The (Cullman) Alabama Tribune, 10 Mar 1892 >From Jones' Chapel. February 24, 1892. Editor Tribune: Permit me to give a few jotting from all 'round. On the above date I started to Bremen with a good horse, a good cart and two fine at or near the town. The young canines were for Mr. J.W. Johnson, who resides near the thrifty little village. To make the trip I had to pass Mr. Cale Yearwood's to get his fine dog, Shep. Found Cale all right, plowing and Shep keeping the birds and rabbits straight. Cale has a splendid farm, and from the top of a hill I could take in the whole situation. Cale is a jolly, good fellow and sometimes I think he is as good as a preacher, and gives better advice. I found his horse standing on his hind feet, with his two fore feet high in the air. This made Cale say something bad, and say it loud. After passing the usual compliments, he agreed to let me have the dog, and being good friends, he was soon in the cart and we were on the road to Bremen. About this time I heard a noise like unto a cyclone coming down the hill, but which proved to be Mr. Bill Yearwood with a herd of young cattle. It reminded me of a regular Texas stampede, only this time the man was in front. After a short talk, in which Bill had the floor, we moved in the direction of Bremen. Bill's residence was but a short distance ahead, and on arriving there, he stopped and invited us to top and take dinner with him, and help rock Maggie's baby. I declined his proffered hospitality, but wished I had accepted before I arrived at my destination. After passing Tom Calvert's and traveling down a stream, I call a little hustler, I arrived at Ryan's Creek. It seemed to me that all the roads fork in or near the creek. There was one sign-board up, which said this road leads to Arkadelphia, then I turned for the other road, but no index to tell me where it lead to. On attempting to cross the creek I got into deep water, which wet me and my canines, but got out on the same side I started in. I thought, Lord, what a rich land, where nothing but hickory grow, and none but Christians can live in. After hunting around I spied the new bridge, and great spoons, how good I felt. In a short time I was at the bridge, and splendid structure it is. If the hill beyond could be razed a little all would be right. I expect to go to Bremen often, I like the place and the people. But hereafter I will go by Trimble's, or some other route that I like better than the one I went. After crossing the creek, I cam in sight of the home of Mr. Joe. Johnson. A beautiful location, and five miles from Bremen. Arriving in Bremen, I found the people all busy-some milling, some trading and others pitching horse shoes. After taking a rest and feeding my pony, I turned my course in the direction of Uncle Johnnie Hancock's near Trimble. I found the road from Trimble for about two miles overflowed with water and very rocky. After passing through I thought I had found a catamount or some other precious animal, but it turned out an old hen that had built a next high up under a rocky cliff. I arrived at Uncle Johnnie's, found him fishing for suckers in the stream nearby, and after trying my own luck we went to the house and after taking a little hunt we again returned to the house to find supper ready, and after doing justice to Uncle Johnnie's fish, we drew our chairs near the fire to talk of Georgia-Georgia men. After, as we conceived, doing justice to the goober State, her men and her women, it was far into the night, and we retired to sleep and dream of hills, valleys, dogs and quails of Alabama. Her noble men, beautiful women and fertile lands, etc. We are not at home, sitting under our own vine and fig tree, "where none dare molest, or make us afraid." Much more could be said of the incidents of our trip, but it would make this communication too long. Yours truly, J.J. Bowdon.

The (Cullman) Alabama Tribune, 18 Jul 1895 Obituary. Another pioneer gone, another good man crossed over the river, after a short illness. Uncle Billy Rackley passed away quietly at his humble home on the morning of the 5th inst. There were but few persons present at the time of his death, but those present say that he simply appread to go to sleep. Uncle Billy was born December 19th, 1803, if I mistake not in the State of Tennessee and came to Alabama in boyhood. While a young man he married Miss Smith of Morgan county, and settled down for life in this part of the country. [William H. Rackley married Nancy Smith 1 Sep 1825, Morgan County, Book A, page 82] He was one of the men who helped to cut out the first public road through this county, known as the Stansold stage road leading from Huntsville to Tuscaloosa. At that time very few people were living in all this section of country, but wild animals of every kind roamed the forests at will, and Indian tracks were fresh everywhere, a pioneer indeed was he. Uncle Billy was like and respected by all who knew him, for his noble traits of character as a citizen, and for his deep piety; he having spend 73 of the 92 years that he lived in the Methodist church which he was a consistent member at the time of his death. His remains were laid to rest by the side of his wife in Mt. Zion cemetery, witnessed by a number of friends and relatives. The funeral services were conducted by Rev. Alvie Basham assisted by myself. May his many friends and relatives be as well prepared for the journey that awaits us all as he was is my earnest prayer. J.C. McGlathery. [At the time of his death, Rackley was said to be the oldest man in Cullman County. No monument was located in Mt. Zion Cemetery for Billy Rackley]