They left a Midlands a improved place
December 30, 2015 - Picnic Time
Barbara Bise’s handiwork seemed on theatre during a Lexington County Arts Association for 30 years.
She fussed over scarcely any dress and column for some-more than 125 plays during that time, and even took a theatre her to spasmodic act. Her career in banking and financial formulation also enabled her to offer as a group’s bookkeeper.
Bise was famous for hugging actors for support when they struggled with doubt. The theater’s dress emporium named after her was her second home.
At a retirement celebration shortly after apropos ill, she was told that “your fingerprints and adore are everywhere during Village Square Theater.”
Away from a theater, Bise was a long-time choir member during Providence Lutheran Church.
Seven months after her death, on Mar 23 during age 81, father Sonny followed. The span were sweethearts during Brookland-Cayce High School.
Chuck Bramlett desired his roses and desired to make barbecue, and was many happy when assisting those in need.
Bramlett spent 19 years in a Air Force and 23 years with a West Columbia Police Department. He perceived countless awards during his time in a Air Force, and was comparison as Officer of a Year during a troops dialect in 2009.
“He was really humble, generally with his troops career,” pronounced daughter Chrissy Wofford. “He didn’t exaggerate about it.”
Throughout his careers, Bramlett found time for his family and his community. He desired to prepare for neighbors and gift events, among them a fundraiser for James “Tripp” Holland, a West Columbia Police Officer shot while portion a dais warrant.
Before Bramlett died, he was usually about to launch a third career – tiny engine repair. His son, Doug Bramlett, pronounced a work came simply to his father after time spent in a troops operative on jet engines. And even after death, his bequest of assisting other continues.
“We donated a lot of his veins to go toward open heart surgery, a arteries and things … his bone pith to cancer patients, and they grafted some of his skin for bake victims,” his son said. “We figure if he was here to choose, that’s something he would have chosen.”
: He died Jul 21 during age 61.
Glen Luke Flanagan
ADELLE ADAMS BRAWLEY
Adelle Brawley was frequency detached from her father of 71 years, Ernest Brawley.
And so when Ernest upheld Sept. 21, Adelle followed not prolonged after – 5 weeks later, on Oct. 26 during age 90.
Given a nickname “Lil Sue” to compute her from her mother, Adelle Adams, Adelle Brawley was a housewife and “far some-more than that,” pronounced her son Paul, a Richland County auditor and one of 6 Brawley children.
Brawley had an effusive celebrity and never met a stranger. When a children were young, even yet a family didn’t have much, Brawley was always peaceful to share with friends and neighbors.
Brawley was among Richland County’s initial black check managers once African-Americans gained a right to vote. She was fervent to support people voting for a initial time and to inspire people from a village to practice their right to vote.
Brawley and her father championed polite rights and saw their children turn partial of a transformation themselves – Paul, as a third-grader, was a initial African-American tyro during Horrell Hill Elementary interjection to his parents’ seductiveness to a propagandize board; and their daughter Lucinda became a second African-American and initial black womanlike to attend Clemson University. Lucinda’s husband, Harvey Gantt, was a first.
When Henry Crede was a 10-year-old vital in Columbia in a 1930s, his family had a cruise on a State House grounds. Crede dignified a statues there and dreamed of one day dedicating a statue of his possess in his hometown.
Crede assimilated a Navy in 1940 during age 16 with a accede of his mother. He witnessed first-hand a horrors of war, including a deaths of friends during a North Africa, Sicily and Italy campaigns.
Crede finished adult in Boston by chance, where he lived until his flitting May 12 during age 91.
In Nov 2014, Crede’s dream of dedicating a statue came true. He returned to Columbia to dedicate a life-size bronze statue of a soldier in Memorial Park. It is to respect all of a South Carolina Navy veterans who served in World War II, in memory of Crede’s shipmates who were killed in a war.
Crede, who worked as a administrator for a Polaroid Corp. until his retirement in a 1970s, paid a estimated $90,000 for a statue and piazza out of his possess pocket.
Why did Crede select Columbia instead of Boston for a tribute? “It’s easy,” he pronounced during a time. “Columbia is my home.”
Roy Frick total nation wit and malapropism as a Lexington County assemblyman for 22 years until his retirement from politics in 1998. Colorful remarks were his legacy.
He mostly argued that providing county services is identical to tillage – tough work and no frills.
“Most politicians don’t know how to subtract,” he would say. “They usually know how to add.”
Like ball star Yogi Berra, Frick infrequently deformed denunciation in creation a point. “We’re going to open a Pandora’s keg of worms,” he fussed in warning about variable consequences of decisions.
The millionaire duck rancher from Batesburg-Leesville prolonged was a usually Democrat on a nine-member council.
He died Feb. 9 during 88.
GEORGE BOWEN HARTNESS
Ever a partner of art, antiques and history, George Hartness’ passions and contributions are clear today, even 65 years after he helped start a Columbia Museum of Art.
Hartness led a approach as a museum’s first boss in 1950 and actively upheld it until his genocide Jun 9 during age 96.
“He was flattering immature when he launched a museum, so we’re ever beholden for his time and his care during that moment,” pronounced Columbia Museum of Art executive executive Karen Brosius.
Hartness, a University of South Carolina alum, owned One Thousand Gervais, an antiques store. He also was a licence member of a Decorative Arts Trust Board of Governors, and he and his wife, Isola Carmen Sherrard Hartness, founded a Decorative Arts and Architecture Symposium programs during a Columbia Museum of Art.
Hartness served in a Marine Corps and perceived a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart.
