B. Bart Henson--Memoria

 

B. Bart Henson – Memoria

by Mark Cole

Source: Huntsville Times obituary 21 March 2021

Bobby Bart Henson left this world on March 15, 2021.  A native of Nauvoo, Alabama (near Jasper) and graduate of Minor High School, Henson received an Electrical Engineering degree from the University of Alabama in 1957, and his professional engineering license from the State of Alabama in 1962.  He spent most of his career with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) as an Instrument Test Engineer in Huntsville, Alabama before retiring in 1990.  He is survived by his wife Bettye, daughter Rebecca (Jones), her husband Chris, and a granddaughter, Zoe.

Growing up in a poor rural family, Bart enjoyed outdoors and had a large farm in Pulaski, Tennessee that he and Bettye were very fond of.  He was not a hunter, but loved providing a sanctuary for wildlife.  They built their home in Huntsville, Alabama and lived there for over sixty years.  It’s a perfect microcosm of their lives, Bettye’s beautiful flowers and plants, and Bart’s piles of books and rocks.   

As I sit in the shadows, looking up at the stars, my mind races to Bettye and the emotions she must feel.  Bettye and Bart were inseparable, soulmates and best friends that even shared the same birthday (different years).  We pray for her strength and peace. 

I first met Bart Henson at the Alabama Archaeological Society Winter Meeting held at the Tennessee Valley Art Museum in Tuscumbia, Alabama in 2002.  I still remember when I saw him, silver beard and trademark cap, standing next to A.J. and Carolyn Wright.  The two men were dressed in sports jackets and slacks, exuding professionalism and confidence - a caliber of person in education and experience far beyond my situation.

I had read about the exploits of Cambron and Hulse, Mahan and Moebes, Futato and Knight, Henson and Wright, from copies of the Journal of Alabama Archaeology loaned by a friend.  These men and women were iconic to me, and became models of my approach to this great science, in this great State.

Henson must have noticed my eagerness and impatience through that first encounter, because during a break he took the time to introduce himself, share some stories with me and offer an autographed copy of his book, “Alabama’s Aboriginal Rock Art”.  I found him humble and kind, inquisitive yet professional, and that day he made an important impression on a young, naïve artifact collector.    

Over the next three decades, Bart and I became close friends.  We stayed in touch when Jen and I moved to Florida, and when we returned our families spent a great deal of time together.  We shared many wonderful meals with Bart and Bettye, took some adventurous field trips, and shared many enjoyable phone conversations.      

Bart will be best remembered for his work with Native American rock art in Alabama, and he has been the author or co-author of several reports, books and hundreds of presentations to local and regional groups on the subject.  Dr. Jan Simek of the University of Tennessee, a specialist in the field, considers Bart his inspiration and hero.  That’s easy to see, given that despite Bart’s unparalleled credentials he treated everyone with the utmost professionalism.    

But to limit Bart to the discipline of prehistoric art alone overlooks even more significant archaeological achievements.  Between 1962 and 1975, the Alabama Archaeological Society experienced its peak membership, but was forced to evolve from its amateur roots into a more professionally oriented Society designed to meet the growing demand of cultural resource management programs.  Had this change not occurred, the Society would have ceased to exist. 

During those seminal transition years, the Henson’s served in several leadership roles for the Society, including President, Vice President, Board Members and Treasurer.  Bart became the inaugural liaison to the Alabama Historical Commission, appointed by Governor Guy Hunt, the last avocational to hold that office, and likely the last ever to do so.

By the early 1980s, Bart and Bettye had become arguably the most important and decorated avocational archaeologists in the United States.  They received both the Award of Merit and the Distinguished Service Award from the Alabama Historical Commission, the Outstanding Member Award from the Alabama Archaeological Society, and in 2012, the Milt and Bea Harris Lifetime Achievement award, the highest honor the Society can bestow on a member.

There are a thousand other stories that I could write about from my thirty-year relationship with Bart Henson.  About DeJarnette’s escapades with axes, Carey Oakley and surface surveys in Madison County.  Ed Burwell telling Bart about three other faces carved in rocks that were used as road fill in Highway 231 north at Meridianville.  About the fluted point site at Burwell Mountain.  Trips he took with Bettye to collect during holidays while relatives waited for dinner.  Talks he had with Ed Mahan, Charles Brosemer, Jack Cambron and many others.

