Long term, the worst thing that could happen to Anniston isn’t Oxford’s ascension or the Army’s departure or the city’s confounding addiction to missed opportunities. Read the full story
DeeAnne Lee has her uncle J.C. Blanton’s stuff — his medals, his Bible, the Western Union telegrams announcing his death, his dog tag, even a handwritten letter he mailed to his mom a few months before he died at Normandy. Read the full story
Truth is, it’s been a rough few weeks for Carbon Hill, and it’s Chambers’ fault. Totally. All because he recently wrote on Facebook that gays, lesbians, transgenders, supporters of abortion rights and socialists are societal curses worthy of extreme violence. Read the full story
DeeAnne Lee has her uncle J.C. Blanton’s stuff — his medals, his Bible, the Western Union telegrams announcing his death, his dog tag, even a handwritten letter he mailed to his mom a few months before he died at Normandy.
Truth is, it’s been a rough few weeks for Carbon Hill, and it’s Chambers’ fault. Totally. All because he recently wrote on Facebook that gays, lesbians, transgenders, supporters of abortion rights and socialists are societal curses worthy of extreme violence.
Up in Washington, in a building on Pennsylvania Avenue not far from the U.S. Capitol, is a wall inscribed with the names of journalists. It’s a fabulous wall, two stories tall and made of glass. The journalists named on the Newseum’s memorial are men and women killed in the line of duty, 2,3…
The dynamite exploded around 1 in the morning in the little church out on County Line Road. Pine Ridge CME Church sat in a slight curve in the Friendship community south of Oxford. Dynamite, though, makes no friends. Windows blew. Walls cracked. The bomb, placed by human hands, gutted the in…
What George Smith really knew were good stories. He had an internal divining rod that unearthed stories from places most of us would never look. Not because we’re lazy, or uninterested, but because he was just better at it.
Not every story about baseball in Anniston revolves around Ty Cobb or the Rams, the city’s perpetually mediocre and long defunct minor-league team. Those stories have wrinkles. This one doesn’t. And what better time to unearth it than Opening Day.
For years, I’ve resisted the urge to declare Anniston a lost cause, and here’s why: It’s reactionary, it’s unfair, it’s a simplistic stance and it’s wrong. That’s what I’ve thought.
There was a warm day in the early Seventies when Ralph Clayton, a coal-miner’s son from Harlan County, Ky., donned a baseball uniform for the Jacksonville State Gamecocks and “heard every racial name in the book.” It happened in Thibodaux, La., a college town west of New Orleans. Mike Gallow…
Goodloe Sutton publishes a small-town newspaper in Linden, a tiny place in Marengo County between Montgomery and Meridian. He admires the Ku Klux Klan. When NFL players began protesting racial injustice, he wrote, “that’s what black folks were taught to do two hundred years ago, kneel before…
In July 1902, Calhoun County prepped for the summer’s biggest party at Oxford Lake. Round-trip trolly fare from downtown Anniston was 20 cents, which included a general admission coupon to the festivities. Reserved seats cost a nickel more.
Now that Anniston City Councilman Ben Little has been indicted by a Calhoun County grand jury, turned himself in to the Calhoun County Jail, released on his own recognizance and given an arraignment date, Little’s political epitaph is certain. Or so it seems.
There is a passage in Chris Christie’s new book, Let Me Finish, in which he recounts everything you need to know about Christianity and faith’s place in President Trump’s life.
I like Ben Little. I really do. In private, when cameras are scarce, when there’s no publicity to claim, he can be gregarious and insightful. But isn’t it now obvious that Little’s cancerous behavior on the Anniston City Council is an incurable ailment?
Last week, U.S. Rep. Mike Rogers again took the oath of office and was sworn in for another session of Congress. Afterward, his staff emailed a newsletter, The Rogers Roundup, in which the Saks Republican offered his highlights for the coming year.
Even with its Confederate furnace and Confederate park and Confederate memorial wall and Civil War reenactments, Ohatchee isn’t Calhoun County’s Confederate center. It’s Jacksonville. Ohatchee is too small and too far from things. Jacksonville, the former county seat, one of the county’s old…
Anniston may rest in the Appalachian foothills and be surrounded by some of the most picturesque land Alabama offers, but it isn’t built on red clay or iron ore. It sits on quicksand, its shaky foundation ruined by politics and score-settling and old-school paternalism.