Demopolis. My old stomping grounds. Home of Rocky Grayson and Roe Collins, the drummer for Chevy 6, it's always been like a second home to me. Demopolis is a diamond in the middle of the Black Belt, originally settled as a Vine and Olive colony on the banks of the Tombigbee River by some French on the run from Napoleon. The bohemian tint of those renegade French still remains today. Demopolites are smart, gracious, funny, and quirky as hell--at least the ones I know are.
The trip from Linden didn't take any time, considering it's 20 or so miles away. As Grayson used to tell me, "Well Burford, it takes me the same amount of time to drive to Linden to pick up my date on Dvorak Circle as it would for you to drive to parts of Mountain Brook, which is in the same city as you." He had me there, and it's something I've never forgotten. My benchmark for trip mileage is now "how many times can I go from Demopolis to Linden?"
Whatever highway we came in on brought us right by the Red Barn, one of Demop's landmarks, and the site of many a hoot, as I've been told. There were some good shots sitting right there in the advancing afternoon light.
We got back in the car, pleaded with the Garmin to tell us where Gaineswood was, and it coyly gave us an answer. It was so weird to see this beautiful little yellow mansion sitting on top of this vast green hill, flanked by a school on the left, and a WPA-type neighborhood on the right. But ain't it always the way?
We drove around the block before we found a gate that was open. The official hours of the place were over, so we thought we'd slip in and surreptitiously take some shots of the place before somebody came out and "invited us to see the inside."
What a gorgeous home this is. We both took a ton of shots. Which brings up the luxury/curse of digital photography: the number of pictures that one takes, because, hell, it's ONLY digital. But it also has a kind of numbing effect on your perception of the image as well. Shooting Luddite fashion meant that you had five shots to choose from. Now it's thirty-five. But careful culling wins out in the end.
"We need to go to the river," I told Joe. "There's a great neighborhood where the old homes have been renovated by youngsters and such. It's very cool. Gayla and Tom Culpepper live there in this incredible house that has been in his family since it was built." We drove by, ogling the places, and came out at the Civic Center, which thrusts itself out over the river and is situated next to Bluff Hall, another of Demopolis' historic structures.
Chevy 6 has played many a party at the civic center, and I got a warm feeling as we drove up. This is some kinda beautiful setting, and by the time we got there, the light was luminescent and golden against a royal blue sky. These shots of the white bluffs under the civic center are on fire with the afternoon blast from the west.
We finally exhausted the photographic possibilities (for a couple of lazy guys), and hopped in the car heading for home. On the way out of town, we passed the place where Beth Griffith used to have an apartment in the 70s. "That's where Rocky Grayson and Dusty Bird got in a fight one night because Dusty was so drunk," I explained to Joe. "It was wild as hell. And fu-u-u-n. I spent the night with Grayson that night and had one of the worst hangovers I've ever had. I'll never forget Kitty [his mother] giving me aspirin, my drinking the water, and finally finding that perfect spot for my head between two pillows to where I could finally go back to sleep without slashing." I rattled on, "And we're gonna pass Dusty's place, Bird Farm, where the incredible roadside art is. Dusty still lives here, I think."
"I believe I've seen it," Joe said, just as we arrived. "Yeah, but I didn't stop last time. Whoa! Look at all this!"
We pulled in under the arch and got out to take a bunch of shots of this very unique place. The 20 foot tin man still makes me smile every time I see it. Whenever I go by, I roll down the window and holler thanks to Dusty and his family for doing it. It is the ultimate in public art.
It was nice to have the Garmin do its Olympic-styled tricks for us. When we pulled up at 7:09, I had to give it a 9.9. And the trip a 10.
"Where to next?" I asked Joe.
"How about Greensboro, Selma, and that area?
"As long as we keep running into plenty of cemeteries and loquacious locals, I think anywhere in the Belt will be just fine," I replied.
The trip from Linden didn't take any time, considering it's 20 or so miles away. As Grayson used to tell me, "Well Burford, it takes me the same amount of time to drive to Linden to pick up my date on Dvorak Circle as it would for you to drive to parts of Mountain Brook, which is in the same city as you." He had me there, and it's something I've never forgotten. My benchmark for trip mileage is now "how many times can I go from Demopolis to Linden?"
Whatever highway we came in on brought us right by the Red Barn, one of Demop's landmarks, and the site of many a hoot, as I've been told. There were some good shots sitting right there in the advancing afternoon light.We got back in the car, pleaded with the Garmin to tell us where Gaineswood was, and it coyly gave us an answer. It was so weird to see this beautiful little yellow mansion sitting on top of this vast green hill, flanked by a school on the left, and a WPA-type neighborhood on the right. But ain't it always the way?We drove around the block before we found a gate that was open. The official hours of the place were over, so we thought we'd slip in and surreptitiously take some shots of the place before somebody came out and "invited us to see the inside."
What a gorgeous home this is. We both took a ton of shots. Which brings up the luxury/curse of digital photography: the number of pictures that one takes, because, hell, it's ONLY digital. But it also has a kind of numbing effect on your perception of the image as well. Shooting Luddite fashion meant that you had five shots to choose from. Now it's thirty-five. But careful culling wins out in the end."We need to go to the river," I told Joe. "There's a great neighborhood where the old homes have been renovated by youngsters and such. It's very cool. Gayla and Tom Culpepper live there in this incredible house that has been in his family since it was built." We drove by, ogling the places, and came out at the Civic Center, which thrusts itself out over the river and is situated next to Bluff Hall, another of Demopolis' historic structures.
Chevy 6 has played many a party at the civic center, and I got a warm feeling as we drove up. This is some kinda beautiful setting, and by the time we got there, the light was luminescent and golden against a royal blue sky. These shots of the white bluffs under the civic center are on fire with the afternoon blast from the west.We finally exhausted the photographic possibilities (for a couple of lazy guys), and hopped in the car heading for home. On the way out of town, we passed the place where Beth Griffith used to have an apartment in the 70s. "That's where Rocky Grayson and Dusty Bird got in a fight one night because Dusty was so drunk," I explained to Joe. "It was wild as hell. And fu-u-u-n. I spent the night with Grayson that night and had one of the worst hangovers I've ever had. I'll never forget Kitty [his mother] giving me aspirin, my drinking the water, and finally finding that perfect spot for my head between two pillows to where I could finally go back to sleep without slashing." I rattled on, "And we're gonna pass Dusty's place, Bird Farm, where the incredible roadside art is. Dusty still lives here, I think.""I believe I've seen it," Joe said, just as we arrived. "Yeah, but I didn't stop last time. Whoa! Look at all this!"
We pulled in under the arch and got out to take a bunch of shots of this very unique place. The 20 foot tin man still makes me smile every time I see it. Whenever I go by, I roll down the window and holler thanks to Dusty and his family for doing it. It is the ultimate in public art.(Tin man shot at an earlier date)
When we got back in the car, Joe set our destination on the Garmin. It told us we would be home at 7:09. "It's not kidding," Joe said. "It's pretty amazingly accurate, and if you change your speed drastically or anything, it adjusts for it."It was nice to have the Garmin do its Olympic-styled tricks for us. When we pulled up at 7:09, I had to give it a 9.9. And the trip a 10.
"Where to next?" I asked Joe.
"How about Greensboro, Selma, and that area?
"As long as we keep running into plenty of cemeteries and loquacious locals, I think anywhere in the Belt will be just fine," I replied.
Thanks for such a nice post.
Regards
Earth man
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