Alumni Extra

by Kristen Mather

Advancement and growth are both markers for success. In the past few years, that is exactly what The University of Alabama at Birmingham School of Medicine has seen, adding more than half a million square feet of space for clinical facilities, research laboratories, classrooms, surgical suites and administrative space. And two University of Alabama alumni have been helping UAB make its mark; Dr. Tony Jones, ’82, and Alesia Jones, ’90, both serve as top executives for the school.

Dr. Tony Jones heads UAB's Department of Anesthesiology.

In 2006, Dr. Robert R. Rich, senior vice president and dean of the UAB School of Medicine, appointed Tony as chair of the Department of Anesthesiology, making him the first African-American to receive a permanent position as department head in the medical school. He is currently responsible for a team that performs more than 45,000 anesthetic procedures each year.

He has focused the anesthesiology department on pursuing excellence in all aspects of academic anesthesia, including critical care medicine and pain medicine research, he said, and is most proud of the department’s immergence as a leader in helping UAB strive to be the country’s preferred academic medical center in the 21st century. “We have focused on the delivery of high caliber care to patients through our compassion and scholarly pursuit,” he noted.

Tony is widely known as a prolific researcher and writer. He has authored or co-authored more than 150 scholarly works, and his studies are consistently supported by research grants from the National Institutes of Health. He is also an editorial board member and former associate editor of the Journal of Applied Physiology and associate editor of Anesthesiology.

Born in Anniston, Ala., Tony has deep roots in the state. He earned a bachelor’s degree in microbiology from UA in 1982 and then moved to Birmingham to study medicine, receiving his medical degree from UAB in 1986. He met his wife, Evelyn, at UA in 1978, and his two children, Collin and Lauren, are current students at the University. “UA strengthened my work ethic and provided strong mentorship, predominantly helping me develop confidence as a physician and with direction for my career path,” he said.

One of his mentors, the late Dr. William Shamblin of Tuscaloosa, provided some of his most substantial guidance, convincing Tony to leave the state of Alabama and complete his residency at the Mayo Clinic, where Shamblin had trained years prior. Tony said his residency there helped him develop a lifelong commitment to the profession and his interest in anesthesiology, and also allowed him to conduct research in pulmonary physiology, specifically smooth muscle physiology and pharmacology.

Following the completion of his residency and postgraduate work, including a National Institutes of Health postdoctoral research fellowship, Tony was recruited by the Mayo Clinic to become a member of the faculty in 1991. In 2001, he became the program director of Mayo’s Smooth Muscle Physiology Laboratory, and was promoted to professor in 2001.

After a 20-year career with the clinic, UAB offered him an opportunity to come back to Alabama. “When UAB called, I thought about it for a while,” Jones admitted. “At the time, I wasn’t looking to leave Mayo, and I only agreed to explore the option because it was my alma mater. But when I got there, I saw how it had grown and saw the opportunity to build an academic anesthesiology program.”

While Tony works directly with patients, his colleague and fellow UA graduate, Alesia Jones, oversees all UAB’s personnel-related functions, both for the university and hospital, supporting more than 20,000 employees.

Alesia Jones (right) with her husband, Darryl, and daughter, Victoria

Alesia has experienced both UA and UAB as a student, first earning a bachelor’s in human resource management in Tuscaloosa in 1990, and then an MBA from UAB in 1999. “At the University, I spent much of my undergraduate career as a finance major,” she said. “After my first finance internship, I realized I hated it, and switched. But pairing the knowledge and experience from both has contributed much to my professional career.”

While a student at UA, Alesia served on the University’s presidential search committee as an undergraduate student at large, after Dr. Joab Thomas stepped down from the presidency and before Dr. Roger Sayers took the helm. In this role, she collaborated with the UA System Board of Trustees, and met UAB’s president, Dr. Charles McCallum. He arranged a job interview for Alesia, and after graduation, she accepted a position with UAB as a recruiter for temporary employment services.

She left there for a short while, working as a compensation manager for BellSouth Corp. and then director of compensation and benefits for BE&K. But in 2005, she returned, seizing the opportunity to be an executive director. “It was an opportunity to come back to a place that I love and work with people I had known and enjoyed working with for several years,” she said.

In 2009, she was promoted into her current position of chief human resources officer, and said she is happy that her jobs within the UA System have kept her connected to the University. Like many other alumni, Alesia met her spouse, Darryl, as a freshman on campus. She also has a 16-year-old daughter, Victoria, who is interested in studying at UA.

