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  History & Folklore | Resources | Tennessee Headlines




Mr. Will Boyd
August 17, 1881 - June 15, 1968:
“He Passed Our Way”

A Remembrance by Dean Anderson, Sr.

Many thanks to Dean Anderson, Jr., for sharing this classically beautiful remembrance penned by his father. It is truly a treasure for the entire community to share!
His name never appeared in headlines, nor was he the subject of television specials or radio newscasts, yet he was possessed with greatness --his presence and friendship were a stabilizing influence on many people from many walks of life. His name will be recalled many long years after he is gone.

When one looks at the passing of a close friend it appears to be natural to look back through time and recall the beginning. In the case of Mr. Boyd, the writer has no trouble in recalling the first meeting. It was late fall of 1942 and I was standing on a side porch of the Cole & Garrett Funeral Home in Goodlettsville, Tennessee. Being an eleven year old youngster, very impressionable, from a rural setting, I had come to spend the weekend with my newly-married older brother. Robert had elected to become an undertaker. It was fascinating to look over the fine house that comprised the funeral home, and observe the long black shining vehicles that were tools of the trade.

As evening began to fall I noticed such a vehicle make its way up the winding driveway to the top of the hill, and park under a giant oak tree. My brother got out of the hearse, to be followed by a small white-haired man. I was introduced to Mr. W.L. Boyd, the funeral director from Joelton, Tennessee. I was immediately impressed by his warm, friendly interest and it was apparent that he loved people no matter what their age.

Many years prior to that meeting he and Mr. J.C. Garrett, Sr., the owner of Cole & Garrett, had formed a partnership in the Joelton community. This union of interest proved to be much more than a venture together in business. It turned into a mutual respect and friendship, each for the other, that was to abide to the end.

Their firm was known as Garrett & Boyd Funeral Directors, and served a rural area in the north portion of Davidson County, as well as the eastern end of Cheatham County. This partnership performed many services for many people, many of which the general public was never aware. Their pay was often small, if at all, but nonetheless each took tremendous pride in their business and the people it served. I was to hear in later years many incidents that made up those years, some of which represented hardships, some tragedy, some even humorous, but all taken in stride by those who had adopted the needs of their neighbors.

It was in 1950 that I saw Mr. Boyd again. I was home on leave from the Air Force and was again visiting my brother, this time in the Joelton community. The firm was now known as Anderson Garrett & Boyd. Mr. Boyd had now retired and Robert, my brother, had gone into the business. Here again, I was to hear many times in later years the events that caused Robert to become a part of that firm and why he was chosen to serve there. During the military leave it was suggested that I accompany Robert on a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Boyd’s home [located at the intersection of Clay Lick and Union Hill Roads]. We were met in the yard by Mr. Boyd and it was apparent that he was as busy as ever. The yard was beautifully kept, and his small farm possessed an order that testified to no detail being left unattended for long.

Mrs. Bertha Stark Boyd was one of the most remarkable ladies I have ever known. She had not been outside her yard since the early 20’s. She contented herself by reading, listening to the radio, and writing letters to her many friends. Her English was flawless and after a brief conversation I learned the meaning of a truly educated person. This union had never known children, so they devoted themselves to each other. Each considered the other before thinking of themselves.

I had not been back at the Air Force base long before I noted that I had been added to Mrs. Boyd’s list of correspondence. Her letters were always welcome, written with he skill of an editor, and generally concluded by telling of she and Mr. Boyd’s appreciation for my brother and his family. It was apparent that the young undertaker and his wife had become the children that they never had. It was to enrich the lives of all that it touched.

Upon returning from the Air Force I lived with my brother in the funeral home in Joelton and was employed in the Bank of Goodlettsville. Mr. J.C. Garrett was also the President of the bank. On many occasions I would stop by Mr. Boyd’s and take deposits or other business to the bank and return a receipt that afternoon. It was through such visits that I learned to know and love Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.

When I was to be married Mr. and Mrs. Boyd received an invitation to the wedding. Neither attended, but on the morning before we were to be married that evening Mr. Boyd came by to bring his personal best wishes and a letter from Mrs. Bertha. The letter contained ten dollars to use as we would, and some advice that would still serve to solve many of the domestic problems that confront so many homes.

