I had known John Rose all my life.
He and my brother were in school together at West End from the first grade on. Their love of rockets and radios and trains was only surpassed by their knowledge of rockets and radios and trains. John would tell me how he remembered my mother bringing snacks to their classes and coolers of water in hot weather and helping out in the class.
My brother remembers being out of school for over a week with red measles. When he got back, the class had begun fractions. For the first time in school, he was stumped. John came over to our house and with an hour his good tutoring had my brother up to snuff on the subject.
John always teased me with an observation that the HHS Class of ’66 had the most beautiful girls in all of creation. He knew I was in the Class of ’65! John had a fun-loving and giving spirit, and he was no fool.
It was October of 2007. I was busy working after supper “putting up” green tomato pickles when the phone rang. It was John. He was calling from the Middleburg Steak House. He told me he had just had a delicious dinner that was agreeing with him for a change. He had had a good day, he said to me, but he was troubled, and he felt he just had to call and tell me something.
First, he wanted Lynn Harper’s number so he could call her too. I gave him her cell and her home phone number. John was a very big fan of Lynn’s. He was one of the brave ones who had taken her challenge and had done the tour around town with the both of us. We had then gone to “the Dabney” and had lunch, but the tour was enough to ruin our appetites. John knew the desperate conditions in Henderson, and he knew who was responsible, and who owned those deplorable properties. He knew what we were trying to fix in Henderson, and he knew it was an uphill battle.
That night at the Middleburg Steak House, he had all of this on his mind. He told me that he just wanted to tell me again that he really appreciated all we had done for the city. He said that what we had done had needed to be done years before, and he did not just mean with the blighted neighborhoods. He was very, very dejected that we had lost the election, and he was sorry that Henderson had lost the momentum for the good changes that had started.
Next, he told me that too many folks were in bed together in Henderson, and that he did not know what it was going to take to fix that. John knew the history of Henderson. He had a mind like a steel trap, and he had been a reporter long enough to know where all the skeletons were. He told me specifically of several nefarious deals that he felt had been shady or illegal. He also told me that it was a shame what was going to happen in Henderson now. Then, in that booming voice of his, he said with a great deal of emphasis: “I just wanted you to know that SOMEONE appreciates what you did and I KNOW how hard you worked.”
I don’t think we talked more than five minutes. If John Charles has his daddy’s cell phone bill, he could tell me for certain. When I got off the phone and back to the pickles, I told my husband that John was really the genuine article, and he sure sounded sad or weary, but I was glad he had enjoyed his steak.
The next morning, around eight o’clock, while we were having breakfast, Ranger Wilkerson called with the sad news that John was dead.
I told some people that John had called me the night before he died, but I have not told anyone the full extent of what he told me to look into. I have debated about telling John Charles and Susan about what he told me, but they probably already know. I have questioned why that knowledge was put in my lap, but I think I know why.
John Rose had the best interest of all of Henderson at heart on his last day on Earth. The best I can do is to work to see that what is best for all of us in Henderson stays on the front burner.