised myself that before too long I would return. Perhaps I would bring someone with me. Then, if the young lady in white was seen again, I would have a reliable witness. At least one person would know that I wasn’t crazy. The poet Longfellow said it best:

“This is the place, stand still my steed. And let me review the scene. And summoned from the shadowy past the forms that once have been.”

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)

1997 storytelling event in Demopolis featuring Singleton was cancelled

2026-10-10T16:51:52.919-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The news story below, which was titled “Storytelling canceled: George Singleton told his stories not welcomed,” was written by Monroe Journal Staff Writer Greg Walker and was originally published in the Nov. 6, 1997 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

A local storyteller and frequent columnist for The Monroe Journal was taken off a Halloween fundraiser event scheduled last week in Demopolis after a ministerial association complained his stories were not consistent with the teachings of Christianity.

George Singleton was scheduled to speak at Gaineswood Mansion Oct. 29 during the mansion’s Halloween festival. Singleton and two other men were slated to speak different nights on topics ranging from reincarnation to actual ghosts.

But a group of pastors in Demopolis approached mansion curator Matt Hartzell and indicated they were not happy with the proposed speaker’s topics. Only one man was scheduled for Halloween night.

“They didn’t single me out or anything,” Singleton said. “I think there were two or three preachers who started talking like it was devil worshiping or something.”

“I was just trying to help them out,” he said.

Hartzell said the whole situation has been blown out of proportion and, as far as he is concerned, it has been resolved.

In a prepared statement, Hartzell tried to explain the reason for Singleton’s cancellation.

“The presentations of Paul Housel on Oct. 27 and George ‘Buster’ Singleton Oct. 29 were canceled in response to legitimate concerns voiced by the local religious community regarding the content of the presentations,” the release said.

“Clergymen and members of their congregations indicated to Gaineswood curator Matt Hartzell that they considered the proposed events inappropriate and contrary to the beliefs of Christianity.”

Hartzell said he thought the weekend’s activities would be fun, educational and entertaining, but the religious community saw things a different way.

Hartzell said, however, he was not pressured or threatened in any way by the association.

“When the religious community approached me with their concerns, I realized it was necessary to address them,” Hartzell said.

Hartzell said he and Singleton had not discussed exactly what he would be talking about at the fundraiser and were planning to discuss the agenda further.

“It was my impression he was going to tell ghost stories,” Hartzell said.

Hartzell said the event was planned to raise some funds for the historic mansion, but mostly to promote activities and perhaps attract volunteers to the Southern home.

George Singleton: Human beings could learn a lot for watching geese

2026-09-29T16:13:59.037-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “When geese cross the moon,” was originally published in the Nov. 6, 1997 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

As the cool days of November slowly begin to appear on the distant horizon, the time will soon be at hand for the flights of wild geese to begin their journeys south. I know of nothing any more beautiful than to be atop a high hill on a night of a full moon and watch a flight of beautiful wild geese pass across the face of the glowing moon. Many of our society of today know nothing about these beautiful fowls of the air and their habits and behavior, as they make their way across the night skies on their way south.

Very few of us ever slip out on a night during the closing days of autumn, when the moon is at is fullest, and seek out a high hill to witness this beautiful sight that is there in the heavens for all to witness. And, should on observe the behavior of these graceful creatures, one could learn many lessons that could make our lives much better and easier to live on this place we call Earth. In observing the flights of wild geese, we could see the importance of pulling together and helping one another in our struggle through life. Life would be much easier for the elderly and those who need assistance in their every day living.

There was a time in our history when the country folks gave the late autumn flights of the wild geese a lot of attention. They looked for certain signs as these flocks crossed the moonlit skies of the late evenings and as darkness crept across the heavens. The early settlers learned the importance of working together by watching the formations of geese make their way to the south for their stay during the cold winter months.

By flying in a V formation the whole flock adds about a 71 percent longer flight range than if each bird flew alone. As each bird flaps its wing, it creates an uplift for the bird that is following. The lesson that we humans can learn from this is that people who share a common direction and sense of community can get where they are going quicker and easier when they travel on the thrust of one another.

When the lead goose grows tired, it rotates back into formation, and another goose takes over. Man should learn that it pays to take turns doing the hard tasks and sharing leadership because we, like geese, are dependent to a great degree upon each other.

Should a goose fall out of the formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of trying to fly alone. It quickly gets back into formation to take advantage of the lifting power of the bird immediately in front. If we humans had as much sense as a goose, we would stay in formation with those who are headed in the direction where we, too, want to go.

The geese in the formation honk from behind to encourage those up front to keep up their speed. When we humans honk from behind, we need to make sure that our honking is encouraging. Many of us tend to honk at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

In these long flights on their way south, the geese will look after each other. When a goose gets sick or wounded, or perhaps shot by some ignorant hunter, two geese will drop out of formation and follow him down to help protect and stay with him until he is able to fly again. If he should die from his wounds, the two that stay launch out either with another formation or catch up with the original flock that they were with when they started. A lesson that we could learn from this is that if we humans had as much sense as the wild geese we could stand by each other as they do. We would protect and guard those that are in need until such time when they could also continue their journey through life or into another time.

Our society with all its knowledge has much to learn from the animals and birds of the air that are around us. In our world of make believe and fairyland we tend to let pass by much that would be beneficial to us and those around this plant we call Earth. We have grown to believe that we are too smart to heed the age-old lessons that has been put here for us to see and learn from.

Man will never survive on this planet unless he joins in with the environment and lives in harmony with that which is here. He must learn to save and protect, regardless how small or primitive each form of life might be. I believe that we, as humans, are at the crossroads. The time is at hand when we must choose the way that we are to go if we are to survive.

So, as the full moon of late autumn appears high in the heavens and the chilly winds of the late fall season appear on the horizon, make a vow to seek out a high hill and watch a flock of wild geese pass across the face of the glowing moon. If you have never witnessed this breathtaking spectacle, it will be something that will dwell within your mind for all time to come.

Much has been placed on this earth for man to witness and learn from. During this time within our country with all the fanfare and all the false promises and horn blowing, we need to look to the heavens for peace of mind and contentment of the soul. Enjoy all that you can; the beauty is here for us all to see and be a part of.

Before one knows it, the time will come when the beautiful events of nature that we missed will cause a time of sorrow to linger within the mind and soul for all times to come.

George Singleton tells of October 1995 trip to spooky old Indian village

2026-09-28T16:24:07.529-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Spirits of the past call from deserted Indian village,” was originally published in the Oct. 26, 1995 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

The month of October has always been to me the month of mystery. For some strange reason during this month, I find myself wanting to return to old places that I have visited in the past, places where strange things have been seen or heard during the dark hours of the night.

Just a few days back, I returned to one such place, hoping to witness what I had on an earlier visit. I know that Halloween is just around the corner, and the ghosts and goblins will come out of hiding for a time of trick-or-treating. But I speak of a time when the spirits walked the ancient trails and the sounds of ghost drums could be heard on the winds of the late evenings; places where no one is there but you and the spirits from another time return to the spot.

Hiding my transportation, I carefully descended the steep slope into the deep ravine where in ancient times a large Indian village was located. I didn’t expect to see or hear anything since it was late afternoon, although the deep shadows had already begun to settle across the ancient village site.

Stillness in the ravine

Even though the cool winds sighed through the tall trees there in the huge raving, the stillness in the deep bottom made the hairs on my neck stand at attention. There at ground level, not a leaf or twig seemed to move in the late afternoon air.

There was no doubt in my mind that I was the only one in the deep ravine. In descending the only path into the area, I became aware of the odor of burning wood, as through a small campfire had been kindled a short time prior to my arrival. I had seen no evidence of smoke coming up from the deep ravine as I was climbing down the steep embankment to the ancient village floor.

Puzzled by the odor of the burning wood, I sat down with my back against a high embankment. This village had been used during the cold winter months when the icy winds swept down from the north, bringing with it freezing rain and snow. Under the protection of the high embankment, the brush huts and the glowing campfires were protected as the freezing winds howled high above the deep ravine.

The deep silence of the moment was broken by the rush of a searching armadillo as it hustled through the layers of dead leaves and grass there on the ancient village floor. Passing within inches of my feet, the ugly creature continued to make its way around the edge of the hill.

Strange thumping sounds

As I watched the armadillo disappear, I became aware of strange thumping sounds that seemed to be coming from nowhere. Looking in every direction, I saw nothing to give evidence of what was causing the low thumps that could barely be heard in the area around me.

Realizing that the odor of the burning wood had grown stronger, I slowly rose to my feet, almost expecting to see a small fire burning in the underbrush nearby. But there was nothing; no sign of smoke could be seen.

During earlier visits to this ancient village site, I had located several places where small rocks had been placed in small circles. Inside these were where the cook fires and the fires that warmed the villagers had been built. Looking across to one of the larger circles, the sounds of voices seemed to come from around the circle of rocks.

Some years back, I had visited this site and spent most of a night in the very same spot where I was no sitting. That night, flickers of light could be seen dancing up and around the larger of the rock circles. What appeared to be the muffled sounds of distant drums settled in and around the ancient village.

As I have stated many times in these writings, I have seen many strange happenings as I wander here and there, searching out various stories and tall tales relayed to me. I will be the first to admit that I am not the bravest soul around. I have had the living daylights frightened out of me, and here at this ancient village on an earlier visit was one of those times. Right about now, I was feeling quite uneasy.

Place of mystery

Deciding that it was time to leave this place of mystery, I eased myself up from the large rock where I had been sitting. The air around me seemed to grow heavy as though there were others present. Standing there with my back to the steep rock cliff, the muffled voices seemed to grow in number. No words could be deciphered or understood; the mumblings seemed to grow in magnitude.

Keeping my eyes on the large fire pit, I gradually edged my way backward up the steep dim trail that would eventually lead to the narrow dirt road at the top of the hill. Suddenly, as if some kind of signal had been given, total silence settled over the old village site. Not a leaf or a blade of pine straw moved in the late shadows across the ancient site. No sounds of birds or of any wildlife could be heard there in the bottom. It seemed as though nothing existed there under the tall rock cliff. A blanket of silence had settled across the old village site, almost as if it didn’t exist.

Climbing the steep hill and making my way across the dim trail to where I had hidden my motorcycle, many thoughts raced through my mind. What had I heard there at the bottom of the steep bluff? Were the spirits of another time still occupying the ancient Indian village? Perhaps, they had returned this day for a gathering of a meeting of sorts. Would the ceremonial fires flicker in the coming darkness there in the village? Or would the spirits of the past return at another time for a gathering of dancing and chanting and the beating of drums?

Getting too old

As I slowly made my way out up the dim trail toward the narrow dirt road some distance away, the thought came to mind that I might just be getting too old for this kind of wandering.

The mysteries that linger there at the bottom of the deep ravine might just have two wait until I get up enough nerve to return and stay put when the drums sound and the mystery voices speak from the shadows.

Singleton believed that Maubila was located at present-day Pine Orchard

2026-09-18T11:08:43.779-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “An event that changed history,” was originally published in the Oct. 15, 1998 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Saturday, Oct. 10, 1998, was a quiet day along the banks of the mighty Alabama River at Claiborne. But, this was not the case on Oct. 12, 1540. That day, 458 years ago, the Spanish explorer Hernando DeSoto and his army gathered on the west bank of the mighty river, preparing to make a crossing that would change our history. The day was Tuesday, DeSoto’s scouts had chosen this location because of the low banks. Due to the dry season, the river was at its lowest level.

Two days prior, DeSoto and his army had made camp on the east bank, where the large creek that has come to be known as Silver Creek joins the Alabama. The weary army, after slowly making its way down from the area now known as Cahaba, stopped here. Bad food and probably contaminated water had taken its toll on DeSoto’s followers. The army’s scouts reported that a very large native village was just across the mighty stream. The village was known as Piache. The village sat on the very spot where Alabama River Pulp is now located.

Since the army had landed in this strange and unfamiliar land, things had not gone as well as DeSoto had wished. DeSoto had great expectations of finding riches in the huge villages along the rivers. During his expeditions in South America, he had been told of the legendary “Seven Cities of Gold” that lay to the north. Returning to his native land, he organized another expedition and sailed with his army to the new world, leaving word that when he returned he would be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.

The river crossing was not an easy one for DeSoto. Timbers had to be cut with which large rafts were made that would bring the heavy armor of his army across the swift river. Along with the army were large herds of swine and cattle that had to be brought across by raft. Due to the fact that the swine couldn’t swim the wide stream, they had to be caught, tied and placed one-by-one on the rafts. Most of the soldiers were suffering from severe dysentery that plagued the army.

Oct. 12, 1540 was a long day for DeSoto as he waited on the east slope, watching his tired, weary army slowly make the dangerous crossing. Several of his war horses, along with many pieces of body armor was lost during the crossing. Many of the swine and cattle that were to feed his army were lost. The river god had demanded his toll.

The river crossing was finally completed Oct. 31. Slowly the weary, rag tag army made its way up the east bank and camped on the outskirts of Piache. The villagers knew the army was coming as their scouts had been keeping track of the approaching army and its herds. The villagers were totally amazed at seeing Spanish soldiers riding war horses toward the village. These were the first horses the Indians had ever seen. A man in full body armor riding the strange animal was very strange indeed.

Through the slave labor of captured Indians, DeSoto had with his army, village medicine men learned of the dysentery. In the deep woods along the river bank, the medicine men gathered a certain type weed and returned to the village. Here, they burned the special weed and mixed the ashes in the food of the suffering army. Soon, the severe dysentery vanished.

Record has it that DeSoto’s army left Piache Oct. 15 and headed northeast into what the Spanish referred to as “the mountainous area.” Their route took them along the high ridges of the Red Hills and Old Scotland areas. At one time at Old Scotland, inscribed on the stone blocks of the old church were the words, “built on the route of DeSoto.” The slow moving army made its way along the high ridges into the area of what is now the community of Pine Orchard. There, in the area where Flat Creek begins was the large village of Maubila. Here, the famed “Battle of Maubila” took place. Here, DeSoto would lose a large number of his trained warriors and many of his war horses. DeSoto himself, received a head wound so severe it affected his ability to reason for the rest of his life. But, that is another story.

Many who read this article probably will disagree with me about the location of Maubila. Our history of Alabama tends to locate Maubila over near the town of Grove Hill in Clarke County. I do not with to be different, nor am I trying to be smart, but over the years, I have done much research on the route of DeSoto, where he and his army crossed the river at Claiborne. I have walked this ancient path inch by inch many times. I have proven to myself, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if the proper research was done, one would find that the large Indian village of what was once Maubila was nestled in the area of what is now Pine Orchard in Monroe County.

So today, Saturday, Oct. 10, 1998, I stand here on the high embankment overlooking the location where 458 years ago the Spanish explorer DeSoto stood. I am reminded that much of our early history is fast fading. Before too long, such events that I have tried to bring to attention of our local citizens will have passed into oblivion. And, the places thereof will know them no more.

“This is the place, stand still my steed. And let me review the scene, and summon from the shadowy past, the forms that once had been.”