Although the University of Alabama family stretches hundreds of thousands of miles and includes tens of thousands of alumni, Tony and Alesia are reminders that some of its biggest successes are found right at home, where exceptional students become respected leaders within the state.

by Lindsey Lowe

Everyone in Butler, Ala., knows about John Boney. He’s a celebrity of sorts in the small town, but that doesn’t change the kind of guy he is. You can find him each morning at the local Hardee’s, sipping coffee with his buddies, completely unaffected by his notoriety. But then it happens: he glances outside and spots some passers-by who have stopped to stare at his vehicle, both perplexed and captivated. “I park where I can watch it,” Boney said. “If I had a dollar for every picture, I’d be rich.”

John Boney with the car he built five years ago (Photos by Dee Ann Campbell)

Boney is an inventor. He’s invented a lot of things, but the one that gets the most attention is the car he built five years ago. It’s what he drives around Butler, and it’s what people can’t get enough of. Boney, who graduated from The University of Alabama in 1959 with a degree in pulp and paper technology, said he realized some time ago that the small cars on the streets these days aren’t as efficient as they could be. His main concerns were their stability and energy efficiency, things he believed he could fix with a little innovative thinking and some elbow grease.

Working out of his shop in his backyard, Boney began sketching a prototype, illustrating a car that met his standards. He stripped down an Isuzu pickup truck and narrowed its frame to 30.5 inches, then added a top frame made out of racing tubing and reinstalled the original doors. He equipped the car with both gasoline and electric motor capabilities. It can go about 20 miles on a charge, which usually gets Boney around town during the week, and uses about a gallon of gas a month. With a top speed of 55 mph, it is mostly for running local errands, Boney explained. “It’s more aerodynamic than the little cars are, so it doesn’t take as much energy, and then with the wheels out, it’s very stable,” he said. “It’s lightweight, and I have air vents right in front of the doors, which cuts down on air resistance.”

Though the car catapulted Boney to fame in Butler, he’s known around town for other things, too. When he and his wife of nearly 35 years, Wylene, moved there from Kinterbish, Ala., in 1990, he set out to build her dream home, a house that has become famous in its own right, and often draws its own crowds as a site for photography and just plain admiration. The couple had made the move to Butler so that Wylene, who was struggling with health challenges, could be closer to her doctor. After the house was built, Boney realized it was missing something. Wylene, who was wheelchair-bound at the time, couldn’t get upstairs. He checked into having an elevator installed, but found the cost too extravagant—so he decided to build it himself. “I sat down and proceeded to see what I could do,” Boney said. Wylene got her elevator: a two-chamber hydraulic lift that can transport as much as 1,000 pounds. “It’s got lights on every floor,” he said. “It’s a pretty good elevator, even if I did build it.”

Boney also builds mechanical steers and goats for the rodeo business.

His knack for finding unique solutions to problems isn’t new. After graduating from UA, he joined Gulf States Paper in Demopolis, Ala. He said the first thing he remembers building was a tool that lit up the inside of tanks at the paper mill, which was named the “Boney light.” He also developed the first completely automatic coating kitchen (for applying the finishing coats on food cartons) in the paper industry. By the time he retired at age 55, he had earned two patents.

His work didn’t end when he left the mill, however. At home in Kinterbish, Boney ran a beef cattle farm where he maintained five bulls and 175 cows that also benefitted from his inventive spirit, eating from self-feeders he built especially for the animals. “I worked the mill all day and the cows all night,” he said. “We had a unique operation.”

Boney said that he never intended for his creativity to accelerate when he retired. “I was going to do two things when I retired—play golf and fish in the river—and I haven’t done either one,” he chuckled. He’s now building mechanical steers and goats for the rodeo business, which he hopes will earn him another patent; developing a hydrogen engine for his car; and helping with some redesigning and construction projects in town. He is also planning on running for mayor.

It’s enough to keep Boney and his wife, who have five children, plenty busy, something he hadn’t necessarily expected, but embraces all the same. “When I retired, I was just going to walk the streets around here and talk,” he said. “But I just got to tinkering around.”

by Kristen Mather

“I’m off to do big things,” Callie Wright would shout to her parents, grabbing her belongings and running out the front door. Her signature sign-off still rings in the ears of her family and friends.

Now, just two years after a tragic car accident took her life at 23, her loved ones, and several people who weren’t as lucky to know her, are keeping her memory alive by doing big things in her honor.

Callie's Kids was formed in memory of Callie Wright, who graduated from UA in 2008.

From a young age, Wright was enthralled by art. In her hometown of Talladega, Ala., she regularly enrolled in Arts Camp, a weeklong summer creative experience for children, and as a young adult, she volunteered there. Though her love of art gave way to her passion for law and criminal justice during college, she kept it close to her heart, and often took art classes with her mother.

