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05/08/08 17:06:56 CDT I graduated from Ramsay in 1974. My time at Ramsay was unique for me as I look back on it. Very multi-cultural which prepared me for my future. I have many friends here and in other parts of the world. I would love to hear from anyone that went to Ramsay from "70" to "75". My best friends were Greg Davis and Brian Earwood. My favorite teachers were Mr. Dixon (English) , Mrs. Gary (Spanish). Is there anyone out there that remembers me?? I am in the yearbook on page 100. I visit Birmingham occassionally to see my sister and her family. I always go to Ramsay and think back on those "youthful" years. John Webster class of "74" John Webster <john@johnwebsteronline.com> , 1974; Azle, Tx
02/29/08 01:10:29 CST It's been months since I checked this site. So, tonight I have discovered the death of another '66 classmate and the painful memories of a fellow Ram whose lengthy entry precedes this one. So, what am I feeling and thinking? I feel lucky to be alive. Glad that a war or a disease or my own stupidity hasn't killed me. I'm thinking how ironic it is that the same Birmingham High School that was hellish for Leonard, as well as the first black students that arrived in 1963, was a blessed escape for me from the prejudice I had felt in SC before moving to Birmingham. Later, in Atlanta, during the same summer of '68 when Leonard first sweated out Ramsay's iniquities, I found myself at the end of a gun being pointed at me by a fellow Square D Manufacturing plant co-worker who just happened to put KKK hatred above company comraderie. I was a part-time, summer job, college student, Jew (sure I was raised in Protestant Churches, but who needs to look past "Goldblatt" when it's so easy to just stop there and hate), with an "I HAVE A DREAM" license plate on the front bumper of my car. And, I had the audacity to take the only college educated man in the assembly plant to lunch with me. Of course, he was a black man. He and I could talk about economics or the sad state of affairs in Detroit and Los Angeles, whereas my other colleagues spent their days debating Petty/Allison/Pearson or Plymouth/Ford/Chevy. So, we all have our swell times and hell times. We have the power to magnify or diminish the suffering of those around us. Since we are the blessed who have survivied, we have an ability and a responsibility. Let's encourage folks like Leonard to speak as honestly and openly as he has. We who were there know the wrongs that were committed. Whether we were victims, witnesses or perpetrators, all of our souls were damaged. We can not heal the masses, but we can probably heal a few hearts in the time we have left. Let's start with our own and reach out to one or two more. Not for Jesus, God, Allah, etc. Do it because you are human and human is so close to humane. Love to all. Joe Goldblatt <joe@goldblattgroup.com> , 1966; ROCKLEDGE, FL
01/14/08 06:42:29 CST Since graduating from Ramsay in 1971, I have lived in Jerusalem, Belgium, Washington DC, and now Naples, Italy. I have written scores of articles for the Washington Post and other publications. After pouring over this page and reading the sentiments and recollections of former Ramsay students, I painfully decided to add a different perspective by sharing the experiences of a 12-year old black boy from Birmingham’s north side. I will be forever grateful for the kindness of non-blacks, such as Mr. Farmer, Ms. Galloway, Mary Isis, Ramsay’s Jewish students, Mr. Tommy Yearout, Mike Halbrook, Jimmy Bearden, Rita Brown and a few others whose names escape me at this time. As for the motivation behind the vast majority of Ramsay’s white faculty and student body who spewed such venom and hatred toward people they did not know or desire to know...you decide. ----------- The much heralded stream of freedom, Martin Luther King enjoyed briefly, had been flowing through the black communities for a couple of years. The Civil Rights Bill signed by President Johnson, initially changed very little in Birmingham. White flight from the city’s neighborhoods to the outer suburbs was in full swing. Private Christian academies were springing up all over the state like lily white dandelions. On paper, equality abounded, but everyone knew who was still in control. It was the last days of my years at Carrie A. Tuggle Elementary School. My homeroom teacher, Ms. Brown also taught the girls home economics. On that morning in early May, she passed out the “freedom of choice” forms, which were part of a desegregation federal court order. The forms allowed black children to attend any high school in the county of their choice. Before putting the pen to the document, Ms. Brown asked each of us to stand and tell the class which school we would attend in the fall. With backs stiffened and heads proudly raised, most of the kids stood and proudly recited “Parker High School.” Parker High School was and still is part of a long tradition in educational excellence in the north Birmingham’s black community. My mother and father attended Parker and I was expected to follow. When my turn came to tell what school I was going to attend, I decided to score points with the class and make a big joke out of the process. That was a costly mistake that would haunt me for