1'
t
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Uncle Bill Everett Wasn’t
much for frills, but we’re In
clined to believe the venerable
F ree Will parson would have en
joyed the music sung at his
graveside In Cedar Grove
cemetery.
It seems only yesterday, and
what a day it was. Skies were
never bluer, and the sun was
beaming in as warm and friend
ly a fashion as Uncle Bill beam
ed during a lifetime of useful
ness to his fellow man.
A robin, pearched in a low-
hanging tree, provided an un
scheduled hymn for the brief
committal service, after last
rites had been held earlier in
St. Mary’s, where Everett long
served as pastor. A vested choir
couldn’t have done better.
For all we know, the grand
old codger heard it too, even in
death. Certainly he heard it if
God so willed it, and a lot
of us would like to think it
happened just that way.
Preachers come and preach
ers go, but the Methodist writ
ing these lines is satisfied in
his own heart that New Bern
never has had another minister
quite like Brother Everett. You
B^tists should be proud of
him, and so should the rest of us
who knew him for the kind and
utterly selfless person he was.
Uncle Bill didn’t have much of
an education. Even wittfa-tot of
learning it is doubtful that he
would have delivered so much as
a single brilliant sermon.
Where Everett displayed the
characteristics of a true man of
God was out of the pulpit, not in
it.
No one, probably, remembers
the text of the most outstanding
message he ever brought his
flock. But a lot of folks—most
especially the poor and the
friendless—remember how he
deprived himself of bare neces
sities to give what he had to
others.
Larry Moore, a New Bern at
torney no longer among the liv
ing, was a great admirer of
Uncle Bill, and quite aware of
his habit of doing without to
ease the burden of those he
considered less fortunate.
Every time Moore tried to do
something for Everett, the
money was passed along to
somebody else.
One day the attorney noticed
how badly worn were the shoes
the parson had on. The wear
and tear was understandable,
seeing as how Everett kept the
pavements hot going to and from
the jail, hospitals and sundry
shanties where misery and
despair were holding forth,
“Here’s some money for a
new pair of shoes,“the promin
ent and distinguished lawyer
told Everett, “and don’t give it
away.” Uncle Bill expressed his
tanks, and shuffled off on a pres
sing mission.
Several days later, the minis
ter dropped byMoore’s office in
the Elks Templt), still wearing
the same old shoes. When Moore
chided him, the parson shrugged
his shoulders and grinned apol
ogetically. “I bumped into
somebody in trouble,” he said,
Moore, convinced it had to be
done, marched Everett to a shoe
store and saw to it this time
that his friend got the much
needed footwear. It was only
one of many incidents we
could relate, if going into the
matter wasn’t superflous.
Uncle Bill was no expert
(Continued on page 5)
Kew Corn TuLUj
The NEW BERN
m
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
IN THE HEART OP
^■'"N-NORTH
iiai
VOLUME 7
NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, APRIL 17, 1964
NUMBER 3
WERE YOU THERE—Here’s an old picture that came
to light in some back files at County Agent A. T.
Jackson’s office, when he and his staff were moving
from the Federal Building to their present quarters
at Craven’s former Health Center. If you’re in the
photograph, i>erhaps you can tell us where it was
snapped, and identify some of the other folks for our
Mirror readers.
BUT NO HORSES—This photo, also resurrected in
County Agent Jackson’s office, is to our citified way
of viewing things rather remarkable. For the life of
us, we don’t recall ever before seeing a bunch of hogs,
sheep and cows congregated like this before a camera.
It’s real togetherness. In case the two men in the
middle of ttie rural menagerie are still around, we
would appreciate some information about the unusual
scene.