George Goodwin Remembered

 

Allen, Clark & George Goodwin  

Photo by Bard Wrisley 2009

George Goodwin Eulogy

by his son, Allen

Trinity Presbyterian Church Atlanta

January 26, 2015

My son David, reminded me, we're not here to mourn the passing of his grandfather, but to celebrate his life.

Throughout my adult life, I've come to expect being approached by strangers, who ask, "are you George Goodwin's son?" I know what I'll hear next. He or she will tell me a story, about some kindness, or precious ounce of advice, Dad gave them years ago, and how it changed their life, for the better. These frequent encounters affirm for me - our Dad earned lasting affections.

Dad could spot a good heart a mile away. And he'd await an opportunity, to put that good heart in a position to shine, to thrive, to impact other hearts and to multiply itself.

He could also spot a fool. He reserved a special code name, for men who obstruct worthy initiatives, Mafoofnick. I think it means goof-ball. Whenever MaFoofnick, stepped into in Dad's arena, he would find a way, to finesse MaFoofnick, into a corner, but always one near a doorway, through which he could make a graceful exit. “Always leave your opponent an out,” he would tell me.

A lot of what he taught us was philosophical. But much of it was practical. Dad taught me to drive a car. And one little item of wisdom he shared with me has saved me much treasure and heartache. He said, “never back up an inch farther than you need to.” I always looked forward to those weekend driving lessons, on the roadways of the Westminster School campus. Funny thing though, they were among the only times I ever saw him nervous.

Let me tell you about my first traffic accident. Mother was driving our '62 Thunderbird and we were violently rear ended on West Paces Ferry Road. We were belted in and that alone saved us from injury. When we got home I was so excited to tell Dad about this jarring new experience. He asked me about the man who had hit us, first, concerned for that man's safety, but also knowing he would soon be dealing with the fellow under unfortunate circumstances. He asked, “was he wearing a coat and tie?”

That struck me as an unusual question and I've thought about it often ever since. Years later it finally struck me. A necktie is not a modern garment. They've been around for centuries. It's designed to put others at ease. It says subconsciously and in an instant, I am a gentle man and I have faith that you are gentle too. And as proof, I put within your immediate reach a critical combat advantage, a garrote around my own neck! Now, my takeaway from all this thought was only this: Whether it's meeting new friends or accidentally damaging someone else's property, Id better be dressed for the occasion.

Our father cared about people. He kept in touch with his World War II Navy buddies until they were all gone. Unshakably bound by sacrifice, in them he stored a special faith.

Faith in his fellow man. That was our father. He granted to everyone, the benefit of the doubt, that they could arise, when faced with a tough moral decision, that they could excel, when offered an important assignment. It was that heartfelt - benefit of the doubt - that motivated everyone around him, and inspired loyalty, in his home, in his workplaces, and on the high seas.

Dad had an air of command, not over the people around him, but over the difficult situations, in which those people found themselves. Our father took the long view on everything, knowing a gentle touch on a ship's helm, would result in ever increasing miles of strategic advantage.

He derived his authority from the well placed word. Command of the language, its nuances, its powers and its frailties. He didn't clutter his speech with swirling thoughts. He didn't think out loud. Hence, the pregnant pauses. He listened with patience, and spoke with purpose – like the final smoothing brushstroke on an uneven glob of paint.

He didn't clutter his writings by restating problems. His sentences addressed them. Concise refined writings, remarkable in their clarity and for their brevity.

Dad was not a vocal Christian. But he was a model of Christian behavior. He consulted the Bible often but I’m not sure he believed every word of it. I think the newspaperman in him looked for two sides to every story. Dad once interviewed Edgar Cayce and for years learned everything he could about that man, drawn by the notion that the power of the mind is largely undiscovered. He was open, to thought...but he lived by the scriptures just in case they were true.

 
Dad often said you can learn a lot about someone by whom they admire.

 
Dad admired Henry Grady and Ralph McGill. From them he learned that a newspaper, could mold a city’s conscience, and enhance its prosperity.