years and set my life on a different course. Ms. Brown called upon me and I rocketed up from my chair and proudly stated, “Ramsay High School.” Ramsay was the pride of the white community, which towered on the city’s southern-most border. It would take two buses for me to travel the eight miles across town. Parker was a good walking distance. The class was spellbound in silence. A scowl grew over Mrs. Brown stern face. A quick clarification of my choice was soon followed by those words that would change my life forever. “Leonard Lanier Cooper, you are too STUPID to attend a school like Ramsay High.” I would love to say what followed was sheer determination on my part to prove a faithless teacher wrong. My desire was not that noble. My eighth grade classmates erupted in uproarious laughter. My fate was sealed. I would be attending Ramsay only to save face with my friends. I told my brothers what happened and word got back to Ms. Brown that we called her stupid. In a rare visit to my grade school more that 20 years later, I saw Ms. Brown and made and attempt to exchange pleasantries. “You and your brothers said I was stupid,” she uttered and scurried away. --------------------- My Formal Introduction to Ramsay and Birmingham’s White Community----------- I persuaded a neighborhood friend named McCurtis Kelley to attend Ramsay with me. It was an easy sale; he had heard about the unabating violence at Parker High and feared for his life. McCurtis’ concerns were not without merit. When Parker High played any of the surrounding black high schools, you could bet on a shooting or stabbing to follow, regardless of the victors of the game. My brother also transferred from Parker to Ramsay at the beginning of his senior year. McCurtis, better know as “Stu Meat,” and I decided to attend the summer sports program. Daddy-Yo, my grandfather, temporarily suspended my farm duties, except for the weekends or when he decided whatever I was involved in across town, could no way be as important as my field responsibilities. Stu Meat and I took the number 18 Fountain Heights and transferred to the number 12 Highland Avenue buses to get to the south side. We were not fearful of our safety. The first person we encounter was an olive-toned girl who showed us both kindness and was unusually accommodating. She assuaged our concerns. Many from my neighborhood predicted once we set foot on this hallow white school ground, we would be skinned alive. It was later revealed that the female student was second generation Lebanese. Mary Isis was her name. She appeared to be genuinely glad to meet us as she vigorously shook our hands and offered assistance. She directed us to the men’s locker room located in the athletic department at the opposite side of the school. We thanked her as we left and made our way around the side of the building to a flight of green wooden steps that led to the locker room. We entered through the heavy wooden doors. To the right was what I later found to be the varsity lockers. To the left were the coaches’ offices. Half way down the isle was a huge washer and dryer, surrounded by more wooden framed wire mesh lockers. Stu and I forge onward; my eyes scanned the surrounding in hopes of finding one friendly face. There were none to be found. Stu was oblivious. I was aware that each step brought us closer and deeper into the bowels of pure unadulterated hatred. At the end of the walk, near the showers entrances stood a lone student. Before we could get halfway down the hall, several of the players grabbed Stu Meat and forced soiled jock straps over his head, covering his face. I turned to help him when this little runt; they called Fikes, stepped out and hit me in the gut as hard as he could. He was as tall as he was wide and appeared to be as hard as stone. I would not let on just how much the punch hurt. It felt like my rib caged had caved in. Head coach “Mutt” Reynolds was hesitant to stop the fight, sneering from behind his wire-framed glasses and a half-hidden grin. As a matter of fact, he and the other coaches found it amusing. There were too many of them for Stu Meat and me to do any real damage. I just covered my head and face as my forearm and elbows deflected the assailant’s strikes. It wasn’t much of a fight. I suppose they were making a statement and marking their territory. They probably could have hurt me badly if given a little more time. That would be deferred to a later time and place. Finally, one of the coaches blew the whistle, calling off the dogs. The coaches didn’t bother introducing themselves. They ordered one of the players to show us our lockers back in the corner. Stu Meat and I wore our gym shorts and top under our regular clothes. It would have been foolish to get undressed in such a hostile environment. It was still fresh on my mind that a white man had drowned my cousin that was my age only two years prior, for straying to the “white only” section of a lake in Bessemer, Alabama. He was questioned and released at the scene. Alabama belonged to whites. Always has and always will. For much of the morning during the Ramsay Summer Athletic program, we engaged in touch football, basketball and lunch. It appeared Stu Meat and I were the only two blacks at Ramsay. In fairness, there were a couple of whites boys that