In a season of tragic losses, I thought about some of the North Carolina people who gave the greater part of their lives to make the world a better place. Today's editorial in the Raleigh News and Observer spurred me to post this article by Jim Jenkins, the Deputy editorial writer, and the beginning of the news article by Jane Stancil of the Raleigh News and Observer. I noted that Jim Jenkins left out the "great" Leroy Walker, an omission that was perhaps the result of his probably not being friends with Earl Scruggs and possibly not Doc Watson, but certainly he was one of the great heroes of our lives.
But I would be remiss in not reflecting on my parents and in-laws who were "greats" in their own right who died in previous years:
My mother (d. December 19th, 1998), my father (b. December 25th, d. September 2000), my mother-in-law (d. December 24th, 2011), and my father-in-law (d. March 17th, 2001), I miss their wisdom, (wise cousel) their scholarship and their grace.
They were so very different, each had a particular kind of
genius and their personalities ranged from gregarious to quiet. All
were raised among foothills or mountains, in modest circumstances, and
earned everything they ever had. They went to the top of their chosen
callings, but retained genuine modesty.
None had a life without
sadness. In thinking about four absent friends, fellow North Carolinans
who died this year, a sobering realization was that all of them lost
children before their time, surely the most grievous suffering that can
come to a parent. That gave pause, with the tragedy that struck the
mothers and fathers of Newtown, Conn., less than a week ago.
Now,
as Christmas nears, it’s a time of reflection on the loss of loved ones
and old compadres in the last year, and it happens to be an especially
sad year for that process among those in this state who knew any or all
of these four men: Bill Friday, founding president of what is now the
University of North Carolina system and arguably the most important
North Carolinian of the 20th century; Andy Griffith, whose namesake
television series may be the best comedy ever made; Earl Scruggs,
certainly the most gifted banjo player in that instrument’s history; and
Doc Watson, guitar virtuoso and singer.
They knew each other and liked each other, these fellows. Different
“threads” they were in a way, but together they added color and depth
and meaning to the quilt of North Carolina. And upon their deaths after
long lives (Griffith was the youngest, at 86) they were celebrated for
accomplishments that will be remembered and revered for as long as the
University of North Carolina is around, for as long as television
exists, for as long as there is music.
And North Carolinians who
take the time during the holidays to think about these grand lives will
immerse themselves, really, in the history of this state, over the last
half of the 20th century. It’s a chance as well to contemplate what it
was about them, what traits they may have shared, that led them to such
admired levels of achievement.
For Friday, education in Wake
Forest, Raleigh and Chapel Hill sparked a life’s work. Coming out of a
county, Gaston, where textile mills dominated the culture, he saw from
his own experience what a difference higher schooling could make, and
thus his course was set for the next 60 years. He helped individuals and
institutions, the first to have the courage to dream the dream and the
second to see that it was fulfilled.
He had a way with people. Students were astonished when he remembered their names, sometimes years later, after one meeting.
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| Bill Friday, a gentleman and a scholar |
Griffith
grew up in Mount Airy, close by the mountains, and helped push his own
dream along with a public education in Chapel Hill. Some who knew him
believed he was driven by the hurt of hearing someone call him “white
trash” in his youth, but who knows? He made a difference in North
Carolina in a way that didn’t occur to most people: Instead of playing a
“hick” sheriff from the state on his TV show, he lost the country-fried
accent early on to convey dignity.
 |
| Andy Griffith, brought us humor and lessons we have never forgotten |
Scruggs was gifted (and
nurtured his gift with hours of practice), but took nothing for granted.
He worked in a mill until he was sure he could make a living at music.
And he stood for what he believed even if it was unpopular in the
“country music community,” evidenced by his performances with Joan Baez
and statements against the war in Vietnam.
 |
| Earl Scruggs, great Bluegrass musician--not just Deliverance but a good citizen, as well |
And then there was
Doc. Blind since early childhood, he was taught independence by his
parents and came to the school for the blind in Raleigh. He played in
small bands until he was discovered in his 30s and his impossible
guitar-playing and encyclopedic knowledge of old-time music took him to
stardom. All his life, he stayed in Deep Gap and created a world-famous
music festival named for his late son, Merle.
 |
| Doc Watson, not only a great musician but a great humanitarian as well. |
Those who called
them “friend” typically were of long acquaintance. Each possessed a
degree of character and strength that helped them to weather criticism
which all faced along the way. Each was shaped by small-town values,
values, we hope, that are still being taught in the communities of North
Carolina."
Deputy editorial page editor Jim Jenkins can be reached at 919-829-4513 or at jjenkins@newsobserver.com
"His grandchildren called him Papa. Olympians he mentored called him
Doc. And though he was a Ph.D., a university chancellor and president of
the U.S. Olympic Committee, most people called him Coach.
And that’s just how he liked it.
Hundreds
gathered at Duke Chapel on Tuesday to bid farewell to LeRoy Walker, the
legendary track and field coach who died last week at 93. The funeral
drew mourners from all over the nation – Olympians, coaches,
politicians, family and friends." (N&O May 1, 2011)
