A person of lesser faith would suggest that an unusual set of events conspired to make the Alabama Boys’ Industrial School a reality. On the contrary, Elizabeth Johnston insisted that her heavenly father inspired an unlikely collection of individuals to accomplish that feat.
When asked about the success of the school, Mrs. Johnston had no doubt about her answer. “We do not reply upon money or equipment,” she replied. “We ask God to guide and direct us. We have tried in every way to honor Him, and in return He has wrought miracles in our behalf.”1
The first of these miracles involved the very acquisition of the land where the campus would eventually take shape. One day soon after the passage of the bill authorizing the school, Mrs. Johnston was riding in a buggy with a real estate salesman just east of Birmingham. The pair happened upon an elderly man who was hitchhiking on the road and stopped to give him a ride. As they rode, Mrs. Johnston told the old man, known as Uncle Van to those in the area, about her plans for a boys’ school and the reason for their afternoon excursion.
Mrs. Johnston was describing the type of land she envisioned when Uncle Van suddenly called for the salesman to stop. “Right here is the very spot you are looking for, lady,” he declared. The three climbed out of the buggy and began surveying the scene before them. “It’s perfect,” Mrs. Johnston concluded, “like forever living in the Twenty-third Psalm.” 2
In a subsequent report to the governor, she elaborated further on the 136-acre site. “The situation is naturally most beautiful, with lovely views of the mountains and valleys, while three bold springs of pure water arise in the center of it and afford excellent facilities, not only for the supply of water necessary for the premises, but for purposes of irrigation also. The land has a good clay subsoil; is level or slightly rolling, and can be brought to a high state of cultivation and fertility.”3
The log cabin in the foreground, as well as the barn, were the only existing structures on the property chosen for the school. The cabin served as the school’s home until other buildings could be erected.
With a donation of $3,000 from the Commercial Club of Birmingham, the board purchased the property, probably in 1899, and began preparations for its occupancy. The existing structures were an old barn and a dilapidated two-room log cabin. The first boys lived in the log cabin until their numbers reached a point that a tent had to be erected for the overflow. The board authorized the construction of a three-story wooden building to provide dormitory space, industrial shops, and classrooms. The cost of this project came almost entirely from donated money, material, and labor obtained by Mrs. Johnston.4
How she acquired these gifts is another example of the extraordinary events that came together in the founding of the school. Her search for lumber is a case in point. One day she decided to go to a lumberyard in Saginaw, between Birmingham and Montgomery. At the train station, she asked the dispatcher if the express train could stop to let her off at Saginaw.
“The express stop at Saginaw?” he laughed. “Why, that’s impossible. Why do you want me to do this unheard of thing?”
She sweetly told him of her boys and the need for better accommodations and the lumber to build those quarters. The gentleman slowly shook his head and called to someone in the adjoining room, “Have the No. 4 express slow up at Saginaw for Mrs. R. D. Johnston.”5
When she reached the lumberyard in Saginaw the next day, more surprises awaited. She approached the owner, Mr. Morris, prepared to make her plea, but was interrupted before she could even begin. Morris slammed his fist down on the table and said forcefully, “You have come for lumber for that boys’ school and I want to tell you that it’s the grandest thing ever started in the state of Alabama. Just tell me what you want me to give and you shall have it.”6
Mrs. Johnston in a photo from one the school’s early annual reports.
As Mrs. Johnston stood speechless, he took her list and began poring over it. Finally he told her that he could provide part of the lumber, but that his mill did not cut some of the heavier timber that she needed. “You go over to the Marbury lumberyard and tell them I said give you that.” She hurried back to the station to catch the train for Montgomery. Upon reaching Marbury’s lumberyard, she told of Mr. Morris’s gift and asked the manager if he could supply the remainder. He marked off a quantity of lumber he would furnish and handed her back the list with these further directions, “Now go down to Wadsworth’s yard, about ten miles out, and tell him I said to give you the rest.”