didn’t seem to mind us being there, which was rarity. I was always suspicious, but Stu Meat was all too trusting. The day of hard play was just about done. The white students and coaches were free to call us niggers or whatever vile racist label they saw fit. The faculty often referred to us nigras and to many of the students, we were still niggers. White students and faculty rarely addressed us by our last name and certainly would not refer to us by a nickname. After they were accustomed to seeing us there month after month, they would only address us by our family names. Perhaps addressing us any other way was viewed as endearing. To them we were animals, primitive and to be treated as such and not to be afforded a modicum of respect. When time came to leave the summer program for the day, I was content with dressing without having a shower. The whites had been taunting us all morning about how bad nigras smelled. I didn’t care about the sweat grime, I just wanted to leave. Stu Meat insisted we prove them wrong and take a shower. I surrendered my better judgment to his unyielding persistence. We removed our blue gym shorts, white t-shirts and sneakers. We didn’t have towels, but Stu Meat didn’t mind that. My eyes swept the surroundings; I was guarded, always guarded and prepared. I was well acquainted with the hatred and treachery whites were capable of at any age. Their churches and schools were breeding grounds that fomented such wickedness. We walked passed the row of open commodes near the entrance. As we entered the showers, I once again reminded Stu Meat by whispering in his ear, this was a bad idea. Several of the white boys were already soaped from head to toe. One directed us to the nigra side of the showers. Activity halted and all eyes paced our every move. Something was unmistakable wrong. I whispered to Stu Meat, “let’s just leave…now!” He laughed and began pumping the soap from the dispenser, splashing it all over himself. I noticed the color of the soap in our dispenser was different from the pink soap in theirs. “No!” I screamed as I grabbed Stu Meats hand to stop him from covering the rest of his body with the urine they had filled in the dispensers. Stu Meat laughed and continued, even trying to put some on me. I forcefully grabbed Stu Meat and wrestled him out of the shower. He refused to believe that anyone would do such a thing. We reported it to coaches Wheeler, Short and Reynolds, who found such mean-spirited antics humorous. I thought Stu Meat was extremely naive. I had known him from the cradle and his mother and my mother were best friends in High School until his mother moved to California. The first hours of High School provided a preview of the storm that was brewing on the horizon; four years of pure unadulterated hell. I searched desperately for a reason not to conclude that all whites are awful people and void of compassion, at least the ones in Ramsay and Alabama I encountered daily. Parents, teachers, civil leaders alike extolled in my soul the virtues of being black and taught me that I was as good as any white person in Alabama and deserved to be treated with dignity. I heard and understood the words, but convincing me of the validity of such preachments was another story. Mike Holbrook, Ruth Nesselroth, Alan Goldstein, Sherry Huffstedler and Mary Isis to name a few, are students who made high school a memorable experience in spite of the attitudes of the majority population. The morning after Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed, some teachers were giddy and many of the white student’s glee were not to be contained. One student remarked, “we got ya’ll boy last night.” For us, it was a day of immeasurable darkness and sadness, for them it was a day of joyful celebration. It was unmistakable; they hated us and did what ever they could to make our time there as difficult as possible. One afternoon some friends and I were at the school playing basketball on the asphalt. Three or four white students asked to challenge us to a game. “Blacks against White,” he stated and we agreed. When the game ended, one of the white guys said, “ya’ll won the game, but you going to lose the fight. I remarked, “fight over a silly basketball game?” My friends high tailed it out of there. I remained amazed that anyone would consider fighting over a game. The white students surrounding me, not hearing a single utterance of reason. The next thing I knew, I was hanging on the chained-linked fence by the flesh on my back. The prongs on the fence ripped a two-inch tear below my left shoulder blade. Another white student passing by helped me down and assisted me to the coach’s office. Mutt Reynold’s, the head coach, then covered the wound with a large stretch adhesive bandage and instructed me not to mention this to my parents. I followed his request. Nearly a week later, while dressing, my mother saw the large bandage and ordered me to stand still so she could remove it. She quickly replaced the bandage and rushed me off to the doctor’s office. The doctor told her the healing had already started and it would be best to let the injury heal on it’s on. He said the scar would be rather unattractive and scolded her for not seeking treatment for such a deep tear. The scar remains to this day. Dear didn’t