Alabaster: noun. 1. A translucent white or tinted gypsum used esp. for carving. 2. A translucent, often banded variety of calcite. (American Heritage Dictionary).
Alabaster tries to be an interesting place. It's small town Alabama, 25 Miles south of Birmingham on I 65, just on the edge of the urban sprawl and growing (25k residents). Surrounding it are towns of seeming value, Pelham with Oak Mountain State Park, Helena with its quaint "Old Town", Montevallo with its University, Hoover with Riverchase Galleria, well to do areas like Moutain Brook and Indian Springs. Alabaster seems to have nothing of its own except for Shelby County Hospital and a few industrial plants.
I am still exploring it, making my way through its veins, the backroads and side streets. There must be something beneath its lesser blue collar exterior, its "build your own" homes out of "Edward Scissorhands" and its countless thrift stores and railroad crossings. Where is downtown? Is it the strip of empty buildings on Route 31 next to the Police Station and the Frame Shop? Does this little town exist just as a bed for those working elsewhere?
Well, I started in the obvious place: the library. The Albert L. Scott Library on the corner of 9th Street NW and Co Road 95 is fabulous. It's a new building complete with picnic tables out front for a little outdoor reading among the pines. The librarians are extremely helpful, especially if you have a project in mind. Oh, and now that I am a member I can take out and return books at any of the 11 Shelby County branches. Awesome.
Upon asking if they had any reference materials on Alabaster, the librarian handed me a video: "Remembering Alabaster" made in 1999. She hadn't seen it herself and asked me to make a full report upon its return. I took it home and popped it in the VCR, anxious to find something of value in this little town.
Needless to say the camerawork was shoddy and the lighting design worthy of a flourescent light factory and the information slow in the coming. The entire video was a panel discussion held in May of 1999 to celebrate and discuss this little town. The gist:
Alabaster originated in the late 1800s. The Thompson family moved here and bought over 1000 acres to be used as a plantation. On this land they also opened the Buck Creek Textile mill. Meanwhile across town the Kent quarries were being tapped for its stone rich in calcium indiginous to the area: alabaster. They took that stone and produced lime which Birmingham, the thriving city to the north, needed for their production of steel. So workers were bused in to the quarry and its bounty trucked out to Birmingham. Before too long the workers began to settle here. In 1952 it became official.
Before the town became incorporated in 1952 (some argue '53) the mill and the mine switched hands several times and eventually the textile mill closed down. In its place today is its remains, an empty brick building with broken windows alongside a struggling creek. The town's YMCA, a white building in bad need of a makeover, is presently in one of the old washroom/locker rooms of the mill. It is said that Mrs. Thompson, while not knowing much about running the mill after her husband passed away, knew how to take care of her employees.
The video continued on with testimonials from the daughter of the milk plant owner and the son of the now closed department store proprietor. The Walmarts moved in and shut down local businesses. The malls are becoming small towns themselves with their own housing developments. Most of the residents of Alabaster spend their days in Birmingham, probably not appreciating whatever it is Alabaster has to offer.
Now I know the story: Alabaster, AL grew out of industry. Birmingham needed limestone for its steel works and Alabaster had it. The workers were bused in and eventually stayed on to live. The familiar names of streets and buildings echo the names of the past. When the town became incorporated on February 5, 1952, a sign was put up on the main highway which read: Alabaster, pop. 300, We Keep Growing. The sign is gone but the spirit is still here.