An Ordinary King

There is one particular day that I will never forget. January 9, 1974. Home from Lynchburg, VA, to visit my parents, I was awakened by Mother’s voice calling from downstairs. “Meg Pie, please go and wake your Daddy. Breakfast is ready.” She had spoken to him an hour earlier as she prepared to take my little 1-year-old son, Frank, downstairs. She wanted to allow Daddy and me an extra hour of sleep.

And so I quietly entered his bedroom and nudged him gently on the shoulder. “Wake up Daddy,” I said. “Mama’s calling you. She wants us to come down for breakfast.” Getting no response, I nudged a bit less gently. And then I realized the tragic truth. He would never wake up again. My beloved father had died peacefully in his sleep during that past hour. And that’s when my life changed forever.

I remember the panic I felt. The call to Dr. Goodloe Erwin. The ambulance arriving. The EMTs. The oxygen mask. The verdict. The gurney. The End. The hardest thing my sister Mary Gannon and I had to do was go and tell our grandmother that her only child had died suddenly of a heart attack. It was the longest paragraph in the story of my life.

The next day, Athenians would pick up their morning editions of The Athens Daily News and read the headline on the front page (above the fold): Athens Businessman Uly Gunn Dead at 52. I think it’s safe to say the entire city of Athens mourned his passing. And there is good reason for saying this.

For you see, Uly Samuel Gunn II, was not just my father. He was a dedicated community leader, downtown merchant (Gunn’s Men’s Store), pillar of the First Presbyterian Church and cherished friend of countless Athenians. He was a kind and caring man with a character that cannot be surpassed. He loved his family, his God, his country and his community.

He never had his name in lights. Even though he had such a cool name -- Uly (not Ulyssess, mind you) Gunn. Short and strong. And he never sought public recognition for the volunteer posts he held. He led the Chamber of Commerce for years. Was chairman of the Board of Education during desegregation. He served on numerous community boards – C&S Bank, St.Mary’s Hospital, Oconee Hills Cemetery, YMCA, Southern Mutual Insurance Company and others. If asked to serve, he easily said yes.

His Clayton Street men’s store was a downtown agora in Athens. Every day, six days a week from 9 a.m.-6 p.m., Uly held court in the business established by his father. He was as generous with his “threads” as he was with his threads of wisdom or humor. If a man needed a suit of clothes and couldn’t afford to pay – he allowed him to pay over time. Often never demanding any compensation at all. H. Randolph Holder, legendary radio broadcaster for local station WGAU, coined a phrase that became my Daddy’s trademark – You can tell a Gunn’s man at a glance.

A University of Georgia graduate, he was honored by the Business School as one of their Distinguished Alumni – a citation of which he was most proud. And many a successful UGA graduate today, got his start helping customers at Gunn’s. He was a WWII veteran, having served in North Africa. And an outstanding national leader of his college fraternity,  the Kappa Alpha order.

Most of all, my father the epitome of a Southern gentleman. Certainly not a saint as I tend to make him out to be. He surely had his faults. He had a temper. In fact, my sister, Mary Gannon,  and I grew up thinking the word g'dammitmargarett was actually one word which could be found in Webster's Dictionary. But he was a devoted family man who took care of his wife and four children. He loved antiques, history, collecting stamps and coins, a good 2-inch sirloin and a glass of bourbon – or three!

One of my fondest memories came on the night of my graduation from Athens High School in 1965. My class of over 400 students, the largest ever to graduate from AHS, and the first to hold graduation at the UGA Coliseum, was also the first integrated class as well. We sort of made history that hot summer night. And when I received my diploma -- well I got more than just a handshake. I also got a sweet kiss on the cheek – for you see, as School Board president, my father was handing out the diplomas. I was SO hot (and I don't mean good looking)  in that heinous cap and gown. He was SO proud.

He was a humble man. And he demanded that we, his four children, maintain our humility as well. Even though we had so much. He expected us to respect our elders, use good table manners, study hard, never talk back to our Mother, participate in community, attend church, come in at curfew, always look another in the eye, offer a firm handshake, live by the Golden Rule. It was as simple as that. And what more could any parent ask of their offspring?

He’s been gone for over 35 years, and I have outlived him myself by over a decade. But his presence in my life remains as strong as ever. I love it when someone shares with me a fond memory of him. Or says they still have a garment that came from Gunn’s. Or sends me a label cut from an ancient Hathaway shirt. Believe it or not, it continues to occur.

Often in my life, like so many other spoiled and blessed women, I like to refer to myself as a “princess.” And why not? After all, my father was a king.