Posted December 17, 2014
Today, I attended the funeral of a friend of mine – and many of you – Steve Brown, sales manager at ITEMA America, Spartanburg, S.C. Here is my attempt to honor this unforgettable, rare man who touched many lives in his too-short 63 years. Let me preface this by saying that, when I mentioned to someone today that I would be writing a blog about Steve, the person said, “that one should write itself.” Well, yes and no. Yes because Steve was multi-dimensional and his story is chock full of good, sharable fodder. And no for the same reasons. How do you properly pay tribute to someone like Steve Brown in such a short space? He requires a book to in order to properly do justice to his character and the impact he made on this world. But here goes.
Let’s start with …
Steve the Rascal
As many of you know, Steve was a waggish sort who relished the role of jocular jester and jolly jokester. He was notorious for pulling one’s leg – or a stunt – at someone else’s expense. All in good fun, of course. He lived life with a permanent smile – some may call it a mischievous grin – and his playfulness brought laughter and liveliness wherever he went.
On one occasion, for instance, he and his former boss at Picanol of America, Jimmy Thomas, went to lunch at a local barbecue establishment in Greenville, S.C. The story goes that Jimmy excused himself to the restroom when they arrived, and Steve pounced on the opportunity. When the waitress came over for drink orders, Steve told her, “the guy I’m with is almost deaf and his hearing aid is broken. So when he comes back, you’ll have to lean over and talk loud in his ear.” She complied, of course, and before long, Jimmy knew he had been “took” again by a Steve Brown prank.
Steve also had a knack for impersonating friends. One of his favorites to imitate was Steve Adams, president of Seydel-Woolley and a fellow STA Southern Textile Association (STA) Board of Governors member. One time at an STA meeting, Brown was pretending to give out golf awards in Adams’ deep Georgia accent – but stopped, momentarily, when he realized Adams was standing behind him. Adams, a jovial sort himself, laughed along with everyone else.
And there was also …
Steve the Nickname Generator
If you knew Steve, it’s likely that he didn’t call you by your given name. He seemed to prefer nicknames for most everyone, and he handed them out generously. If you had one, you knew you were on a certain comfort level with him. It was his way of making you feel special and affectionately saying, “You’re cool. You’re my friend.”
At his funeral today, the pastor illustrated this proclivity by asking anyone who had been given a nickname by Steve to stand up. No fewer than 40 people did – and they were asked, individually, to call out the sobriquet he had given them. Among them: Randy Blackston, “The Hammer.” Bill Bowen, “Wild Man.” Jim Copland, “Mr. C.” Werner Mendler, “Little Brother.” Jimmy Thomas, “Papa” and sometimes, “El Presidente.” Cyril Guerin, “Young Bull.” Enamored in the moment of the nicknames being called out, I forgot to stand up. But, for the record, he often called me “Satchmo,” for reasons some of you know.
Steve also had a nickname – “Wonder Boy,” which was given to him in high school and stuck for more than 40 years. He was referred by that name several times by those eulogizing him today. Earlier this year, at an STA meeting in Clemson, S.C., U.S. House Rep. Trey Gowdy even called him “Wonder Boy,” via Skype, when Steve introduced him to the group.
Behind that convivial façade, however, was another side, that being …
Steve the Mentor
Steve worked with children for many years as a youth coach and referee. He also spent time playing video games or sports such as basketball with kids in his neighborhood – or, as he called them, his “hood children.” He also loved attending their sporting events. He was a positive influence on many, according to family and friends. Several of them – men now in their 40s with whom Steve had guided in Kannapolis, N.C. many years ago – even showed up to visit him a couple of weeks ago when he was in hospice care. Many of the kids he worked with called him a variation of his nickname: “Wonder Pop.” Though he often joked around with these kids, he always was there for them when they needed advice or just wanted to talk. He also was a Sunday School teacher and R.A. (Royal Ambassador) leader for youth at his church.
According to his pastor today, Steve made it his life’s mission to make a difference in children’s’ lives after losing an eight-month-old son many years ago.
And many also remember him as …
Steve the Benevolent
Steve had many friends – at least 41,000 of whom were “best friends,” according to one of those who honored him from the altar today. In speaking to many who knew him, I saw a common thread emerge: He never met a stranger. One of those true “best friends” Marty Ellis of Inman Mills, said, “Steve genuinely cared about friends and customers and supplied more humor than anyone I’ve ever known. He was truly one of a kind.” And Steve had a huge heart and was willing to do anything to help his friends or anyone in need, I was told by several.
One of his friends told me a particularly poignant story that epitomized Steve’s altruism. David Burns, who was plant manager at Springs Industries’ Springfield plant in Laurel Hill, N.C., worked with Steve in the 1980s when Steve was in the company’s development area on the corporate side.
'Wonder Boy' left his mark
This page proudly sponsored by Frankl & Thomas, Inc.
Steve often visited the plant and “was always positive, always upbeat and always joking around,” Burns said. One day, a management trainee was very distraught when he came into Burns’ office. The employee’s baby had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and was at the Duke University Hospital. He was worried about keeping his job while attending to his family’s needs, he told his boss. Burns told him to take all the time he needed to be with his family.
Though they had never talked about it, Burns knew Steve had lost a child at a young age. So he called him to ask a favor: “Will you go with me to Durham tomorrow to speak to this family?” Burns asked. Silence. Finally, after about 30 seconds, Burns, thinking he was out of line, apologized for asking. But Steve needed time to compose himself before answering, “no, I will be happy to go.” For the first hour and a half on the trip the next day, the two talked about everything but the employee’s family situation or Steve’s losing a child, Burns remembered. Then, Steve broached the subject and spent the last 30 minutes of the trip talking about the son he lost. “I don’t know who started crying first,” Burns said.
When they arrived at the hospital, Burns told Steve he did not have to go up if he didn’t feel up to it. But Steve said, “I have prayed about this and I believe something good is going to happen today. Let’s go.” They arrived outside of a room full of people, which was “the most morbid thing you have ever seen,” Burns said. He told Steve he was not composed enough to go in, so Steve entered the room alone. “I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but within 60 seconds, he had the whole room’s spirits uplifted,” Burns recalled. “I knew then that he was special. I knew if you needed somebody to speak to the man upstairs or someone who can say the right things at the right time, it was Steve. He was that kind of guy.”
While Steve was in the room, a doctor came in and said the team of doctors advised against treating the baby due to her condition and her age, but the doctor asked and received permission to treat the girl. To make a long story short, that baby is now 25 years old and a college graduate – and, of course, she grew up being a friend of Steve.
Which brings us to …
Steve the Unforgettable
In one of the final weeks of his life, the pastor said today, Steve confided in him. He said he wasn’t afraid of dying but was worried about leaving his wife and daughter. He also said he was afraid that, when people got back on with their lives after his passing, they would forget him. The pastor assured him that would never happen. People will always remember him, the pastor told him. His legacy is too big to ever forget.
Indeed. There was only one “Wonder Boy.”
If you have a memory of Steve, please share it below in the Comments section.