bother to offer an explanation. My parents seemed proud that I was playing freshman football for the Ramsay team. There were nearly 90 black students at the school of a student body that consisted of a thousand. I never got close to any of the white students, but the black population was like a second family. When the coaches handed out uniforms, I was issued cleats that were 4 sizes too big. The toe curled up at the end. The coach found an old used off-white teeth guard atop one of the lockers and ordered me to use it. I did. Eventually Stu Meat quit the summer athletic program. His leaving was not attributed to the racist antics on the coach’s staff or the football team, but rather the daily rigorous exercise regiment that was mandatory. At night, he suffered nearly unbearable leg cramps. After a couple of weeks, I was making the trek alone. On one of the slow days, Coach Smith, one of the assistants asked me to watch his seven-year-old son while he attended to other matters. We sat near the base of the stone wall, adjacent to the football field. Walking down the street were several young black men. “There goes a bunch of niggers,” the coaches’ son uttered. I grabbed him firmly by the arm and angrily asked, “What do you think I am?” Just as he innocently muttered that vile renunciation, he softly replied, “You’re not a nigger, but those are.” A thousand questions stormed my thoughts, but none found the path to my lips. I am ashamed to say that I found solace in knowing that this young soul separated me from other blacks. I was and remain to this day a damaged black man. In my senior year of high school I was suspended for three days for making the black power clinched fist sign. I was probably one of the least radical students in school. My best friend from childhood, Juan Johnson, who became a prominent physician in Birmingham, believed that not only would black students continue to suffer great hardships and the hands of angry whites and a non-caring faculty, but blacks in predominantly white school stood a greater probability of receiving an inferior education. He believed that the white teachers, for the most part, weren’t concerned with instilling academic excellence in the black student population. Aside from the taunts and near fights during my four years of high school, I believe the greatest disservice done to me and many other minority students was when the academic advisors denied us the right or opportunity to take classes that were more challenging. Such classes would have prepared us or at least made us competitive for college. During career week for seniors, the guidance counselor discouraged many black students from applying to major universities, but rather steered them toward black colleges and the armed services. When time came for me to consider a college, my choices were rather limited. I was not a superior student in High School, except for one marking period in my senior year. For some inexplicable reason, Ms. Galloway was of the mind that I could compete academically if given the opportunity. She fought for me to enroll in her advanced biology class in which the boys’ adviser vehemently opposed. That was one of the few times I did exceedingly well in a high school course. After graduation, I spent the next two years at the local junior college taking remedial courses and beefing up my sagging transcript. Nearly 37 years have passed since graduation and 37 years since I set foot on Ramsay High School property. At Ramsay, there is nothing for me. I suppose the white students will still have isolated reunions, inviting a scant number of blacks they deem acceptable. On a flight from Birmingham to Louisville, KY in 1977, Bubba Wingo and I made our peace. I often wonder if Ghazzie Shannarah (Class of”70”)ever got his question answered, “who will be the first nigger on Ramsay’s varsity football team?” I wonder what Ramsay’s white parents taught their children regarding respecting people who are different from you. Such questions who probably be followed by a deafening silence. My mother severely reprimanded me for speaking ill of whites as well as blacks. If only she knew the hell her youngest son was catching on the city's southern border. Leonard L. Cooper <writer@lencooper.eu> , 1971; Naples, Italy,
01/01/08 09:42:05 CST Chris McNair, Your name sounds familiar and I thought I remembered you until I saw you graduated in 1985. I graduated in 1980 so I don't think we would have had any classes together. God Bless you and protect you as you fight for my freedom! Do you remember Ms. Yarbrough? Has anyone heard from Paul Chisolm? I haven't talked to him since before 9/11 and I know he was, at one time, living in NYC. Regina Isaacks <mrh_1980@yahoo.com> , 1980; Andalusia, Al
12/04/07 20:58:14 CST I'm glad to see some early 80's classmates like Devo and Lisa Threadgill stopped by. For some reason, I only post here when I'm deployed with the Army Reserve. I'm currently at Ft. Dix, NJ, preparing to go back to Iraq. This time I'm headed to Camp Anaconda at Balad Air Base. Chris McNair <cptmcnair@gmail.com> , 1985; Argo, AL
11/06/07 15:08:40 CST I'm looking for all classmates from 70 to 74.If anyone has information or are one of these people please contact me. Garry Denson <godschil@msn.com> , 1974; palmdale, ca.
