Brother Joseph working on a replica. Using only basic materials, Brother Joseph often designed his intricate structures without the aid of a formal drawing or even a ruler, instead relying on simple pictures of the buildings and the blueprints in his mind's eye. (Photo courtesy St. Bernard Abbey)

Monastic Make-Believe: The Ave Maria Grotto
By J. Mack Lofton Jr.

Nobody could have guessed that a quiet, accident-prone boy from Bavaria would draw people from all over the world to a little abbey in Alabama. But Brother Joseph Zoetl gained international recognition for himself and the St. Bernard Abbey in Cullman for his miniature churches and replicas of prominent religious sites, which ultimately became the famous Ave Maria Grotto. J. Mack Lofton, Jr., tells Brother Joseph's fairytale story, from his unhappy childhood in Landshut, Bavaria, to the peace and contentment he finally found in St. Bernard Abbey. After the grotto opened to the public in 1934, Brother Joseph would "get as mad as an old settin' hen" when photographers tried to take his picture, Lofton writes. Sometimes the aging artisan would meander about the grotto and talk to visitors, never revealing that he was the builder. Despite his prolific output, the enigmatic creator of the Ave Maria Grotto preferred a life of quiet anonymity to all the attention his hobby produced.

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(Photo courtesy Birmingham Civil Rights Institute)

The Birmingham Civil Rights Institute
By Verna Gates

Today, residents of Birmingham speak proudly of their Civil Rights Institute. The world-renowned facility seems integral to the city's identity. But a decade of success has almost obscured the pains of its birth. Marking the Institute's ten-year anniversary, Verna Gates chronicles the creation of the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute and the determined team who turned the dream into a reality. From the museum's initial conception by former Birmingham mayor David Vann to the completion of the project under his successor, Richard Arrington, Jr., Gates examines the long and difficult ordeal involved the creation of a living museum-a place where human rights and ideas about equality can be debated openly. Thanks to the resolve of its founders, the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute today continues to reach towards its goal of reflection and reconciliation.

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(Photo courtesy Birmingham Public Library)

Common Bonds: Birmingham Family Snapshots, 1900-1950
By James L. Baggett

Prior to the twentieth century, cameras often cost as much as two months' pay for the average American, and amateur photography remained primarily a hobby for the well-to-do. Then in 1900 George Eastman, the founder of Eastman Kodak, unveiled his Brownie camera, a small cardboard box with a lens that sold for just $1.00-and amateur photography swept across the nation as quickly as you could say, "Cheese." James L. Baggett chronicles the rise of amateur photography in Birmingham, Alabama, in a special photo-essay entitled Common Bonds. Through a selection of candid snapshots drawn from library archives and donated by Birmingham families, Baggett explores how the advent of the inexpensive portable camera changed the way virtually everyone-young and old, black and white, rich and poor-recorded family history and daily life.

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Alberta City's famous Moon Winx Lodge sign has served for decades as a landmark for people traveling between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa. (Photograph by Robin McDonald)

Places in Peril: Alabama's Endangered Historic Landmarks for 2002
By Patrick McIntyre

Once again, Alabama Heritage has teamed up with the Alabama Historical Commission and the Alabama Preservation Alliance to identify the state's most significant "places in peril"-a list published annually as a cooperative venture. This year's list includes two mills, the Shellhorn Mill in Pike County and the Lowe Mill and village in Huntsville, and several well-known houses, including one built by Mark Twain's cousin. And for the first time ever, historic neon signs statewide have been listed as endangered. Neglect, urban sprawl, and willful destruction threaten a number of these historic landmarks. Of these, says preservationist Patrick McIntyre, the greatest danger is neglect. "This neglect seems to indicate that the great benefits of preservation to the here and now-in terms of aesthetics, economics and responsible urban planning-are still being ignored."

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