I could tell you about Bart’s hiring by Werner Von Braun, his proudest achievements in testing astronaut biometrics, the time the monkey escaped in the NASA lab, and much more.

But none of that would be sufficient to communicate the respect I had for the man.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, Ellis Whitt came to visit Jen and I from North Carolina.  While Ellis was here, we were able to have Bart and Bettye over to enjoy the fellowship of a home cooked meal in the midst of a trying year.  The next day, Bart, Ellis and I met Charles Moore at Heaven’s Half Acre (HHA) for a field trip and a chance to recollect.  COVID-19 had ramped up and a planned study of the sites had been delayed, but after almost a year in quarantine, everyone was ready to stretch their legs a little.  Looking back, I’m glad we went – I was with my heroes.

Alabama has lost an iconic historian and researcher, and I have lost a friend.  I will always wish for one more chance to pull on my boots, get in my truck, and take Bart out for one more spin.  Maybe one day, I’ll see him again.

For now, I’m left staring at those empty, muddy boots, memories flashing through my mind, a series of smiles, laughs and tears.  That’s the complexity of becoming friends with an icon, no matter what, no matter how hard I try, I know his boots I will never fill.

Figure 1 - Left to Right, Charles Moore, Ellis Whitt and Bart Henson at Heaven's Half Acre in October 2020

NOTE from A.J. Wright

Mr. Cole has graciously allowed me to post this remembrance of Bart Henson,  which will also appear in a future issue of the Alabama Archaeological Society's newsletter, Stones and Bones. The illustrations and comments below are my additions.

This book by Bart Henson and John Martz was published by the Alabama Historical Commission in 1979. 

I met Bart and Bettye Henson in the 1960's via my dad Amos J. Wright, Jr.'s participation in the Alabama Archaeological Society. I still have the American Heritage Dictionary the Henson's gave me when I graduated from high school in 1970. 

In my 2017 post "Dad and Alabama Archaeology" I included a memorial to dad that appeared in the Stones and Bones. I made the following comments about Bart Henson's portion and the story behind the article they wrote together:

"Mr. Henson tells the story of the Great Lamar County Aboriginal Sandstone Quarry Hunt led by my maternal grandfather, the Rev. John M. Shores. I remember that day well; granddaddy--an avid hunter and woodsman-- thought he could take us right to the location of the rocks with the strange markings. We spent a long time that day wandering around while he tried to recall landmarks near that spot."

Remembering Charles Hubbert

Retired Alabama archaeologist and raconteur Charles Hubbert died in March of this year. I met Charles a few times at archaeology functions I attended with my dad, Amos J. Wright, Jr. I also remember stories about and fond memories of Charles from dad and my younger brother Richard Wright, who also knew him well. You can read Charles' obituary near the bottom of this post.

I have collected some recollections of Charles from people who knew him well. You can read them below.  


The annual meeting of the Southeastern Archaeological Conference is being held November 6-9 in Jackson, Mississippi. The program will include a symposium of papers in honor of Charles. Carey Oakley will present a paper prepared by Charles, "On Paleoindian and Early Archaic Settlement Locations on the Lowlands of the Middle Tennessee Valley: A Discussion."                     



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REMEMBERING CHARLES HUBBERT

I can’t remember the time when I didn’t know Charles Hubbert.  I do know that it was at least 50 years ago when Stanfield-Whorley Bluff Shelter, an early-man site, was being investigated by the University of Alabama field school and the Alabama Archaeological Research Association.

When I think of Charles Hubbert, I think of a muscular, bald, heavy-set guy who you felt safe with no matter if you were walking in dense woods or down a dark alley after a late-night drinking spree.  Yes, Charles Hubbert was a friend of mine.

When I think of Charles Hubbert, I think of archaeology.  Not only the garden variety archaeology that we nowadays call “cultural resources management,” but a special time and space known to us as Paleo-Indian.  Charles was especially good at interpreting this period.  In fact, so good that when he poked his finger in your chest, tilted his head upward, fluttered his eye lashes, and very carefully cogitated for at least forty seconds before uttering a sound, you had no choice except to listen intently to what he was telling you.  Charles would, miraculously, transport you to the banks of the Tennessee River where you could see a band of Early Americans knapping out fluted spear points, readying themselves for their next hunt.  Yes, Charles Hubbert was a friend of mine and I will always treasure his taking me along on many of his trips into the past.