At the end of the day, she rode back to Birmingham in the caboose of a forty-car freight train filled with more than $1,500 (approximately $41,666 in 2014 dollars) of lumber donated by the three lumberyards.7
On many occasions when lumber and other materials arrived at the station in Birmingham, Mrs. Johnston would hail horse-drawn wagons and ask the driver to carry the cargo out to the school at no charge. She used the same strategy to enlist carpenters, brick masons, and other workers to donate their time. Most of the time, after hearing Mrs. Johnston’s story, the men agreed, sensing they were doing something worthwhile.8
Toward the end of 1900, with the first building almost complete, some additional materials were still needed. Mrs. Johnston went to another lumberyard and asked if she could have some material on credit until she could afford to pay. She received a flat refusal. Undaunted, she left knowing that her Lord would provide a way just like he had every time previously. Two days later, the man called and said that she could have whatever she needed and pay for it when she could. She asked what had changed his mind.
“Well, Mrs. Johnston,” he replied, somewhat bewildered, “I just have to do this because of a dream I had . . .” Mrs. Johnston stopped him in mid-sentence; no further explanation was needed.9
Mrs. Johnston just knew that the second building, begun in 1903, was going to be easier. The State of Alabama had appropriated $3,000 for its construction and all appeared well. When the money was due, however, the state reneged on its pledge, citing more pressing financial needs. For the first time since her efforts began, she felt defeated and even feared bankruptcy. Some of her supporters suggested she seek a loan, but she believed the prospects of that unlikely since they had little collateral upon which to base their request.
As usual, the devout lady prayed for guidance. “Lord, show me the way. I am lost, and if You expect me to do this work, You will have to direct my path.”
A few days later, she found herself in town, searching for an answer, looking for a sign. As she walked down the street, she looked up and saw the words Steiner Brothers Bank. She went in, asked to see the president, and was ushered into the office of Mr. Burghard Steiner. She told him her story of the boys’ home, of the great need, and of the state’s failure to live up to its obligations.
After a moment, the large, courteous man with the thick beard replied, “A bank is in business to make money and cannot make a loan without security for repayment. The bank cannot lend you the money.” As Mrs. Johnston’s heart sank, he continued, “But I will let you have it personally. How much do you need?”
Mr. Steiner wrote her his personal check. She thanked him warmly for his generosity and moved toward the door, but Mr. Steiner had one last question. “Why did you come to me?” he asked.
“I called upon the Lord in distress,” she quoted from the 118th Psalm. “The Lord answered me, and set me in a large place.” The money was repaid on time, although Mr. Steiner refused to accept any interest. He became a lifelong friend and supporter of the school.10
Mrs. Johnston learned to trust the Lord not only in a major crisis, but in the smaller day-to-day problems as well. As boys began moving into the new buildings, the demand often exceeded the available space. During one such period, she heard that five little boys were bound for the penitentiary unless someone intervened. She told the superintendent to make room for them.
“But,” he replied, “we have no beds.”
“Well, make pallets,” she said.
“But, there are no mattresses,” he tried to explain.
“Take the boys, and I’ll get the mattresses,” she ended the discussion.
As this woman of faith left the office in pursuit of those mattresses, she was called back to the telephone. “Mrs. Johnston,” a voice said, “I wonder if you could use a dozen mattresses at the school?”
“I should say I could,” was her answer. After experiencing so many similar miracles, she was no longer even surprised.11
1 Boys’ Banner, October 1948, “Forty-Third Anniversary of Dr. D. M. Weakley and Mrs. D. M. Weakley.”
2 Avery, 69.
3 ABIS reports, First Biennial Report (Montgomery: State Printing Office for Alabama Industrial School for White Boys, 1900), 3-4.
4 Ibid., 3.
5 Avery, 74.
6 Ibid., 75.
7 Ibid., 75-76.
8 David Weadley Papers, 1961, Archives, Birmingham Public Library, Birmingham, Alabama, 131.
9 Avery, 70.
10 Weakley, 132-133.
11 Avery, 71.