By Willie Hughes Tarpley Written Exclusively for the Birmingham News

Birmingham has her statesmen, her financiers, her builders. But behind each of these men whose achievements have made possible the thriving metropolis of today was a Mother.

Back in eighteen hundred and seventy-one. When Birmingham was just begun People came from far and near Fathers and mothers who settled here Today I'll tell you if you please The life story of one of these - Mrs. Emma Wiley Hernandez.

A typical mother is Mrs. Hernandez living today in the old home 1630 North Thirty-Fourth Street, which, when built more than a half century ago, was away out in the country.

Right royally does this mother of 82 years held away, her daughter Mrs. W. R. McKinney, and her daughter's children, making her word the signal for love and honor and respect in the home.

When asked to tell a story of early Birmingham, Mrs. Hernandez brought out the following poem, which she wrote and read before the Pioneer Club about 10 years ago.

This paper I have written by your request,
Now if the muse will come at my behest,
Some experiences I will rehearse,
And try to give them to you in verse.

Because of residing here in the early years,
We are known as Birmingham's Pioneers,
Finer ladies you would not wish to see,
Than were we in eighteen seventy-three.

No wrinkles did our brows deface,
We were erect of form and possessed of grace;
No silver hairs then were seen,
In braided locks of silken sheen.

But Father Time much change had wrought,
To us too, this lesson taught,
That things of earth will all decay,
And we will surely pass away.

Many pictures hang on memory's wall,
Some are so pleasant we like them to recall,
While some are as bitter as worm-wood and gall

The first, a village which here you will see,
Promising a wonderful city certainly to be,
With resources so varied, great and grand,
Making a firm, fine foundation on which to stand.

I came here the last day of June 1873,
Remained five days, and from cholera had to flee.
Suddenly we left, our lives to save,
From what seemed a sure, untimely grave.

On Shades mountain, to Mr. Hale, for work we applied,
Fortunately we were not denied.
But the disease did us pursue,
Our flight we had then to renew.

Then in our dreadful fright,
We made the second flight.
Then to Mr. Hall's we went.
To our stay he would not consent.

Until I said, "We surely must."
"Come in," he said, "In God we will trust."
Mrs. Hall told me, in her distress,
She was not more afraid of a lioness.

For this we could not her blame,
Conditions reversed, we would have felt the same.
When the scourge had its fury spent,
Gladly back to our homes we went.

But we found to our dismay,
Many dead and moved away.
Many went, too, to stay,
Nor have they returned until today.

This too did we find.
That life would be a fearful grind.
To recoup our very great loss,
Much work and effort it did cost.

Now another picture to you I will show,
Which I am sure you all will know.
It is of our early village days,
When we had no city ways.

You have seen this place swell and grow,
From country farm and cotton row,
To be a city, great and grand,
It would be the pride of any land.

Now of our early days I will tell,
Because on them I like to dwell.
Then we had no telephone,
Our wants quickly to make known.

To our doctor this to say,
"Please hurry, make no delay."
And to the policeman to call,
The burglars' practice to forestall.

Right here a story I am going to tell.
Because I remember it so well:
Mrs. Moore was suddenly taken sick.
She needed the doctor, very quick.

Husband for Dr. Seage did go,
Through drenching rain and furious blow,
He was by almost cyclonic wind blown down,
The rain, too, did him nearly drown.

Mrs. Moore told me this in such a funny way,
It makes me laugh even until today.
Had they owned a telephone,
This story would never have been known.

Formerly our streets were by wagons cut,
Making many a deep, unsightly rut.
Then no gas had we to bake,
Bread, custard pies and lovely cake.

No electricity our streets to light,
Saving us many a dreadful night.
No automobiles in which to ride,
With our loved ones by our side.

No palatial homes scattered far and wide,
In which the wealthy to reside.
No skyscrapers so high to rise,
As if trying to reach the skys.

All things crude have given place,
To things of loveliness and grace.
Now we have show windows where,
The merchant can display his ware.

Capitalists with money came,
Have erected plants which give us fame.
Because of resources so vast and great,
We have valuable real estate.

To build this town required some time;
Its foundation is iron, coal and lime.
Colonel Powell in our early days, prophesied,
That we would have factories, diversified.

This many of our citizens decried,
But his predictions have been verified.

That the fire of industry for miles would light the way,
Making it almost as bright as day.
This is what he did say,
But years ago he passed away.

Then no water works had we,
To furnish water sufficiently.
Much of it from Elyton was brought,
To haul in we for wagons sought.

