Good People

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“I don’t tell myself I’m old,” laughs the 96-year-old Dodge City councilwoman

Story and photo by David Moore

If Inez McDonald keeps up her current level of spunky charm – exercising daily, baking banana bread for folks, perhaps even “fixing’ someone’s hair – she will still be serving on the Dodge City Council when she celebrates her 100th birthday.

Although Covid-19 concerns slowed down her baking, and she doesn’t drive as much as she once did – partly because the transmission is going out on her late husband, David’s truck – she’s still an active lady.

“And my mind’s as sharp as a tack,” 96-year-old Inez will let you know. And, says Dodge City Mayor Tawana Canada, Inez isn’t shy about sharing what’s on that sharp mind.

“She speaks her mind and doesn’t mind doing it,” Tawana laughs. “She lets us know when she feels we are wrong … and she is usually right.”

First elected in 2008, Inez was urged to run for the council by the late Mayor Perry Ray. Mayor since Dodge City’s incorporation in 1993, he died in 2009, and Tawana, mayor pro tem, took his place.

The legislature this year passed a law that adds an extra year to most municipal elections so they coincide with the presidential election cycles. This means that Inez, now in her fourth term, along with the rest of the Dodge City Council, will serve a five-year term. “Do you think we’ll make it that long,” she joked at the time with Tawana.

“I hope she does, and I hope I do, too,” Tawana later says.

Tawana is one of numerous people over the years to benefit from Inez’s gift of banana bread.

“Why don’t you give that baking a rest?” a concerned person once told Inez about her baking.

“Oh, honey,” Inez replied, “someone might be hungry.”

Tawana boils it down to this: “Inez has a servant’s heart. She’s happy serving her God.”

Achild of The Depression, Inez grew up in a hard, alien world compared to today. Nonetheless, she says she was happy.

“I remember kerosene lamps and electric lights hanging by a cord in the middle of a room,” she says. “We didn’t feel like we were poor. Everybody else was poor, too.”

Her father, Albert Smith, a truck farmer, would drive to Birmingham to sell the vegetables he and others grew. Inez says her father dug the first hole for a power line pole in Hanceville.

In her early years the family lived on a hill overlooking a covered bridge on what’s now Ala. 91. She attended first grade at the old Center Hill School.

“I remember rub boards and boiling pots of water to wash with. Mother made lye soap using fat cooked out of our meat,” she says. “They’d hang meat in the smokehouse and pack it down with salt.”

Her mother, Valera, cooked homegrown turnips and potatoes, along with poke salat they picked in the spring.

Albert shot squirrels and rabbits to supplement the menu. They made cane syrup for consumption and to sell in Cullman. Trips were by mule-pulled wagon.

Water was hauled uphill in containers riding on a mule-pulled “sled.” Inez says Valera scrubbed the rough slat floors of their rental house every Saturday using a mop made of corn shucks.

“I could count the chickens under the house through the cracks in the floor,” she laughs. Entertainment was simple back then. At school, big girls climbed limber trees, bending the tops to the ground so small girls, like Inez, could climb on. The big girl would get off, and the youngster would get a wild ride when the tree sprang straight again.

“I got caught once and stayed up in the tree until they pulled it down again,” Inez recalls.

She was 7 when her twin sisters, Vera and Era were born. They fought as youngsters.

“If you tried to separate them, they both turned on you,” Inez says.

That phase probably didn’t last long with Albert and Valera around.

“We were taught manners – please, thank you,” Inez says. “And, ‘I love you.’ You loved everyone the same as you loved yourself. You divided what you had.”

The family moved around, living at times in rental houses in Gold Ridge and on Eva Road.

“My daddy had a grist meal,” Inez recalls. “I’ve seen wagons lined up to grind their meal on Saturday for as far as you could see.”

Albert wasn’t paid money for milling; instead he got a percentage of the meal. He’d hook up the wagon and mule and sell the meal to stores in Cullman, an all day trip.

Inez was 15 when Albert got the mumps. His cute, petite, brunette daughter quit school and stepped in to shoulder his load.

“I plowed cotton with a mule,” Inez says. “That mule minded me.”

Ayear or so later the door opened to Inez’s eventual career. Their landlord suggested to his brother – Jessie Mayo, who owned a beauty shop in Cullman – that Inez would make a good employee. So Jessie hired her, gave her one lesson on operating the

SNAPSHOT: Inez McDonald

EARLY LIFE: Born May 11, 1925, in the old Cullman Hospital, first child of Valera and James “Albert” Smith. Albert, who was half Native American, farmed, ran a grist mill and did odd labor. Valera’s ancestors knew Cullman founder Col. John Cullmann from Frankweiler, Germany.