George Singleton tells of the days of old-time watermelon patch raids

2026-08-29T16:47:39.923-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Raiding watermelon patches has become lost art,” was originally published in the July 29, 1993 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

When I speak of the youth of today not having fun and not being able to entertain themselves, I mean no disrespect whatsoever.

I will be the first to admit that times have changed during the past years since the Great Depression. Today our youth have money to spend and nice automobiles to travel around in. Many have part-time jobs in nice, clean air-conditioned places and the living is good. But, it hasn’t always been like this.

In writing these articles about my youth, and some of the things that we were involved in, I have no intentions in suggesting to our youth of today that they should also do such things as we did on occasions when boredom crept across the farm country.

In the area where I grew up, it was expected of the local youth to raid watermelon patches and swipe ripe peaches and apples from the orchards of the local farmers. On these fun raids, no property was destroyed or abused.

You swiped only that which the raiding party could eat. Most times, younger members of the very family who owned the orchard or melon patches were right in the middle of the fun group. The older members of these families took great pride in setting traps for the youthful fun seekers.

These traps were not intended to hurt or injure anyone but to scare the living daylights out of those involved. These fun stories of scares would be told and retold many times around the fireplaces during the cold winter nights when the families gathered for fun and entertainment and community fellowship.

Always, when a visitor would come into the community for a stay with relatives or just to visit, this was the opportune time for the local youth, with the help of the older members of the community, to pull some kind of prank or joke on the city slicker.

A family in the local community had relatives that lived in New Orleans. From these relatives in New Orleans, a young man about the age of 16 came up for a few days visit. He was well-dressed and seemed to think that he was above the local youth of the community, because he was from the city and he didn’t have to labor on the farm as his cousins did.

In short notice, these cousins notified their neighbors of a plan to get this smart aleck in line with reality.

The young visitor, not knowing anything about the area, was invited on a watermelon-patch raid; readily he accepted. Little did he know that the family he was visiting owned the melon patch that was to be raided. This was one tale that would be remembered for many years around the firesides of the local folks.

Top-secret plan

The top-secret plan was molded to perfection. An older man from the community was instructed by the melon patch owner to enter the patch on a given night and sit down and cover himself with a dark poncho. He was also instructed to carry his shotgun with him. The plans were, as the youth group entered the patch, he would jump and scream and shoot his shotgun twice up in the air.

Across the watermelon patch, several of the older menfolk of the community lay in hiding to witness the fun and excitement. All the members of the raiding party knew what was going to take place except the young visitor from New Orleans.

The night was cloudy and overcast. The moonlight was breaking through the clouds from time to time, giving off just enough light that one could find their way along the rows of ripe watermelons there in the field. As the group slowly entered the melon patch from the nearby wooded area, the leaders began to bend over the melons and thump them, seeking out a few good ripe melons to eat.

When all the group was well within the melon patch, without warning, the farmer under the poncho jumped up and screamed, “What the h*** are you guys doing in my watermelon patch?”

Shotgun fired

Twice he fired his shotgun in the air. Young boys scrambled in every direction. I won’t call any names, but a youth in the raiding party grabbed his side and fell to the ground and yelled: “Oh my goodness, I’m shot.”

The visiting cousin, thinking that this prankster was wounded, raced over and picked him up, throwing the supposedly wounded boy over his shoulder and raced across the large field nearby.

Totally exhausted from carrying the large youth across the large field, the visiting cousin fell to the ground. As the groups gathered, the sightseers came from their hiding places along with the members of the raiding party, and loud laughter and sounds of merriment echoed across the large field while the visiting cousin lay gasping for breath on the ground.

Slowly, the exhausted cousin got to his feet. Having realized that he had been the victim of the prank, he became fighting mad. He began to swing his fists in all directions at those who had been part of the staged raid. The older members of the group stepped in and made the distressed young man sit down until he cooled off and regained his self-control.

In short notice, a couple of lanterns appeared out of the brush as if by magi and several cool, sweet watermelons were sliced for the party of fun seekers to enjoy.

The gathering lasted until after the hour of midnight. All knew who were present that night in the watermelon patch that this night would be remembered for years to come.

And, as the years passed, the visiting cousin from New Orleans seemed to enjoy it the most, when hearing it told over and over again.

The Monroe Journal's News Flashback for Aug. 24, 2026

2026-08-24T15:54:59.652-05:00

18 YEARS AGO
AUG. 28, 2008

Mayor’s runoff pairing up in air: Who will face off against Rodie Ruffin in the Sept. 9 runoff election in the Monroeville mayor’s race was still up in the air yesterday (Wednesday) morning, according to City Clerk Toni McKelvey.
As of yesterday morning, Ruffin had 717 votes in the Monroeville mayor’s race, while Mike Kennedy had 614 and James Holley had 598. Both Ruffin and Kennedy are members of the city council with Ruffin representing District 4 and Kennedy representing District 1. Holley is a newcomer to the political scene.

Excel defeats Frisco City 24-14 in preseason game: Because a ninth team was added to Frisco City’s 1A Region 1 this season, it left the Whippets and rival Excel without an open regular-season date to play. The coaches worked it out, and played a preseason matchup Thursday night in Frisco.
The Panthers came into Frisco City Thursday night with nearly three times as many players as the Whippets’ 16-strong squad and came away with a 10-point win, 24-14.
(Top Excel players in that game included Brit Bowen, Ryan Holder, Greg Hollinger, Josh Mack, Morgan Murphy, Cedric Stevens and Ak’Keem Williams. Top FCHS players included Roderick Chapman and Jeterrius Ellis.)

New doctor welcomed: Monroe County Hospital and Monroeville Primary Care medical doctors Angela Powell and Alex Nettles hosted an open house Wednesday of last week at their clinic for their newest associate, Dr. Emily Williams.

43 YEARS AGO
AUG. 25, 1983

2 Monroe County bridges to be replaced next year: Two Monroe County bridges located on State Highway 41 are scheduled to be replaced next year, according to Gene Phillips, district engineer at the state Highway Department office in Camden.
Phillips said bridges at Tallahatchee Creek near Hybart and Beaver Creek three miles north of Franklin are among four bridges in Wilcox and Monroe counties to be replaced, possibly next spring.
“Things look real good for bridge replacements in Monroe County,” Phillips said, adding that contracts also will be awarded next spring for bridges at Limestone Creek leading into Peterman and Flat Creek in Fountain.

Kelly team wins golf tourney: Vanity Fair Golf and Tennis Club’s annual Lucian Jones Golf Tournament during the weekend was won by Monroeville’s Jim Kelly and his partner, Pete Kelly of Mobile.
Ted Pearson of Monroeville and his partner, Joe Mack Thaxton of Tampa, Fla., were given a trophy Saturday night at the awards banquet for having the tournament’s low gross score.
The golfers also recognized James L. McAlarney Sr., formerly of Monroeville who now lives in Spanish Fort. McAlarney has been associated with the Lucian Jones tournament since the first tournament and was invited back this year as a special guest.

Lemons is honored by Masons: Tom Lemons of Monroeville, a member of Monroeville Masonic Lodge No. 3 and the Tri-Counties Shrine Club, was honored at a special ceremony Saturday in Brewton. He has been an active Mason for 30 years and is past president of his lodge, served as high priest of the Monroeville Royal Arch Chapter No. 170, was past illustrious master of Monroeville Council No. 95 and was past eminent commander of Monroeville Commandery No. 47.

68 YEARS AGO
AUG. 28, 1958

KKK Makes Recent Visits To Churches In Area: Twelve hood Ku Klux Klansmen visited the Philadelphia Baptist Church at Tunnel Springs last Friday night, sitting through the final services of a weeklong revival.
The Rev. Ralph Lee, church pastor, said the visit was completely unannounced and that it came as a surprise to both ministers and congregation.
It marked the second time in recent weeks that Klansmen visits to church in the area have been verified though other reports of such visits have circulated in the county. An even dozen Klansmen marched into the Repton Methodist Church Tuesday night, July 8, at the beginning of the Devotion and seated themselves. Revival services were in progress at the Repton Church at the time just as they were in Tunnel Springs last week.

Official Opening, Registration Set Sept. 11 For Monroe County Schools: Official opening date for Monroe County schools is Thurs., Sept. 11, H.G. Greer, Superintendent of Education, reminded parents Wednesday.
He said Sept. 11 has been declared registration day beginning at 8 a.m. and dismissing at 11 a.m. School will operate on a half-day schedule for Friday, Sept. 12.
The first full day of operation will be Monday, Sept. 15.

93 YEARS AGO
AUG. 24, 1933

Man Held In County Jail On Murder Charge: Lem Perkins, who was shot last week by his son-in-law, Robert Morgan, near Old Manistee, died Monday, thus bringing the case against Morgan to that of murder. Morgan is being held in the county jail pending meeting of the grand jury.

Man Is Murdered At Franklin Saturday Night: As the result of a dispute arising among several men at a church near Franklin Saturday night, John Powell cut Elliott Rankin to death. Powell was said to be drunk and was knocked down by one of the men standing near. When he rose, he grabbed Rankin and inflicted such deep cuts on him that he died before medical assistance could be obtained from him. Powell was brought to the county jail Saturday night where he will wait the action of the grand jury. This is the second murder in the county during the past week.

“Miss Monroe County” Named At Fashion Show: Mrs. George Williams of Frisco City, modeling for the Frisco City Style Shoppe, was presented the loving cup at the close of the Fashion Show staged at the Monroe Theatre last Monday night by the merchants of Frisco City and Monroeville. The award carried with it the title “Miss Monroe County.” A number of girls from both towns served as models for the business houses and exhibited new Fall styles.

MISCELLANEOUS SHOWER GIVEN AUGUST BRIDE: Miss Velma Dees delightfully entertained for Miss Rosalie Kelly of Excel at a miscellaneous shower Saturday afternoon.
Little Truman Persons of New York gave a charming exhibition of tap dancing with his miniature dress suit and walking cane added to his attractiveness.
An interesting contest was carried out using the abbreviations of states as answers. As this contest was completed, a miniature Curtis plane landed in front of the bride with little Mr. Persons as its pilot, bearing a large mail sack of lovely gifts that were opened and passed around for all to see.

118 YEARS AGO
AUG. 27, 1908

Misses Jennie and Callie Faulk have returned from St. Louis where they purchased a handsome stock of fall millinery.

The Louisville & Nashville railroad depot at Repton was destroyed by fire last Friday night, together with its contents. Several long cars loaded with lumber and naval stores consigned to foreign points were also consumed by the flames which raged for several hours. Several empties and a dead engine standing on a side track were saved by the quick action on the part of the citizens who used crow bars and other instruments in moving the cars and engine out of reach of the fire. The loss is estimated at $15,000 to $20,000. The origin of the fire is not known, but it is thought probably that it started from sparks from an engine which passed the station just previous to the fire.

Mrs. Q. Salter returned home Friday after a fortnight’s sojourn at the Wilcox Mineral Springs, Schuster.

Dr. Wm. A. Parker Dead: Dr. William Asa Parker, for 43 years a professor at the University of Alabama, died at Asheville, N.C. on Wed., Aug. 19. Dr. Parker was a native of Monroe County, having been born near Monroeville, and was the eldest son of the late Asa Parker, for many years a leading citizen and business man of this place. Dr. Parker had a wide acquaintance and reared a large family. Several of his sons are prominent men.

Singleton writes of the legends surrounding Sirius, the Dog Star

2026-08-08T07:47:27.491-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Look to the heavens for Sirius, the Dog Star,” was originally published in the July 28, 1994edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Today, July 28, Sirius, the Dog Star, makes its debut once again into the heavens. With its appearance between the earth and the sun, many strange and unusual happenings begin to take form.

There are those who do not believe that this little-known star has any effect within out solar system and our earth or on the lives of those who live here. But history records many unusual events during the months of July, August and early September.

The 40 days of Sirius’s reign had much to do in the lives of the early Indian. This was a time of change in their living habits, as the hot summer months began to give way for the coming season of fall and winter. The time was now at hand when their carefree lives had to be abandoned and plans formulated for movement into winter quarters.

Their nomadic wanderings would cease along the rivers and streams and work would begin on the brush and mud huts that would protect them from the cold, icy winds that howled down from the north. And once again the ancient tales of the mystery devil star would once again be heard around the evening camp fires.

According to legends that have been told and retold for many hundreds of years, the fish in the rivers and streams are slow about biting during this time of year. The ears of the yellow corn, or maize, are becoming too hard to boil in the pots for eating. And, the deadly rattlesnakes are said to become blind during this period of the reign of the Dog Star. A think skin is said to form over their eyes for about 40 or so days. This blindness makes them to grow thin from hunger and causes them to strike out at any movement or sound.

These legends go on to tell that dogs, wolves and foxes tend to go mad during this period when the star Sirius appears in the heavens. Truly, it is a time of uncertainty and a time of change. Great care has to be taken to keep from getting hurt. Wounds are slow about healing during this time, and infection is most likely to appear in a wound during the months of the reign of Sirius.

The lightning that dance across the heavens seems more severe and does more damage during this time. While the thunder, as it rolls across the heavens, seems louder and more heavier in the hours of the afternoon. The belief of the early Indian was that the gods had not obeyed. This was a time, too, when sickness among the tribes was at its worst. Fever and disease took its toll among the elderly and the very young.

Much care had to be taken in the selection of water that was used by the tribes. All drinking water had to be taken from only the purest of the springs. Water from the mineral springs at this time of the year was highly sought after. Water carriers were known to travel many miles to gather drinking water for the sick and feverish members of the tribes.

Many time, those who were able would travel great distances and camp around the few mineral springs that were to be found in the area. These people would continue to camp and drink the healing waters until the mysterious devil star disappeared from the heavens. Then they would return to their villages to be part of the celebration, when the gathering of crops and hunting and fishing would begin once again. The foods would be stored and dried for the coming chills of winter, approaching on the distant horizons.

Sirius, the Dog Star, has done much to influence the lives or early man. From the time of the Egyptians and the Romans, and even before that, much heed was paid to those days when this star of mystery made its way across the heavens and took its position between our earth and the sun.

Many thought that this was the ideal time for war, if a war was inevitable. Many of the war lords of long ago believed that man became more like a savage animal and would fight harder and endure more pain during the passage of Sirius, the devil star. And, there were those who believed that the spirits of those who had been slain during the time of battle would follow the trail of the dog star into the land of no return. And, their spirits would never return from this land beyond the stars to stalk their camp fires and haunt their nights of sleep and rest.

Today, in our world of make-believe and fantasy, we give little or no thought to the legends of yesterday and those from beyond the past. Many of us will go through these dog days, when Sirius roams at will across the heavens, and never realize the importance this 40 days has had on history.

We may never know how much man has been influenced by the passing of this star across our universe. And, there are many among us who will never give the passing of Sirius a second thought, even though their lives are affected by it.