10/30/07 23:14:22 CDT I meant to say my name is Diane Lawrence Hartman. Hello to the graduate from Lakeview from 1948...I came along about ten years later, but Mr. Gardner ("skinny") was still principle. I never got sent to him, but he seemed very stern. I bet Miss Liles made you memorize Octobers Bright blue Weather the way we did and something about daffodils and the dewey decimal system that nobody uses anymore. Our writing teacher was the young and lovely Penelope Cunningham. She was so sweet, probably the nicest teacher we had, but her top-heavy assets got all the boy's attention and I'm sure that was frustrating for her. Do you remember Miss Bass, the art teacher? Miss Floyd, also stern, taught P.E., would have the boys out there learning games like baseball, and often we would play dodge ball or jumprope. Way before Title 9.Was Miss Koon there? Very impressive. I think I feel sorry for all of them; we didn't listen very well or try very hard. I wouldn't teach grammar school for anything. But fun to remember! Diane Lawrence Hartman <dilawhart@comcast.net> , 1961; Denver, CO
10/28/07 10:35:37 CDT I remember Pat Neal -- she must be shading a few years off because I know she was ahead of me at Ramsay. She did transfer in and when it came time to fill out the paragraph that would go by her senior picture, she put all kinds of things, knowing nobody could challenge it (and maybe it was true...). But she said she wanted a lot of stuff there, "because I'm going to be famous." I didn't know her well, but remember she hung around with Judy Spears (Shades Valley) and I think Francislee Martin. The next time I saw her was at the National Women's Conference in Houston in 1978 -- I introduced myself, but she didn't remember me. I think she's an amazing writer -- the two books I've read by her were right on about the South and brought back so many memories. She's an amazingly talented woman and I wish I'd known her better. Diane Hartman <dilawhart@comcast.net> , 1961; Denver, CO
10/11/07 21:32:22 CDT Just checking in.....still kicking ! Mike McClellan <woolyhead@bellsouth.net> , 1966; Mendenhall, Ms.
09/17/07 14:18:05 CDT I went to Ramsay from 1946 thru 1949, when I transferred to Marion Military Institute in Marion, Al. Prior to Ramsay, I was enrolled in Lakeview Grammar School, Birmingham, graduating in 1946. My mother taught a special class there in about 1945, Mrs. McGinley. Mrs. Liles was library teacher, Mrs. Graves penmanship, Mrs. Floyd PE, and Mr. Gardner was principal. Joe McGinley <jwmcginley@bellsouth.net> , 1950; Gainesville, Fl
06/27/07 14:37:39 CDT Just connected with my old buddy Steve Davis thanks to this site. Does anyone know how to contact Jimmy Massey, class of 1959? The last I heard he was in Memphis but when there I couldn't find him. (Sign of success?) Any help would be appreciated. Daivd Hutto <jdhutto@att.net> , 1959; Birmingham, AL
06/26/07 16:08:50 CDT Just found the site . If I have any friends from that era (I doubt it) please send me an e-mail. Brings back a lot of memories. David Hutto David Hutto <jdhutto@att.net> , 1959; Birmingham, AL
06/09/07 11:13:48 CDT I visited the web site today for the first time. Thank you David for the email. Every time I come to Birmingham, I try to go up to the school for a little reminscing. When I found the site today, I felt like I got to come home for a few minutes. Mark Lee <mark123lee@bellsouth.net> , 1976; Atlanta, Ga