The new wife and myself visited Mr. and Mrs. Boyd on several occasions and still treasure the memory of taking our infant son by their home and seeing this elderly couple play with and enjoy this small baby. Mr. Boyd never forgot the event and was to comment on it often in later years.

Mrs. Boyd’s health had been poor for a number of years and Mr. Boyd looked after the cooking, laundry, cleaning, and still found time to milk several cows. He sold butter as well as other produce to several stores in the Nashville area. He worked from morning’s first light until it was too dark to see, and then sat smoking his pipe waiting to begin again. He loved to work and took pride in the many things that he accomplished from day to day.

In the early Fall of 1960 Mrs. Bertha fell and broke her hip. It was necessary that she be removed from the home where she had remained for so long and be admitted to the hospital. Some of the younger set were curious as to what her reaction would be toward all the changes that had occurred since she had been out of her yard. The only interest shown was to move the curtain in the ambulance and gaze at the school building that had been built some years before that trip. It was just over the hill from her home.

Although the hip mended it was the signal of worse times that followed. The medical complications seemed to multiply and she was returned home to await the end. The only instructions were to keep her comfortable and relieve the pain. Dr. A.B. Gordon came to the house daily and earned a gratitude that was to be spoken of often by Mr. Boyd as long as he himself was to live.

To those of us who knew them during these times it was a marvel that one man could look after one so completely who was so ill. He finally consented to allow a lady to come stay with them, not to do any work --he did all this himself-- but in case he himself became ill. He had promised Mrs. Bertha that she would not have to go to a hospital again.

She died one Friday evening in early January, 1961. I stayed with Mr. Boyd while Robert removed her remains to the funeral home that both had loved so deeply for so long. His grief was deep but he soon controlled his emotions and began to tell me about coming to this farm as a young man in 1904. He lived on the site for one year by himself and in 1905 he married Miss Bertha Stark. She was to share his life for 57 enjoyable years. He talked of many things that evening and I got the impression that had I not been there he would have been telling a vacant house. He just wanted to talk.

Mrs. Bertha was buried in Spring Hill Cemetery on the morning of January 9, 1961, within a family plot that had been purchased years before. He was to return to this plot often and bring flowers that he had grown with great care.

Upon leaving the cemetery I was called over to his car and asked to come to his home that evening. Upon reaching his home that cold night in January, we sat in front of the gas heater in two rocking chairs that were aged with comfort and seemed to sway back and forth with little or no effort. As always, he came right to the point. Since did not own my home and since he needed someone nearby, it was suggested that I, my wife, and eleven-month old son move into his house. He would take two rooms, and we in turn were to remodel to our taste the remainder of the house; should he become deceased the house was to be ours with adjoining lands to go to heirs. At the conclusion we elected to think on the matter and I was to return in two days.

After my family and I discussed the matter at length, it was determined that since Mr. Boyd had never known the presence of small children within his home, it would add to the comfort of all if we declined the offer. I returned to his home one cold raining Saturday morning and we sat in his large kitchen beside the cook stove and talked while he smoked the pipe that was so much a part of him. When I told him of our decision, he reported that his thinking had produced the same conclusion, and, in fact, looked relieved. I then suggested that I was willing to purchase a building lot adjacent to his house and build our home. He stated this would solve the problem; he in turn would deed me the property and construction was to begin as rapidly as possible. It was further determined that the purchase price was to be $2,000, and I was to pay him in annual installments of $100 with no interest involved. He stated he did not, at that time, need the money and, in fact, would not accept it except in annual installments, the main point being that construction was to begin at once as he wanted someone near him.

Construction did begin and while the house was being built he showed much interest in the project and seemed more pleased than if it had been his own. We moved into the new house on April 4, 1961, and there began a relationship between us that was to last for almost seven and one-half years.

In looking back I can recall many things from that Spring and Summer. We devised signals that he would use to get me at night. He was to turn on the light in his bedroom and raise the shade. This would indicate that I was needed at once. Any other time he would use the phone. The window signal was used on only one occasion. As I was going to bed one night (which was usually after he had retired for the evening), I noted a light in his bedroom and the shade was up. Upon reaching his home he laughingly told me that he was adjusting the shade and it had slipped from his hand. I came away with the feeling that I had just been graded as to whether I was watching the window.