Wright graduated from The University of Alabama with a bachelor’s in criminal justice in 2008. She was a member of Kappa Alpha Theta sorority and Alpha Sigma Phi National Criminal Justice Honor Society, in addition to being a nursing home volunteer and an honoree on the dean’s list. She was in her second year at the Birmingham School of Law at the time of the accident, on track to graduate with her JD in May 2012.

Dr. Kelly Wesley Hubbard, Wright’s aunt, earned her EdD from the University in 1998, and shared with her niece a love of all things Alabama. Though Wright began her undergraduate education at Ole Miss, she transferred to UA because that was where her heart was, Hubbard said. Wright’s favorite number was 13, and family and friends like to think that she was watching her favorite team win its 13th national championship the season after she passed. “We felt like she was there with us the whole way,” Hubbard shared.

Alyssa Lee Lakey, Kameron Carr and Jessica Cheatwood (left to right) enjoyed Arts Camp.

Along with Wright’s parents, Leslie and Lyon Wright, Hubbard wanted to keep her niece’s legacy alive in a way that was more personal to them than simply creating a scholarship endowment. Recalling her love for art and her adoration for children, they collectively came up with the idea for Callie’s Kids, a foundation aimed at providing art enrichment activities for underprivileged children in Talladega. With the help of funds and activities provided by Callie’s Kids, children in the community would be able to try their hand in art, theatre and dance. “I’m in education, and I see budget cuts all the time, the arts being hit the hardest,” said Hubbard, who is scheduled to retire in March 2012 after working more than 25 years in public education.

In 2010, Callie’s Kids was formed with $5,000 of seed money from family and friends. The first summer, the organization sponsored about 50 kids to attend Arts Camp. So much interest was generated that by the second year it was able to sponsor about 100. It now incorporates activities during the school year, including Saturday art classes for children at Ferguson’s, a local antique shop, where owner Terry Ferguson also teaches adult art classes. And Callie’s Kids is currently sponsoring Reagan Cunningham, an inspirational fourth grader who was diagnosed with cancer in kindergarten, to attend ballet classes for an entire year.

“My heart is with Callie’s kids,” said Hubbard, who is excited to turn her full attention to the organization after retirement. “Seeing the children experience success in the arts is amazing. Callie’s parents reap those benefits. They take away the satisfaction of knowing that other children will benefit from Callie’s memory. She didn’t have a long life, but we feel like she’s living on through other children.”

After the summer camp wrapped, Callie’s Kids and the local museum partnered to hold the Fall Soirée, where children’s artwork was auctioned to raise funds for next year. Tommy Moorehead, a local artist, worked with the kids on some pieces that were to be auctioned, and his popularity in the community helped draw interest to the cause.

A painting of roses by Wright

The foundation is rapidly expanding, and the board of directors is excited about potentially acquiring a familiar and beloved building to house its offices. They have recently drafted contracts in hope of purchasing Wright’s father’s former hardware store. “We are hoping to close on this building in December, and start offering programs there after renovations are completed next year,” Hubbard said. The building holds many memories for the family. “I can still see Callie as a toddler, prancing around in that building in her bare feet,” she said fondly.

“If we acquire that building, we can offer more services to children in the area, such as art and dance classes,” she continued. “We have a strong need for after-school programs in our area, so hopefully we can start working with the community on that. We are also excited to help the downtown area of Talladega, which has been hit hard by the economy, by contributing to its renovation.”

Though Wright’s memory is kept alive every day in the lives of children in her hometown, there isn’t enough scholarship money in the world to fill the void her passing has left in the lives of her family members. “Callie was our North Star,” Leslie Wright spoke of her only child. “When you were around Callie, you felt alive. She was spunky, funny, sometimes downright silly. But when she had a job to do, she was the task master. She got it done, and did it well.”

Her mother said that although each day without her star is a challenge, Hubbard has been a light for them along the way. “She took some of Callie’s love and compassion for the arts and for people and combined them into this arts program in Callie’s memory,” she said. “Kelly has given Callie’s legacy life through Callie’s Kids.”

by Raymond Castile

Emma Jo Crain was no stickler for titles. But that changed in June 2011, when the 75-year-old received her doctoral hood. “Call me Dr. Crain,” she said, correcting a hospice worker who called her “Dr. Emma.”

Emma Jo Crain, 75, received her doctoral hood at St. Peters Manor Care Center, where she is in hospice. (Photos by Ryan Prewitt)

A back injury forced Crain to miss her original commencement ceremony in 1979, when she would have received her hood for completing a doctorate in special education administration from The University of Alabama. She later received her diploma, but never received the hood—a piece of academic regalia that carries symbolic importance for doctoral graduates. “For 32 years, I have felt like something had been left undone,” she said. “I never had closure. Now I really feel like a doctor.”