06/09/07 10:40:00 CDT I received notice of this site via e-mail today. Thanks, David for putting this together. I will visit it often in the future. Dick Stanford, Frank Kanelos, and I (class of 66) attended Wesley's memorial service. It was an uplifting gathering and made me consider how very important it is that we all make a special effort to improve our communication. I would love to hear from any former Rams classmates who would like to e-mail me. I am still in Birmingham and in my 33rd year with the Birmingham City School System. By the way, I read in the news the other day that Jack Sharp (former Ramsay band director)is getting ready to retire from his seat with the Alabama Symphony Orchestra. Does anyone remember the Jack Sharp Fan Club initiated by Kenny McDaniel? Oh the joy of those hallowed halls ... etched in my memory for eternity. Go RAMS! Freddie Braswell <hjf1128@bellsouth.net> , 1966; Birmikngham, AL
06/06/07 17:23:36 CDT Does anyone know whatever happened to Phyllis Cleveland, Diane Ward, David Hutto, or Melinda Knisely? steve davis <reno696@mindspring.com> , 1959; birmingham, alabama
05/02/07 11:09:07 CDT I had a reply from another RHS grad in answer to my query in April '07. He states that Patricia "Pat" Neal ("Fanny Flagg") actually did graduate from Ramsay, but in 1959, rather than in the sixties, which would explain my not remembering her being in school in my four years there. He stated that he believed she transferred to RHS from another school. Dawn Lindsey Gibson <dgibson@vhumc.org> , 1963; Homewood, AL
05/02/07 11:06:39 CDT I had a reply from another RHS grad in answer to my query in April '07. He states that Patricia "Pat" Neal ("Fanny Flagg")actually did graduate from Ramsay, but in 1959, rather than in the sixties, which would explain my not remembering her being in school in my tenure there. He stated that he believed she transferred there. Dawn Lindsey Gibson <dgibson@vhumc.org> , 1963; Homewood, AL
04/11/07 16:17:17 CDT Patricia Ann Breed (Patsy Breed) Howell passed away on April 5, 2007 in Birmingham. Her obituary was in Easter Sunday's (4/8/07)edition of The Birmingham News. I'm pretty sure that Patsy was in the January 1963 graduating class, but it could have been the May before that (1962). Dawn Lindsey Gibson <dgibson@vhumc.org> , 1963; Birmingham, AL
04/10/07 13:11:32 CDT I saw in today's edition of The Birmingham News that Fannie Flagg was a Ramsay High grad. She won the competition for the most-liked Alabama celebrity, beating out the stiff competition of the likes of Hank Williams, Harper Lee and a huge host of other famous Alabama folks. Her date of birth was given as 1944, which I think is erroneous--I think I remember her being older, but I don't remember her attending Ramsay. I know that Louise Fletcher, a Ramsay grad, won an academy award for One Flew Over the Coocoo's Nest. I think Patricia Neal, Fannie's birth name, actually went to John Carroll. Any ideas? Dawn Lindsey Gibson <dgibson@vhumc.org> , 1963; Birmingham, AL
04/06/07 19:50:32 CDT I WENT TO GLEN IRIS 1947 AND 1948. TRYING TO GET INFO ABOUT RICHARD LACKMAN AND HIS SISTER SALLY, THANKS IN ADVANCE...RICHARD TIMMONS (BUTCH) LOVED BOPPIN IN THE HANG OUT. BUTCH TIMMONS <TBUTCH@HOUSTON.RR.COM> , 59; HOUSTON, TX
03/14/07 15:07:24 CDT I just ran across this site looking for an update on the Ramsay women's basketball team state finals result. The ladies won again, GO RAMS! It's nice to see former classmates keeping in touch and to Chris McNair, there are some of us from the early 80's on this site! Devron Veasley <consult1d@yahoo.com> , 1984; Birmingham, Al
02/17/07 16:05:34 CST This is meant for humor and humor only...PLEASE, before anyone else from the c/o '86 decides to die, contact me beforehand so that I may talk you out of it? allen moore <al.39@hotmail.com> , 1986; McCalla, AL
02/16/07 13:51:35 CST Thanks to everyone who made the 20-year reunion of the class of '86 a very memorable and meaningful event!! Take care and keep in touch. Allen Moore Allen Moore <al.39@hotmail.com> , 1986; McCalla, AL
01/14/07 16:44:47 CST Looking for Joe Young, class of 1959. webmaster <webmaster@ramsayreunion.com> , 1965; Pinson, AL
