The presentation of the name of Colonel Powell suggests a turning point in the history of the state. A new era had dawned of which Colonel Powell was an exponent. The long agitation with which the country was rocked for decades, had culminated in bloody conflict which was waged to exhaustion. The turbulence of rehabilitation represented in the struggles of reconstruction had followed, and now the eyes of the people were once more turned to the ways of peace and re-established prosperity. Resources practically immeasurable were untouched in the soils and mountains of a great state, and public thought began to peer into the future with a longing for tranquil prosperity. A class of men represented by the subject of this sketch was in demand, and, as is always true, when the demand exists for men they are to be found. Thus appeared this pioneer at the threshold of a new era.

A native of Brunswick County, Virginia, Mr. Powell, while yet a beardless youth, had ridden the distance from Virginia to Alabama on horseback. This was before Alabama had emerged into statehood. On his faithful horse he reached the straggling village of Montgomery with less than twenty dollars in his pockets. Entering on life in the new region to which he had come, as a mail contractor, he gradually rose to the direction of a line of stage coaches for the transportation of mail and passengers, and with a widening horizon of business tact and comprehensiveness of enterprise for which he was remarkable, he adjusted his stage coach enterprise to a chain of hotels, the most noted of which were located at Montgomery, Lowndesboro and Wetumpka. These interests flourished as the people continued to pour into the new state. As the forests were transmuted into smiling fields, villages, and towns began to emerge into populous centers, and institutions began to flourish. While Powell was instrumental in making new conditions, the conditions were making Powell. A man grows by the means which he creates. While he makes a fortune the fortune makes him. Gifted with an enterprising and constructive mind, Mr. Powell was gradually coming to that stage for which his life was fitting him. The combination of conditions which followed in the wake of the turbulence of years, was one which would arrest the enterprising eye of a man of executive skill, and breadth of vision, which James R. Powell had. Two unfinished lines of railway penetrated the state, in part, one reaching from the Gulf northward, but checked by mountain barriers, the other stretching from the fertile West southward, but halting before the mountains, beyond which was the line with which it was destined to be linked in the creation of one of the greatest arteries of commerce in the South. Between the two, lay a wide barrier of mountain region, in which were embosomed untouched treasures which were destined in their development to excite the interest of the world.

With these resources was associated in the fertile brain of James R. Powell, the picture of a mineral metropolis in the mountains of north Alabama, and in a region where men least dreamed of such a possible creation. He had engineered primitive mail routes, first on horseback, and later by the rumbling coach, and widening the expansion of interest and effort by the establishment of timely hostelries, but here he was destined to crown his unusual career as the builder of a mighty city. Hence, Birmingham.

In the rush and rattle of a great mart, such as Birmingham has become, those of a later generation, who throng its streets of architectural magnificence, and gaze on its piles of splendor, are apt to forget those who laid the foundation stones of the great municipality, and made possible a mighty urban center, destined to eclipse all others of the South in compass and in the number of its people. Men are apt to tread with careless feet over the unmarked graves of the harbingers of that bequeathed to a later generation, forgetful of the brain which contrived and the hand which executed.

It is not the phrase of empty eulogium to speak of James R. Powell as one of the greatest of Alabamians. Unlettered in the schools, he followed the unerring finger of a transparent judgment, and unawed by formidableness of difficulty or vastness of scheme, he planned and wrought, both wisely, and, propelled by a pluck born of the enthusiasm of patience, he succeeded. The career of a man like this in a generation, or even in a century, is a vital inspiration, and far worthier of record more elaborate, than a brief and humble sketch like this.

Incidents in his career illustrative of his native and inherent greatness, are worthy of at least a casual notice not only, but of permanent embalmment in the memories of those who reaped where he sowed. Men like the subject of the present sketch are apt to be thought of as sordid and selfish, while with intensity of spirit and strenuousness of brow, they drive impetuously over obstruction, forgetful of the gentler amenities of life. Oftener, however, than is supposed, there is beneath the intense exterior, hearts of corresponding compass with the sweep of executive activity. There were many instances of gentle and substantial worth woven into the career of Colonel Powell, only one of which is here given.