He admired Franklin Roosevelt, who proved to Dad, when people have faith in each other, and cooperate, great things can be accomplished.

Our Father admired Dick Rich, the namesake of his family's department store. He once said to me, “everything about him exuded class.” It's the only time I can remember him using that word, “class” in that way. I suspect he avoided the word for two reasons. It's vague and imprecise, but also because it's divisive. To say one person has class suggests - someone else doesn't.

Clark and I heard a story this weekend from our Dad's days at the First National Bank. During a volatile time of racial mistrust, one morning a phone call came in from Dick Rich saying this was the day that he would desegregate the eating areas within his store. He left it to Dad to get out the word.

Dad immediately telephoned key black religious leaders, white business leaders, and also the Mayor’s Office. We were told, Dad was the only one in town, a that critical moment, who had sufficiently earned the trust of all three camps, and could broker an understanding. An arrangement was revealed, a complete reversal of policy, the police would make no more arrests, but would instead protect the new diners.

Dad admired Dr. Francis Gaines, the longtime head of Washington & Lee University, who considered six things important, in his prospective leaders. First, character, for there is no substitute for character. Here's a quick example. On our only trip to Brussels, Elizabeth, me, Mom and Dad were swept along with a crowd, into a large exhibit hall.

Once inside, Dad oversaw the situation, and realized the ticket taker was neglecting his duties. Against my urging that he let the moment pass, he circled back and paid our entry fee. I wasn't surprised.

Second, personality, fifty percent persuasiveness and fifty percent responsiveness.

Third, luck, for luck so often follows good judgement. Luck put Dad on the sidelines of dozens of major events. The Gone With The Wind premier, the Moore's Ford lynchings, the Winecoff fire, and the Telfare County vote fraud among them.

Luck put him at pivotal points. The election of John Kennedy. It was Dad who recommended candidate Kennedy visit Warm Springs, Clark and I shook his hand there, he hoped to tie his name, to the man who had raised Georgia, from dirt farm poor, into the the age of electricity. Kennedy carried Georgia. That was in a time when presidents were revered, and not publicly scorned for profit!

Fourth, Dr. Gaines defined courage as, the nerve to do what's right over what's popular. Dad wasn't much for confrontation. His skill was making what's right, popular. Sell it.

Next, Gaines valued people with the widest range of interests. The sun would set toady before I got through a list of Dad's interests.

And lastly, Dr. Gaines valued those who were eternal students, always seeking the truth. Dad said, there is no better authority than a simple man seeking the truth.

Eternal student? Our family was there in Dad's final years and moments. We saw him earn what Dr. Gaines considered the finest possible eulogy: He died learning. He died learning!

Dr. Gaines' values became the yardsticks, by which our father measured, himself, his employees, his associates, Naval officers, political candidates - and his sons.

It's night time on the other side of the world. And on the seas are Navy ships. I hope the next George Goodwin is on one. But what are the odds? Are they good or are they long? Clark and I cannot calculate them, for we have never met another man like him.

Dad took to heart fully, the words of Robert Woodruff, “There is no limit to what a man can do, if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit.”

One friend told us, for fifty years our dad had his hands on nearly every major achievement Atlanta made, but his fingerprints appear on nearly none of them.

The exception is this lovely church, a mighty and enduring force for good. It was here he was widely known, and would appreciate being remembered. And it is here, in the memorial garden, right beside our mother, their souls arisen, he will stay.

________________________________________________

George Goodwin Eulogy Given By His Son, Clark
January 26, 2015

In a moment, I'll share with you the 5-word sentence that had a tremendous impact on our family and others for decades to come.

A career-enhancing …

life-changing …

door-opening ...

horizon-stretching kind of impact.

What happened and why it happened is detailed in a 1-page, typed letter our Dad wrote in 1948, some weeks after he was awarded the first Pulitzer Prize for Distinguished Local Reporting.

He was writing to President Gaines of Washington and Lee whom, as Allen mentioned, Dad – class of '39 – revered.

The letter was in response to a letter Dr. Gaines had sent him.