I will be the first to realize that we live in a space-age society. We profess to be smart. But there are certain things that we should tell our children and pass on to their children’s children. We must become more enlightened about our surroundings and the happenings of our universe. If we are not careful, we, too, will go the ways of the Egyptians and the Romans. And, sometimes in the future years, when Sirius, the Dog Star, returns, our beloved land as we know it will have faded into oblivion.

40-day journey

So, today with the break of dawn, the mockingbirds will sing until that time around Sept. 5 when the devil star gives up its place between our earth and the sun.

And the tempers we humans tend to be a mite short during the 40-day journey of Sirius across the heavens. Our patience grows thin with our neighbors and our friends as this strange and unknown force affects our lives. Our hospitals will become more crowded with the sick and injured.

Let’s not forget, man occupies only a very small part in this place we call the universe. However smart we think we are, our knowledge ceases to exist just a short distance above this planet we call Earth. This is not a scratch in the sand when compared to the nine light years that it takes for the light of Sirius just to reach our earth.

We should always remember that a good knowledge of the past will much better enable us to solve the problems that will ride the winds of the future yet to come.

The Monroe Journal's News Flashback for June 22, 2026

2026-06-22T11:02:55.303-05:00

10 YEARS AGO
JUNE 23, 2016

Dailey named principal at J.F. Shields School: During the June meeting of the Monroe County Board of Education last Thursday in Monroeville, the board approved the appointment of Ramona Dailey as principal at J.F. Shields School in Beatrice.
Dailey was a reading coach at the school last year. She replaces Duran Odoms, who was transferred to C.P. Carmichael Alternative School in Monroeville as an instructional supervisor.

All-County Baseball: J.U. Blacksher’s Head Baseball Coach Justin Mixon and senior Sage Baggett are The Journal’s all-Monroe County Baseball Team’s coach and player of the year, respectively.
Mixon guided the Bulldogs to the school’s first appearance in the Alabama High School Athletic Association’s Class 1A state baseball championship series.
Baggett, who was recently named the ASWA’s Baseball Player of the Year and signed a baseball scholarship with Alabama Southern Community College in Monroeville, hit .394 for the Bulldogs.

Dollar General coming to Repton: During a special called meeting on June 7, the Repton council approved both the site plan specifications and building permit for the town’s first chain retailer.
The Broadway Group – a commercial property development company – is building a Dollar General store in Repton.
The new store will be located on U.S. Highway 84 across from the post office, with the entrance on West Street.
Flags and stakes have already been put up on the vacant lot and work is expected to begin in the next month.

35 YEARS AGO
JUNE 27, 1991

Chamber announces first Mockingbird Court: Ten high-school students and two alternates have been selected for the first Mockingbird Court, a new program of the Monroeville Area Chamber of Commerce in which young women will act as official hostesses.
Chosen were Michell Dionne Brown, Julianne Burns, Melissa Daniel, Lisa Annette Frost, Courtney Hardee, Katrina Rose Keefer, Tricia Marshall, April Powell, Jennifer Ramer and Kimberlyn LaTrice Stallworth. Alternates are Azure Lynn Musson and Elda Teresa Malone.

Uriah wins second straight Babe Ruth title: Uriah won its second straight South Monroe Babe Ruth League championship Saturday when the team defeated Excel 14-4 and Frisco City 5-3 at the new ball park on Snider Street in Frisco City. Uriah closed out the regular season with a 10-2 record.
(Members of Uriah’s team that season included Neal Henley, Morgan Middleton, Todd Daniels, John Murray Ikner, Bryan Ellsworth, Johnathan Conway, Kevin Colbert, Jimmy Plum, J.D. Maples, Eric Byrd, Jesse Wiggins, Shane Qualls, Patrick Redditt, Rusty Lilly, John Jay, Anthony Peavy and coaches Mike Qualls and Paul Akins.)

Museum shop grand opening to be Saturday: The Old Courthouse Gift Shoppe will open in the Old Monroe County Courthouse on Saturday, according to Kathy Painter, Heritage Museum director. Grand-opening festivities will begin at 9:15 a.m. when county Probate Judge Otha Lee Biggs cuts the ribbon. The shop, located next to the museum inside the courthouse, features items made by local crafters.

60 YEARS AGO
JUNE 23, 1966

Blacksher Lodge Names Officers: New Masonic officers were elected at a meeting of the Blacksher Lodge No. 593 at Uriah to serve for the 1966-67 year. Officers elected were: worshipful master, Maston Mims; senior warden, W.E. Grissett; junior warden, Rodney Porterfield; senior deacon, Gladen Hayles; junior deacon, Tommy Mason; tyler, Lewis Hayles; secretary, H.L. Lambert; treasurer, Etha Jacobson; chaplain, Rev. W.E. Bailey; marshal, Charles Phillips; senior steward, C.F. Hadley; and junior steward, W.E. Digmon.

Museum Group Begins Survey: A survey is now being conducted by the Monroe County Museum Committee in an effort to locate relics, antiques and historical information pertaining to the county.
Mrs. Rance Carr, president, said the courtroom of the old courthouse has been declared safe for use and the county is cleaning it up and putting it into order for use by the committee.
Mrs. Carr said the committee is ready to begin cataloging items and has several show cases for use.

Trees Are Coming Down: The trees on Bigger Street are coming down… with mixed emotions.
The trees are the pecan tress which are in the middle of Bigger Street from Mt. Pleasant Avenue to Johnson Avenue.
When the street was built about 40 or 50 years ago, there was a pecan orchard there and with automobiles no bigger than they were at that time, they just built the road around the trees.

85 YEARS AGO
JUNE 26, 1941

ALABAMA LODGE NO. 3 ELECTS OFFICERS: The following officers were elected June 17 for the ensuing year for Alabama Lodge No. 3, Monroeville: J.F. Bilbro, Worshipful Master; John M. Coxwell, Senior Warden; Claude D. Kelley, Junior Warden; L.L. Hendrix, Treasurer; W.F. Nash, Secretary; M.W. Sowell, Senior Deacon; Dayton Russell, Junior Deacon; Gregg Johnson, Tyler.

Frisco Drug Store Damaged By Fire: The stock of the Frisco City Drug Store was damaged by fire which was discovered in the back of the building about 12 o’clock Monday night. The fire department prevented the flames from wrecking the building. Everything in the office of Dr. W.A. Stallworth, which is located in the back of the building, is reported to have been a total loss.

Plane Damaged In Crash At Wainwright: An army plane enroute from Columbus, Miss. to Selma made a forced landing in a field near Wainwright Tuesday afternoon with considerable damage to the wings and landing gear. Two occupants of the plane came out without injury and immediately came to Monroeville to report the mishap to the airport at Selma.

TAKEN UP: One red cow, weighing about 475 pounds. Owner can get same by identifying, paying cost of ad and keep. – W.L. Agee, Perdue Hill, Ala.

Cockleburs Kill 26 Fine Hogs: Last week The Journal reported that Mr. Tom Perry had lost 18 hogs from eating cockleburs. Out of a head of 52 hogs, 26 had died Saturday.

111 YEARS AGO
JUNE 24, 1915

Mr. A.M. Liddell of Buena Vista sent The Journal a cotton bloom plucked on June 12 from a six acre field planted in Simkins’ Prolific. Mr. Liddell states that boll weevils are plentiful in his neighborhood.

Prof. Harris places the editorial household under obligations for some very fine tomatoes grown in the High School garden. Prof. Harris had fine success with his hot bed experiments in the spring and hence was the first to have tomatoes ready for table use.

The rain on Tuesday night came in the nick o’ time and practically saved the corn crop. It will add many thousands of dollars to the value of the yield throughout the county. The rain was accompanied by high wind which did some damage to crops, but the loss thus entailed is nothing to compare with what would have been the result had the rain been delayed a few days longer.

Masonic Officers Elected: Jones Mill Lodge, No. 702: G.L. Galloway, worshipful master; H.A. Baggett, senior warden; W.J. Galloway, junior warden; J.A. Barnes, treasurer; C.W. Adams, secretary; W.W. Grimes, senior deacon; W.D. Sawyer, junior deacon; J.W. Lisenba, tyler; J.J. Sessions, chaplain; S.B. McMillan and J.H. Baas, stewards.

Mr. C.C. Hare of Gainesville, Fla., accompanied by his family, stopped over Sunday with his brother, Mr. F.W. Hare, on their way to visit their old home at Lower Peach Tree. Mr. Hare made the trip, a distance of 630 miles, in his auto and stated that only 30 miles of really bad roads were encountered.

George Singleton tells of a military mission to Ecuador in July 1987

2026-06-20T15:31:04.687-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Ecuador revisited once more,” was originally published in the July 17, 1997 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Once in a great while I take leave from the happenings of our local county and venture through time and space to events that I have experienced elsewhere. This is one of those times.

Two o’clock on the morning of the 24^th of July 1987 came mighty early. This was the time that had been designated for the departure from our fair county to start an 18-day assignment in the South American country of Ecuador.

Our debarkation point was to be Huntsville. After what we thought was a tiresome bus ride and the joys of being processed for duty in the tropics, each receiving a couple of shots, and the do’s and don’ts and a lecture on how to act, we boarded a C-141 Transport and headed south toward Ecuador, the land of earthquakes and mudslides.

Just a few weeks prior to our arrival, an earthquake that registered 6.8 on the Richter Scale took place in the area that we were to go in. Over 1,000 deaths was contributed to this giant quake and the mud slides that followed in its aftermath.

Many trucks and buses, loaded with people traveling the narrow highway known as Baeza-largo-agrio, just simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard of again.

As the giant C-141 settled on the runway at Quito, the capitol of Ecuador, it didn’t take a kick in the head for our small group to begin to realize just how lucky we were to be Americans. Nothing that met the eye could compare with what we had just left at home a few hours earlier.

A quick change to a smaller aircraft, a C-130, and a 45-minute flight carried us ever closer to our destination at the head waters of the Amazon River and at the foot of the Andes Mountains.

The final leg of our journey was a five-hour overland trip over an unpaved and rocky road that was called a highway. The back roads of Monroe County seemed almost as expressways compared to this dangerous road. The 55 miles we traveled seemed as 500.

Our destination, the small town of Archidona, and our main base camp, sat on the banks of the Rio Hollin River. This would be our home for the next several days. Here we were in a land where the weather was hot in the daytime, and cold at night. The temperature ranged from around 120 degrees to around 70 when the sun dropped out of sight. The Army-issued sleeping bag was a most welcomed piece of equipment around midnight.

Life expectancy in this area, we were informed, was about 42 for the female population and about 38 for the males. Malaria, worms and many other parasites was the major causes of death. Venomous snakes was also a great factor to be reckoned with.

Ecuador was not all mud slides and earthquakes. The early morning view of the Reventado volcano was most beautiful to behold. The morning clouds that rolled over the Andes Mountains as great pillows, reminded one that even here God was not asleep. His majestic works was to be seen and enjoyed by all who took time to notice.

As I watched the towering peaks of the mighty Andes, many thoughts passed through my mind. I thought of the many thousands of years that had passed and the many who had stood in the same place where I was standing, and gazed in awe at the endless beauty that lay before me. Standing there I wondered, too, about the many primitive people who was probably at that very moment, looking down from their places in the mountains and wondering about our strange activity along the river.

As strange phenomenon occurred when I saw the mighty Andes. I felt that somewhere in time I had stood there before and witnessed this spectacle of creation. And here in a land where death is a constant companion, it seemed that I could look beyond the distant peaks, and somewhere in the unknown regions of the mind, the thought of dying and passing from this world didn’t seem as frightening as before, and wondered if over the past thousand years or so if any who had passed this way had felt as I did.

The days and nights that was filled with heat and cold, rain and mud, snakes and parasites, passed quickly. The morning came when I took my final look at the mighty volcano towering in the distance. And to the east, the Andes, standing silently, the white clouds rolling around the lofty peaks. I knew the time had come to say farewell.

As I shook the hand of my Ecuadorian friend that I had made, the words, “Adios Amigo, hasta la vista,” was slow in coming. Until we meet again, could well mean forever. I felt within my heart that I would never return…

The Monroe Journal News Flashback for May 25, 2026

2026-05-25T14:56:54.197-05:00

21 YEARS AGO
MAY 26, 2005

City receives honor: Monroeville has been recognized as an Alabama Community of Excellence, which designates the city as one of the top places to live in Alabama as well as the southeastern U.S.
Monroeville Mayor Anne Farish said she appreciates everyone who contributed to the efforts to complete the three-phase ACE program.
In addition, Sandy Smith, executive director of the Monroeville Area Chamber of Commerce, has been recognized by the ACE program as the top ACE coordinator in the state this year.

MA’s best athletes recognized May 12: Bonner Williams received Monroe Academy’s highest athletic award when he received the 2004-05 Bill Grant Memorial Award at its Spring Sports Banquet May 12.
The Bill Grant Memorial Award is presented to the most outstanding student athlete each year.
Williams, the son of John and Emily Williams of Monroeville, was also named the Most Valuable Player (MVP) on the basketball team and the leading scorer.

Prisoners may be on move to new jail soon: If things go as planned, the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department could start transferring prisoners to the new jail on Winston Street.
Monroe County Commissioners approved a supplemental bond indenture at Tuesday’s meeting in Monroeville to cover the final cost of the project. The bond, totaling $1.46 million, was also authorized by the Monroe County Building Authority Tuesday and passed on to the commission for its approval.

46 YEARS AGO
MAY 22, 1980

U.S. clears annexation: The City of Monroeville Friday received an informal go-ahead from the U.S. Justice Department on expanding the city limits to take in Clausell and Pineview Heights.
Residents of Clausell and Pineview can vote and run in the July 8 city election, and the city will soon be expanding services to the communities.
The annexation originated with a petition by Clausell and Pineview residents and was endorsed by the city council before being approved by the legislature and signed into state law by the governor last month.

Babe Ruth to open by renaming field: The renaming of the Monroeville Babe Ruth Field to “Ronnie Dees Babe Ruth Field” will highlight opening day ceremonies as the league begins its new season Saturday.
Dees, whose Patrick Henry Junior College team recently won the Southwest Division title and played in the state junior college tournament in Dothan, coached for many years at Monroe County High School, where his 1974 Tiger team won the Alabama 3A state championship.

Post office drops Sunday box service: The Monroeville Post Office has discontinued mail service to post office boxes on Sundays.
Postmaster Dick Farish said Wednesday the service was discontinued several weeks ago because of its rare use.
“We were one of the last in the section to have post office box service on Sunday,” Farish said.
He said the cost of opening the office was a factor in ending the service. He also said not much mail came through the office from local businesses and few business establishments picked up mail on Sundays.

63 YEARS AGO
MAY 23, 1963

Graduation Plans Listed For Schools Throughout Area: Graduation exercises are scheduled at area schools during the following week when 146 Monroe County students and 25 Repton seniors will receive diplomas.
All baccalaureate sermons are planned for Sun., May 26, with commencement programs in Monroe County set for Monday night, May 27, and Fri., May 31, in Repton.

