In celebration of a life well lived
by Brian Conley
This column is not about Dr. Frank Bowyer, the renowned orthodontist who, during World War II, served as the dental consultant to the Manhattan project and was cited for "meritorious service." Nor is it about the man who, during the Korean War, served as a major in the U. S. Air Force.
This column is not about the man who, in 1952, was voted "Knoxville's Young Man of the Year." Nor is it about the man who, in 1979, was named "Tennessean of the Year."
This column is not about the man who served as president of both the American Association of Orthodontists and the American Dental Association. Nor is it about the man who, in 1959, was appointed by Gov. Frank Clement to the University of Tennessee's Board of Trustees and whose 21 years on the board ranks as one of the longest tenures in the history of the University.
This column is not about the man who received the Paris Gold Medal for "The Pursuit of Excellence in International Health." Nor is it about the man who Dr. Jim Caveney, current president of the American Association of Orthodontists, eulogized last week by letter to its membership, calling him "one of the greatest leaders in dentistry—EVER!"
No. This column is not about Dr. Frank Bowyer because, frankly, I never knew that man. This column is about the man I knew simply as "Daddy Frank," and here are a few details I'd like to share about what I knew of the private man.
Daddy Frank was my wife's elderly grandfather, whom I never met until after he had turned 80. To me, he was the grand old patriarch of the Bowyer clan who, despite his age and failing health, always treated me like he treated everyone—with a kind word and a smile.
He was the man who, although steadfastly planted in his lounge chair, always shook my hand so firmly and held it just long enough so that I knew he was truly glad to see me.
"Hey Brian," he would say with a twinkle in his eye. And then he would ask me if I had seen that game last night or if I'd read any good books lately.
Daddy Frank loved to travel, and he loved to share stories of the places he had been, most of them accompanied by his wife of 53 years, Doris, before she died in 1992.
Daddy Frank remarried in September 2001 and set off on a European honeymoon. Having wanted to escort his longtime companion, Deane, to some of his favorite European cities, their honeymoon was sadly cut short when the events of 9/11 intervened. As much as he loved to travel, Daddy Frank wanted to be home with his family, and so their trip ended where it began, in London, after only three days.
Photographs I had never seen until last week revealed to me that, in his youth, Frank Bowyer had been an extremely handsome man. But that was not surprising, as it was consistent with how he appeared later in his life. His thick white mane and well-groomed appearance and attire had inspired his friends to dub him, "The Silver Fox."
Daddy Frank was proud of his vintage Fleetwood Cadillac and, though I never rode with him, I've heard it said that he didn't so much drive it as take aim with it. And he loved Tennessee football so much that, at his graveside service, his 13 grandchildren saw fit to tearfully serenade him with the most moving rendition of Rocky Top one is likely to ever hear. Having had a great sense of humor, I could see the old fella grinning from ear to ear when, just as the last note faded, a distant train blew two whistles in tribute to the man and the occasion.
At his funeral, Dr. Frank Bowyer, Jr. spoke eloquently of his father:
"When I was a boy, I knew that my father was a very busy man. And when I grew a little older, I realized that my father was a very important man. When I grew still older, I realized that he was a very wonderful man. And now, I realize that my father was a very great man. Since he passed, so many people have come to me and said, 'I knew your dad. He changed my life. I loved him and I'll miss him.'"
Daddy Frank loved his family, his friends and his country. As we carried his casket, draped in the American flag, out the front door of Church Street United Methodist Saturday, the congregation sang the last stanza of The Battle Hymn of the Republic:
"In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me;
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on."
While I never knew Dr. Frank Bowyer, the public man who did so many wonderful public things in his life, it was my great privilege and honor to have known Daddy Frank and to have served as one of his pallbearers. He was a big man with a big heart. He changed my life. I loved him, and I'll miss him.
"Glory, glory, hallelujah!"
January 29, 2003 * Vol. 14, No. 5
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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