Mural located at the Civil Rights Memorial Park in Selma at the foot of the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

Today, Hollywood’s spotlight falls on Alabama.

On Friday, Jan. 9, the movie “Selma” opens nationwide. Directed by Ava DuVernay, it tells the story of the events that led to the 1965 Selma-to-Montgomery marches, which changed the course of civil rights history.

Alabamians who lived through that era know the story well.

Albert Wilson, an Alabama Power retiree, remembers the marches.

“My father worked on the Selma-to-Montgomery marches,” said Albert Wilson, 63, a retired operations supervisor for Alabama Power. “He provided rides to people and attended the meetings.”

Wilson’s father, Woodrow, owned and operated a barbershop and restaurant in downtown Montgomery. Years earlier he had offered rides in support of the Montgomery bus boycott.

“My parents were concerned about my safety,” said Wilson, one of 10 brothers and sisters. “So I prepared meals at our restaurant for the marchers.”

Wilson, who retired in 2010 after 37 1/2 years at Alabama Power, said he hoped the movie would be accurate and true to life.

“I’m interested to see how they depicted things, whether or not it’s going to be in line with what actually happened,” he said. “Unless you were involved, you really didn’t get the feel of it.”

Douglas Chandler went to work for Alabama Power in 1971 and eventually became a lead lineman. Like Wilson, he attended a segregated all-black high school.

Douglas Chandler, former Alabama Power employee, and his wife recall the civil rights movement.

“Things got heated up around 1963,” said Chandler, who was raised and still lives in Auburn. “We’ve made a lot of progress, but we’ve still got a long way to go.”

The movie shows the marchers being tear-gassed and beaten as they attempt to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma. It also touches on the violence that plagued Birmingham at the time.

On Sept. 15, 1963, a bomb exploded at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, one block from the Alabama Power building. Four young girls, including Addie Mae Collins, were killed. Addie Mae’s sister Sarah was badly injured.

“When the movie came on, it scared me to death, had me shaken up,” said Sarah Collins Rudolph, who watched a screening with her husband, George. “It started with a bombing and young girls walking. We weren’t expecting that. It took me back to that time when I did hear the bombing.”

Sarah, who lost an eye in the blast, is writing a book about the experience.

“My wife went through a war and survived it,” said George.

Plaques rest at Civil Rights Memorial Park in Selma, at the foot of the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

As a company, Alabama Power was not immune to the troubles. Earlier in the century, it was targeted by the Ku Klux Klan because it sent integrated workforces out on calls, according to Leah Atkins’ book “Developed for the Service of Alabama.”

The company worked behind the scenes to help moderate political views on race. Today, it supports the city’s most important civil rights institutions, including the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church and the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute.

“This block really changed how the world looked at civil rights,” said Ahmad Ward, head of Education and Exhibitions at the institute, referring to the church bombing and the fire hosing of young children demonstrating in Kelly Ingram Park.

“I think [the movie] is a great thing for Alabama,” he said. “This is a pivotal event in American history, not just civil rights history.”

Through its Alabama Power Foundation, the company has helped fund the Selma-to-Montgomery Commemorative March — the National Voting Rights Museum and Institute in Selma – Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Unity Breakfasts — and Montgomery Bus Boycott commemorations.

Alabama Power also backs the Birmingham Civil Rights Heritage Trail, which was expanded last March to three new locations: Smithfield, East Thomas and Enon Ridge.

Ward said citizens from all over the country came to Selma in 1965 to march 50 miles for voting rights.

“People walked it with medical problems, missing limbs, you name it,” said Ward. “It was all because of an ideal. It showed the power of non-violence.”

Chandler, 70, said the key is understanding.

“We all come from a different culture,” he said. “If everybody would sit back and try to understand each other — if I understand yours and you understand mine – then I think we can see eye-to-eye better.”