The Town That Built Me

Reflections on Old York Farms in Oakman Alabama

(L-R) Chloe, Stephanie and Cashan Corry

Words by Chloe Corry | Images by Ryan McGill and courtesy of the Corry family

Old York is my home.

My dad and grandpa built it from the ground up, turning a vision into reality. But it became more than a replica of a Wild West town. It was alive with live music, great food, and memories that still feel as vivid as the sun setting behind those familiar buildings.

For visitors, Old York was a destination, a step back in time. But for my sister, Cashan, and me, it was our childhood. It was where we ran barefoot down dusty paths, learned the value of hard work, and watched our family’s dream come to life.

At the heart of it all was the Bull Pen Steakhouse. The smell of sizzling steaks drifted through the air, mixing with the sound of clinking plates and the hum of conversation. On busy weekends, the restaurant was packed, alive with people drawn in by the food but staying for the warmth that made Old York special. As we got older, Cashan and I stepped in to help, waiting tables, running food, and doing whatever needed to be done. It was exhausting at times, but we were proud to be part of something that meant so much to so many people.

Weekends at Old York were anything but quiet. Blues festivals, concerts, and car shows transformed the town into a lively celebration. Music poured from the stage as bands played to excited crowds, and the deep rumble of classic cars filled the air. Those days were a blur of activity, helping out where we could, stealing moments to take it all in, and feeling the thrill of seeing the town come alive.

But some of the best moments came after the crowds left, when Old York belonged to just us. The empty streets became our playground. We raced through the fields, made up stories about cowboys and outlaws, and dreamed of our futures.

A Western event at Old York

Old York wasn’t just a business for our family; it was part of who we were. My parents were married there, surrounded by the world they had built together. My dad poured his heart into keeping Old York thriving, greeting every visitor like an old friend and always planning the next big event. His passion was infectious, and whether you were a guest for the first time or had been coming for years, you couldn’t help but feel it.

Since his passing in 2023, Old York has become even more precious to us. The town holds a lifetime of memories—of laughter, hard work, and love. Now, with Old York up for sale, it’s strange to think of it in someone else’s hands. But whoever takes it on will be stepping into a place filled with stories, ready to write their own.

And no matter what happens next, Old York will always be a part of us. 78