01/12/07 22:56:57 CST Ramsayreunion.com is priceless! Thank you David Meadows for your willingness and diligence in maintaining the site. It played an integral role in the success of our 20th yr Class Reunion,June 2006. Please keep it going and thanks again! Daphnie Daphnie E. Brown <jeromeysmom@yahoo.com> , 1986; Atlanta, GA
12/28/06 00:21:11 CST I saw this article today in the AJC sports page, it made me very proud to be a Ramsay alumni. WE ARE RAMSAY Bridging races, alumni reconnect with school: [Here is the link to the article.] Rosalie Nesselroth Agrow <Agrowb@aol.com> , 1970; Atlanta, GA
11/24/06 21:43:11 CST Just stopped by to peruse the site. Former classmates, please feel free to email me and let me know what you've been doing all these years. Lisa Threadgill Burke <darklily66@gmail.com> , 1985; Athens, GA
11/11/06 15:46:16 CST I'm so happy to find this way to keep in touch with other Ramsay High School classmates! I'd love to get together with a group to help plan a reunion for the graduating class of 1977, or we could even include other years around that time in the reunion as well. I was in the band, so what about possibly a band reunion? I'd love to hear from you! Write me at lramsey@uab.edu. Lenora Ramsey <lramsey@uab.edu> , 1977; Birmingham, AL
11/03/06 23:23:41 CST In case you haven't heard - Johnny Bragan - class of 1967 passed away this year. He lost both of his lower legs in an industrial accident while he was in college, and even though he walked on crutches, he was very active for many years. Until his retirement, he worked at American Cast Iron Pipe Company. He was married and was very active in wheelchair sporting events. Mary Jane Gilliam ; obit
11/03/06 23:16:55 CST Looking for Mary Elizabeth Massey (Libby), class of 1966. Does anybody know how to contact her? I have looked for her for years. We lived two doors from each other and were best friends for so many years. I would love to find her. Mary Jane Gilliam <Photog605@Bellsouth.net> , 1967; Birmingham, AL
09/05/06 11:58:12 CDT Can you believe it, I finaly found him, jimmy hicks. He is in kingsport,tenn. His phone number is [contact ken]. It only took me 45 years to find him. Just talking with him was great, to see him would be so much greater. Jimmy and I go back further than high school. I just want to see him one more time before leaving this world. ken mccain <lilimac42@hotmail.com> , 1960; merced, ca.
08/12/06 12:12:13 CDT Do you know Frank Troncalli? Class of about '50 or '51. David Meadows <webmaster@ramsayreunion.com> , 1965; Pinson, AL
05/01/06 00:33:28 CDT Searching for Jimmy Joe Underwood (1970). We went to Ramsay together. Please write. Any information is greatly appreciated. Thanks, Linda. Thank you for this site. Linda Leslie <maciggylinda@yahoo.com> , 1971; Johnson City, TN
05/01/06 00:17:01 CDT Searching for Jimmy Joe Underwood (Class 1970). We went to Ramsay together. Any information is greatly appreciated. Please write to me maciggylinda@yahoo.com Thanks, Linda. Linda Leslie <maciggylinda@yahoo.com> , 1971; Johnson City, TN
12/29/05 16:14:35 CST JUST LOOKING FOR INFO ON CLASS REUNION FOR 1966. THIS IS A GREAT WEB SITE. THANKS FOR ALL THE HARD WORK. Phillip Thornell, Sr. <prt3348@charter.net> , 1966; talladega, AL
12/28/05 11:53:57 CST Great website-- I am looking for Avondale students who graduated in 1957 to 1960. We all went in different directions, Woodlawn, Ramsey and Phillips. Should you or any of these students would email me @ 1rpurser@ earthlink.net I would appreciate it. Thank you in advance for for help with this. Even an old Woodlawn guy likes this Ramsey site. Ronnie Ron Purser <1rpurser@earthlink.net> , Not; Springville, AL
11/24/05 09:19:31 CST very nice site
11/17/05 07:08:53 CST very nice site
10/31/05 10:48:04 CST Add your memories of Ramsay. David Meadows <webmaster@ramsayreunion.com> , 1965; Pinson, AL
10/25/05 17:45:36 CDT THIS IS A WONDERFUL SITE