Inez had twin sisters, Vera Brown, who’s 90 and lives in

Cullman, and Era Bowling, who died September 2020. EDUCATION: Center Hill and Gold Ridge schools. FAMILY: Married the late David McDonald, Oct. 6, 1958. One son: Dr. Marty McDonald, formerly a Cullman paramedic for 14 years and now a doctor in Mobile; he and his wife,

Lynn, have three grown children: Brett, an RN at Cullman

Regional Medical Center; Derek, who lives in Dodge City; and Ben, also a medical doctor in Mobile. Inez has two great grandchildren, Mattie McDonald and Banks McDonald. CAREER: A hair stylist since her teens, Inez owned and operated the former My Lady Beauty Shop on First Avenue East for 40 years and continued working another 30 years at home. OTHER: Elected at age 83 to Dodge City Council; now serving her fourth term.

octopus-like permanent wave machine, and she worked Saturdays at his shop. She loved it.

That led to a job at the former Boody Beauty Shop.

“I worked there for a while and studied everything I could,” Inez says. “Back then, cosmetologists were not even licensed. I was in business before I ever got a license.”

At age 20 or 21, she borrowed money from a bank and started My Lady Beauty Shop. It was located on First Avenue East above a restaurant she fondly refers to as “the greasy spoon.”

“We did a hairdo for a dollar,” Inez says. “We stayed busy most of the time.”

She roomed with a girlfriend at a house on U.S. 31 North. She bought her own clothes and, after several years, a black, 1955 Ford.

“How about that?” Inez twinkles. “I have always been independent.”

Prior to Wallace State Community College, the vocational courses at Cullman High included cosmetology, and, over the years, dozens of students trained under Inez.

Meanwhile, another long-time chapter of her life was about to open.

The charismatic David McDonald grew up in a logging family north of what would become Dodge City. In Cullman one day, he spotted Inez – whom he’d never met – and told his buddy he would marry her one day.

Not long after that, while at a dance with a girlfriend, Inez spotted David, whom she’d never seen before.

“That’s the guy I’m going to marry,” she told her friend. “Of course she laughed. Then he walked over and asked me to dance. It was love at first sight, buddy.”

They dated two years and married in October 1958.

David, who drove a log truck, grew up on County Road 216 with three sisters and five brothers.

“I didn’t have a brother,” Inez says. “I always wanted one. So then I had plenty of them.”

They soon bought acreage adjoining his family land David already owned, and built a house next to Bethlehem Methodist Church.

In 1959, their son Marty was born. He was a month old when they moved into their new house.

“Marty was raised in the beauty shop. I tried to be the kind of mother to him that my mother was to me.” Inez adds that Marty, now a physician in Mobile, calls her several times a day.

The McDonalds attended a Baptist church, where David was saved. Inez was quietly touched.

“I knew he would become a preacher, but I didn’t tell him that,” she says. “I don’t like to promote things. I would rather people come to it themselves.”

Later, congregational dissension led the couple to leave. Meanwhile, their neighbor, Bethlehem Methodist, had become a dilapidated and abandoned building.

“I prayed God would put it on David to build a new church,” Inez said. “But I didn’t see how God could possible fix up that place. It was bad.”

David agreed to clean it up, and the couple set to work. Their activity attracted attention in the community, and the week before they finished, the McDonalds went door to door inviting people to come.

“That first Sunday, 100 people were there. David taught Sunday school,” Inez says. “Right away we decided to borrow money and build a new church there. We borrowed it from Cullman Savings. I don’t remember now how much, but it seemed like a lot. We had the land bulldozed off and started building a new church.”

Their new preacher, however, did not connect with the congregation, and attendance at the new church dropped. Finally, one bleak Sunday, a friend and member, Louise Tubbs, let it rip.

“David,” she said, “if you don’t start preaching, this church is dead.”

And Inez’s prayers were answered.

“He started preaching and people came back,” she says, with crowds up to 120. “I have seen times when they had to bring chairs in to line the aisles. The church really did good.”

Life rocked along. David, who continued logging, preached 38 years at Bethlehem United Methodist Church.

Meanwhile about 1985, after 40 years in town, a fire basically destroyed the building housing My Lady. Seemingly undaunted, with the help of nephews, Inez cleaned her smoke damaged equipment and moved her business into their home.

She continued to style hair on a regular basis for 30 more years until David encountered serious health problems, including blindness, COPD and seizures. He died April 17, 2020.

“He never complained about being blind or sick,” Inez says. “David was the perfect man. We danced a lot. He told me every day he loved me. We never got mad.” 1. To what do you attribute your longevity and sharp, 96-year-old mind?

A: My mother lived to be 96 and a half. I guess I have that going for me.

But I think most of it is just meeting people and trying to stay busy. A lot of times people just think themselves into being old. Crazy, too.

