Roy S. Johnson: Native American firm builds ‘remarkable’ foundation for BJCC amphitheater

This is an opinion column.

She heard all the jokes. During Native American Week. Every school year when Hollie’s class at Moundville Elementary trekked to the famous historical archaeological acreage that is one of the nation’s most significant Indigenous sites. It was inhabited centuries ago by Mississippian culture and is characterized by distinctive mounds upon which homes, churches, and businesses were built.

And where many are buried.

Hollie’s father was a full-blood member of the Poarch Creek tribe, born on the reservation in southeast Alabama. So, once classmates learned she was Native American, well, you can imagine.

Hollie can lead the class. She knows everything about Native Americans.

“I got all those jokes,” Hollie Cheyanne Towe (married name) is telling me now with a laugh. “Even called me Pocahontas.”

Thing was, Hollie didn’t yet know much at all of her heritage. She and brother Brad had moved to Tuscaloosa with their mother when the siblings were still young, after Nelson Martin and wife Sandy divorced. In time, though, during frequent visits to family living on the reservation, they learned of their culture from cousins and their father.

Especially during the annual Thanksgiving Pow Wow in Atmore. Martin prepared roasted Indian corn for visitors every year. “Shuck and all,” Towe says. “When it was done, you removed the shuck, dipped the corn in butter, and handed it to them. It was so good.”

Martin was also a dancer at the Pow Wow; he revealed to his daughter the meaning behind the moves. “He would tell me, ‘They’re dancing this way for this reason,” or ‘They think it’s going to rain later, so now they’re doing this dance.’ I learned a lot. It’s just something that’s always been normal to me, something I’ve always been proud of.”

Construction was also normal for the siblings. Their maternal grandfather, Cal Taylor, owned Bomat construction company in Tuscaloosa. During summers, Hollie and Brad often stayed with him, usually hanging around the office. “He would let us do anything we wanted to do,” Towe remembers.

In the 1990s, Bomat helped renovate of the once-prestigious Parliament House Motor Hotel in Birmingham. “He gave me my brother a master key, so we just ran through the whole hotel and had a great time,” she says.

When Hollie was about 10 years old, Taylor let her write out payroll checks. “Granddad signed them,” she says. “Construction’s something I’ve been around my whole life. It’s natural, it’s never scared me.”

It was only natural then that the siblings launched their own construction company—after Towe had settled into an office job after college and quickly discovered: “It was not what I was called to do.”

In 2010, Hollie and Brad formed Cheyanne Contracting, Inc.—branding it with Hollie’s Indigenous middle name—specializing in commercial concrete. Hollie handles office matters (now she signs the payroll checks), while Brad oversees fieldwork (though Towe isn’t shy about donning her pink hard hat on a job site).

Cheyanne is one of 15 Minority Women Disadvantage Business Enterprises (MWDBE) participating in the constriction of the $50 million amphitheater rising just north of downtown Birmingham, according to the Birmingham Jefferson Civic Complex (BJCC). The BJCC, says 28.03% ($11,778,892) of $42,015,752 in eligible construction services contracts has been awarded to Minority Women Disadvantage Business Enterprises (MWDBE), while 33.08% ($901,700) of $2,726,200 in eligible professional services has been awarded to MWDBEs.

Of the 15 MWDBEs, seven are women-owned, five are Black-owned, and three are Hispanic-owned.

(In June, Circuit Judge Tamara Harris Johnson dismissed a lawsuit against the BJCC by the Black Contractors Association of Alabama (BCAA) seeking to halt construction of the nearly $50 million amphitheater in downtown Birmingham because the BJCC allegedly failed to comply with an agreement to adequately include minority participation in the project. Johnson ruled the BCAA did not have the standing to sue and thus she was obligated by law to dismiss.)

As a subcontractor, Cheyanne—Stone Construction is the general contractor—laid 8,000 yards of concrete to form the foundation and 12-foot walls that gird the facility. “It’s the single largest project we’ve ever done,” Towe says, about twice as much concrete as they used in the $32 million redevelopment of Bill Noble Park in Gardendale (Stone was also the GC on that project).

“We haven’t done a whole lot in downtown Birmingham,” she adds. “[Stone] sent us a bid invite. I called my brother, and said, ‘It’s a big job.’ We’re used to large projects, just not a single one this large. He looked at it and said, ‘With the timeframe, it’s nothing we haven’t done. We can handle the job.’ So, we put a bid in and ended up getting it.”

The contract was worth $4.5 million, according to Towe.

During a recent project update for the BJCC board, Jerry Reece, director of capital improvements, described Cheyanne’s foundation and walls as “a remarkable piece of work.”

Nelson Martin passed away this past February. Even in death, the father continued to teach the traditions of his culture.

“I learned so much at the funeral,” Towe says. “Native Americans are so rooted in a spiritual side, and it’s always been a big part of my life. Everything that’s ever happened, I give credit to the Lord.”

Indigenous dancers “helped raise his spirit up to heaven.” Her voice cracks describing another tradition from the funeral. “My dad had several of his friends lay eagle feathers around him in the casket,” Towe says. “They said [the feathers] helped raise him up to heaven, too.”

Now, she might very well be able to lead the class.