When I think of Charles Hubbert, I think of a natural storyteller who could spin a yarn at the drop of a hat.  One story in particular comes to mind.  Way back when Charles was a graduate student at the University, David DeJarnette asked Charles if he would mind checking out some “Indian Writing” as reportedly contained within a cave near Opp, Alabama.  Obviously, any one of us would kill to stay in the good graces of DeJarnette, and going on a little field trip for him was one way of doing so.  Charles made it down to a cattle ranch which was owned and operated by a woman not unlike Barbara Stanwyck of “The Big Valley” fame . . . except she was older, considerably less attractive, and a whole lot meaner.  After introductions were made, she told Charles to get in the back of her rickety old farm truck as she got in, and she took off down a logging trail through the woods.  At this point, Charles wondered why he had to ride in the back and not up front with her, but quickly found himself focused on hanging on for dear life since she was driving at a high rate of speed over ruts, down gullies, and around boulders the size of your head.  By some miracle, they made it down to a small open glade, and there by a small stream was a rock outcrop.  The old woman indicated there was a cave opening within the outcrop that led to the “Indian Writing.”  Charles had enough foresight to bring along an old flashlight, but that was about it for his spelunking gear.  The cave opening was very small, just barely big enough for a large dog to get through.  This presented a challenge for Charles, so he hunkered down on all fours.  After he made it a few feet within the cave, through the twilight zone into the truly dark recesses of the cave, he had to drop to his belly to get through.  As he turned on his flashlight, he could see—maybe three to four feet away—a series of ledges or rock crevices.  And nestled within the cracks and crannies were sets of eyeballs looking back at him.  Charles thought this was a strange place for frogs, then noticed the long bodies wiggling around.  With instant terror, he realized that he had crawled into a den of rattlesnakes!  Scraping skin from his head, back, and knees as he ejected himself out of the cave, Charles exclaimed to the old woman waiting outside “There’s rattlesnakes in there!!!”  Her immediate response was “Of course there is, young man.  I didn’t know you were afraid of snakes!”  Neither Charles, DeJarnette, nor anyone else for that matter, knows for sure about “Indian Writing” within that cave.  Charles Hubbert’s stories were so full of life and detail that they were stored in our memories like personal experiences.

When I think of Charles Hubbert, I think of a man who was a friend to animals, especially dogs—particularly Beagles.  On numerous occasions, we would talk about dogs and how they would sound hot on a trail.  On one occasion, he related that while he was on one of his country drives, he stopped at an area where people had dumped some garbage.  And there, standing by the woods, was a rather unkempt dog watching him.  As I recall Charles recounting the event, it seemed like the two of them were fellow travelers on different trails.  Charles, being the kind person he was and assuming this fellow could be hungry, reached into his truck and pulled out and unwrapped a McDonald’s hamburger.  Laying it on the ground before the dog, his assumption was correct as he watched the dog eat every morsel before turning to leave.  For some reason, unknown even to Charles, he felt compelled to return the next day, and the day after for about a week.  Each time, the dog would be there, seemingly grateful as he accepted and ate another hamburger.  Then one day, the dog did not appear.  Charles had to assume that it was time for the dog to continue its journey.  To me, this is reminiscent of Charles’ favorite Robert Frost poem “The Road Not Taken.”

Charles Hubbert and I traveled down many roads together.  Even though our paths have separated, I know that he is still out there every time the wind blows and the Beagles bark.  Look ahead and you may see him just around the bend.  I know I will.

Carey Oakley

Fellow Traveler


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Charles was still here when I came to OAR in 1995. I will always remember the way he’d say “Lemme tell ya…” with a few lip smacks and a tilt of his bald head. Then he’d be off on an hour long story about something: like the time Krause got punched out at the University Club by Dart Hayward (I think Carey, Bennett, and Eugene have all told me the exact same story), about how to find early sites and why they are where they are, about boats, alligators released by TVA into the Tennessee River to control beavers, and how not to get shot while driving a truck down the firing range as the Army was testing the Dragon missile (that was the only place you could speed on Redstone Arsenal).

The last time I spent time with him, his breathing was labored and he had a hard time getting in and out of the boat, but he sat down on a log at the mouth of Coffee Slough, smacked his lips a few times, tilted his head and said, “Lemme tell ya…” I will miss him too.

