Adelaide and I became part of the
Dadeville community even before we became fulltime residents. We had built our
house on Lake Martin in anticipation of retiring to it, and since we were at
the lake most weekends, we ate on Saturday mornings at Bob’s Fine
Food, which was sort of like Cheers without the booze. It was where you met
people and made friends and caught up with the local goings on. And we began
attending church at First United Methodist Church in Dadeville.
It
seemed to me as a newcomer that there were three institutions in particular
that gave Dadeville its distinctive personality: Moore’s Hardware,
Floyd’s Feed
& Seed, and the Piggly Wiggly.
OF COURSE
IT WASN’T the businesses themselves that established their
uniqueness; it was their owners, Steve Moore, Fay Floyd, and Laeman Butcher. In
every one of those places, you were treated like a neighbor as well as a
customer.
The
Piggly Wiggly, or The Pig as we called it, seemed to cater most meetings and
events in Dadeville, and I met Laeman when I was the guest speaker at a Kiwanis
Club meeting. When I was introduced to him, he was ensuring that the luncheon
went smoothly. My first impression was of a smiling, jovial person.
I
began to know him better when we shopped at The Pig and joined First United
Methodist Church. To my first impressions, I added another: boundless energy.
And later, selflessness.
Seven
or eight years older than I, he seemed to be always on the go, usually on a
project to make Dadeville a better place—I can’t think of many civic projects he
wasn’t involved
in—or to help
someone who needed help, whether taking someone groceries or cutting their
grass or laying hands on a motorized wheelchair for someone who needed one.
WE WORKED
SIDE
by side in the Methodist Men, whose mission is to help people in the local
community, on such projects as building wheel chair ramps, repairing really
rundown houses and clearing overgrown yards. No matter how hot or dirty the job
was, he was always there. For all of the charitable acts that Laeman performed
publicly, there were probably as many private acts of charity that he did not
call attention to.
Laeman
was a Marine (I don’t
think you’re ever a
former Marine), and he was passionate about the welfare of all veterans. He
helped arrange flights for veterans to see the World War II monument in
Washington,D.C., and trips to the Infantry Museum at Fort Benning.
He
was equally passionate about politics, and although his leanings often didn’t jibe with
mine, it never stopped us from working together for a worthy cause.
IN
RECENT YEARS he had turned running of The Pig over to his children, although he
could still be seen about the store. The change did give him time to find yet
another passion: Gardening. He went at it in a big way, and loved to share not
only reports on how his garden was doing but the product of the garden as well.
An
icon toppled earlier this year when The Pig closed.
But
a community giant disappeared on Tuesday when Laeman died of a heart attack at
81. I admired and respected him, and I was fortunate to know him for as long as
I did.
Bill
Brown is a retired newspaper editor whose newspapers won a Pulitzer Prize,
National Headliners Award, Edgar Willis Scripps Award for Distinguished Service
to the First Amendment and Associated Press Managing Editors Public Service and
Freedom of Information Awards. He is the author of “Yellow
Cat, Hendry & Me: Dispatches From Life’s
Front Lines. He can be reached at bill@williamblakebrown.com