Dad's letter is on Atlanta Journal letterhead complete with the paper's famous masthead phrase … “Covers Dixie Like the Dew.”  

Dear Dr. Gaines,

I deeply appreciate your letter congratulating me on my recent good fortune. It was very thoughtful of you.

You may be interested to know that the Telfair story would not have been possible had it not been for one of the traditions which makes Washington and Lee a great institution.  That's the tradition of speaking to people one meets on the street.  

My first trip to Telfair County was thoroughly unsuccessful.  I found no evidence of the frauds I suspected. 

As I was about to return to Atlanta, I spoke to an old farmer standing near my car.  It was just a casual “Good afternoon, Sir,” … but I am certain I would not have spoken had it not been for the old W&L tradition.

As I started the engine, he turned and approached me. 

and then … the five life-changing words.

The farmer told my Dad, :

“I know why you're here.”

In the letter, Dad writes:

Then the old farmer volunteered the information I had been seeking in vain for two days. 

The letter continues …

“On a later trip to the county, this farmer – who had lived there for more than 70 years – was INVALUABLE in locating some of the 25 people whose testimony provided the irrefutable evidence of fraud that made the difference between

a GREAT story … and NO STORY AT ALL.”

Turning from the letter for just a moment …

The fraud was the Telfair County vote frauds, and Dad exposed highly irregular practices in the 1946 gubernatorial election – a drawn out process that at one point involved three politicians claiming to be governor – a situation requiring the state supreme court to finally resolve.   

Then Dad's letter takes a new direction: 

“Somehow it seems only fitting that part of the Pulitzer prize money should be forwarded to the University and reinvested to carry on all the splendid Washington and Lee traditions. 

So... I am enclosing my check.  

I want this to go for the Memorial Scholarship in the name of my former roommate, fraternity brother, and dear friend, Walter Guthrie of Washington D.C.  Walter exemplified the best in Washington and Lee traditions.  Like many other W&L men, he gave his life in World War 2 for the high ideals of democracy ... and for the dignity of man that our University stands for.  Perhaps this small contribution can help someone like Walter to carry on where he left off.”

Dad's pay-it-forward example from 66 years ago was so typical of his always hopeful anticipation of the future, his generous spirit, and his desire to make a difference in the life of someone

• in this case -- someone yet to be known.

A city-bred visitor greeting an old farmer on a road in rural south Georgia, engaging in a college tradition that had become a habit for life.

A farmer feeling comfortable enough to open up and say “I know why you're here” and offering to help.

The visitor -- already in his car, with engine running, and resigned to departing empty-handed – stops in surprise by the old farmer's response … the response that sets in motion a life-changing and – without exaggeration – a region changing sequence of events.

Our family thanks each of you here today and thanks also the entire Trinity Community that has been an important part of Dad's life since 1949.

Thank you for joining us in celebrating his life.

Your time, stories, assurances, and love mean more to us than we are able to express in words.

Dad lived a lucky and exceptionally happy life with Skippy responsible for much of that happiness.

They had the best next door neighbors anyone could ask for: Peter and Julia White – and the best neighborhood and nearby neighbors: the Warrens and the Peytons.

They had a faithful gardener and family friend of 45 years: Relus Lucear.

After the loss of Skippy, loyal friends continued to add joy to Dad's life:

John Shepherd, Mike York, Stacey Epstein Hader, Lynn Sokler, Al and Peggy Brann, Susan Prutzman, Ann Howell, Kay Powell, and Virgie Heffernan among others.

Matt Porter, wrote a beautiful tribute to him, and copies are available at the reception.

We also thank Dad's niece Sally Van Valzah and grandson David Goodwin who provided critical support during George's recent weeks in rehab and in-house hospice care.

Most especially, we thank his long-time caregiver – and honorary MAN in the

Men of Trinity Breakfast Group – Ms. Jackee Hooten.

Jackee and our son Warren -- with his steadfast devotion to his grandfather -- helped Dad enjoy his life as richly and for as long as possible.

Again, thank you all for coming.