Matthew Gage RPA | Director

Office of Archaeological Research
The University of Alabama Museums

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I am very sad to hear this. I was on four different OAR archaeological projects with Charles: Little Bear Creek 1973, survey around Montgomery 1975, the Bay Springs Lake Ten-Tom survey in ‘76, and the truly amazing canoe-based survey and testing in R. L. Harris Reservoir in ‘77. In that last one, we had a heavy oak box fish trap made in early 20^th century style by an elderly gent and we waded out in the Little Tallapoosa River to fit this thing into a stone fish weir. Got permission from AL Fish & Game to use it for one week. We ate fish every night. Recorded all the fish species and weights, then had to remove it. But it had taken up so much water, it must have weighed a 1000 pounds! Nearly killed us getting the darn contraption back out.

I worked with Charles under all sorts of conditions and circumstances. He was an excellent outdoorsman and a good story teller. Never a boring minute with Charles in the field--  Paleo points, moonshine, rabbit hunting, snake stories, ghosts, ginseng hunting, running rapids in canoes, weird country people, recording rural folkways now extinct, finding and  recording nearly every kind of archaeological site there is in Alabama – on and on.

One more anecdote that reveals his strong personality – in the 60s he wrote a letter to the Florence/Tuscumbia newspaper in support of school integration, which back then, required courage—the KKK called him that night and threaten him and his little boy.

Hadn’t spoken with Charles in about ten years. Now I wish I had…

John Blitz 

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Charles was a graduate student at the University in the early 1970s. He was a former employee at Reynolds Aluminum, then a high school football coach, before pursuing his dream of being an archaeologist. His never completed M.A. thesis dealt with Paleoindian settlement in the Western Middle Tennessee Valley. In one summer, he documented over 50 fluted point sites in his survey area. Not Paleoindian sites, but sites with at least one fluted point.

Charles was one of OAR’s first employees. He worked on the 1972 Bear Creek Survey and was a field supervisor for the 1973-1974 excavations in Little Bear Creek. John Blitz, a high school student at the time, was a crew member on those excavations. Charles stayed at OAR several more years. His larger projects included the 1976 survey of Bay Springs Lake on the upper Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway, Tishomingo and Prentiss Counties, Mississippi, and the final season, 1977, of investigation of R. L. Harris Lake on the Little Tallapoosa River in Randolph County, Alabama. The Harris Lake project was originally intended to test additional recorded sites and to do some systematic survey to better understand the settlement pattern. The focus shifted, however, as low water revealed a number of previously known fish weirs in the river. The survey ultimately recorded and mapped 58 weirs within the proposed reservoir.

He returned to North Alabama and over the next few years produced a number of small survey reports as a private consultant. In 1985, he rejoined the staff of OAR. For the next several years, Charles was the first base archaeologist for Redstone Arsenal, Madison County, Alabama. Federal hiring practices limited his tenure at the arsenal, so he returned to campus and conducted a number of survey  projects in 1989-1997.

Charles was a coworker and an important part of the early history of OAR. More than that, he was a friend for many years. I will miss him.

Eugene Futato

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Charles was a wonderful story teller.  One of my favorites was this one. 

                          "Mountain Man"

The scene in the painting is at the upper end of Bailey Cove Drive, where the upper end of Bailey Cove Drive swings back to the West across that wide flat bottomland covered with lush grass. In the background are the 
hardwood slopes of the Huntsville mountains.  By automobile the scene 
shown in the painting is about four miles north and about one mile west 
from where Louie Lovre'ce engraved his name in 1735.
I know this is the painting I remember, although it is not exactly as I 
remember it.  In my mind the man was moving downstream along the creek(as 
he is here)but his horse was moving from left-to-right across the picture, and trailing behind him were three loaded packhorses.  The place 
is just a short distance from where I lived in Huntsville.  
Still.......I love this painting.  About 4 miles south of this place on 
a forested mountainside looking north across the Tennessee River is a 
spring.  About 3 feet from the spring, clearly engraved into a big 
boulder is "Louie 'Lovre'ce   1735".  I have always thought that he was 
a French soldier from Canada who had accompanied an Iroquois war party 
down the Mississippi River to attack frontier settlers and the Chickasaw 
tribe.  I have also imagined that he was an Indian trader come to 
conduct business with the Chickasaw beyond the frontier. It is not 
very often that we get to connect a historical name with real 
archaeological remains. Last time I tried to go there I could'nt make it.
I'm going to try to get a good print so I can frame this little painting for my little computer room.  It is the kind of painting that can usher me away into imaginary adventures in a time and place......maybe.......I 
never was.  But after all such a dream is as good as a book.......