The Monroe County High School Tigers captured the Pine Belt Conference crown last Friday with a 5-2 victory of the Millry Wildcats. Monroeville’s finals record was 10-3 overall and 8-2 in conference.
(Players on MCHS’s team that season included Freddie Biggs, Gary Downs, Louie Hayles, Tim Jones, Tommy McMillon, Richard Otterberg, Ray Owens, Lloyd Sturdivant, Billy Taylor, Seth Watkins, Jimmy Wible and John Williams. Ronald Dees was head coach.)

UNUSUAL CATCH – Eddie Phillippi, eight-year-old resident of Peterman, caught the three and one-fourth pound eel pictured above. The eel measured 31 inches and was caught at Hardee’s pond near Beatrice.

Meeting Held Monday To Promote Jr. College: A group of businessmen and representatives from civic and study clubs met with Rep. Ralph Jones Monday afternoon at the Hi-Ho Restaurant to formulate plans for locating a state-supported junior college in Monroe County.
A delegation of Monroe County residents plans to meet with Gov. George Wallace and State Superintendent of Education Austin Meadows in Montgomery Wednesday, May 29, to discuss the county as a location for a college.

78 YEARS AGO
MAY 27, 1948

Funeral Conducted For Slaying Victim: Funeral services for Leonard Howard Jordan, 25, of Monroeville were conducted Friday afternoon from the Assembly of God Church in Excel with the Rev. A.L. Shell officiating.
Mr. Jordan died Thursday morning about 1:15 as the result of knife wounds suffered the previous night in an altercation at a Little River fishing camp near Chrysler. Four youths, all residents of McCullough and vicinity, have been jailed at Bay Minette in connection with the slaying.
Mr. Jordan died approximately 40 minutes after being stabbed five times about midnight last Wednesday. His death occurred at Repton Hospital.

Monroe County voters will go to the polls again next Tuesday but this time there will be only one local candidate on the ballot.
He is John M. Coxwell of Monroeville, county solicitor, who is seeking one of the two positions as delegate from the First District to the Democratic National Convention this summer. He is opposed by three Mobilians.

Work of marking the streets of Monroeville was well under way this week and Mayor Charles Cole said it will continue until all streets on which persons are now residing are properly marked.
The work is the outgrowth of efforts of the town to obtain free mail delivery within its corporate limits. The Post Office Department has refused to consider such delivery until streets have been named and marked and houses numbered.

93 YEARS AGO
MAY 25, 1933

Typhoid Fever In Monroeville: The Health Officer, Dr. T.E. Tucker, reports that there are two cases of Typhoid fever in Monroeville, a colored woman and a white man. He also reports clinics are being conducted in several places in the county each week, including Fountain, Monroe Station, Mineola School, A.E. Tucker’s place and Mexia. These clinics are conducted on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. On other days, vaccine can be secured at the office.

The Monroeville baseball team played Frisco City on the local diamond last Thursday afternoon with Monroeville winning the game by a 10-5 score. A return game was played on the Frisco City diamond on Friday afternoon with Monroeville again victorious by a 9-8 score.
On Sunday afternoon Monroeville played Chapman at that place, losing the game by 8 to 7 in 11 innings.
Chapman will meet Monroeville this Thursday afternoon on the local diamond. A hotly contested game is anticipated.
A grandstand has recently been completed at the Monroeville diamond and comfortable seats have been installed.

Mr. J.C. Hudson is building a swimming pool and fish pond on Hudson branch about one-half mile east of the courthouse. Workmen have been engaged about a week cutting the foundation ditch for the dam and spillway. According to the survey made by an engineer, the several springs at the head of the branch will afford a pond covering about two acres, the deepest point being about seven to eight feet.

Singleton recounts a 4th of July celebration when he was five years old

2026-05-23T18:41:05.519-05:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Memories of a country 4^th of July,” was originally published in the July 4, 2002 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Preparation for the 4^th of July celebration would always start on the afternoon of the 3^rd. The fires for the barbecue would be started earlier that morning so that everything would be ready to start the cooking shortly after noon. The menfolks of the community would gather for an afternoon of entertainment and story swapping. Strong coffee was always ready in several large pots there by the coals. And, always several watermelons lay in the shade, should anyone want a slice of a rip juicy melon.

The meat cooking would always last into the late hours of the night as more and more yards and stories rode the winds around the cooking fires. If one or two tired of the tall tales, there was always a set of horseshoes around, always ready for a contest between the better players of the farm community. Several lanterns would be lighted as the shadows of darkness settled over the cooking area down by the large overflowing well located on a high bank overlooking the large creek that flowed through the area.

The large sandy creek bank would be covered with several small boys, dressed in old cut off overalls. The large swimming hole in the creek would be the center of activity for these as each tried to outdo the others with their skills of diving off the high bank or seeing who could stay under the water the longest. Most always, the highlight of the afternoon would be when I would bring a large bull that we had on the farm down to the creek. I would come riding down to the creek sitting up on the large bull’s head, holding on to his horns. Since I was too small to climb up his back without assistance, “El Sid” would hold his head down close to the ground and a small boys of five years old would climb aboard, sitting on his large head, holding on to his horns.

As the large bull approached the creek, everyone moved to the opposite side of the swimming hole as “El Sid” slowly made his way into the deep waters of the creek. The large animal would stand there in the deep cool water as the small boys climbed up on his back and dived into the clear waters of the creek. Sometimes, this would go on for a whole afternoon, or until all of the boys tired of the game of diving off “El Sid’s” back. The large bull seemed to enjoy the diving and fun as much as the young boys did. He would never move. For his services, the large bull was given several pieces of watermelon rind or whatever that was handy of left over from the cook fires. And, as the dark shadows began to settle around the area a small boy would mount the head of his trusty steed, while three or four of his friends sat on the animal’s back, laughing and talking. The huge bull would slowly make his way with his load of boys back to the barnyard.

The early morning of the 4^th of July would begin with much activity as things began to get under way for the holiday celebration. If the weather was permissible, three or four large plank tables had been put together there by the overflowing well. If rain was the order of the day, a large equipment shed had been cleaned out and the activities would take place there. The families of the farming community would began to gather around 9 a.m. Some of the early arrivals might have already gotten a horseshoe game going. Or, the young boys were beginning to formulate a game of marbles. But, as the young girls and their mothers appeared on the scene, things began to settle down. Good manners and being nice was the order of the day. The fathers of the community saw to this.

The large coffee pots with their strong coffee brewing had begun to give off an inviting odor. Large tin cups sat on a table and all one had to do was to pour a cup and add the necessary additives from another table nearby. It wouldn’t be long before large blocks of ice was brought in wrapped up in heavy cotton sacks. Lemonade and ice tea appeared on the scene and the younger of the gathering lined up for the cold refreshments. If one was quick and sly enough, he just might be able to snitch a slice of potato pie or a slice of egg custard without anyone being the wiser. But, if the young sprout was caught, a tongue lashing was in order along with the promise of worst things to come upon return home later that evening.

Most times a fiddle and a guitar would appear from somewhere in the gathering and some square dancing would take place. It was expected and encouraged by the parents for the youth to participate in the dancing. As the small youth whirled around and around, the parents would clap their hands and shout suggestions and instructions to their youngsters that were taking part. As the fun times began to wind down, all knew that before too long the announcement that it was time to eat would sound over the gathering.

As quietness settled on the gathering of friends and families, an old retired preacher would give the blessing. Brother Paige left out nothing in his prayer as his choice of words thrilled the soul of a young boy who stood with his head bowed. Finally, the Amens were said, and the oldest of the group stepped to the head of the line. The youth at the celebration stood back as the elders passed through the line, filling their plates. Many of the older youth assisted in helping the elderly in carrying their plates and helping them get seated. Then usually, a contest of some sort was held to see who would get to go through the line first. But again, the young country girls, many dressed in beautiful gingham dresses, were allowed to get ahead of the group of young roustabouts that brought up the rear of the line.

An old black man and old lady (Uncle Tony and Aunt Lellia) was always present for the celebration. Their plates were prepared before anyone else. Due to their age and their place in the community, they were waited on by everyone. If anyone left the tables without getting enough food, it was their own fault. Several small boys always ate too much and was scolded for doing so, by their parents or grandparents, telling them that they were going to have the stomach ache.

Finally the wonderful meal would come to a close. There would be a few who continued to drink the strong black coffee and eat a slice or two of the potato pie. Quietness had begun to settle down over the youth because the time was near when Uncle Tony and Aunt Lellia would begin their story telling. Quietness settled like a blanket over the group a as each in turn told the hair raising tales of their youth. Aunt Lellia would always tell a few ghost stories that she had experienced over the many years of her life. She would also relate the story of how she delivered me on that story night that I was born. Then I would have to come over and stand by her so she could show me off. Next, Uncle Tony would relate to the group some of the stories of his life as a slave during his early childhood. A young boy and his wide eyed friends never missed a word as the old man and old lady walked the pages of history of their early years.

A half hearted invitation was given to anyone who might want a slice of delicious watermelon. After the earlier meal, there were very few takers. Finally, it was announced that the ice cream was ready. The large hand turned ice cream freezer had been in action since the middle of the morning. No one turned down this invitation.

As the sun slowly began to settle in the west, the families began to gather up their things and say goodbye to the group. Each made a special trip to where Aunt Lellia and Uncle Tony sat, to get a tight hug and pate on the back by the aged couple. Most times, each was told goodbye by the elderly two because neither believed that they would be alive for another 4^th of July celebration. As the crowd began to dwindle, a small boys was called by his wonderful mother and given some more ice cream, making him promise not to tell, as though it would really matter. And a darling Aunt Lellia would inform the five year old boy that she was going to save a piece of pecan pie or some ginger cakes for him for the coming tomorrow. Memories, memories, wonderful memories.

When did the Perdue Hill High School officially close?

2026-05-22T10:17:42.097-05:00

School building at Perdue Hill, Ala.

How long has it been since the high school at Perdue Hill closed? This is a question that came to mind earlier this week when I ran across an item about the old school on the front page of the May 21, 1896 edition of The Journal.

In that week’s paper, readers learned that on the night of May 23, there would be at the “city hall” at Perdue Hill, a contest for a medal to be awarded to the best orator among the advanced male students at Perdue Hill High School. On the following Friday night, the school planned to hold its “annual exhibition, consisting of charades, drills, etc.” Principal J.N. Ivey invited everyone to attend.

Elsewhere in that week’s paper, the school’s April honor roll was published. Honor roll students that month included Mattie Agee, Carrie Savage, Clara Coxwell, Mabel Pritchett, Murdock Norris, Willie Lambert, Sam Gaillard, Eddie Broughton, Irwin Frye, Willie Moore, Barbara Savage, Masie Moore, Ella Tuthill, Joe Shiff, Monroe Agee, Robert Thompson, William Marshall, J.S. Turberville, George Tuthill, Jennie Baggett, Viola Coxwell and Thomas English. Willie Lambert was the student with the highest general average, and J.S. Turberville had the second highest average.

Old editions of The Monroe Journal reflect that the Perdue Hill High School was first organized in 1886 with classes officially starting on Sept. 6, 1886. The principal at that time was W.M. Webb, a “gentleman of experience and well qualified for the duties of the profession.” The school was organized to prepare students for business or college.

Depending on what grade the student was in, tuition in 1886 ranged from $2 to $4 per month. Students had the option to board with the best of local families at low rates. An advertisement for the school said that the building was new, had access to pure water, received daily mail and was located near several churches.

By April 1888, a 17-member board of trustees had been established for the school. Those trustees included John Thames, J.A. Savage, N.D. Lambert, N.C. Thames, I.D. Roberts, J.R. Burgett Jr., J.S. Hines, H.J. Coxwell, A.C. Hixon, J.D. Frye, John M. Grimes, J.F. Gaillard, J.H. Moore Jr., J.M. Lowrey, H.H. Baggett, J.I. Ballard and S.M. Roberts. Burgett was president of the board, and John Thames was vice president.

In September 1888, a short news item noted that the school building would soon have two new rooms added to it, and the music room would be joined to the main building. That way, “all the work can be done under the same roof, without danger of exposure.”

W.M. Webb’s time as principal at Perdue Hill apparently came to an end in August 1889 when he was elected president of the college at Brundige. A short time later, it was announced the Prof. C.H. Florey had been selected to replace Webb. Florey was described as a “young man of much promise, and one who, by his integrity, Christian life, energy and perseverance, has already established a reputation as a scholarly Christian gentleman and successful educator.”

The history of this high school goes on and on, but I was unable to determine when it officially closed. References to graduation ceremonies there continued into at least 1911. If anyone in the reading audience has more information about this school, please let me know.

The Monroe Journal's News Flashback for May 18, 2026

2026-05-18T10:06:36.749-05:00

Wilbert Pickens, left, and Frank Lee in 1979.

22 YEARS AGO
MAY 20, 2004

Bailey seeks to make town better as Repton councilman: The Repton Town Council filled a vacant council seat Tuesday of last week by swearing in new councilman James “Linn” Bailey during a meeting at Repton Town Hall.
Bailey has lived in Repton for three years, he said. Bailey was born in Montgomery and graduated from Sidney Lanier High School in 1954. He later moved to Atmore, then to Mobile, then to Pensacola, where he lived for 40 years before moving to Repton.

Shields players, coaches dominate all-star team: J.F. Shields High School dominated The Journal’s annual all-star boys and girls basketball teams this year, placing four players on each team.
In addition, Shields coach Jerome Sanders, who led the boys to the 1A state championship, and Herbert Blackmon, who led the girls to the Final Four tournament, were named Coaches of the Year.
Wesley Jones, a senior 6-8 forward at Shields, and April Hollinger, a senior guard at Shields, are The Journal’s Players of the Year.

Cotton Patch Festival ‘most successful’ one of all: One of the most successful Cotton Patch arts and crafts festivals at Uriah was held Saturday, according to Patricia McCullers, publicity chairperson for the annual event.
Uriah’s annual event is sponsored each May by the Uriah Arts Council. The 11^th annual event was held Saturday from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. at Uriah. The festival included booths featuring oil and watercolor paintings, mesquite wood walking canes and oil lamps, monogrammed purses, woodwork, clothing and more.

47 YEARS AGO
MAY 17, 1979

Honorary fire chief: Frank Lee accepts a plaque from Monroeville Fire Chief Wilbert Pickens which designated him honorary fire chief of Monroeville last week. Lee, the 10-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Lee Sr. of Monroeville, was recognized for rushing into a burning home at Destin, Fla. March 30 and awaking Mrs. Dave Katz of Monroeville, possibly saving her life. The Monroeville Volunteer Fire Department presented Lee with the plaque and made him fire chief for a week and Mayor B.C. Hornady signed a proclamation because of his heroic act.

Nine men from area to play on East team: Nine area players will participate in the Jackson Lions Club East-West Baseball divisional game Sunday at 2:30 p.m. on Jackson’s Legion Field.
Clarence McCarthy, Carl Langlois and Richard Anderson will represent 3A area champ Monroe County High School. From 1A champion J.U. Blacksher will come Ricky Smith, Harry Akins and Kevin Barnes.
Gary Seales and Tracy Baggett, both of Excel High, and Dennis Curry of Frisco City High are the three other area players.

