Hudson Strode House Strode House - Wikipedia
49 Cherokee Rd - Google Maps
The Hudson Strode Youtube documentary by the University of Alabama is 22 minutes long and when I discovered it on June 20, it had only 148 views and it had been up for eight years!
15 different people who had contact with Hudson Stode at the University of Alabama are interviewed in this film. Of the 15, only two, Sue Walker and Scott Hunter are still living.
All fifteen are extraordinary Alabamians and their biographies posted below are impressive.
Hudson Strode: Starring As Himself - YouTube
Hudson Strode 1892-1976 Hudson Strode - Wikipedia
Hudson Strode - Encyclopedia of Alabama
Al Sella 1919-2013 Alvin Sella Obituary - Tuscaloosa, AL
Former art professor, Alvin Sella, dies at 93 – The Crimson White
Marcel Smith 1934-2019 Edgar Smith Obituary - Nashville, TN
Jack Warner 1917-2017 About Jack Warner - Warner Foundation
Jonathan Westervelt Warner – The Alabama Business Hall of Fame | The University of Alabama
Tuscaloosa icon Jack Warner dies at 99
Wayne Greenhaw 1940-2011 Wayne Greenhaw - Wikipedia
Wayne Greenhaw - Encyclopedia of Alabama
Thomas Rountree 1927-1992 Alabama Authors » Blog Archive » ROUNTREE, THOMAS JEFFERSON, 1927-1992
Sue Walker 1940- Sue Brannan Walker - College of Education
Sue Brannan Walker - Wikipedia
Camille Elabash 1925-1923 Camille Maxwell Elebash Obituary (2023) - Tuscaloosa, AL - Tuscaloosa Memorial Chapel Funeral Home, Memorial Park, and Crematory
Thomas Turner 1927-2012 Thomas Coleman “Tom” Turner (1927-2012) - Find a Grave Memorial
Elise Sanguinetti 1926-2014 Elise Ayers Sanguinetti - Encyclopedia of Alabama
Starr Smith 1917-2012 Vernon Smith Obituary - Ridgeland, MS
Harry Mabry 1932-2004 Harry Mabry - Wikipedia
Harry Mabry - Bhamwiki
Jewel Hudgins 1919-2010 Jewel Hudgins Obituary - Tuscaloosa, AL
John Forney 1926-1997 John McLaughlin Forney (1927-1997) - Find a Grave Memorial
Throwback Thursday: Alabama Legend John Forney
Y.D. Lott 1939-2024 Yancy Lott Obituary - Mobile, AL
Scott Hunter 1947- Scott Hunter (American football) - Wikipedia
Scott Hunter - Alabama Sports Hall of Fame
A SIDEWALK STORY by Robert Y. Register
Buck was so glad his son, Jake, had invited him over to his house along with a couple of Jake's childhood friends for a baked snapper dinner. Buck had talked to his sister earlier in the day and told her about Jake's invitation. She half scolded him, "Buck, you better appreciate having a son who wants to have supper with his Daddy on a night when his wife and son are at the beach." Appreciation and gratitude were Buck's sister's latest self-help buzz words so Buck assured his sister that every single day for the past week he'd been diligently practicing his gratitude and after supper had ended, the table cleared and with the other guests out the door, Buck tried to fulfill the promise he'd made earlier to his sister by silently and mindfully practicing his gratitude as he sat on his son's couch, digesting red snapper throats baked with peppers and onions along with some squash casserole and too much bread.
"Gratitude practice. Just more of that superficial new age attitude of gratitude garbage. Gratitude practice. Sounds too much like 'football practice' to me. What a drag." thought Buck.
Buck quietly belched.
Buck yelled at Jake in the kitchen,"Hey, son, thanks for cookin' that magnificent supper tonight but when you finish those dishes, would you come show me how to get on the Internet with this thing?"
Jake walked into the living room drying his hands on a towel and said,"Hell Daddy, I don't know how to work that box either and Rosa ain't here but I do know how to get on Youtube."
"That's good enough," Buck replied and handed the controller to his son.