I also try to exercise every day.

Back when we had the tornadoes in 2011, I fell and broke my back and my hip. We had no electricity for days, and

Inez McDonald in her early 20s

the washing piled up. That’s how I tripped and fell.

They fixed my hip but didn’t know about my back. I knew something was bad wrong.

They sent me to the nursing home for 21 days for my hip. I told the doctor I’d go if they’d give me all the therapy I could stand, and they did.

I kept telling them my back was killing me, but the doctor wouldn’t listen. When I went back to the doctor, I said, “I want my back x-rayed today. I am dying. You got to do something.”

He finally did an x-ray and said did I know my back had been broken. It was already healing, but he told me he could break it again and set it back right. I said, “You aren’t going to break my back. Let it heal the best it can.”

So he sent me back home. I walked on a walker, but I put it down and did laps [around the pool table and furniture in their large glassed in porch room]. I did that for three weeks, I believe, and it got better.

Back when David had home healthcare, I learned a lot of the exercises they gave him. Now I exercise almost every day. I hold the corner of the pool table and do leg lifts 15 times with my right leg, then 15 with my left leg. Then I exercise my arms holding them out.

I’ve seen people who are 70 act like they were a 100. I think “feeling old” is just a matter of speech. You are as old as you think you are, well, mostly. But a lot of it is mental.

I don’t tell myself I’m old. 2. You and your husband rebuilt Bethlehem United Methodist Church. What do you think that church is a testament to?

A: God.

I will tell you this … there was a guy who drank a lot and who came to our church every once in a while. He went to the altar one night, and when he got up, do you know, he was as sober as a judge.

That church is also a testament to people who are of one accord. Too often you see people who bicker. I found out this congregation really wanted a church built here, and there was no malice or anything negative. Nothing negative at all.

But I’ve found as time went on that a lot of people want to cause trouble. We were raised as kids to love everybody. You don’t call anybody who doesn’t live like you bad things, because you have not walked in their shoes.

Some church people find fault with others. That’s not what the Bible says. It says you love everybody. I think our church is a testament to that love. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

David and I borrowed money to rebuild that church. We paid it off right before David retired after 38 years. That was a testament to love.

There was woman in Cullman we used to pick up and bring to church. When she died, she left $1,000 to us. That almost paid off the church.

Then, Anthony Allison who builds houses, called and asked how much more we needed to pay it off. David said $900, and Anthony wrote me a check for $900. 3. You give banana bread to people at church and elsewhere. Tell when and why you started baking bread for people.

A: My daddy was half Indian and my mother was half German. She was a great cook. Daddy grew peanuts, and Mother always made peanut brittle. If she met somebody, she gave them peanut brittle. I have an idea it might have influenced me.

I give people banana bread, because I found out that’s what I could make. I used to make cheese balls and sour dough bread, too.

I guess I did that for 40 years. I’d take it to church on Sunday. If someone new came, or if anybody had a problem or illness in their home, I usually carried them a loaf. I gave the people on the council a loaf for Christmas.

When people need food, you do it.

I used to make six loaves at a time and several batches a week. I am not able to do that much cooking now. I used to bake six loaves every week, but I usually keep some made ahead anyway.

It’s not a ministry. I just like people to be happy. People love the bread, so I do it.

But when the virus was full last summer, I was afraid to get out too much. My son Marty would have died if I had gotten out. I’m ready for normal. 4. Talk about your political career. Did you ever imagine you’d be on the city council? Why did you run?

A: I guess I went to my first council meeting in 2008. I went just to see how the council worked. I wasn’t happy with what I saw. I couldn’t imagine anyone being in public and acting like that. Some of them didn’t want to see the town grow and prosper.

After the meeting, Mayor Perry Ray begged me to run.

I loved people and knew how to treat people. And I guess I knew just about everybody, so I ran.

This last election I did not campaign because of the virus. I had some old signs I was going to put out again, but I couldn’t find them.

The guy who ran against me … I told Debra Ergle – my neighbor who carries me different places, she’s a wonderful girl … I said, “If he beats me, I need to be beat.”

It just comes naturally as it can be –I love Dodge City and want to see it grow. But I don’t guess I’ll run again. 5. What’s something most people don’t know about Inez McDonald.

A: Mother had to wash clothes at the spring when I was little. She would carry me with her when she walked to the spring.

Coming back the clothes were so heavy from being wet that she could not carry them and me back to the house. So she’d leave me on the top of the hill.

But I was OK. We had a dog we called Charlie. She told that dog to stay there and watch me. I was maybe 2.

I guess it was when I worked for Jessie Mayo that I decided to be a beautician. I really wanted to be a doctor but we couldn’t afford it, so I settled for beautician. I was good at it.