The Truth is Elusive
Friday, January 1, 2010 at 9:32PM 
An interesting occurrence, one that has actually happened several times as an historic rehabilitator in the South, is when a local informs me, after glancing sideways in both directions, and then drawing close to whisper, “you know, this building was part of the Underground Railroad.”
The Underground Railroad, for those unaware souls qualified to be both screened and accepted for “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader,” is not the insane proposal to bore roads underneath downtown Atlanta to relieve that city’s crushing congestion, rather it was the network of safe-houses that abolitionists strung together to get escaped southern slaves to the North and relative safety.
The fact that many of these buildings were built decades after the Civil War and slavery immediately negates this possibility, however, many people like to hang on to their pet stories, and whether they are actually true or not becomes secondary- they like the truth being elusive in this instance.
Ray Jones has written a quaint history of his family’s purchase and development of what is now known as Jones Valley (The Farm in Jones Valley, readily available at Barnes and Nobles on Carl T. Jones Blvd in Huntsville) As evidence of how he has lived two or three lives in one, he nary once mentions his, or his father's, substantial role with the HIC building, the Huntsville Hilton and other forays.
The Jones family’s relationship with the City of Huntsville has been a broad, two-way street, with both parties benefiting through the years. For instance, the important roads that we use to criss-cross Jones Valley sit on land that was donated to the City by the Jones family.
And the Jones family has been quite generous with sharing their time and resources through the years. As an example, though their family are all Huntsville High graduates, they allowed the team that designed and built a float for Grissom’s 1978 homecoming to utilize one of their farm buildings. This float, extravagant by high school standards, featured an androgynous Senior in cap and gown with two outstretched hands, one clutching a diploma and the other sporting what appeared to be a “We’re #1!” finger. The problem was that the "We're #1" hand had only three fingers due to design difficulty, time constraints, or some other valid reason. My father swore that Burke and his team were giving the people in the stands the middle finger salute that does not mean "We're #1," and Burke fiercely maintained that the truth was far more benign. Through the years, neither side has budged on their convictions or perceptions.
The truth will remain elusive regarding this cherished Sisco story.
Wayne |
2 Comments | 
Reader Comments (2)
I have read the book. It is an amazing story of the Jones Family and their faith, hard work, and generosity. You do get the sense that Mr. Ray Jones has a few more stories in him.
Regarding the infamous Senior float: that we had Louie, Louie by the Kingsmen [re-popularized by the Animal House movie] blaring from speakers on the float probably enhanced the perception of a one-fingered salute. A poorly-tuned gasoline generator in the back of the tow truck, improperly exhausted and belching black smoke only heightened the effect...
I think that time and mother nature [the tornado that cut thru the mountain] also added to the progress of the once illusive Valley. Besides, who wasn't afraid of the old Four Mile Post Road?