John Barnett III elected chairman of bankers group: John B. Barnett III of Monroeville has been elected group chairman for the area 1979-80 Alabama Young Bankers Economic Education Program. Barnett is assistant vice president of Monroe County Bank and is married to Rebecca Lewis Barnett. Barnett will work directly with school coordinators appointed by area banks, school boards and principals.

72 YEARS AGO
MAY 20, 1954

Postal Theft In Hybart Reported By Inspector: Post Office Inspector J.C. Engel in Mobile reported recently that a large quantity of mail was stolen from the Frisco railway depot at Hybart, Monroe County, Sunday night, May 9.
Engel said the theft was discovered Monday morning and that some of the mail and wrappings from parcel post packages were discovered under a railway trestle about 200 yards from the depot.
The incoming mail was stored in a strong box at the depot awaiting opening of the Hybart post office.

Honor students of the 1954 senior class at Excel High School are Miss Beverly Gardner, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Gardner, valedictorian, and James Fleming, son of Mr. and Mrs. Wallace Fleming, salutatorian.
Guest speaker for graduation exercises for the Excel seniors on Monday night, May 24, in the school auditorium will be Dr. David Mullins, executive vice-president of Alabama Polytechnic Institute, Auburn.

Pamphlets On Polio Now Being Distributed To All Monroe Students: Around 7,000 pamphlets containing tips on polio precaution are now being distributed to students in all Monroe County schools, H.G. Greer of Monroeville, county education superintendent, reported recently.
Around 600 of these pamphlets were left over from the county distribution, Mr. Greer declared, and all interested persons may obtain one of them by calling in person at his offices in the City Hall in Monroeville.
He urged parents in the county to read and abide by the pamphlets when they are brought home by students.

97 YEARS AGO
MAY 16, 1929

NEW POST OFFICE COMPLETED: The new post office building has been completed with the exception of laying the sidewalk in front of the building. New furniture and equipment is being installed which will materially facilitate the handling of mail matter.

Prof. H.G. Greer, principal of the Frisco City High School, is leaving this week with his family to spend time with relatives in Brookhaven, Miss. Prof. Greer with his entire faculty has been reelected for the next session of the school.

Rev. L.B. Green, pastor, and Messrs. A.C. Lee, J.A. Lazenby and J.F. Lathram and Mrs. I.J. Foster, delegates from the Monroeville charge, attended the Andalusia District Conference at Dozier on Thursday of last week.

Local Marine Returns From Service In China: After some interesting experiences in China, where he was on duty with the Sixth Regiment of Marines, Paul McKenzie of Uriah arrived in New York recently on the transport Somme, which brought back several Marines who had completed periods of service abroad.
McKenzie went to China early in 1927 when the detachment of Marines were hurriedly dispatched to that country to protect American citizens. He remained in the Orient nearly two years and came back to California by way of Guam, the Philippines and Honolulu.
McKenzie is a native of Alabama and formerly made his home with his mother, Mrs. Lora McKenzie, Rural Route 1, Uriah. He has been with the Marines for five or six years and has had many travels and adventures.

122 YEARS AGO
MAY 19, 1904

Ice Cream Supper: To be given at Quigley Institute, Beatrice, Thursday night, May 26, for the benefit of buying desks for school. Everybody invited.

LONG NEEDED RAIN: The long wished for and greatly needed rain drenched the thirsty earth throughout this section last Monday afternoon and night, breaking a drought of about five weeks duration. Although no gauge was taken, we are of the opinion that the precipitation would have measured one a half to two inches. The downpour was steady for a considerable time and unaccompanied by electrical display or damaging winds.

F.H. Smith Dead: Mr. F.H. Smith, bookkeeper for the Holmes Lumber Co., Finchburg, died at that place on Friday evening, May 13, after a short sickness. His remains were interred at the Baptist cemetery here Saturday afternoon. Two bright little boys survive him. His former home was in Michigan.

ELOCUTIONIST ENTERTAINMENT: A rare treat is in store for all who appreciate grace and talent in the art of elocution. Miss Georgia Ray MacMillan, whose gifts and accomplishments as an elocutionist are highly commended by press and people where ever she has given recital, has been induced to give an entertainment in the courthouse at Monroeville on Tuesday evening, May 25, for the benefit of the Presbyterian church. A full house should be accorded. Admission 25 cents, children 15 cents. Tickets on sale at the Drug Store.

George Singleton tells of adventures in his brother's 1933 Chevrolet

2026-05-16T06:50:44.906-05:00

A 1933 Chevrolet sedan.

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “A car was a prized possession in early days,” was originally published in the June 27, 1991 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

The youth of today don’t realize how lucky they are to have places to go and a means of getting there. They jump in their own personal automobiles and speed down to the beach or to some movie a hundred or so miles away. This is an every day affair.

It was not this way when I was growing up. If, by some miracle, a young teenage boy had the chance to use the family care (if his family had one), he thought he was the lucky one. And if this happened, he always had strict orders to carry someone else with him, usually his best friend and his date, if his friend could get a date.

My brother, a few years older than I, became the proud owner of one used 1933 Chevrolet sedan. Many times I marveled at this fine piece of machinery and wondered how it would feel to go on a date without the worry of having to be asked by a friend to go along as filler personnel, to use an old Army phrase. If there were more than two in the auto, there would be no under-the-moon parking or holding hands.

I never did understand why my brother had a change of heart and let me use his most prized possession. But one day he informed me that if I would help him do some things he needed to do, he would let5t me borrow his fine automobile for a night on the town.

A night in Sweet Water was like howling at the moon. There was nothing to do other than gather some friends and go to a special spot on a nearby large creek, build a fire and tell tall stories. I was given special orders by my brother that I was not to drive his care more than 20 miles that night, not even a trip to the nearest movie in Linden some 22 miles away. I also had to furnish him with a list of my friends who were going along so he would know who was in his car if it got damaged.

Nevertheless, I was so excited about using the car that I complied with all his instructions. The last order of the day was that I had to have his beloved vehicle back home no later than 10:30 p.m.

It took quite a bit of doing to get everything lined up for this exciting night. The group consisted of my date and two other couples, six in all. Our dates were to spend the night with the girl who lived the closest to save mileage. My two friends had to get to my brother’s house the best way they could; this, too, would give us more mileage to ride around and see the sights.

The night was young as the six of us sped around town so that everyone could see us and know we were wheeling and dealing. As the mileage began to build up on the speedometer, we knew that things had to slow down or we would be out of luck before 10:30 p.m. We decided to go to the favorite spot at the nearby creek and do some socializing.

The night air was hot, and the full moon’s light cast shadows through the tall timbers on the creek bank. As the clouds moved across the face of the moon, the darkness would creep over the area for a few seconds, and then it would get light again as the moon moved from behind the clouds.

With all the windows of the auto rolled down, a cool breeze helped make the crowded vehicle as pleasant as possible. This was the night to be alive. How lucky could one get? Good times were with us, and it was only 8 p.m.

About a mile from where we were parked, there lived a family who had a middle-aged lady among them who was feeble-minded. This lady would, at various times, run away from home and hide in the woods. When this happened, the menfolk of the area would be rounded up and all would spread out and search the wooded areas until the lady was found and brought home.

Everyone in the group knew about this lady and the circumstances of her running away from home. But no one, especially myself, gave any thought to the matter. Not tonight anyway. Tonight was special, a night to have fun and be jolly.

As we sat joking and laughing, I was in the driver’s seat with my left arm resting in the open window of the crowded auto. Just as a cloud moved across the face of the full moon, someone or something stuck its head inside the window, right beside my face, and screamed the most chilling sound I have ever heard, before or since. Words cannot describe the bedlam that took place inside that 1933 Chevrolet. The six teenagers inside went totally berserk.

Finally, I regained enough control to get the car stared and began backing up the narrow road at a much too high rate of speed to a place wide enough to turn the vehicle around.

Amid the screams and hollering, I missed the spot. Down wen the rear wheels in the soft, sticky mud of the ditch. As the frightened young ladies screamed at the top of their voices, three young boys, frightened totally out of their wits, picked up the rear of the Chevrolet and sat it back on hard ground.

As we turned off the creek road, onto the main road that would carry us back to Sweet Water and home, three men flagged us down and asked if we had seen the feeble-minded lady they were looking for. We all stated that we believed we had. Almost surely.

The Evergreen Courant's News Flashback for May 13, 2026

2026-05-13T10:30:26.890-05:00

USS Midway

44 YEARS AGO
MAY 13, 1982

Local weather observer Earl Windham reported 1.28 inches of rain on May 8. He reported a high of 88 on May 6 and a low of 49 on May 9.

Wayne Stafford is the new owner of Evergreen radio station WBLO, having assumed ownership Monday morning. He and Marv Heffington, the station’s new manager, are congratulated by Ernie Ashworth, noted country music and Grand Ole Opry entertainer, who is also Mrs. Stafford’s (Wanda) brother. Ashworth will become a familiar figure around Evergreen as he assists Marv and Wayne as they make improvements at the station.

Tommy Shipp of Castleberry showed the Grand Champion of the 17^th Annual Conecuh County FFA and 4-H Market Hog Show held here Monday morning at the Evergreen Cooperative Stockyard Show Arena. Jeff Little, owner of Little’s Super Market in Castleberry, paid a premium $1 per pound for this fine home.

Dr. Sergeant’s death is shock: This community and county were shocked by the unexpected death of Dr. Charles Kendall Sergeant of an apparent massive heart attack suffered at his office Saturday afternoon, May 8.
Private memorial services were held Wednesday at his home at 307 Perryman St., conducted by Dr. Lamar Jackson.
Dr. Sergeant was a board surgeon of extremely high qualifications and greatly respected in his profession. He had practiced as a surgeon and as a family physician here for over four years and had earned the love and respect of the people of this area.

59 YEARS AGO
MAY 11, 1967

The 4^th annual Conecuh County Market Hog Show will be held Mon., May 15, at the Conecuh Stockyards. Registration begins at 5:30 a.m., the show at 8:30 a.m. and the sale of the show hogs at 1 p.m. Over 100 head of top quality market hogs are to be shown.
C.L. Kamplain is show chairman and D.C. Fleming is advisory chairman.

Open house will be observed at the Conecuh County Hospital this Sunday afternoon from 2 until 4:30 o’clock, according to Milston Sullivan, administrator.
The board of trustees and the entire staff of Conecuh County Hospital invite the public to come and inspect the hospital during this time. Of special interest will be the recently completed new seven private rooms.

LTJG Freddie J. Patten, son of Mr. and Mrs. Eugene E. Patten of 401 Belleville St., Evergreen, Ala., is presently serving with Attack Squadron Twenty-Three, a light jet attack squadron temporarily based at U.S. Naval Air Station Lemoore, Calif.
LTJG Patten is a three-time veteran of the Vietnam Campaign. He has served with the U.S. Advisory Group to the Vietnam Air Force and served as Weapons Officer, Attack Squadron Twenty-Three, about USS Midway (CVA-41) and USS Coral Sea (CVA-43), during their deployment in the defense against communist aggression in Southeast Asia.

74 YEARS AGO
MAY 8, 1952

Conecuh County voters went to the polls Tuesday to select nominees for state, district and county offices, climaxing one of the quietest campaigns this county has seen in many years. As a consequence, only some 2,668 ballots were cast out of a possible more than 4,000 qualified list. Ideal weather prevailed throughout the day.

Bill Robinson and Pace Bozeman of the Junior Class have been named to represent Evergreen High School at the annual Boys State in Tuscaloosa this June.

Cpl. Robert Johnston, son of Mr. and Mrs. Newton E. Johnston, Bruner Avenue, returned to the U.S. recently after serving eight months overseas. Cpl. Johnston’s overseas service included combat duty in Korea.
He entered active service with Battery “C,” 117^th Field Artillery Battalion, local National Guard Unit, in January 1951. He went overseas as a replacement after a period of training at Fort Jackson, S.C.
Cpl. Johnston, known familiarly here as “Sleepy,” is a graduate of Evergreen High School.

Miss Wilma Maurice Golson, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Otis Benjamin Golson, will marry Robert Gaston Bozeman Jr. on Sun., June 8, it is announced today by her parents.
Miss Golson is a popular member of the graduating class of the Evergreen High School.
Mr. Bozeman is the son of Robert Gaston Bozeman Sr. and the late Mrs. Susan Dickey Bozeman. He is a veteran of World War II, serving overseas with the 1^st Marine Division.

89 YEARS AGO
MAY 13, 1937

Exhumed Body Was Not That Of Missing Man: The remains of an unidentified man who was buried here on New Year’s Day was exhumed Wednesday at the request of relatives of W.I. Bozeman of near Chapman in the hopes that the body might prove to be that of Bozeman, who has been missing from home since Dec. 16. Relatives, including his wife and several children, viewed the body, examined the clothing and were convinced that it was not that of the husband and father of whom they have been searching.
The body exhumed was found on the L&N Railroad track near Wilcox by a train crew. It was brought here and every effort made to identify. Failing in this, officers ordered it interred in the old cemetery. The man apparently had been killed by a train several hours before he was found.
Bozeman’s relatives hearing about the occurrence and knowing that it happened shortly after he had disappeared from home, began an investigation. As a result, they secured permission to exhume the body for examination.
The missing man is said to have left home to hunt work and told his people that he was going to Evergreen to see if he might not secure a job with the crew engaged in building the overhead bridge. He has not been heard from since he left home.

Announcement is made elsewhere in this issue of The Courant of the purchase by J.C. (Cary) Murphy of the City Café, popular restaurant, formerly operated by J. Arthur Lewis.

104 YEARS AGO
MAY 10, 1922

The following is the commencement schedule of the State Secondary Agricultural School at Evergreen… Wednesday, May 31^st, 8 p.m., Graduating Exercises; Address by Dr. Spright Dowell, President Alabama Polytechnic Institute, Auburn.
The senior class is the largest in the history of the institution, numbering 17 boys and 15 girls. The class roll is as follows: Ruby Allen, Annie D. Brooks, Ira Mae Bryant, Julius Edward Chapman, Harry Edwin Dickinson, Reginald Rex Golson, Eva Myrtle Hurst, Daisy Leigh Harvell, Helen Lucille Hagood, Charles Thaddeus Ivey, Aline Marie Johnson, Battie Drucilla Johnson, Mary Allen Johnson, Martha Jennings Lundy, Carl Henry Middleton, Algia French Miller, Benjamin Franklin Miller, Carlos Holgrove Mills, Samuel Robert Morris, Claudia Oswald, Ollie Phares, John Carey Pritchett, James Edward Ridgeway, Joseph Pickett Rutland, Lucy Clare Shannon, Johnnie Mae Shoemaker, Henry James Smith, Lemuel Robert Stallworth, Robert Lee Stallworth, John Deming Stearns, Charles Robert Taliaferro Jr. and Sara Elsie Williamson.

The board of directors of the Chamber of Commerce has chosen the following officers: Dr. W.F. Betts, President; W.B. Ivey, Vice President; Byron Tisdale, Treasurer; R.A. Winston, Secretary.

