Spirit of Hueytown alive with memories of lost sons

HUEYTOWN, Ala. -- The sign outside Hueytown High School's football stadium simply reads "Go Gophers Go."

It's Homecoming weekend, and the purple and gold bows seem to multiply every time you turn around -- perched on mailboxes, tied to fences and attached to front doors throughout this blue-collar town on the outskirts of Birmingham. Hueytown hugs the side of one of the long, low mountain ridges that signal the southwestern end of the Appalachian chain.

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Fidgety kids line up on the playground at the elementary school, ready to follow their teacher back inside after a welcome break from reading, writing and arithmetic. It's too nice to be cooped up inside a classroom all morning and their faces show it, pink from a combination of exertion and excitement on an unusually warm and humid October day, longing for a little more breeze before they must return to their desks.

Across Parson Drive, toilet paper hangs from the trees of the house on the corner like long white spaghetti noodles dangling at the end of a fork, evidence of a successful high-school prank completed during the night.

On Brooklane Drive, a craggy-faced man squints into the sun as he mows close to the road, a cigarette hanging from his lower lip as he aims the riding mower at the chickweed and dandelions in his way.

The marquee on the hardware store says "deer supplies are here." That's evidenced by the deer decoy leaning against a car hood behind a chain-link fence in the backyard of one of the many one-story brick homes and Craftsmans that defy anyone thinking of building a cookie-cutter subdivision nearby.

At the U.S. Pipe and Foundry just across the city limits in Bessemer, a yard locomotive toots its horn as it moves dented railcars filled to overflowing with rusty scrap, passing a stack of recently cast pipes heading in the other direction.

And at the Highland Memorial Gardens less than a mile away, in a section of plots called the Garden of Everlasting Life, nestled among the Jameses, Poseys, Garretts and Whatleys, there's a grave marker in the expanse of close-cropped grass -- halfway between a pair of stately sycamores -- that reads "David Carl Allison, a true champion, a loving husband and father."

Welcome to Hueytown, A.D.: After Davey.

Hueytown isn't so much a suburb as a small-town island in the middle of an ocean of unceasing growth. Birmingham bangs loudly on its doorstep, but for now, Hueytown isn't answering.

Allison-Bonnett Memorial Drive is the main east-west route through town, and Davey Allison Boulevard is a truck route back to Interstate 20-59.

Folks flying Alabama flags from their eaves can peacefully co-exist with their Auburn-loving neighbors -- at least 51 weeks a year.

Not surprisingly, the population has found a way to make religion and racing co-exist on Sundays, especially when NASCAR comes to nearby Talladega. The Alabama Gang -- Bobby, Donnie, Davey and Clifford Allison, Red Farmer, Neil Bonnett, and to a lesser extent, Jimmy Means and Hut Stricklin -- remains a source of pride and inspiration to Hueytown, which incorporated checkered flags into the town seal.

If you never saw the Alabama Gang in their prime, you missed something special. They dominated the short tracks at Birmingham, Montgomery and Huntsville, then went on to acclaim on NASCAR's biggest stages. At their best, they were as feared as anyone in the sport. (Continued)