The record of the severity of the winter of 1863 is phenomenal in meteorological chronicles. The lakes and ponds were covered with a thick stratum of ice. An object of wonder to many, the phenomenon addressed itself to the practical side of the mind of Colonel Powell, who cut large quantities of the ice and carefully stored it away. The manufacture of ice was then practically unknown as a commodity for market, and it was in great demand in the hospitals of the Confederacy. He declined an offer of forty thousand dollars for his store of ice, and presented it to the Confederate army hospital department, for use in Alabama and Georgia. Many acts of generous spirit were his, but they belong to the chronicles of unwritten history.

In 1871, James R. Powell, at the head of the famous Elyton Land Company, was scouring the territory of Jefferson County with the plan in view of founding here a large city, the logical result of the immense resources embedded in the hills and mountains of this favored region. The Louisville & Nashville Railroad had supplied the missing link between the North and South, and Colonel Powell was among the first to see the possibility of a great city in this region. While the local and adjacent resources were then only imperfectly known, they were sufficiently known to justify the colossal proposal of a mighty emporium. The task was herculean, but the projector was a man of wide experience in grappling with odds, and in subordinating to the mastery of his will the disputing difficulties. Small minds quarrel and quibble over points of inconsequence, while giants stride over them with serene non-recognition.

Without tiring, Colonel Powell gave the world accounts of the fabulous resources of the district of the prospective city. The facts first published throughout the United States and Europe, were first regarded as speculative rose-water, but they in truth represented only a stiver of that which subsequently came to be known.

Birmingham was first a straggling, struggling village, penetrated here and there at irregular distances, by rugged highways, the terror of the driver in a rainy season. Diminutive houses dotted the scene over, without respect to order or system. One small brick structure stood where now stands the Brown-Marx Building, then the most substantial expression of confidence yet given. Highways of deep red clay ran past the building on either side, and among the shanties and small houses was an occasional dingy tent.

Under such conditions, Colonel Powell, with his usual daring, ventured to invite the session of the Alabama Press Association to hold its session in “the city of Birmingham,” in 1873. He succeeded, but, not content with this, he appeared before the body and again pleaded that the following session be held here also. He encountered stout opposition for two reasons, namely, Birmingham was a most uninviting place, without accommodation, and other places of the state wanted the next session. But, combining diplomacy with suavity, Powell prevailed a second time. Having succeeded in this, he urged that the New York Press Association, which would be meeting at the same time, be invited to join their brethren of the quill in Alabama. Such temerity staggered the body. Besides the ragged and rugged conditions existing, the New York press was hostile to that of the South, because of its opposition to President Grant in his southern policy. Insuperable seemed the barriers in the way of such an accomplishment as Colonel Powell sought, but he overbore all obstruction, and succeeded.

The result of such movement, coupled with the geological investigations going steadily on meanwhile, made Birmingham secure. The voice of the northern press resounded throughout all the states, and went beyond the Atlantic. Honorable Abram S. Hewitt, of New York, sounded the prophetic expression: “The fact is plain—Alabama is to become the iron manufacturing center of the habitable globe.” A wave of awakening light spread throughout the financial world, and Birmingham was secure.

But a new disaster arose. A scourge of Asiatic cholera smote the young city now struggling to the birth. The dead were numerous, and a funeral pall hung over the town. Colonel Powell remained with Roman courage on the ground, caring for the suffering, burying the dead, and preserving order. Pestilence stalked along the rugged streets and wasted at noonday, but the faith of this man of iron nerve was unshaken. His courage stiffened that of others—his faith was contagious. No wonder that he came to be called “The Duke of Birmingham.” No special shaft marks the recognition of this mighty builder of a great city, but the city attests his power. In the dim light in St. Paul’s, in London, the tourist reads a tablet, “Christopher Wren, builder. Would you seek his monument? Look around.” Not otherwise is the relation of Greater Birmingham to James R. Powell. Its towering turrets and lofty buildings, its residence palaces and shaded streets, its smoking stacks and hives of mineral mines, and its numerous railway lines with their cargoes of daily traffic—these are his monument.

That one so great and noble should come to a death so novel and untimely is a mystery. He fell a victim to a pistol fired by a beardless youth in a Mississippi tavern, in 1883. For all the future his monument will stand, Alabama’s greatest city.