Edward C. Barnes was reappointed on Monday by President Harding to be Postmaster at Evergreen. This makes the third successive term for which Mr. Barnes has received appointment. He has been a most acceptable postmaster and the appointment will meet with general satisfaction.

The Evergreen Courant's Sports Flashback for May 12, 2026

2026-05-12T08:58:00.000-05:00

44 YEARS AGO
MAY 13, 1982

Junior League opens season: Evergreen Junior League Association will officially open the 1982 season Sat., May 15, at 4 p.m. at the City Park. The teams this year are as follows: Little League – Braves coached by Mike Bledsoe and sponsored by Conecuh Timber, Inc. and Whites Home and Auto; Dodgers, coached by Melvin Johnson, sponsored by B&S Drugs, Inc.; Giants, coached by Tom Jones and sponsored by Presley-Fluker; and Yankees, coached by Norman Marable and sponsored by Crispy Chick.
Minor League – Mets, coached by Arlton Hudson and sponsored by Phillip Harold’s Carpet; Orioles, coached by David Thomas and sponsored by Webb’s Car Wash; Red Sox, coached by Gerald Salter and sponsored by Powell’s Dozier Co.
Ponytail League – Angels, coached by Sylvia Morris and sponsored by Sassers Jewelry and Hardees; Tomboys, coached by Elaine Colvin and sponsored by Holiday Inn of Evergreen and Lady Arrow, Inc.; Wildcats, coached by Darwin Covin and sponsored by Aubrey Padgett’s Garage and Woodmen of the World.
T-Ball League – Athletics, coached by Jerry Evers; Rangers, coached by Mike Faulkner; Tigers, coached by Hillary Harper.

A smiling Eddie Salter won both the total beard length and total weight divisions of the turkey hunting contest at Carter’s Hardware & Supply Co. this season. Eddie’s five Toms had beards that measured 53-1/4 inches and weighed 95 and 7/8 pounds.

59 YEARS AGO
MAY 11, 1967

Aggies nip Jackson lose to Lanier: April 26 – Lanier – Away: The Lanier Poets proved to be too much for the Aggies as they defeated the Aggies, 8-1. For 2-1/3 innings, the game was tight as Homer Faulkner struck out six of the first eight batters he faced.
In the fifth inning, the Aggies got their run when Homer Faulkner got on by an error. He advanced to third on a single and a sacrifice. Wayne Caylor finally brought him in with a sacrifice fly. Aggie hits were made by Grover Jackson, Leon Hinson and Homer Faulker.

May 3 – Jackson – Home: The Aggies picked up four runs in the first inning and made them stand up for a 4-0 victory over Jackson. Lead off batter Don Montgomery got on first with a single and advanced to second on an error. Grove Jackson singled to right which brought Don Montgomery home.
Homer Faulkner followed with a home run over the left field fence that scored Leon Hinson and Grover Jackson.
Jackson had good scoring opportunities in the first, fifth and sixth innings, but were unable to get hits when they needed them. Grover Jackson ended all of these threats with strike outs.
Jack White and Bill Bailey made good defensive plays for the Aggies. A good throw to the plate from Jack White prevented Jackson from getting a run in the fifth inning. Bill Bailey made a good fielding play followed by a good throw to end the game. Grover Jackson pitched his best game of the year.

74 YEARS AGO
MAY 8, 1952

Skinnerton Tops Shreve In Sunday Contest 17-12: The pitching of Eugene Davis and hitting of Sam Brown gave Skinnerton a 17 to 12 victory over Shreve Sunday. Sam Brown got a double and a triple, and Grady Booker got a double for Skinnerton. Shreve used four pitchers in absorbing the loss.

Starlington Hits Well But Bows To Bermuda: Starlington got 16 hits to no avail Sunday afternoon as the Bermuda Bears used eight hits effectively to score and 8 to 4 victory. Tink Stinson pitched well but had poor backing afield while Thompson twirled a neat game for the Bears to gain the win. Stinson also led the Bermuda team in stickwork, rapping out three hits.

Paul Aces Take Win From Loree Dollies: The Loree Dollies absorbed a 10 to 7 loss at the hands of the Paul Aces Sunday afternoon. Bertie Hassell was the winning pitcher, and Bernard Powell suffered the loss. Cobb and McClan led the batting for Paul with three hits each, and Charlie Brock led Loree with two safties.

Quarterback Club President Raymond DaLee is shown presenting the keys to Evergreen High’s new activities bus to Principal C.W. Claybrook in the top picture. Looking on are R.G. Bozeman, Ward Alexander and Coston Bowers, QB members, and Coach Wendell Hart. In the bottom picture, the men pose with the Aggie baseball squad just before it boarded the bus bound for Brewton and a game with T.R. Miller as the bust got an early “christening.” Chassis for the bus was purchased with funds raised for that purpose by the Quarterback Club and the body was furnished by the County Board of Education.

89 YEARS AGO
MAY 13, 1937

Century Here Today, Game With Locals: Evergreen retained the lead in the Interstate League by winning Sunday’s tilt from Jay, by a score of 6 to 4 on the latter’s home field. Bill Seale held Jay to five hits to chalk up his second win of the season.
Doc Jones, cross-fire exponent, won over Jay Thursday in a slugfest, to register his first victory.
Evergreen scored in the third, fourth, seventh and ninth frames Sunday, combining timely hits with Jay bobbles to take full advantage of 11 bingles.
Jay scored two runs each in the sixth and ninth, on hits and weird fielding, coupled with Seale’s wildness in cutting loose two wild pitches with men on the bags.
Thursday’s game saw Evergreen scoring in the second, eighth and ninth innings, to win 6 to 6, with Jay pushing runs across in the second, fifth and sixth. Jim Lane drove in the winning run by slamming a scorching line drive to left scoring Seabrook who had walked and stole second.
“Coach” Clements, who base running has been sensational throughout early games, continued his swiping tactics in both games last week, stealing second and third Thursday, and purloining third Sunday to run his total to eight stolen bases.

Invitations have been mailed throughout the county for the “Spring Dance,” which is being sponsored by the Evergreen Baseball Club, proceeds from which will be placed in the fund for enclosing Gantt Field.
The dance will be held tonight, May 13, at the National Guard Armory.

104 YEARS AGO
MAY 10, 1922

Base Ball Goods – Field and Garden SEEDS – Let Us Supply You – Conecuh County Drug Co.

The following is the commencement schedule of the State Secondary Agricultural School at Evergreen:
Monday, May 29^th, 3:30 p.m., Baseball game;
Wednesday, May 31^st, 3:30 p.m., Baseball game;
Wednesday, May 31^st, 8 p.m., Graduating Exercises.

The Monroe Journal's News Flashback for May 11, 2026

2026-05-11T14:53:00.005-05:00

Buel B. Bell, left, and Oscar Wiggins of Ollie in 1984.

17 YEARS AGO
MAY 14, 2009

Riley to sign books today: With the opening performance of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Monroeville is a busy place, and today (Thursday) Alabama’s first lady will pay the city a visit to sign copies of her cookbook.
Patsy Riley, Gov. Bob Riley’s wife, will be at the Old Courthouse Museum on the downtown square from 2-4 p.m. Riley’s cookbook, “When the Dinner Bell Rings at the Governor’s Mansion,” is a sought-after collection of recipes from her own family and from every other first lady in America.

EHS Panthers earn berth in state tourney: Excel’s Lady Panthers will start play in the AHSAA Class 2A state tournament today (Thursday) at 9 a.m. at Lagoon Park in Montgomery.
Excel, 34-9, finished second in the South Regional tournament in Gulf Shores last weekend and is scheduled to play the North Regional champion today in the first round of the double-elimination state tournament.
(Top players on Excel’s team that season included Courtney Addison, Morgan Agerton, Lauren Anderson, Alycia Baggett, Deanna Henderson, Amy Hudson, Claire Jordan, Kayla Jordan, Kristen Lassiter and Kelsey Ledkins. Charlotte Wiggins was Excel’s head coach.)

Resolution approved for FC Schools: The Frisco City Council unanimously approved a resolution Tuesday night urging the Monroe County Board of Education to consider all options in keeping its school open.
In January, the Board of Education unanimously voted to close the school for all grades from kindergarten to the twelfth grade at the end of May. The school’s enrollment is 242 with a racial makeup of more than 90 percent black.

42 YEARS AGO
MAY 10, 1984

Soldier honored: Buel B. Bell of Mobile and Oscar Wiggins of Ollie unveil markers at the graves of Revolutionary War soldier William Wiggins and his wife, Elizabeth Cooper Wiggins, during a special ceremony Saturday at Wiggins Cemetery in Mexia. About 300 people attended the event, which was sponsored by Huntsville’s Hunts Springs chapter of the National Society of Daughters of the American Revolution. One of Wiggins’ descendants, Lucy Wiggins Colson, is a member of the chapter.

Vols to play for state title on Monday: Monroe Academy’s baseball team will pack its gear Monday and head for Block Park in Selma, where it will begin a double-elimination tournament against seven other teams. All will be battling for the Alabama Private School Athletic Association state baseball title.
The Volunteers, who were sporting a 19-2 overall record yesterday (Wednesday), earned a No. 2 seeding in the state affair with wins of 10-5 and 15-5 over Patrician Academy in the recent Region 1 championship series in Monroeville.
(Players on MA’s team that season included Tim Carter, Donald Foster, Steve Lambert, Keith Langham, Mark Manning, Michael McCrory, Steven Simmons and Don Smith. Mike Amerson was MA’s head coach.)

TG&Y names Allen manager: Phillip Allen has been named manager of the TG&Y department store in Monroeville, replacing Bill Joiner, who has retired. Allen has worked with the TG&Y chain since 1973, when he began work as assistant manager of the Gautier, Miss. store. He also has served as co-manager at stores in Gulfport, Laurel, Waveland and McComb, and as manager of stores in Biloxi and Tylertown, all in Mississippi.

67 YEARS AGO
MAY 14, 1959

Civitans To Hear Sam Engelhardt: Sam Engelhardt, Director, State Highway Department, will be featured speaker at a meeting of the Monroeville Civitan Club Thursday night, May 21.
Mr. Engelhardt is expected to speak on federal road projects, according to Civitan vice-president, C.M. Pouncey.
The dinner meeting begins at 7:15 at the Hi-Ho Restaurant. Members are urged to be present.

College Football Game Slated Here Sept. 19: Final arrangements for a football game between Livingston State College and Troy State College, Sept. 19, were made here this week by the Monroeville Civitan Club.
C.M. Pouncey, Civitan vice-president, said tickets will probably go on sale after June 1. Club committees have been appointed to work on final plans for the event, he declared.
The game will be played at Vanity Fair Park. Reserve tickets will cost $2 while general admission will be $1.50.

Joseph J. McMillan Dies At Residence: Joseph Julian McMillan, 84, prominent pioneer resident of Monroe County, died at his home in Natchez Sunday at 9:30 p.m.
Mr. McMillan was a native of Wilcox County, but had resided in Natchez for the past 60 years. He was a member of the Masonic Lodge, Tunnel Springs, and a member of the Old Scotland Church.

92 YEARS AGO
MAY 10, 1934

Bids Asked For Claiborne Road: Advertising by the State Highway Department for bids on the road from Monroeville to Claiborne began this week. The highway departments asks for bids of grading, draining and surfacing 12.740 miles of road extending from Monroeville to Claiborne. Bids will be received until May 23.

Mr. and Mrs. A.C. Lee and family spent Sunday with Dr. and Mrs. C.F. McKinley at Atmore.

Jones Gets Office In First Primary: Ralph L. Jones of Monroeville, candidate for the office of Solicitor of the 21^st Judicial Circuit, composed of the counties of Monroe, Baldwin, Escambia and Conecuh, was elected to this office in the first primary, he having a substantial majority over both his opponents. Running against him were G.O. Dickey, Evergreen lawyer, and H.M. Caffey Jr., Brewton attorney, who was named by Gov. B.M. Miller to complete the unexpired term of the late L.S. Biggs.

Miss Callie Faulk spent last Friday and Saturday in Montgomery.

Returning to their homes in Monroeville last week following the closing of schools were Miss Velma Dees from Excel, Miss Willie Bayles from Uriah and Miss Ida Belle Roberts from Tunnel Springs.

Prof. and Mrs. J.A. York, the Monroe County High School Band and members of the Glee Club spent last Friday in Montgomery at the annual music festival. They returned home Saturday afternoon.

Mr. and Mrs. J.C. Finch and Miss Louise Lee spent the weekend in Atmore.

117 YEARS AGO
MAY 13, 1909

Mr. J.U. Blacksher was up from Maros the first of the week on business with the probate office.

Mr. W.H. Tucker, the postmaster and merchant at Jones Mill, was here on business Wednesday.

Rev. L.C. DeWitt left Tuesday for Louisville to attend the Southern Baptist Convention. Mr. DeWitt goes as the representative of the Bethlehem Association.

Hon. J.F. Jones of Evergreen was a visitor to the capital city of Monroe last week. Mr. Jones’ many friends are glad to know that he is growing affluent as evidenced by his ability to utilize an automobile in looking after his extensive law practice.

A small but merry crowd assembled at the home of Mr. J.J. Shirley Saturday afternoon and had quite a jolly time cutting a bee tree, resulting in only one sting from the busy little bees, Mr. Homer Shirley, being the owner of the tree, also was the recipient of the sting.

One of the men who claims he is walking around the world passed through Jones Mill last Sunday.

Mr. and Mrs. J.I. Bizzelle have issued cards announcing the marriage of their daughter, Miss Lucile, to Mr. Hunter H. McClelland on Thursday evening, May 20. Miss Bizzelle and Mr. McClelland are two of Monroeville’s most popular young people, and the Journal expresses the sentiment of all our people in extending heartiest good wishes in advance of the happy event.

George Singleton writes about the anniversary of World War II's D-Day

2026-02-21T15:07:00.001-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “D-Day, the 6^th of June, is a day we should never forget,” was originally published in the June 7, 2001 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

We Americans are a lucky people, but sometimes we tend to let slip by many events that did much to mold our lives and our society.

We forget as the years begin to grow in number and times passes into the pages of the past. This date, June 6, 1944, is one of those dates that we need never to forget. On this date, the greatest invasion force that man has ever assembled stormed ashore on the beaches of Normandy.

On this date in 1944, during the frightful days of World War II, the allied forces launched the largest invasion force the world had ever known in hopes of defeating for all times the evil forces of Hitler’s army.

On June 5, Gen. Dwight Eisenhower set into motion a plan to lay the groundwork for the Normandy Invasion to be launched the following day. This day would be recorded in history as “D-Day” throughout the known free world.

Let us look back in time and try to visualize the magnitude of this invasion force. On June 5, 1944, over 3,000 American and British bombers, protected by the famed P-51 fighter planes, dropped thousands of tons of bombs on the Nazi forces that were dug in on the high cliffs that overlooked the beaches of Normandy.

