“I have a thousand stories!” said David Shelton, when I asked him what he remembered about old Columbus. “I used to work for Sid Gardner and Kelly Myers for $4 a day. I wanted to be in the drug store business because of Mr. Sid. I”d sit on a stool at his drug store and just listen. So many people came in that I heard and learned a lot. I was there the day Mr. Sid advised Birney Imes to buy a television station.
“I took Mr. Sid”s checks to Mr. John Henry”s bank to deposit. I was about 16 and had no idea what stocks were, but Mr. Sid had a lot of checks from stock. He was always teaching me, and even gave me $300 to start a stock account.”
David continued telling me about the day Mr. Sid nearly set his hair afire trying to singe it to make it grow.
Mr. Sid drove an old car. One day he decided to trade and bought a new Mercury. He came in the back door of the drug store and told everyone to go out and look at it. “It was long and low,” said David. “It looked like a hoodlum”s car.”
Later Mr. Sid parked it in front of the store. “Can you handle it?” someone asked. Apparently the answer to that was no. When he tried to back out, he gunned the motor, and the car shot backwards and almost went into Atwell Andrews” shoe store. It hit parking meters, and coins flew everywhere.
“He never mentioned it, just drove off. He didn”t even know he”d done it,” said David.
“He had to!” I protested.
David insisted he did not. At any rate no one said anything to him about it.
What”s that you say?
Mr. Sid”s niece, Cile Gardner Andrews, came in often, carrying on in her inimitable way. There was one story she told that her daughter Fran Brown was fond of repeating. It seems she had a new maid whom she was supposed to pick up.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“I live near Kay Rogers.”
“I don”t know where Kay Rogers lives,” said Cile.
The maid agreed to show her. They drove to Kroger”s.
Later, when Cile was ready to write a check to her, she asked what her first name was.
“I go by my initials,” said the maid.
Cile carefully wrote, “Biminicials” on the check, and that was what she was always called.
Tall tales
Once David bought a farm from Wayne Griffin, a raconteur without equal. Both the men would go out to the farm every Friday night for steaks and Jack Daniels. Charlie Bardwell often joined them. He was crazy about Yahoos, a chocolate drink, so they often had Yahoos. Surely not with the whisky, I hope.
Wayne”s truck farm was located below Camp Henry Pratt. It was named Epper Lair (pronounced Eeper) from a tale Wayne told country youngsters who came around. He hoped to discourage them from trespassing.
He told them there was a wild Epper around there. It had terrible teeth and would devour every bit of an animal or person except its hair. He showed them an old deerskin. When he picked it up, all the hair fell off, as he knew it would.
“Anybody missing?” he asked.
“What”s this Epper look like?”
“Short. Has lots of teeth.”
About that time a can of paint in the backyard burst in the heat. Wayne was quick to take advantage of it. “There it is now!”
The children scattered, but returned later, claiming to have seen it. “Don”t tell anyone,” cautioned Wayne.
“We swear we”re not gonna tell!” they vowed. But shortly thereafter about 15 other children showed up, wanting to see the Epper.
Lessons
David never became a druggist, but did enter politics, being Lowndes County chancery clerk for 12 years. Today he says a pivotal time in his life was when Bill Brigham asked him to go on a Walk to Emmaus, a unique Christian retreat which takes its name from a walk by two pilgrims to whom a newly resurrected Jesus Christ appeared on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus. David said he could not even pronounce the name when he went, but it had a profound effect on him. “It turned my life around,” he said.
Always someone who enjoyed giving gifts, he now gets his greatest pleasure from doing so, or from supporting projects of other people with profits going to the church.
He imports fabrics and likes to give throws of it to people. Even I got one when he and his wife, Sue, came to my house to reminisce for this article.
He says one of the most valuable lessons he has learned came from a friend, Mrs. Eunice Fuqua. The Fuquas gave food from their store to the needy. David gave some blankets. “Miss Eunice” thanked him and he replied, “Oh, it”s nothing.”
“Miss Eunice” said, “Listen, David. You must learn to receive as well as give. Allow the other person to have the pleasure of saying ”thanks.””
David said that she, herself, never fails to write pretty notes of thanks, and he enjoys getting them almost as much as he enjoys giving the gift. And that, he says, is more fun for him than anything.
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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