Crain lives at St. Peters Manor Care Center in Missouri, where she moved nearly four years ago when her failing health made it impossible for the independent-minded woman to continue living alone. Crain has Parkinson’s disease, a degenerative brain disorder that causes shaking and impairs walking and coordination; and Meniere’s disease, an inner ear disorder that disrupts her balance. A hospice team from Nurses and Company began caring for Crain in November 2010.

Jennifer Frieswick, a hospice social worker, visits her regularly. Frieswick began videotaping Crain, encouraging her to recall her life story. Through these sessions, Frieswick learned that the regret of missing the graduation ceremony still haunted her. Frieswick suggested re-creating the ceremony today. Crain asked if that was possible. “I said anything is possible,” Frieswick recalled.

The project quickly grew beyond all expectations. Vickie Boedecker, hospice clinical supervisor for Nurses and Company, ran with the idea. She contacted UA, seeking robes and supplies. She got much more than she bargained for.

Dr. David Francko, dean of the University’s graduate school, proposed staging an authentic graduation ceremony in St. Peters, complete with all the elements to make it legitimate. Francko offered to travel there to hood Crain himself. “There was no cutting corners, no funny business,” Francko said after the ceremony. “Everything was done exactly the way it would be done in a modern commencement ceremony.”

More than 25 people attended the event on June 18, in the backyard of the care center. Crain’s family, friends and health supporters sat beneath sunny skies as Francko delivered a commencement address and placed the doctoral hood around Crain’s neck. The audience included Crain’s grown sons—David and Walter—and two adopted grandchildren.

During the indoor reception after the ceremony, the now-official Dr. Crain wheeled herself between tables of well-wishers, accepting congratulations. “I’m still full of adrenaline,” she said. “I doubt I will be able to sleep tonight. When they put the hood on me, I broke out in goose bumps. It means everything.”

Francko seemed as pumped up as the graduate. “This is one of the best things that has happened to me all year,” he said.

Crain was hooded by UA Graduate School Dean David Francko.

Crain wrote her doctoral dissertation on the socioeconomic status of students with mental disabilities. She examined students who had received vocational education, comparing their income and living standards to those of students without disabilities. She said the chairman of the University’s doctoral review committee in 1979 told her that he would put a $5 bill inside the bound dissertation, which would be stored in the school library. He told her to come back in five years and see if the money was still there. “His point was that nobody reads dissertations,” Crain said. “Years later, I called a friend and asked her to go to the library and check if the $5 was still there. She called back and said it was gone. I felt very proud that someone had actually read it—or at least taken the $5.”

Not only was the dissertation read, it influenced state law. The Alabama Legislature used the dissertation as a basis for new laws allowing people with mental disabilities to receive vocational education, Crain said.

Francko said Crain’s work changed the lives of people with mental disabilities not just in Alabama, but throughout the United States. “The way we approach individuals with mental retardation is different now because of her work,” he said. “It was innovative in developing ways to teach mentally retarded people to read and better interact with society.”

Crain was a single mother, herself the daughter of a single mother. She said she raised her two sons after divorcing her “alcoholic” husband 50 years ago. Her mother had raised eight children, plus two who died young. “I figured if my mom can raise eight kids, I could surely raise two,” Crain said. Crain’s third and last child was a daughter named Teresa Jo, who was born with hydranencephaly, a condition in which portions of the brain are replaced with fluid-filled sacs. She lived two years before she slipped into a coma and died.

It was her experience with Teresa Jo that led her to pursue a career in special education, Crain said. In 1968, she received a bachelor’s degree in special education specializing in teaching students with mental disabilities from Southeast Missouri State University, and immediately went to work teaching in the Special School District of St. Louis County. “I was the only teacher in the district who was allowed to have a popcorn popper,” Crain said. “The other teachers were so jealous. At the end of the week, any student who made a C or above got to have popcorn. The rest had to sit in the gym.”

Crain said she took a job teaching at Louisiana State University because she wanted to live in the South, infatuated with the Gone With the Wind mystique. She taught special education teachers at LSU, ultimately writing the school’s undergraduate program for teaching mentally disabled students.

In 1976, she entered the doctoral program at UA, the only woman in the class with about 10 men. After receiving her doctorate—and missing the graduation ceremony—Crain returned to Louisiana to teach. She later moved to Valdosta State University in Georgia, where she became chairwoman of the special education department. It was at there that her health took a turn for the worse, eventually necessitating her move to St. Peters.

(Article adapted with permission from the St. Charles (Mo.) Journals.)