Often two or three days it would take,
To get it cool enough our thirst to slake.
The water then was a great expense,
Each barrel costing twenty-five cents.

Now I think you will understand,
Why we think the (courage) so grand.

The Powell then was the only public school.
It was taught by the strictest rule.
The rod was very freely applied,
When the occasion justified.

Now we have an educational center here,
With patrons both far and near.
Which in time will to us bring,
Citizens who to culture cling.

Our churches then were few and numbers small,
The bells the members to service did call.
Pastors then were poorly paid,
Though ever ready to give us aid.

Pastors now are generously paid.
Some too, with us for years have stayed.

Now we have hospitals of many kinds,
For relief of bodies and of minds.
In the olden time we had none of these,
Labor to lighten and minds to ease.

Friends then were true and tried,
And our vigils did divide.
Now many whom we dearly love,
Have left us for their homes above.

And in our lengthy widowhood,
Truly to us had God been good.
We who are gathered here,
Should to each be very dear.

Because of life's battle, side by side,
In joys and sorrows we have been tried.
And for mercies and for length of days,
Our Father, now we give thee praise.

And when comes that last great call,
May we be ready each and all.
And in that glorious spirit land,
May we be an unbroken band!

This is the prayer which now I send,
Wishing you each to be my friend.

* * *

As Mrs. Hernandez read the poem, in a charming, hesitant manner, here and there she added many details which are of very general interest.

"When I joined the Pioneer Club there were 23 members on the roll, most of them widows and only two with their pioneer husbands," and Mrs. Hernandez settled herself comfortably in the tall, willow chair. Her feet barely missed the floor, for this grave little mother, who weathered the settling of Birmingham in the trying pioneer days, measures just a little over four feet and does not even balance the hundred pound weight on the scales.

"I enjoyed the semi-monthly meetings of the Pioneer Club, and am sorry that we do not now keep them up. Just why we stopped them I do not know, unless it is because we are all getting so old," as she spoke the bright, merry look that came into her eyes [ ] belied her words.

"There are a number of members still residents of Birmingham. Some I remember are Mrs. Kelly, Mres Will Harris, Mrs. J. B. Luckey, Mrs. Frank Lide, Mrs. R. H. Sparson and Mrs. Willis Milner. There [ ] going day we may meet __ther again for a spend-the-day party at least," smiled Mrs. Hernandez as she lapsed for a moment into reverse.

"For the __n_er she had steinged the old-time spend-the-day party, when one invited her friends to "come early and stay late, and bring your knitting." (Most Them days is gone forever).

But what has this present day that can compare with that delightful custom of long ago?

Then the guests assembled, the ladies sat quietly talking about their gardens, chickens or children; or perhaps the history of the newest family was brought to light and their particular niche assigned.

And in the cool of the day, just as the sun was casting the last long, slanting rays over the front verandahs, each guest slowly knit to the middle of her needles, or finished the square in the patch-work quilt, or calmly folded up her embroidery, preparatory to an unhurried departure.

Lingeringly, the guests stood and talked a little longer, after the good-byes were said, then kissed again and walked deliberately to the gate, where waited the carriage, slowly entered and drove away, promising to come again soon.

Alas, where also are the dainty dishes of tempting food that were prepared days ahead for the expected guests? The boiled custard with its foaming white heaped high in the old fashioned goblet, the silla bub that foamed to the bottom of the glass, and the real old-time poundcake that mother used to make!

Gone all!

The busy mother of today either calls in a caterer or goes around the corner to a spotless delicatessen to secure the needed articles for a midday lunch with expected friends.

Over the delicate features of Mrs. Hernandez fitted shadows of the past. The tall old clock on the mantel ticked loudly. The listener sat still, loath to break the barrier that memory hedged around this dainty mother of 82 winters, whose silver tresses framed a face made more lovely by the soft lines of care and sorrow, and the shining eyes which told of frequent, sweet communion with the Heavenly Father.

Pr______y, the reverent mood put aside for the moment, Mrs. Hernandez began again to speak and the story she told was something like this:

"My maiden name was Emma Wiley. My ancestors originally came from Scotland but to go back to the very beginning, I must give you a bit of history to get the proper setting. In the sixteenth century, the province of Ulster, which had been depopulated under Queen Elizabeth, was repopulated by emigrants from Scotland. These were all Presbyterians. They built the first church in Antrim county in 1613, and for 50 years numbers increased. By Charles II, and James II, endeavors were made to force the Church of England upon Scotland.

"Persecution in Ireland in 1680 compelled the Presbyterians of Ireland to flee again from home. In 1729 more than 6,000 came to America. In 1736 about 1,000 families came from Bedford alone. These all settled in Pennsylvania and Maryland.