The following day, ships from a hundred ports, numbering over 4,000 began crossing the English Channel. These ships would put ashore over 176,000 men in the first wave that landed on the sandy beaches. In less than three weeks that followed, over 1 million men and 170,000 vehicles made their way across the bloody sands of the Normandy beachhead.

Thousands of young men, many no more than 18 or 19 years old, never reached the sandy beaches. Many of these young men had no combat experience, except less than eight weeks of basic training, before they were shipped to overseas ports to help make up the other thousands of the allied invasion force.

As the landings of troops increased, so many died there on the beach until bulldozers were used to push the dead bodies aside, so that the men and equipment yet to come ashore would have open space to maneuver as they fought for the high ground.

Should you visit the many military cemeteries that dot the landscape throughout Europe and see the thousands upon thousands of white crosses that mark the graves of our fallen sons and brothers, then you will realize the price we paid that fateful day.

In 1986, I had by chance, to visit one of such cemeteries. The row upon row of snow-white crosses in the Luxembourg Cemetery gave witness to the many thousands who sleep there. As I searched for the grave of a cousin who fell in the heavy fighting of the invasion, I remembered being told that he had not reached his 19^th birthday prior to his death.

I remember that day as a student in high school when the principal of the school called an assembly. This was the day after school had started in September. Mr. Johnson, a World War I veteran, read out the names of those who had gone to school there at Sweet Water and had fallen in battle that fateful day of June 6.

I remember that the old man wept as he called the names of seven young men from a prior graduating class that had fallen there on the bloody beaches of Normandy. This class would lose a total of eight young men, both in the Pacific and Europe, before the dreadful war’s end.

There are those who say that we should bury the past and let bygones be bygones. But, I believe we should remember those brave young men who gave their lives for the freedom that we enjoy today. We should hold in high esteem the memories of those who died in battle so that we can continue to live as a free people. We should forever remember those who never knew the joys of raising a family and having the chance to grow old with their children and grandchildren.

We, as a nation cannot know where we are going unless we know where we have been. We must not forget those who gave their all for our way of life that we so often take for granted.

As we remember the millions who died in our past wars, we should remember that they too wanted to live a full and happy life. They didn’t want their lives to end there on the blood soaked sands of Normandy, or on some unknown island in the Pacific.

They didn’t want it to end on some frozen hillside in far off Korea, or the steaming jungles of Vietnam, or in the parched deserts of the Middle East.

We Americans are a forgiving people; for the want of wealth, we sell our homeland and even our souls to the very ones who tried so hard to destroy that which we cherished. We turn a deaf ear to the cries of the millions slain who tried to protect us from the armies of the aggressor.

The jingle of money pushes from our ears the cries of the dead who also wanted to live and enjoy a part of our tomorrow. We allow our sacred flag to be burned in public places by deadbeats who have contributed nothing to the freedom we enjoy.

One day we must learn that freedom is not free. Freedom has to be wanted. It has to be cherished. And, then there comes a time when it has to be fought for and protected.

So, this past Wednesday, June 6, 57 years since the sands of Normandy beach turned red with the blood of our brave young men, we need to stop again and remember. It doesn’t take much time. Find a quiet spot and raise your arms to the heavens and thank God that you have been allowed to live in this great land of ours. You will be heard if you are sincere, and those who sleep beneath the white crosses in those forgotten cemeteries in some far off land will know that they are remembered.

Do not let the spirits of those young men who fell in battle on a thousand battlefields wander forever on the winds of oblivion. Take time to be proud and let the world know that you are proud to be an American. Our country is approaching the crossroads of history. We must stand up and be proud. We cannot let that which we love cross over the point of no return.

There is a graveyard far, far away.
Where a forgotten soldier lies.
No flowers there are sprinkled,
Nor tears from mourners eyes.

I stood there no so long ago
In remembrance for these brave,
When suddenly I heard a soft faint voice
Speak out from the depts of a grave.

“Did we really win our freedom
That we battled so hard to achieve?
Do we still respect that tiny flag
Above that empty sleeve?”

“Wonder if those who planned it
All are really satisfied?
As they sing and dance and live it up
After many thousands died.

“I am that forgotten soldier
And maybe I died in vain
But, if I were alive, and my
County called, I’d do it all over again.”

Singleton tells of ghostly Rebel soldier in Monroe County, Alabama

2026-02-08T16:40:00.000-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Return to the hill country,” was originally published in the May 20, 2004 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Since my dear wife couldn’t find anything for me to do May 13, I decided to slip away for a few hours of wandering aimlessly around the hill country of Monroe County.

I cranked up my vehicle and headed toward the hill country of the Old Scotland area. I never get tired of traveling the winding dirt roads of this area of our county. I have traveled these roads and trails many times, and always something appears that I have seemed to miss on other previous trips.

My first stop was the old Cunningham cemetery, located only a short distance from the pavement known as the Ridge Road. As I had noticed earlier, the wrought-iron fence around the small family cemetery had been repaired and painted. Much work had been done on the fence and the cleaning of the grave markers of the members of the Cunningham family that are buried here.

It’s refreshing to know that there are those who yet see to it that the final resting places of their ancestors are kept clean and in good repair. But, much to my surprise the old cemetery needed some repair and cleaning.

Down the road, I stopped in front of the beautiful and scenic Old Scotland church. Almost expecting to hear the sounds of the Scottish bagpipes from the nearby wooded area, I viewed the historic old church and the well-kept cemetery nearby.

Noticing the recent burial site of a grand old lady who had just recently passed away, I remembered the day that this gracious and dear lady called me and wanted me to escort her to her old family home place, down the road aways from the church and cemetery. When we reached the old homesite, this dear lady sat down and cried, stating that it had been over 65 years since her last visit there.

Along the edges of the grownup yards, she pointed out some blooming jonquils that struggled to survive there among the tall weeds and brush. With tears streaming from her eyes, she told me that she had planted these jonquils many years ago when she was a small young girl and had lived there.

Returning to the church yard, she pointed out to me the graves of her family and her ancestors. She also pointed out the place where she was to be buried. This beautiful and darling old lady had gotten her wish. She now sleeps among those she loved so dearly, there in the beautiful old cemetery of Old Scotland church.

Making my way slowly down the narrow dirt road, I stopped for a moment at the old Davison burial ground. There under the protective branches of the trees that grow in the old cemetery, those who sleep here were also a part of the then active community of Old Scotland.

Making my way slowly down the winding hill that leads to the creek, I stopped for a few minutes on the wooden bridge that spans the creek. I remembered being told the story of the wounded Confederate soldier by my dear friend, now deceased, Raymond Fountain.

The story goes that this wounded Rebel had camped for several months under an earlier bridge that had spanned the creek here.

The wounded and sick Confederate had camped here for a period of about four or five months. He survived on the wild berries that grew nearby and the fish he caught out of the large creek. Those who passed this way said he could be seen during the early morning hours and the hours of the late evenings, walking along the narrow road near the bridge.

The stories state that the wounded Rebel, dressed in a torn and dirty Confederate uniform, would always be seen walking toward the west. Never was he seen walking east, back toward the bridge where he camped.

The stories go on to say that one day the wounded soldier disappeared, never to be seen again. No one knows what happened to the wounded and sick Rebel.

My friend stated that those who traveled this narrow road during the years after the terrible war had seen the ghost of the unknown Rebel, walking the road and across the wooden bridge. As always, he was seen walking to the west. I have visited this location many times, searching for the ghost of the unknown Rebel. But, that’s another story.

Slowly making my way across the low flat bottom lands, I thought of the many times that I had journeyed this way. As I started the climb up the steep hill known as Locke Hill, I thought of the many stories that had been told to me by my friends, Mr. Fountain and Mr. Wiggins.

Many times, we would come this way, and they would tell and tell again the stories of this area. Both of these dear friends had a thorough knowledge of the early history of this area. The ancestors of my friend, Oscar Wiggins, had settled up the narrow road in the old community known as the Red Hills community.

A stop for a few moments atop Locke Hill was breathtaking. Looking back across the vast bottoms to the east seemed almost as being in another world. I remembered being told the story by my friends of the family who had settled nearby, thus giving the tall hill its name. Many stories of good times and heartaches had taken place here on Locke Hill.

Stopping at the old Red Hills cemetery, I visited the final resting place of my friend’s ancestors. He, too, had fought for the Southern cause and had been laid to rest in the red clay of the Red Hills cemetery.

Walking through the old burial grounds, the many stories told to me crowded my mind. Many of the old grave markers and crumbling burial crypts brought to mind the stories of their lives and good times related to me by my dear friend. Then, too, many of those who sleep here had suffered many hardships as the dreadful Civil War took its toll on the community nestled here in the hill country.

As I mounted my transportation and head westward toward the Franklin community and Highway 41, I new that I had made the right choice by coming this way. I felt as I had on all the other excursions through this area. I had done the right thing by coming this way.

Perhaps, somewhere beyond the sunset, there are those who sleep in the old cemeteries and burial grounds along the way know that they are not forgotten. They are remembered. I was glad that I had come, if only for a short time.

Singleton writes of historical society visit to old Claiborne in 1987

2026-02-07T06:40:00.002-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “An afternoon in the old town of Claiborne,” was originally published in the May 7, 1987 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Sunday, April 26, 1987 was a perfect day. At 2 p.m. the members of the Monroe County Museum & Historical Society gathered in front of the old courthouse for an afternoon outing in and around the old town of Claiborne.

Our first stop was the old Jewish cemetery. Nestled back in the woods near where once was the southeast corner of the town, the remaining markers and tombs stand in almost forgotten memories of the Jewish people who once lived here in Claiborne.

As we moved among the headstones, many of which had fallen over or had been broken due to neglect, one could feel a certain sadness or a feeling of helplessness that seemed to filter from the faint impressions there in the ground.

Many of the ones who slept there among the underbrush and briars had traveled from the far corners of the earth to a town called Claiborne atop the high banks of a mighty river. They came this way looking for a better lift, a life of freedom, a life without fear.

And in the quietness of the moments there among the final resting places, one had only to look around, after all these years, to know that tragedy and heartbreak had been present in the town by the river.

Isaac Jacobson had been a successful merchant in the growing town of Claiborne. His store was growing along with the town. His business required many hours of work, even after hours when the doors were closed to his customers. Many nights he would work into the early hours of the morning, ordering the goods that would be shipped up the river by boat. Life was being good to Isaac. He traveled from Posen, Prussia to Claiborne. He had worked for another merchant until he had saved some money to open his business.

Then one night as he was closing early to go home and enjoy an evening meal with his family, an unknown assassin stepped from the shadows and killed him in cold blood. The faded epitaph relates the gruesome story of Isaac Jacobson’s tragic death that November evening long ago.

Many of the headstones sway drunkenly, leaning this way and that. If you look carefully among the underbrush, your eyes fall upon the small markers of the Metzger brothers, who fell victim of the dreaded yellow fever. The two young brothers were buried within two days of each other.

Pass in review, all the memories
That dwell within my soul.
For now is the time of remembering,
And the ghosts from another time
Cry out to be heard.

Our tour carried us northward to the old town cemetery atop the high banks of what was once known as the north gorge. Beneath the tall, majestic pines, the quietness lay over the few remaining headstones like a heavy blanket. As times passes, I have noticed that the markers within the cemetery have decreased in number. It seems that nothing is sacred anymore in our modern society. When vandals destroy and carry away the old markers and large headstones that have stood for well over a hundred years as guardians in this city of sleep, our priorities and values have reached an all-time low.

A moment’s pause, a quiet recital, the faded epitaph on the tomb of the broken-hearted stranger bring to mind once again the many tragedies that lie hidden in the many graves of the old cemetery.

“I am a stranger,” I heard him say.
“Broken-hearted and lonely, I came
This way – in search of a love who
In anger fled. Too late, too late,
I found her dead.”

Few of us care to known or try to remember the old story of the stranger who came to Claiborne in search of his lost love, only to contract the dreaded fever. As he lay on his death bed, alone and among strangers, he wrote the words of the epitaph that is to be found carved on his headstone:

A doctor, a lawyer, a governor’s wife,
Too, sleep peacefully by a soldier true.

Here on the high banks of the North Gorge, the many victims of the dreaded yellow fever sleep and wait for the final roll call of eternity. The town that they lived in, which boasted at one time over 5,000 people, sleeps in its past memories. Only the sound of the rushing traffic, crossing the new, modern bridge that spans the mighty river, jolts ones mind back to the present and the commitments at hand.

George Singleton takes a motorcycle, ferry trip in April 2002

2026-01-10T19:00:00.001-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “That vagabond blood flows again,” was originally published in the April 24, 2003 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

A few days ago, the urge to wander began to come over me as though a slight chill of some sort had entered my body. After giving it a little thought, I rolled out my trusted iron horse and headed toward the nearest crossroad. Many times I never really know where I’m going until I come to the first intersection in the highway.

I was up near the community of Tunnel Springs when suddenly I turned to the west and proceeded back to the road that would take me into the Old Scotland area. As I made my way down the narrow road, I was amazed at the many mimosa trees that were just beginning to bloom that dotted the countryside. Their raw primitive beauty was something to behold as they spread their branches like large colorful umbrellas near the old forgotten house places. As I rode along the narrow dirt road and marveled at the beauty of the mimosas, I reaffirmed that the Master’s hand was in all things of beauty that dotted the landscape around me.

Stopping in front of Old Scotland church, I looked out over the cemetery and noticed that as always, there were fresh flowers on many of the graves. I never grow tired of visiting the beautiful old church and the well kept grounds. As I have stated many times before in my writings, somewhere in my mind, I almost expect to see a couple of Scottish bagpipers step out of the tall timber, playing “Amazing Grace,” the most beautiful hymn that man has ever written. As always, my ancestral Scottish blood seems to rush forth and I enter into another time.

After absorbing the total peace and beauty of the old church for about an hour, I knew that I must go on to other places. Stopping at the old Davison cemetery for a few moments, I then proceeded on down the road. A quick stop at a couple of old homesite brought back to mind that day when I brought to one of these old homesteads a dear elderly lady, now deceased, who had been born here and raised here as a child. I remembered her telling me that it had been 65 years since she had visited this place of her birth and childhood home. I remembered her weeping and saying that this would probably be her last visit here. I assured her that I would bring her here anytime she wanted to come; all she had to do was to let me know that she wanted to come and again visit the old homesite. I remembered her picking some blooming jonquils that grew near the old yard. Weeping openly, she said she remembered planting these jonquils as a child.

Turning down the steep hill and down the narrow road that would eventually lead to the creek, it seemed as if I was going through a narrow dark tunnel. The heavy overhead branches of the timber covered the narrow dirt road completely. Slowly, making my way across the bottom, I stopped at the old wooden bridge that spanned the large creek. Stopping again, I turned off the engine of my motorcycle and stood looking down at the flowing waters of the creek. As I had many times before, I remembered the story of the wandering Confederate soldier who, wounded and sick, had camped for a considerable time here under the wooden structure. I remembered my dear friend, Mr. Raymond Fountain, telling me about the ghost of this Rebel solider being seen walking across the old bridge during the early morning and the late evening hours. I remembered the story of how one could stand on the old bridge during the hours of the late evening and smell the odor of food cooking. As I made ready to depart this place of mystery, I vowed to return here again, as I had done several times before, during the late hours of the evening and try to witness for myself the stories that I had been told by my dear friend. As I rode to the west, the story of the Rebel’s strange disappearance raced through my memory.