Annette Otts

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My brother Richard worked with Charles on this fish weir project.

Source: Florence Times-Daily 4 April 2019

FLORENCE — Charles McConnell Hubbert, 83, of Florence, Alabama, passed away peacefully on Thursday, March 28, 2019 at North Alabama Medical Center.

Charles was born May 26, 1935 in Cordova, Alabama to Paul Kaley and Esther Elmore Hubbert. He was educated in the Birmingham, Alabama school system, Copiah-Lincoln Junior College, Florence State University, and the University of Alabama. Charles was an offensive lineman, a left guard, on the Florence State football team. In 1989, he married the former Delores “Dee” Johnson in Huntsville, AL. Charles was employed as an archaeologist at the University of Alabama, retiring in 1999. His passion for archaeology never wavered and he continued his studies and search for information about Paleo-Indian peoples until shortly before his passing. A committed environmentalist, he spent years working with organizations protecting natural spaces, like the Bankhead National Forest. He was an avid hunter and spent many happy days in the woods, enjoying nature. He filled most of his weekends looking for Indian sites, searching for flowers, and cheering on the Crimson Tide. A man of diverse interests, he was a lifetime member of the Alabama Archaeological Society, the American Daffodil Society, and MENSA. He also enjoyed reading, travelling and spending time with his children, grandchildren, and friends.

Charles is survived by his wife, Delores; his three children, Paul Hubbert and his wife, Cheryl, of Muscle Shoals, Valla Brown and her husband, Craig, of Florence, and Jonathon Hubbert and his wife, Tamara, of Huntsville; his former wife and mother of his children, Carole Ann Halcombe; six grandchildren, Kaley Shaffer, Trevor Davidson, Jonathon Hubbert, Benjamin Hubbert, Garland Brown, and Alec Brown; his brothers, Thomas and Langdon Hubbert; and several nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by his parents, Paul and Esther, and a wife, the former Mary Ann Brice.

Memorials can be made to your favorite charity or the Michael J. Fox Foundation, P.O. Box 5014, Hagerstown, MD 21741-5014. You may sign the guest register at sprywilliams.com

Office of Archaeological Research
University of Alabama Museums

Dad and Alabama Archaeology

During the early years that my brother Richard and I were growing up in Huntsville, dad [Amos J. Wright, Jr.] worked on two hobbies as time permitted--coin and stamp collecting. Richard collects both to this day. We had a lot of fun with those activities as kids, and learned a bit of history and geography in the process. One fond childhood memory is that bag of coins dad would bring home from the bank on many Fridays. We spent lots of time looking for "Indian" head pennies, buffalo nickels and other goodies. 

In the early 1960's dad became involved in another "hobby" that soon developed into something more. He joined the Alabama Archaeological Society in 1962, just eight years after the organization was founded. This group of mostly "amateurs" and a few professional archaeologists met regularly and published both a newsletter and a scholarly journal. 

Richard, mom and I were soon going along with dad on wintertime Saturday trips to cotton, corn and other fields all over north Alabama and into southern Tennessee looking for artifacts. After getting the owner's permission, the four of us would fan out--often on cold days and tromping through mud--and pick up everything: projectile points, pieces of points, pottery shards, anything that looked like the hand of man had worked it.

We brought home lots of material and now and then some interesting stories unrelated to archaeology. One I remember is the time mom was walking along a corn row for some distance and sensed an animal in the row beside her heading in the same direction. She didn't really pay much attention, thinking it was probably a friendly dog, until she reached the end of the corn row and realized the creature was a skunk!

There was a routine for dealing with the artifacts we carried home. We washed them, of course, and once dry dad would go to work. He labelled each piece we found--large, small or tiny--with three pieces of information: the site code where we found the item as established by the state archaeological society, the month and year, and the initials of the finder. Then he varnished over the info so it wouldn't flake off. Thus we could look at a piece and determine that mom found it in January 1968 at a particular site in Morgan County. The site location code and the fact we picked up everything made all this material more useful to future researchers now that much of it has been donated to the Office of Archaeological Research at Moundville. 

By the time dad died in July 2003, he had made numerous contributions to Alabama archaeology. He served the AAS as  President, Vice-President, Program Chair, and as long-time member of the Board of Trustees. He edited the group's Stones and Bones newsletter from 1977 until 1991 and worked as associate editor before that. The group gave him an Honorary Life membership in 1992. 