He talked on many occasions about Mrs. Bertha and the vacancy that her passing had created in his life. I don’t think this pain ever abated until he himself had gone. Never have I known two individuals whose entire being was as dedicated to the other as was Mr. Boyd and Mrs. Bertha. He was to make many trips to the cemetery and always carried flowers that had been grown for the occasion.

Mr. Boyd’s car was a 1947 model Chrysler that was left from his days as a funeral director. He kept it extremely clean and it was one of the largest passenger cars I have ever seen. It takes no effort to recall this small man in such a large car, leaving for town on his weekly Saturday morning visits. He would go to stores that he had visited for years and his knowledge of the streets of Nashville and his ability to locate an address were amazing. The stores always seemed to be located in an area that progress had forgotten. In later years when I drove him on some of these trips, had he not been along to direct I would have been unable to locate the site. He took the produce that he had grown and butter he had molded. I doubt that he ever realized a profit from these transactions, but it gave him an interest and this was all that seemed important to him.

On one occasion while he was absent from home and I had a new lawn mower, I went up and mowed his lawn to surprise him when he returned. As I was completing the job, I smelled his pipe and looked around to see him looking over the yard. Upon stopping the engine, I was told that in over 50 years this was the first time that he had returned home and found a job completed. In the future, however, I was not to do this again. He said that it only took me a couple of hours and he would have spent the greater part of a week on this job. I had, in fact, deprived him of a week’s activity. This mistake was not repeated as it had underscored his independence and I had been informed in a nice way not to do anything for Mr. Boyd unless he asked.

After a few weeks or months living patterns had adjusted themselves and it became automatic to look around his yard and see if he was about, or in winter evenings to glance at the barn at 5:15 to see if was headed back toward the house from milking the cows. After dinner each evening I would visit him. At times they were nothing more than going into his house, speaking and leaving, or we would become involved in conversation and the visit would last for hours. Whatever the occasion, when I left it was always, “Thank you, Dean, for coming, and come back,” then after the goodnights, the day was ending for both of us. If for some reason I did not get to his house during an evening, he would good-naturedly remind me that I had missed on my next trip there. The misses were not
often.

Mr. Boyd and Sarah (my wife) formed an excellent relationship and were forever exchanging flowers, food items, quilting pieces, and what-have-you. It was her attention to him that could have, on one occasion, saved his life. On December 13, 1963, a snow had covered the ground and temperatures were below zero. One of my evening visits indicated that Mr. Boyd had some frozen pipes in the kitchen. We were not successful in getting them into operation, and it was decided that he would phone the plumber the following morning. However, the following morning he elected to try once again himself. He built a fire in the back yard and, taking wood from the fire, held it against the pipes under the house. The house caught fire, but he thought he had extinguished it and returned inside. A short time later the house was engulfed in flames. Sarah heard him and the two of them tried to remove some things from the flames, but very little could be done. She finally led him from the house and phoned me at work.

That trip home from work will remain in my memory. The roads were covered with ice and speed was impossible. In my mind I concluded that this was the finish of Mr. Boyd. The house that he identified with Mrs. Bertha, that the two of them had built with their hands, plus all the pictures and other reminders, were now destroyed. I did not see how he would survive this so soon after he had lost her.

I had once again underestimated Mr. Boyd. When I arrived he was watching the flames, as well as the arriving fire engines and gathering crowds, and seemed somewhat embarrassed that he was receiving all this attention. He excused himself and went to feed his cows. He did not seem overly filled with remorse and I concluded that his years had conditioned him to accept tragedy, and this he was able to do. It was also apparent that his devotion was to Mrs. Bertha and not to momentoes around the house. It is interesting to note that the temperature never did get above zero on that date.

The following weeks are also worth recalling. He slept in the home of Mr. Grover Carney (across the road), ate with us, and had his baths at Robert’s home. He had many invitations but this was the arrangement that suited him best, and one didn’t suggest to Mr. Boyd. His days were spent in his garage beside a little wood stove and it was from this point that he watched construction begin on his new brick home that he wanted to be all electric. Sarah washed his clothes and on one occasion when he picked up his clothes he announced that he had purchased for us a clothes dryer and we were either to accept it or no more clothes would be forthcoming to be washed. We now have a dryer.

When the house was completed the neighborhood gave a gift shower in his behalf. The results were something else. Furniture, clothes, cooking ware, food, his house was furnished...

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Copyright 2006 Mauna Crabtree