Crossing the low bottom lands and another wooden bridge that spanned yet another large creek, I soon found myself climbing up into the hill country. As I approached the crest of beautiful Locke Hill, I knew that I had to stop and spend a few moments and absorb the vast beauty that lay in the bottoms before me. Here, I was re-affirmed once again, only God was capable of creating such beautiful handiwork with such vast magnitude of colors.

As I traveled the narrow dirt road toward the old Red Hills cemetery, I thought of the many dollars that had been spent on traveling to distant places in search of nature’s beauty. Since leaving Highway 21 at Tunnel Springs, I had witnessed nature beginning to show her grandest colors, except perhaps during the fall months, and it had cost me almost nothing, perhaps a quart and a half of gasoline.

As I stopped in front of the old Red Hills cemetery, the memory of another dear friend came to mind. I remembered how I used to come here with my friend, Oscar Wiggins, and wander for hours through the old cemetery. I knew by heart the names of his distant ancestors who rested in some of the graves nearby. I had been shown many times the final resting places of several Confederate soldiers who had departed this world and now slept in the red clay of the old cemetery. Never did we visit here that my friend always went first to the grave of his grandfather who had worn the Rebel uniform. And, always I would hear the story of his return from the dreadful war, a wounded and sick man. After his return from the war, he spent the remaining years of his life digging a living out of the red clay soil of the Red Hills area.

As I proceeded across the high hills toward Highway 41 and the Franklin community, I knew that I had to make up my mind real soon as to the direction I would take. Looking at my watch, I knew that the noon hour was fast approaching. Turning northward, I twisted and turned on the winding and scenic highway until I soon found myself approaching the town of Camden. A quick stop at a fast food place satisfied my hunger and soon I was on my way again.

Not knowing for certain as to where I was going, I found myself in the community of Possum Bend. It didn’t take but a minute to view the sights here, so I proceeded on toward the river and the paper mill on the highway that would carry one to the town of Pine Hill. Just past the paper mill, I turned to my left and soon I was at the intersection of the road that would carry me to either the community of Sunny South or turn left and travel toward Lower Peach Tree. Turning left, once again the memories began to flow as I swept past old familiar landmarks that brought back many hours of research and adventure.

I knew if I wanted to cross the Alabama River on the ferry, I had to be there before the 4 p.m. deadline. Stopping in Lower Peach Tree, I fueled up my motorcycle and drank a quick cold drink. I had heard many stories about this community and how a terrible tornado many years past had almost wiped out the surrounding area. I remembered a lady who lived near where I grew up had been blown up into a tree during this terrible storm when she was a small child. The rest of her life, she was a cripple, almost unable to walk or to do anything.

The river crossing was very pleasant as I talked to the operator, whom I knew. Warning me to stay out of trouble, I said goodbye to my friend and climbed the east bank and began the climb to the top of Nancy Mountain. Looking at my watch again, I knew that I had no time to waste if I was to get home before my darling wife came home from a day of shopping. With just minutes to spare, I stabled my iron horse and began the “honey do” work that she had instructed me to do. This vagabond blood of mine is going to get me into serious trouble yet.

Contentment is for those who have
Reached their goal and are satisfied no
More to wander. Happily, I have not reached
Mine, and have no intentions of doing so.

George Singleton writes of the musical, dancing adventures of Augusta Jill and Gussie Lou

2025-12-20T16:42:00.002-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Augusta Jill takes up musical pursuits,” was originally published in the April 18, 1991 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

This is a letter from Fonderoy Fishue to his favorite cousin Penrod Meldean who lives in the Cajun country of Louisiana. Fonderoy’s better half, Augusta Jill, has developed a craving for music. Here is what the letter is all about.

My dear cousin Penrod,

I take pen in hand to write you and tell you about what my beloved wife’s latest passion is. If I make any mistakes in my spelling or writing, don’t be alarmed because it has been several nights since I have had a good night’s sleep.

A few days back, Augusta Jill, and that big fat sister of hers, Gussie Lou, made a trip to one of them big wholesale stores that has just opened in town. They say that you can find anything at them stores. I believe it because Augusta Jill bought Ole Blue (Ole Blue is my favorite coon dog) a collar that has some kind of battery in it. That collar does something that scares the living daylights out of the fleas and ticks and just about everything that used to worry Ole Blue half to death. He has gotten so lazy until I believe he has gotten too lazy to scratch.

But, getting back to my problem. Augusta Jill brought home from that store something they call a keyboard. (She spent almost all of my spring fertilizer money on that blasted thing.) Cousin Penrod, this thing is about the size of a big plant. It looks like a piano with everything but the keys missing. You have to plug it into the electric lights in the house for it to work. If Augusta Jill wants to carry it out in the yard, or to the barn, it has six flashlight batteries that will make it play.

That darn contraption has about 50 different buttons across the top of the plank. Cousin Penrod, you won’t believe the different sounds that this thing will make, just by punching them buttons. It makes sound like a piano or some sounds that I have never heard and don’t know how to describe them to you. Augusta Jill gets out on the front porch with this thing and plays. Ole Blue has howled so much until he can hardly howl above a whisper. He has just about ruined his voice.

There’s one button that you can push and that thing gives off a ghostly sound. All the house cats have left home. It seems like the sound is the one that Augusta Jill likes most. You can turn a knob and that thing will get so loud that it will shake the house. Or, you can turn it down so low until you can hardly hear it.

Them house cats has just about ruined all our window curtains. Augusta Jill would start that thing playing real low and then turn it up so loud that them cats will climb to the ceiling. Their tails get real fluffy when they hear that ghost music. My mule has tore down his stable door. I look for him to have a nervous breakdown any time now.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she would just play that darn plank-looking thing in the day time. But that darn woman likes to get up at night when all the lights are out and play that ghost music. As I told you earlier in the letter, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. I don’t know which one will be first to go off the deep end, me or the mule.

I don’t guess the folks that live down the road know that Augusta Jill has got this contraption. Every night after the lights are turned off and that woman of mine gets up and starts playing that scary music, traffic picks up in front of the house. I believe they think that there’s some kind of spirit that has moved in with us. They sure have been giving us some real peculiar looks lately when they pass the house.

Cousin Penrod, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Augusta Jill said that just as soon as she got where she could play that plank-looking thing real good, she was going to get that fat sister of hers, Gussie Lou, to start learning how to sing. Then they might form them a nightclub act. Can you imagine that? Well, one thing for sure, that nightclub would break all records in booze sales – everybody would have to get falling down in the floor drunk so they could put up with their entertaining act.

I’ve been giving it some thought. I might just come down there and stay with you in that Cajun country for a while. I’m not going to be able to start plowing for a while anyway. My old mules are so nervous from that crazy music that Augusta Jill has been making until I can’t get the harness on them.

He’s got the nervous shakes real bad. I thought that I would mention me coming down there, Cousin Penrod. I just hope Augusta Jill and Gussie Lou don’t decide to want to learn that funny Cajun music; just ain’t no reason to ruin two good homes.

Well Cousin Penrod, I’m going to have to stop for now. I see Augusta Jill and Gussie Lou coming out toward the barn. That’s where I’m at. I came out here where I thought I might get a few minutes peace while I was writing you about my troubles.

You wouldn’t believe it, Cousin Penrod. All the chickens and cats and that crazy mule are high tailing it across the pasture. They must have seen them two big women coming across the yard – Augusta Jill with that plank-looking thing under her arm, and Gussie Lou wearing some of them blood red dancing tights. Ole Blue just passed the barn door in a dead run. I think I’ll go with him. Bye…

George Singleton tells of 1988 trip to Nancy Mountain

2025-11-28T08:16:00.001-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Man needs beauty to survive,” was originally published in the March 17, 1988 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

A few Sundays back, my wife and I put together a basket of goodies and a cold jug of iced tea and took off for parts unknown to get close to nature and enjoy the wonderful outdoors.

For one reason or another, we ended up atop Nancy Mountain to have our dinner under the open skies. It seemed as though our automobile just headed that way as some unseen hand took over the driving. We didn’t discuss or decide which way we might go. When we realized where we were, we had almost made it to the high hill above the ferry and the river.

It’s amazing just how much a person can eat when there is no one to hinder him or no noisy television or telephone ringing during meal time. After unloading the basket of food and a large plastic container of good iced tea, we got down to the business at hand of fried chicken and potato salad, mixed along with some sweet pickles, sweet onions, sliced apples and several slices of cheese.

Nothing in the way

When one is not in a hurry, one can eat much more than when there is a schedule to meet or a place to go. This was such a time, when all could be put aside and there was nothing to get in the way of you and the fried-chicken plate.

To me, there is nothing quite as good as some real home-cooked Southern-fried chicken. Then, to take a bite of one of those sweet pickles, not to mention a swig from that large container of iced tea. You might add some potato salad, some sweet onion, a bite or two from an apple slice, and then slip in a bite of cheese to give it flavor. I don’t think mankind could ever wish for anything to eat that would surpass this mixing.

The after-dinner entertainment was watching two lizards that appeared on our table. There wasn’t any chicken to share with them because it had been all et, but we placed some crumbs of bread over at the far end of the table and began to watch and see if the lizards would eat the food of us humans. To our amazement, the lizards would not touch the crumbs of bread, but we noticed that the bread had been discovered by some small ants and some other insects.

Lizards snatched insects

To our surprise, the lizards would kind of move back and let the ants and the various insects come forward to the bread crumbs. Then, as quick as a flash, the would dive forward, within the distance where the insects could be reached with their tongues. Then a tongue would shoot forward, almost too fast for the eye to see, and pick an insect that was carried into the lizard’s mouth.

The show went on for quite some time. It seemed that each lizard had eaten more than it was used to eating. They had begun to get choosy as to which ones they would pick each time. This was when we brushed the crumbs off on the ground and let some of the larger ants carry them off to their nearby ant beds or wherever.

Looking to the north, we could see the great river in plain view. At this time of year, the view was wonderful. The river looked like a long, large, gray ribbon winding its way along the edges of the bluff there in the distance. Time seemed to stand still; there were only the sounds of birds and occasionally the call of a quite large Indian hen, down the steep bluff that was close by. It seemed that the Indian hen was calling just for our entertainment.

Numbers diminishing

The call of this rare bird has become few and far between in today’s world. This is becoming one of our endangered species. It’s a pity because it is one of our more beautiful birds, with a quite large wingspan and a jet-black color, as though polished to a beautiful finish.

No evening is complete atop Nancy Mountain without breaking out the jungle hammocks and taking a quick nap. So, with the entertainment coming to a close, we did just that. Quickly tying the hammocks between some trees, we got in about 40 minutes of good sleep and rest before the time came to pack up and start back toward that thing called civilization.

I sometimes wonder if I may be a throwback from an earlier time in man’s stay on our planet, for each time I go out into the quietness and solitude of the deep woods and the hill country, I find myself having crazy thoughts that I might not want to return to the problems of our civilization. This can be quite disturbing.

Live in harmony

I feel that man must live in harmony with nature. I do not believe that we can worship the Creator if we do not believe in His greatness of creation. I believe, too, that man is missing a great part of his life if we do not become involved in our earth’s mother and embrace and hold close to the things that were put here for us to live with.

I feel that if we are to survive, we must protect and take care of the many things that we abuse so much today. Man is only a small part of this creation. With all our knowledge, we are the most helpless of all creatures. We have brought this weakness upon ourselves. Man must have beauty to survive. There is no other way out. Our destruction of our natural beauty is at an all-time high. It might be too late...

George Singleton writes of 'Dixieland' and Southern culture

2025-11-22T18:47:00.006-06:00

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Why did song ‘Dixie’ disappear from culture,” was originally published in the March 9, 1989 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

The name “Dixie” is probably a bit of Franco-American slang born in the Mississippi River boat trade, though some same it derived from the Mason-Dixon Line, the imaginary boundary line between North and South.

It had become a universal nickname for the South long before the Civil War. But the believed origin was derived from the most endearing of all commodities, money.

The financial houses of New Orleans had within their bank notes a $10 bill. On the corners of this bank note was the French word “dix.” The rough, rugged boatmen and stevedores of the New Orleans waterfront called these bills “dixies.” Thus, the story goes that because of this, the great river basin in the lower South acquired the name “Dixieland.”

Many rumors give evidence as to who actually wrote the song “Dixie.” It was 1859 before the words made their formal debut in song, though the early stages of the Southern anthem, or something quite like it, had been sung on the plantations and steamboat decks for generations before.

What actually started out as a minstrel-show tune, changed meaning when on Feb. 18, 1861, Jefferson Davis was inducted as president of the Confederacy in Montgomery.

As a small band wound its way up the hill toward the Capitol under the direction of Herman Arnold, a naturalized German music teacher, the small marching band struck up Arnold’s version of “I Wish I Was in Dixieland.” Soldiers from the 1^st Alabama Regiment were the escort. They were the first to march to the peppy music of the grand tune.

The song was an overnight sensation; even Abraham Lincoln liked it. Just a little more than four years after its Montgomery debut, he was in the final week of his life, President Lincoln took “Dixie” back into the Union.

It was April 8, 1865. President Lincoln was returning from a tour of the Union Army camps near Richmond, Va. He had boarded a paddle-wheel steamer, the River Queen, for his return trip to Washington.

A Federal Army band was aboard. Mr. Lincoln asked the director of the band if he knew “Dixie.”

“It has always been a favorite tune of mine,” stated the president, “and since it is now Federal property, we have the perfect right to enjoy it. Also, the Rebels can now be free to hear it and play it whenever they choose.”

The Federal Army band on board the River Queen struck up the sweet, inspiring tune “Dixie.” When the music had died away, there was clapping of hands and other applause.

Within minutes, the River Queen slipped away downstream, bearing President Lincoln on the last trip of his life.

With all the history that is associated with this grand old tune, why must our society of today hide a song that has meant so much in the past?

Nowhere in the lyrics of the old song do I recall anything about hate, race or slavery. As I have stated many times, our modern-day history tends to fabricate and misquote the actual happenings of yesteryear.

As we sink deeper into our worlds of fantasy, we are widening the gaps from truth and reality. Our fantasies will soon push us forever from the pages of our true heritage to the make-believe world of fiction and falsehood.

Our national cemeteries, where those who have fallen in the defense of their beliefs wait for the final roll call of judgement, will be sold to the highest foreign bidder, and a video factory will fill the landscape that once was hallowed ground.

Gone forever will be America as we knew it, and the pitiful few who dare to recite our National Anthem will have to do so in top secrecy for fear of their life.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done.
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won.
Under the sod and dew of the evening,
Waiting for the judgement day,
The forgotten graves of the Blue
And the not-remembered graves of the Gray.