"Daddy, what kind of fishin' shows did they have on TV back when you were growin' up in Tustenuggee?"
"Well, back then Channel 9 didn't have a regular fishin' show but the Gene Rayburn Farm Show always had a fishing report that went along with the weather. Gene Rayburn had a farm show that came on the air at six every morning and on Saturdays he came on after Saturday afternoon Wrestling. Search Youtube and see if they've got any Gene Rayburn Farm Show"
Sure enough, somebody had saved the Gene Rayburn Farm Show from oblivion and had posted dozens of episodes on Youtube. Jake clicked on the first one and the father and son sat back and prepared to watch some authentic Tri-State television from 40 years ago.
The episode they watched was set in the old hotel located on the crest of the town of Tustenuggee's river hill. Gene Rayburn discussed the historic hotel's role in hosting the first meeting of the Wekiwahatchee Cattlemen's Association back in 1939. As Rayburn spoke, the television camera panned the hotel lobby from left to right, finally focusing on an old woman sitting at a upright piano playing a spirited version of the old song, Red Wing and in the current vernacular, you might say she was "rockin' out."
The old woman sang,
"Now the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing,
The breeze is sighing, the night bird's crying,
For afar 'neath his star her brave is sleeping
While Red Wing's weeping her heart away."
[Youtube links for RED WING https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCYIoZp6lv8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUCzsFsCyaU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jx5cZap5y2Y
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MUBv0ruqjjU
A surprised and speechless Buck sat with his son on the couch in complete awe and astonishment as he watched and listened to his long-dead Grandmother singing and playing the piano on a four-decade old video recording of a Wekiwahatchee Valley televised farm show.
Red Wing wasn't the only one who was "weeping her heart away." Convulsed by great waves of crippling grief, Buck bent over holding his head in his hands as a full eruption of tears flooded his face, filling him with snot and causing him to gasp for air.
Jake sat helplessly and prayed that his father would soon recover his composure.
As Buck fought to regain control over his emotions, he pulled out his bandana and blew his nose.
"Dad, I don't ever remember seeing you cry and I'm 35 years old!", exclaimed Jake.
"Sorry, Son, I guess it was seeing and hearing my Grandma again. Maybe I needed a good cry. Maybe it was her singing or the sound of that piano but it damn sure opened up the flood gates."
Jake asked, "So that was my Great Grandmother Lewis playing the piano? Is she the one whose picture's on your bedroom wall?"
Buck nodded affirmatively.
Jake continued, "How miraculous! What are the chances of something like that happening! I asked you about whether there was a local fishing show from when you were a boy. We checked Youtube and the first clip we found opened with my late great grandma playing piano. There's gotta be some kind of force, some kind of power that arranges stuff like that! Think about all the strange coincidences that have occurred in our family! There's got to be a pattern!"
"Maybe so. Remember, you were born on the same day and in the same month that she died. April 4 went from being the yearly anniversary of the worst day of my life to being the yearly anniversary of the best day of my life: The day you were born! I don't know what's going on but I do know I miss that old woman so much. What a punch in the gut! I just couldn't hold it back." Buck blew his nose again. "Boy, I mean I burst out crying! That video of Grandma caught me completely off guard. I need to get home now before I bust out boohooing again. Thanks again for the supper, Jake. Right now I just can't explain my emotions. We'll talk more about it later, but just remember, that woman shaped my life."
Buck walked outside but before beginning his hike home, he let his eyes survey Jake's neighborhood which was located east of the reserved township section that held Old Town Tustenuggee. The property, five acres with a large antebellum mansion on its east margin, was developed by the son of a professor at the local college back in 1920. A street going east to west was built in the middle of the property and ten lots were platted on either side of this roadway. All the streets in Jake's subdivision ran either east to west or north to south.