"The first ancestor I know of," continued Mrs. Hernandez, "was David Wiley, a Presbyterian preacher, during the religious war of Scotland, and one of Cromwell's Ironsides. At his death he left a widow and four sons.

"The widow, seeing no chance for her sons to rise in Ireland, and hearing of this land of freedom across the waters, bid farewell to the Emerald Isle and sailed for America, landing in Pennsylvania about the year 1760.

(Note from David Randolph McCoy: Oliver Cromwell's "Ironsides" was a cavalry regiment Cromwell put together to help him with his war against Charles I. Cromwell died in 1658. His son, Robert, took over but was out of power by 1661. That means that for David Wiley to have been an "Ironside", he would have had to have been born before 1630. For David Wiley's widow to arrive in America in 1760, she would have had to have been over 100 years old! I believe Emma (the one who's being interviewed here), is getting either her names or dates mixed up. I will explain my thinking in the next paragraph.

I checked in the LDS church Scottish Records CD and found 3 possible "David Wyllie"s that would be old enough to have been labeled "one of Cromwell's Ironsides." I then checked the Presbyterian Ministers in the Church of Scotland LDS Fiche # 6026402, and found no David Wiley (also spelled Wyllie, Wylie, Wyllye) as having been a Presbyterian minister. I did, however, find a Thomas Wyllie of Barclay; (fiche # 6026402-14) as being ordained 20th July 1638; and

" . . . was engaged in opposition to the royal forces at Mauchline Moor June 1648; joined the Protesting Party in the Church in 1651; trans. to Kirkendbright in 1655; deprived by Privy Council 1st Oct. 1662, and ordered to remove north of the Tay. He obtained charge of a Presbyterian congregation at Coleraine, Ireland, about 1669; was indulged here (on a call from the people) by Privy Council 3rd Sept. 1672; died 20th July 1676, aged about 58. . . ."

This sounds like Thomas was a Cromwell supporter. Also, it states that he obtained a congregation in Ireland. In the last paragraph before I began this note, Emma states that his widow left "Ireland" to come to America. Obviously, since one of Cromwell's objectives was to "establish a broad church with complete freedom for all Christian sects to worship as they wished"(Grolier 1995) any minister aligning himself with Cromwell would have been in a very uncomfortable situation after Charles II was reinstated in 1661. Would that have caused them to move (or be moved) to Ireland to try to avoid any political reprocussions?

I'm not suggesting that Thomas Wyllie was in fact, David Wiley because over 2,000 clergy left the church as a result of the Claredon Code (retribution by Parliment after the Restoration of King Charles II against the Puritans), and many more probably relocated under the Five Mile Act (an act forbidding clergy from living within 5 miles of the parish from which they were ejected), but if Emma's story holds true that David's widow left for America from Ireland and also that he was an "Ironside", then it would make sense that these might be the forces at work to make them move to Ireland before coming to America. The only thing remaining then, would be to trace the Wiley's in America back to Scotland. Any help would be greatly appreciated!" (07 May 1997)

"One of the sons, James Oliver Wiley went to Virginia and afterwards to North Carolina. A descendant of his Col. James Wiley, of North Carolina was a member of Gen. Washington's staff and was presented a sword of honor by that general for bravery in the battle of Cowpens. (This sword is in the possession of Mrs. Shelby, of Lexington, Ky, and was on exhibition at the Tennessee centennial at Nashville in 1897).

(Note from David Randolph McCoy: Actually, this sword was presented to a descendant of the Shelby’s (Isaac Shelby) not the Wiley’s. Both families were Emma's ancestors. She simply got confused as to who the sword went to 07 May 1997)

There was a Col. James Wiley who fought with Marion's Men, supposed to be the same man."

The visitor wondered how this shapely little head, with its silver crown could possible contain all this ancestral history, but Mrs. Hernandez cut the reflection short with

"My grandfather, Evan Shelby Wiley, was born in 1782. He was married to Mary McCalib and moved to Alabama in 1804, finally permanently settling near Tuscumbia in the year 1828. At the time the whole of Alabama was devoted to a hunting ground, used by the Creeks, Cherokee and Choctaw Indians.

The first white settlers were men interested in agriculture and had no experience with the other industries. The steel makers of today feel no interest in a fine field of corn, neither did these first settlers feel an interest in the red rocks they found in Alabama. They were concerned with farming and home building. There was no transportation except by wagon, and no roads for these; and the streams were navigable for only a short distance.

