The Roadhouse at Skimming Ridge

By J.H. Hollingsworth, Eldridge, Al.

Sometime around 1818 to 1820 , settlers begin to move into the area of Skimming
Ridge, a pocket of land located along the Sipsy river. It was hidden from the
other parts of the rural county by the marshlands of the Sipsy to the west, a
mountain to the south and just plain wilderness to the north and east.

The local folks were independent self sustaining farmers, whiskey makers,
craftsmen who stayed out of the other peoples business. By their nature they
particularly wanted less government and regulations controlling their lives.

They had found such a place in the pocket at Skimming Ridge. A place where one
could live free without hindrance. The railroad from Birmingham to Memphis was
completed in 1886, just north of the pocket and across the Sipsy River. This
opened up trade in whiskey, crossties and cotton if one could cross the river.

Just up the hollow from Jacobs bottom was one of Jacobs younger brothers, John
R, who was also a CSA veteran and a very good whiskey maker. Little creek
provided him with cool, clear water and for miles around the farmers supplied
the corn and molasses John R needed to manufacture his whiskey. He shipped his
whiskey into Tennessee. (This writer has one of his jugs with the shipping
stamp on it.) Everything is well in Skimming Ridge.

The Confederate soldiers are doing good. Some went to Miss, Ark, and Texas. Even
one CSA soldier, Presley Wren Thornton, who lost an arm in the war, was elected
to a local political office and went to Texas. Word from him was , he was doing
good.

Then 1920 rolled around and the U.S. Congress saw fit to pass the Prohibition
Act, ceasing John R’s shipping of booze on the railroad. By this time, John R
and others had crafty help (son Jim Hollingsworth) and the whiskey was still
being made.

Felix Thomas Hollingsworth had opened up the pocket to the county seat, but also
opened up the pocket to the sheriff and revenuers. Needless to say, Felix
Thomas’ popularity subsided with the local moonshiners and he failed to get
Re-elected.

Bars and saloons were closed in town. Other things began to happen, advantage
follows disadvantage. People were going to college, mostly for the purpose of
teaching school and this rural place was no different, the wealthy and
influential had their daughters and sons in college.

One particular family of Fayette had their daughter Anna K (Anna Cannon) in a
university earning a teacher’s certificate. Whereupon Anna secured a
teaching job in Texas. The schoolroom must have been too dull for the
adventurous Anna. It seems she had figured out a business plan for the one road
into the pocket at Skimming Ridge, quickly up Jacobs bottom on the Russellville
Road, up the hollow to John R’s and over the hill to 100 acres for sale.
(Where H McCaleb family lived about 7 years.)

Anna recruited 2 helpers, Adelaide Sanders and Amanda, in Texas and and
forthwith headed to Alabama. Through connections, Anna was able to buy 100
acres just across the creek from Skimming Ridge and a short distance from John
R’s where the whiskey was available from Jim, son of John R.

She promptly built a roadhouse, “off the Road House,) and fashioned a sign,
Triple AAA Ranch, Anna was in business. The roaring 20’s were in. Times were
good and the wealthy merchants and others with money needed a place to sip
their booze and carry on, because the saloons were closed and Anna had that
place.

Legend has it that Anna had a gentleman clientele. Risque and shenanigans as the
business was, all was well and the independent souls of Skimming Ridge were
staying clear of the Triple A.

Suddenly however it is 1929 and turmoil erupts casting a cloud of despair and
doubt and spinning all sorts of businesses into failure and collapse. The Great
Depression had hit hard. Anna’s income dried up. Basically the well heeled in
town tightened their fists on their assets and slimmed down on their
boisterous, extravagant living of the Roaring Twenties. Change had come to
Coles Beat and Skimming Ridge. Anna seemed to have lowered her standards. Her
customers began to be the low-life, rowdy bunch of little money, Anna’s dream
of adventure and wealth burst and fell in despair.

One local young man trying to find out what was going on at the Ranch took a
bullet to his leg and the encounter was enough to arouse the residents to seek
the help of the county sheriff and eventually led to the closing of the triple
A for good.

It was said that our old friend, Henry Clay, was a frequent visitor to the
Ranch, claiming to be delivering the mail. Seems that everyone thought that he
was really going to see the cook. When this writer confronted Henry Clay with
this information, he just laughed and said nothing.

Let us not forget Doc Sprinkle who hated to see the Triple A go. Doc was a
debonair story teller in his own right, who frequently drank a little of John
R’s fixins. Doc said he once dug a well so crooked that he fell out the top
of it. When he built a chimney he started at the top and carefully built down
so he be on the ground when he finished. Doc managed to get by but he never
fully took advantage of his talents of entertaining people. Doc said, “I love
work. I can lay down right beside of it and go to sleep.”

No one seems to know all that went on at the Ranch. As risqué as it might have
been, maybe it was just an Opus Salena. The writer thinks it might have been
the working of God showing Skimming Ridge to the world.

Before closing we must mention that John R Hollingsworth was a master whiskey
maker, strickly business. He was known throughout as an honest, hard-working
man and a teetotaler. Well that is the way it was and I refuse to change the
story.

Kindest Regards to TCM. May the Lord bless all. J.H. Hollingsworth
191 Co Rd 122, Eldridge, Al. 35554 Phone 205 487 6744

I don’t think John R lasted past 1925. He and wife are buried at Wade Cemetary
along with son Jim. They said Jim was drunk and nearly fell in grave of John R
at funeral. It is my opinion that Jim was furnishing the whiskey in the 20s.
This is the place sold to Anna Cannon and Adelaide Sanders by H McCaleb family
about 1924 and where the one teacher school was across the creek by footpath
and footlog. Fred,s early stomping ground with others. Bird McCaleb lost false
teeth here. Comment by Fred McCaleb