This was not true for most of the streets in Old Town Tustenuggee. Its street grid, unchanged since 1823, had been carved out of a wilderness by the order of President James Monroe after the Indians lost their title to the property. The land had been reserved from public sale because the government wanted it subdivided into a town which would stand on the south bank of the Wekiwahatchee River. The one square mile township section on which the streets were platted was located on the spot where navigation on the river ended and a series of rapids prevented further navigation north from the Gulf. Main Street in Tustenuggee ran parallel to the river from the southwest to the northeast along the crest of the hill that rose up on its south bank. Midway along the path of Main Street and perpendicular to it was Market Street which ran south from the river wharf up the river hill to the southern margin of the Old Town. All the other streets in Old Town ran parallel to either Main or Market Streets.
Buck used his nightly patrols along Tustenuggee's 200 year-old street grid to unravel the chaos within his mind. Buck's mind was like a raging river and the only way he found where he could control that river was to develop habits of concentration which would build reservoirs of memories upon which Buck could exert some sort of mastery. Walking Old Town's street grid became Buck's personal ritual and his formula for achieving the focus he needed in order to understand the world around him and how it existed in the past. Old Town became the microcosm that Buck used to comprehend the macrocosm. During his nightly hikes, Buck felt that he often lost contact with his own era, giving him a thrilling sensation of somehow experiencing his world from simultaneous points in time. It was as though Buck was living in both the 19th century as well as the 21st, thus giving himself incredible insights into the heart, mind and life of old Tustenuggee. Buck was cautious about not allowing his exhilarating visions of fate and destiny to descend into dangerous fantasy.
At the end of the street coming out of Jake's neighborhood, Buck entered Old Town and as he walked north down East Boundary Street, he admired the bright colors of the blooming crepe myrtles which lined both sides of the street. Old Town consisted of about one hundred two acre city blocks. With the exception of some small triangular blocks at Old Town's boundaries, each block was 330 feet long and 264 feet wide and contained exactly two acres of land. Each of these identical rectangles of real estate was originally divided into 4 identical half acre lots. Buck recalled how amused he was when he discovered that the incredible symmetry of Tustenuggee's 1823 town plan was due to Henry VIII's need in 1534 to sell all the land he'd seized from the Roman Catholic Church in England. The Catholics owned one fourth of the cultivated land in England and King Henry VIII needed to sell it off quickly to get money to pay his debts and to fund his wars so he chopped the land up into little squares he called acres so folks would know how much land they were buying. Therefore, all the measurements needed by the surveyors to map Tustenuggee's city plan 200 years ago were established and standardized over 500 years ago in England by old King Henry VIII so the king could immediately sell all the land he'd stolen from the Catholics. Over 400 of these Tustenuggee lots were auctioned off at the first 1823 Tustenuggee land sale and in the present day, every title search for every subdivision of land in Old Town went all the way back to that first land sale 200 years ago.
Tustenuggee doesn't have the same timelessness as the Grand Canyon or Zion National Park but, nevertheless, Old Town Tustenuggee has a timelessness. Within the two centuries that this tract of land has been occupied, nothing has interfered with the rights of property, the plan of the town or the rights of the inhabitants to use the public streets. When you cross the 99 feet of pavement of an Old Town Street, you walk across a space that was cleared by enslaved people two hundred years ago, maintained by enslaved people for decades and traveled upon by the descendants of those same enslaved people on the same day that you are crossing the street. For two centuries, if you ever wanted to see some results of slavery, all you had to do was walk the city streets of Old Town Tustenuggee.
From the moment the right-of-ways of Tustenuggee's streets were opened to traffic in the 1820s, they were given names like Adams, Madison, Monroe, Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, all of whom were men who commented upon the evil of slavery. Tustenuggee even has a Union Street but over one hundred fifty years ago, all those street names couldn't stop some of Tustenuggee's citizens from conspiring to split the nation's churches, the nation's political parties, and finally it's government. Even the names of Tustenuggee's streets are daily reminders of its citizens' heritage.
As he walked, Buck decided that the only reason he was still upset about his emotional collapse at Jake's house that evening was due to his shame at showing weakness in front of his son. Maybe it would be better for him to consider how lucky he was to have discovered the video instead of feeling guilty about crying in front of his boy.