His numerous other awards related to state archaeology are noted in one of the memorial articles below. Gov. George Wallace appointed him to the Alabama DeSoto Commission in 1985. That group was charged with making a new attempt to determine the Spanish explorer's route through Alabama.  He also published several scholarly articles related to archaeology in the state, as noted below.


Comments are below some of the images.

Dad's knowledge of computers via his job with the U.S. Army's Ordinance Missle Command at Redstone Arsenal resulted in one of the early articles published on programming applications to projectile point classification. See below for more information on that article. He made several framed cases of arrowheads like the one shown to use when he gave talks at schools and elsewhere. We still have them in the family. It's a nice juxtaposition with that 1968 mainframe computer terminal!

Dad published two books; this one appeared from the University of Alabama Press not long before his death. He spent many years researching it in numerous libraries and archives around the Southeast. 

Dad's first book was published in 2000 and was also the fruit of many research trips. 

These special remembrances of dad were written by his long-time friend Jim Lee and another friend and AAS colleague Bart  Henson and published in the September/October 2003 issue of the Stones and Bones. Mr. Henson tells the story of the Great Winston County Aboriginal Sandstone Quarry Hunt led by my maternal grandfather, the Rev. John M. Shores. I remember that day well; granddaddy thought he could take us right to the location of the rocks with the strange markings. We spent a long time that day wandering around while he tried to recall landmarks near that spot. Dad and Mr. Henson later published an article on the topic; see below. 

Journal covers, first pages and some illustrations from a selection of dad's articles are below. He had mom as a co-author on one of them; she found the artifact!

ADDITIONAL ARTICLES

Wright, Amos J. and Roger Yates. A Ceremonial Pipe. Journal of Alabama Archaeology 15(2): 59062, December 1969

Wright, Amos J. Upper Alabama River Historic Indian Towns and their Inhabitants. Journal of Alabama Archaeology 24(2): 102-117, December 1978

Various book reviews and other items in the Stones and Bones newsletter

Three Generations in One Library

Being a librarian with an interest in history, I guess I notice these kind of things. We seem to have an "interest in history gene" that runs in some of the family. My dad had it, my brother and I have it, my son and daughter have it, one of my nephews has it.

Although dad--Amos J. Wright, Jr.--worked for many years for the U.S. Army at Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, mom tells me he once wanted to be a history professor. He ended up in civilian computer system work; he figured teaching college might not support a family the way he wanted. 

But he gave in to that history gene by many years of walking cotton rows in north Alabama and southern Tennessee looking for artifacts [often accompanied by mom, my brother Richard and I--a story for another day] and membership in the Alabama Archaeological Society. That participation led to a couple of terms as AAS President and long stints as assistant editor and editor of the society's Stones and Bones newsletter. 

He eventually started collecting material for a book on Alabama Indian towns, which was published by the University of Alabama Press in 2003 just prior to his death. In the process of gathering all that material he amassed information on other topics, including traders in the Southeast before the Native American removal on the Trail of Tears. A book on some of those traders was published in 2001 by New South Books in Montgomery.




New South Books, 2001

University of Alabama Press, 2003


Recently I noticed that three generations--my dad, my son and I--are represented by materials in UAB's Sterne Library. My son Amos IV finished his M.A. in creative writing at UAB in 2011 and a copy of his thesis, a collection of three short stories, is held at Sterne along with all theses and dissertations done at the university. The library's catalog record for "Nobody Knows How It Got This Good" can be found here.  Maybe one day Sterne will be able to buy a more formally published version. 

UPDATE 15 February 2021: Amos' collection of short stories, most set in Birmingham, was published in 2018 as Nobody Knows How It Got This Good. You can read more about it and his other writing here. 

Livingston Press, 2018

Finally, we come to my contribution to Sterne's collections. In a previous life cycle I did a bit of research and writing on crime in Alabama and the Southeast before 1930. One result of that effort was a book published by Greenwood Press in 1989. 

Greenwood Press, 1989

Perhaps I'll tap some of that material for future posts. Lots of fascinating--not to mention horrible--crime running around in Alabama's past. Train and post office robbers, ax murderers, counterfeiters, wife killers, husband killers--just the usual people stuff.  


Now about that library gene...I'm a librarian, one of my maternal aunts and another relative on that side in California are librarians, even my wife is a librarian...weird.