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HOME BIOGRAPHY MASONIC CONTACT MY BLO
Loan Man
FROM THE BOOK:
There was a surprise party scheduled for the night of Watson's retirement. Lem had talked to Watson's girlfriend, Donna, and convinced her to bring him into town for supper. They supposedly had reservations at seven.
The guests began arriving around five-thirty and they came in multitudes. The word had been passed that Watson was retiring and everyone wanted to come, Watson's former employees, many of his old friends and several of his customers.
The phone began to ring just as Lem was rehearsing everyone on how to hide, jump out, and yell "surprise," Lem answered it and the blood drained from his face. He slowly hung up the phone and looked at me. "That was Donna, Mr. Watson's girlfriend. She called to tell us . . . " Lem began to cry, every word was forced, " . . . she called to tell . . . to tell us that Bull Watson died about an hour ago." Lem began to cry violently and he tried to speak, "they . . . they rushed him . . . to the hospital, but it was too late. He had a massive heart attack. Bull Watson is dead."
I was asked to be a pallbearer at Watson's funeral. I couldn't understand why considering the important people that would be at the funeral, but I didn't question her decision. To me it was an honor.
As the funeral procession moved into the little cemetery, I could see Rolls Royces and Chevrolets, Cadillacs and Fords lining the roads. They bore license plates from throughout the country. Several taxi cabs were parked outside the gate. Flowers covered the procession route and the grave site. Until the day of his funeral, few people, including me, knew exactly how well known William Lee "Bull" Watson actually was.
The service itself was brief. But, as the minister was saying his words of farewell, I said my own words of promise. I promised to remember the lessons Watson had taught me and to use them despite the outcome. Watson was convinced that a man could make it in this world by doing the right things and I swore that I would prove him right. That, I felt, was the best way to remember a man who had been my teacher, my mentor, and, in some sort of fatherly way, my friend.