These first settlers were not ignorant nor stupid men, but were wholesome, substantial citizens, whose sons and grandsons still live in the state, however few of them follow the agricultural pursuits of their forefathers.

"My father, Moses Cicero, was one of three sons born to Mary and Evan Shelby Wiley, after they came to Alabama. He married Susan Brown and moved to the Birmingham district. During the War Between the States he ran an iron furnace for the manufacture of cannon." proudly Mrs. Hernandez stated.

This old furnace was located along the county line of Jefferson and Tuscaloosa counties. There is an enormous deposit of the best brown iron ore known in the South. It was one of the first fields ever developed and for a century has yielded rich ores for the finest work. During pioneer days the iron was made into farm utensils and household goods the humble "hoe," on which corn bread was cooked, and the frying pans which held the bacon or chickens and the case might be.

These furnaces were so far from the center of trade that they always had a struggle for existence and at the beginning of the War Between the States were not in operation. However, the Confederacy needed every resource, so the old property was rejuvenated.

New furnaces were built and a forge constructed about a mile away down the creek. The forge was not destroyed with the other property a few years later, by the Northern raiders, on account of its distance from the furnace.

Throughout the war this hidden forge was in active operation, making shot and shell that were used at Chancerllorsville and Gettysburg. The products of these works were hauled by mule teams to the Montevalio depot, that being the "port of entry."

The hearths have been cold and the forge silent now for more than half a century, but the remains of these furnaces are standing today, so well built that they will stand until some man blasts or tears them down. The Northern raiders, under Croxton who made their torches more terrible than their swords or guns found difficulty in destroying the stonework.

The men who operated the furnaces and forge, the solders who destroyed it, the producers and the devastators are both gone, and yet the daughter of one of the owners, Emma Wiley Hernandez, still lives to tell fellingly of the time when the Yankees came on April 28, 1865, to put her father out of business, so to speak.

Goethite is the name of the present opening of this ore deposit, while the old furnace ruins stand in the woods and one as to either be led there by a guide, or hunt to find them. These rich, brown ores, in combination with the red for certain grades of iron are used both by the Republic and Tennessee companies.

"After the war, we moved to Florida, and there I captured my husband," said Mrs. Hernandez, and as she spoke, her right hand dwelt lovingly on the wide gold band encircling her third finger.

"Father ran a turpentine orchard in Escambia county near Moline. His orchard was one of many in the neighborhood. I recall so well the first time I ever met my husband. One pleasant morning we were all sitting on the front porch when up came the handsomest man I ever saw, riding on a mule" here there was a hearty laugh "and we both "fell" for each other, as the present saying is.

"Mr. Hernandez was of the Spanish type; his grandfather being born in Madrid

(Note from David Randolph McCoy Actually, he was from the Canary Islands.)

had early come to settle in Florida. Mr. Hernandez operated a large turpentine orchard at the time we became acquainted.

"In about three years we were married, January 13, 1870, at the home of my cousin, near Selma. My father had returned to Alabama and was doing prosperous farming at Ludlow, near Brown's Station, in the prairies. I was married at my cousin's because although the prairie region of Alabama is splendid farm land at the time the roads were almost impassable during the winter months.

"After our marriage, we lived two and a half years in Pensacola, Fla. Then my health failed; the doctors said that the atmosphere was too salty for me."

"That's funny, now the doctors tell us to go to the coast to breathe salty air when we get sick," spoke the listener.

"Just another one of the changes, my dear," and the story continued.

When we knew that we must leave Florida, Mr. Hernandez came to Birmingham to see about locating and I went to visit my parents at Greensboro.

"Deciding that Birmingham was going to some day be greater than it then appeared, Mr. Hernandez and a Mr. Shepard opened a grocery store and were soon doing a splendid business.

"The business being well established, Mr. Hernandez came to bring the baby and me to live in Birmingham. When we reached here, June 30, 1873, that dreadful cholera had broken out." Here the speaker raised her hands in horror at the remembrance of the terrible scourge that ravished the young town of Birmingham.

According to a contemporary writer, conditions in Birmingham were ripe for the spread of cholera germs at the time of the epidemic.

"By the beginning of the summer season of 1873, the white planters of the valley of the Tennessee and of the prairie region, and their black laborers, had congregated in Birmingham to the number of 2,500. A handsome bank, a few two story brick business houses, and three or four hundred cheap wooden structures had been built, including often under the same roof, shops for merchandise storage and rooms for residences.

