Anniston’s poverty rate is 29.5 percent; 5.57 percent of Annistonians — 1,213 people — live in public housing. Spin that any way you wish and it’s still awful, a clear indication of Anniston’s health a decade removed from the Great Recession and 20 years after the closure of Fort McClellan. Read the full story
Montgomery's new mayor regularly makes comments that any Anniston mayoral candidate could borrow for their campaign, comments that sound as if Montgomery’s mayor was discussing the Model City, not Alabama’s capital city. Read the full story
Anniston has lived alongside Oxford for more than a century, and never have the neighbors been closer in population size than they are today. Read the full story
Montgomery's new mayor regularly makes comments that any Anniston mayoral candidate could borrow for their campaign, comments that sound as if Montgomery’s mayor was discussing the Model City, not Alabama’s capital city.
Anniston has lived alongside Oxford for more than a century, and never have the neighbors been closer in population size than they are today.
It comes as no surprise that administrators spent so much time Wednesday at a student town hall meeting fielding questions about a proposed new on-campus dining hall and accompanying “mandatory commuter meal plan.”
Anniston chews up mayors, turning what should be an attractive political gig into a four-year marathon of frustration, much of it self-induced. Why? And why does anyone want the job?
There were times, Lynn Fendlason remembers now, when she would bewitch her sixth-grade classmates at DeArmanville Junior High with retellings of ghost stories from Kathryn Tucker Windham, the celebrated Alabama storyteller.
Ben Little, Anniston’s most polarizing politician, the man so often considered by his critics as tinder that ignites City Hall disharmony, may run for mayor next summer.
I never met T.J. Summers. Never shook his hand. Never debated politics with him over coffee. Never heard his telling of a life lived remarkably, a life of immigration and war and patriotism and family and Saks, his adopted home.
Back in 1963, around 10 on a fall Monday morning, Judy Draper walked into Anniston Mayor Claude Dear’s office with a message. President John F. Kennedy was on the phone, she told him
Back in the day, Anniston had its chance to envelope Oxford. Not kill it but absorb it in a bloodless electoral conquest, the massive (by Calhoun County standards) over the meek. Except, Oxford wasn’t meek.
These arguments about Anniston City Schools aren’t new. But they’ve blossomed this fall because a shadowy nonprofit — Forward 4 All — is pursuing a radical deannexation of east Anniston, Golden Springs and McClellan, and Alabama Sen. Del Marsh, R-Anniston, is listening to the overtures.
Forward 4 All sought Sen. Del Marsh’s help in deannexing Anniston's Ward 4 and annexing it into Oxford and leaving Anniston with the reputational fallout. Now they want more.
Everything about the recent arrests of 11 young men on charges of second-degree rape and one on second-degree sodomy in Jacksonville is awful. It is a dirty, trashy pit of accusations and alleged crimes and questionable behaviors.
Finally — Yes, finally! — the annual report cards published online about Alabama’s public schools are usable. State officials unveiled them last week.
If you’re inclined to attribute the steep decline in Alabama’s abortion rate to the indefensible Alabama Human Life Protection Act, don’t. You’d be wrong.
Anniston and Birmingham aren’t similar apples, but they’re close enough — in demographic characteristics and challenges — to bind them in a discussion about boosting public education in Alabama’s lower-income areas.
Is Calhoun County’s longstanding legend about I-20 — a legend that plays perfectly with Anniston's and Oxford's sibling rivalry — true?
Anniston might not have a federal courthouse today if it weren’t for a former congressman who was the first cousin of an influential Alabama attorney, the great-grandson of a Scottish-born Revolutionary War major and the son of a captain in the Alabama cavalry during the Civil War. And that’s not all.
A majority of former Cooper Homes tenants now live elsewhere in Calhoun County; more than half live in other Housing Authority units. The number of former Cooper Homes tenants residing outside of Anniston, either temporarily or permanently, is minuscule.
Why would someone in the Oval Office pull out a Sharpie and comically gerrymander the projected path of Hurricane Dorian on a National Hurricane Center map? Because he cares about Alabama.
Anniston police Cpl. Shawnette Myers keeps a clear plastic container in the back seat of her car. It contains a green frog, a blue bunny, a white puppy, a unicorn with a pink tail, a brown bear with a green cap, a white penguin and an assortment of other stuffed animals — and, of course, slime.
Back in the day, Anniston’s power brokers bet the city’s economy on three things: pipe shops, textile mills and the Army. Two died. One left. Nothing of substance has replaced them.