10/24/05 14:33:37 CDT I have kicked around the idea with other alumni and everyone thinks it's a good idea. What does everyone think of a school reunion ? All graduates of Ramsay having a reunion in Birmingham. Parker High does this every summer and it is a huge sucess. Yolanda Johnson <meetus@bellsouth.net> , 1981; Birmingham, al
09/27/05 22:47:53 CDT Does anyone know what happened to Ellen Engel from the class of 1964? Ann <greenbriervalley1966@yahoo.com> , 1964; Birmingham, Al
08/02/05 10:43:47 CDT I am trying to locate Joan (Walker) Jackson, if you have a e-mail or phone number, please e-mail. Thanks Jackie (Crabb) Easley <aorjeasley@bellsouth.net> , 1965; Daphne, AL
07/19/05 22:21:51 CDT Just thought all would want to know that Coach Mutt Reynolds is at Mount Royal. While visiting my parents today I went to see him and he would love to hear or see some former Ramsay High classmates. Denise Blum Lewis <DBL50@aol.com> , 1969; Vestavia, AL
06/27/05 16:27:15 CDT I visited the web site today for the first time. Thank you to whoever initiated it. Every time I come to Birmingham, I try to go up to the school for a little reminscing. When I found the site today, I felt like I got to come home for a few minutes. Very enjoyable...again, thank you. Marc Fowler <mfowler@bigredltd.com> , 1968; Waco, Tx
05/23/05 20:06:40 CDT Mutt Reynolds: I remember him teaching biology in 1949 and 1950 in addition to being assistant coach. All you had to do to get off the subject was to mention World War 2 and he could take you back to that time for the balance of the period. His stories were wonderful and especially since biology was no longer going to be taught for that period of time. Gene Chism <gchism@msn.com> , 1950; TX
05/07/05 07:07:36 CDT Hi looking to find out anything about the class of 1995 reunion date. Thanks, Laura Laura Sloan <Lsloan@firstchem.com> , 1995; Grand Bay, AL
04/30/05 12:57:06 CDT O.K. People, start sending your pictures from our fantastic reunion on the 16th. Everyone would love to see them,especialy me. See ya.Your fat,ugly old classmate,Ken Ken Mc ain <Lilimac42 @ Hotmail. com.> , 1960; Merced, CA
04/28/05 08:59:18 CDT Interesting! :) Nicolas Hutterman <nhutt@brothersbuenne.com> , 1989; Los Angeles, CA
04/16/05 05:49:46 CDT Glad to signup here and remember the school years John Travel <savuniq@yahoo.com> , 1985; Weston, FL
03/02/05 11:52:20 CST Hi. That's really useful site! Work from home <worksamert@yahoo.com> , Computers; New York, NY
02/25/05 11:08:30 CST Does anyone know where Jimmy Hicks lives now? He graduated with me in 1960. We have a class reunion in April, and I sure would like to see him once again. Please Email me if you know anyway I can get intouch with him. My Email is Lilimac42@hotmail.com. My phone number is 209-7231450 Thanks for your help Ken McCain <Lilimac 42 @hotmail.com> , 1960; Merced, Ca
02/18/05 12:34:07 CST Hi. That's really nice site! Work at home <worksamert@yahoo.com> , Computers; New York, NY
02/09/05 00:21:42 CST Just wanted to say hello to all my fellow "class of '66" classmates. If ever in Mobile look me up. Gerard "Butch" Blum <ButchBlum@DauphinRealty.com> , 1966; Mobile, Al
01/26/05 19:04:46 CST HI, Thank you for such an informative website Alexander <gepard@ukrtop.com> , 32; yalta, m
01/22/05 00:09:23 CST Hi. I joined the Army Reserve during my senior year. I'm in Kuwait for the second time since 9-11, but I'm coming home in two weeks. Where are all the class members from the early 80s? Chris McNair <cptmcnair@gmail.com> , 85; Argo, AL
01/06/05 17:10:04 CST Just found the site this week and was looking for anyone that went to Glen Iris 1967 and 68 then on to Ramsay in 1969. I would have graduated with the Class of 73, but had to move to another city my Junior year. Email me...I would love to hear from anyone who remembers me. Have a great and Happy New Year! Brenda Adams <bluiis@swfla.rr.com> , 1973?; Cape Coral, FL