"Sewerage or even scavenger carts were unknown. The water received from wells was uncertain in supply and unfit in quality, and its supply became at once the paramount problem to be solved. The anticlinical formation of the territory in which the city was founded was proven to be unfavorable to a natural water supply adequate to the needs of even a small urban population. The wells would not hold water.

"Cholera prevailed in some parts of the United States at this date, and was imported to Birmingham. Many weeks of the summer of 1873, the second summer of the life of the city, witnessed the prevalence of this scourge. Hundreds of the more substantial part of the community moved away permanently, or for many months. Numerous deaths occurred. A beautiful devotion was displayed by those who remained, in this season of the trial. Even the outcasts and despised became good Samaritans."

But to continue the story of Mrs. Hernandez.

"As I have told in my Pioneer story we fled and fled again. When we left Mr. Shepherd, my husband's partner, refused to leave the store and I think that was about the only store that stayed open during the epidemic. He extended credit to everyone and when conditions were such that we could return to Birmingham we had no groceries or business either.

"Mr. Hernandez secured a house for us to live in right where the Philips High School is now located; we got water from Col. Terry's cistern next door. With a roof over our heads, he next set about making a living. He was very resourceful. He went all through Jefferson and Tuscaloosa counties buying fruit, strawberries, peaches, etc., which he shipped north by the carload. He also shipped tanbark, red oak bark, for tanning leather.

"My father, Major M. C. Wiley came to visit us and decided to move to Birmingham. He and my husband went into the grocery and furniture business. Their store was located at about Twentieth Street and Third Avenue, near where is now situated Cloe tower," she smiled.

"Father built a house for us on the corner of Twenty-Third Street and Firth Avenue, the house stands today. It was at that time spoken of as the prettiest place in Birmingham. I had beautiful flowers and vines an the children often stopped on their to school to ask 'for a bunch of flowers for my teacher.' I loved my first real home in Birmingham. Here my other three children were born, and I found that,

"Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got to be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got to be some babies born,
and then Right there we’ve got to bring 'em up t' women good, an' men.
Ye've got to love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home."

Mrs. Hernandez was born at Summerfield, nine miles from Selma, on April 5, 1845. She was educated at Centenary Institute, a school of the Methodist Church and the best in Alabama at that time. She was blessed with four children. Her son, Robert Hernandez, and daughter, Mrs. McKinney, are both residents of Birmingham; the other children died some years ago.

Throughout her whole life she has ever been eager to learn and has made the most of every opportunity. She is not one of the mothers who has been laid on the shelf, but she is ever up and doing. She is an active member of the Norwood Needlecraft Club and intensely interested in her church life.

Four years ago she took the role of "Hostess and Toastess" in "Aunt Jemimia's Quilting Party." This play was given in the Sunday school room of the church. So naturally did she interpret the part that the audience was carried away back to the old days.

Recently Mrs. Hernandez was awarded a Bible for being the oldest scholar in the Norwood Methodist Sunday School. She was also "framed" on Mother's Day, dressed in white, an open Bible on her lap, she sat during the service in a large gold frame on the platform.

No doubt the beautiful picture she made recalled vividly to mind hundreds of mothers and created in the hearts of many the desire to prove worthy of the mother, in the old home, or in the better home farther on.

"To keep young one must give largely of the best that is within," has been the motto of Mrs. Hernandez. She has found that one is rich only in the possession of the things which the soul enjoys. Her love for humanity and the joy of really knowing people has resulted in a resilient, optimistic, youthful spirit seldom seen in one so far past middle life.

Eight two years, the twillight of life!

Years that crown her with grace and beauty, representing motherhood in its sweetest and most appealing form. There is something in her quiet grace, a knowledge in her deep, unfaltering eyes, that far outreaches all philosophy. When she speaks the echoes of forgotten songs seem joined to lend sweetness to her voice.

Mother's Day! Countless thousands of Mothers! Mothers yound and " . . . Mothers with their white hair. And kindly eyes, and lips grown softly sweet. With murmured blessings over sleeping babes. The sovereignty of motherhood depends not upon fine raiment and costly jewels, but rather upon the sustaining virtue of sacrificial love.

A day for her! For you she gave. Long years of love and service brave: For you her youth was spent. There was no weight of hurt or care. Too heavy for her strength to bear.

Nowhere in this new world of today which bids woman cross the threshold of business, can she find a higher or more beautiful calling than the call of Christian motherhood. From no profession can she reap greater regards of virtue and truth and love. From no chosen career will she be able to better influence the destinies of mankind than from the pathway of divine motherhood.

Pioneer Mothers of Birmingham!

"Sweet mother! As they pass one sees again. Old garden walks, old roses and old loves."

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