Buck mused, "I'm like Jake. I'm wondering why all these coincidences keep adding up but maybe it's just a question of God helping those who help themselves. Pasteur said something wise like, 'Chance favors the prepared mind'. I'm gonna use this incident with Grandma to give me the push I need to reward my searching!"
While sauntering down East Boundary Street, Buck continued to be fascinated with the gorgeous colors of the crepe myrtle trees and as he walked, he enjoyed the comfortable certainty that he was a part of this place and that it was a part of him. He began to focus upon the happy memories of his boyhood days spent with his Grandma Polly. Buck considered how lucky he was in his life to have had a grandmother who was such a fine example of loving kindness. Maybe his memories of his Grandma's tenderness could help him to be a kinder, gentler and more loving man. Buck thought of his grandmother's favorite sayings. After his every visit, her last two parting words to him were always "Be good." Her favorite maxim was "Wrong won't ever make right" and her comments on current affairs consisted of observations such as "Buck, don't it seem like all these young folks getting married these days are going up to the altar with their fingers crossed? That didn't happen very often in my time." Buck remembered one of last things his Grandma told him before she died, "I never worry too much about how you'll do in this world, Buck, because you ain't got a lazy bone in your body and I know you'll always try to do the right thing."
Buck allowed his heart to navigate his path home and as he stepped along the sidewalk toward his destination, he passed houses that sheltered the men and women who tried to preserve the Union as well as the houses of the men and women who fought to shatter it. Over 50 of these antebellum structures still stand beside every sidewalk Buck traveled in Old Town Tustenuggee , each one a testament to the toil of the enslaved men who produced the wood and bricks from which they are constructed and who provided the labor that erected each one. Over the years, some of these old mansions have been broken up into apartments and as Buck passed one of these ancient buildings where he'd lived as a college student when he was going to Wekiwa State, he studied its Greek Revival exterior and contemplated his first lessons in love and romance which he learned back in 1969 in an upstairs bedroom of that old columned great house.
"I have every reason in the world to simply find joy in existence," Buck reasoned, "but that crying fit over Grandma showing up on a Youtube clip let me know tonight I've got something buried deep inside bothering me and I didn't even know it was there until tonight over at Jake's house. How could hearing my Grandma play a few notes on the piano again open up the emotional floodgates for me? Maybe it's not about Grandma at all. What did the wise man say? 'Where words fail, music speaks!' Maybe my problem resides within that noisy phantom harem racing through my head. I keep dwelling on what was so good about them and forgetting about what was so damn bad. Anyway, before I pair up again, I need to work on my own life."
Buck pulled a small flask out of his pocket and took a sip of his tonic. There was nothing herbal or medicinal about Buck's tonic. It was simply a few pieces of cinnamon, lemon and wintergreen candy dissolved in cheap vodka but a single sip helped Buck maintain a proper buzz as he spent another evening exploring old Tustenuggee's sidewalks.
"Starting to feel like now's the time to walk down to the bar & check out the incoming coeds from the Wekiwa State Class of 2030 who hit town this week and ought to be arriving right about now down on the Strip to test out their fake IDs." Buck mused "I bet there's young gals down there with some play pretties that'll bust the top off my eye candy gauge! Hey, let's celebrate the greatest of all time terrific T-town Tuesday, 'till Tuesday's gone! Like Grandma always said, 'Don't take things so seriously, Buck. It'll happen when it needs to happen. Be happy with what you got and work hard to make things better.'
Strolling along, Buck noticed a flowering row of old crepe myrtles
"Lately, my old age has been telling me I've been hanging out in the bars long enough. After tonight's catharsis, maybe I don't need the pandemonium of a Tuskenuggee barroom. Maybe now is the time to seek the sanctuary of a serene riverbank."
Buck's thoughts of the river reminded him of a little poem he wrote almost thirty years ago.
"Standing on an old street corner laid out in 1823,
Shaded by tall water oaks all around.
That's why I love T-town.
Sitting on a sandy bank with my feet in a lazy river
Watching the sun go down.
That's why I love T-town."
Buck asked himself, "Why would I want to live anywhere else?"
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