Brosius pronounced Hartness was a comfortable and welcoming Southern lady who was inexhaustible with his time and desired pity his believe of history. She pronounced he desired three-dimensional art.
“He usually desired looking during what an artist can do with a materials during palm and creation it into something exquisite,” Brosius said. “He was a connoisseur.”
Jane Moon Dail
Doris Hildebrand had a saying: “Do what we can while we can.”
After relocating to a ancestral Waverly area in Columbia from San Antonio, Texas, in 1969, Hildebrand did a lot.
She fast adopted a area where her husband, James Hildebrand, was innate and raised. She relished operative with a aged and for others who indispensable her advocacy.
Hildebrand became boss of a Waverly Neighborhood Improvement Association and was concerned in a Columbia Council of Neighborhoods. She played a pivotal purpose in bringing revitalization to a neighborhood.
Along a way, a “mayor of Waverly” gained a repute for falling her teeth into projects and saying them through. “If we wanted it done,” her father said, “you talked to her.”
Hildebrand was also active in her church. She served during Jones Memorial AME Zion in several capacities, including boss of a Sanctuary Choir and chair of a Board of Stewards. Hildebrand was inducted into a Columbia Council of Neighborhoods Hall of Fame in 2011.
She was 73 when she died Jan. 31.
Almost everybody who knew Thali – or Tolly – Honeycutt knew she was a walker.
She would travel miles and miles any day, generally refusing rides even from friends and acquaintances. For Honeycutt, walking was a matter of reporting her self-sufficiency, pronounced Juanita Warthen, a crony for some-more than 25 years.
She mostly walked to St. Peter’s Catholic Church in downtown Columbia, where for years she was an change server and something of a “mother hen” to associate acolytes, whom she helped instruct.
She was famous to infrequently travel from downtown to a Lexington Walmart, a scarcely 30-mile turn trip, usually for a uninformed atmosphere or to collect adult something during a store.
Honeycutt was mostly seen during a State House, where she took seductiveness in a actions of state lawmakers, and during a University of South Carolina, where she took a accumulation of classes in her decades-long office of aloft learning.
Honeycutt was intelligent, insatiably extraordinary and an zealous reader, Warthen said.
While visiting Honeycutt in a hospital, where she lay ill with cancer, Warthen beheld her sanatorium room filled with books. Warthen brought her crony a duplicate of Harper Lee’s newly expelled novel “Go Set a Watchman,” usually to find out Honeycutt had never review a predecessor, Lee’s classical “To Kill a Mockingbird.”
Honeycutt finally got to review a book shortly before she died Aug. 27. She was 65.
ANTHONY MANIGAULT HURLEY
Anthony Manigault Hurley was, for miss of a improved word, amazing. A village personality and activist, Hurley and his mother Alice were obliged for spearheading a start of a Columbia Urban League behind in 1967.
“They orderly a organizing cabinet for a establishment,” pronounced James T. McLawhorn Jr., boss and CEO of Columbia’s Urban League. “Their purpose was really significant. They had to mount in a village to move a different organisation of cabinet people to a table.”
Hurley and his family ran Manigault-Hurley Funeral Home, Columbia’s oldest family-owned wake home, that served generations of African-Americans for some-more than 90 years. The family in 2014 done a preference to close, after Hurley had turn ill.
Hurley died Jan. 10 during age 79.
At a annual account debate and equal event cooking on Nov 3, a Columbia Urban League dedicated a module to Hurley’s memory.
“He set an instance of what can be achieved by village impasse and proffer leadership,” pronounced McLawhorn. “He was like a guide for others who would like to get intent in a village and make a difference. He is a testimony and an instance of what we can do to renovate lives.”
NANCY ‘PAT’ LEWIS
Nancy Lewis went by several names over her 85 years.
Friends and family called her “Pat,” yet she also went by Nancy. But behind in a 1950s, she took on a personas of “Daisy Mae a Hillbilly Girl” and “Patsy O’Neal a Hollywood Starlet.”
Born in Columbia, Lewis became a obvious veteran wrestler by her early 20s. As “Daisy Mae,” Lewis dressed as a hillbilly – barefooted, hair in pigtails and wearing rolled-up blue jeans – and trafficked all over a nation for matches.
She was promoted as a “Tomboy of a Ozarks,” “Mistress of a Mulekick” and “Bubble Gum Champ.” She famously skipped around a ring and popped froth in a faces of her opponents. Lewis even seemed on “What’s My Line” with Eva Gabor in Aug 1953.
As large a star as Lewis became on a mat, friends and family remember her as a improved chairman off of it. She staid down in West Columbia, starting a family and fasten Shiloh United Methodist Church. She frequency talked about her wrestling days, preferring to leave her time in a limelight in a past.
“Pat” was famous for putting others before herself and assisting others behind a scenes, never seeking recognition. She could “find good in a devil,” her father would say.
Lewis died Jun 23, call some members of a veteran wrestling village to write tributes to a former star.
Joan Wilhide baked communion bread for Seven Oaks Presbyterian Church a Saturday before communion services once a month for some-more than 25 years.
The smell of a baking bread that filled a Wilhide home was “absolutely wonderful,” pronounced her father of 54 years, Jim Wilhide. Jim and their children were always on standby prepared to representation whatever they could, he said.
After communion on Sunday, adults and children in a assemblage would line adult to eat Joan’s leftover bread. Joan was concerned in church and sang in a church choir for 40 years. She eventually indispensable shots to her outspoken chords to keep her voice from changing.
“I’ve been a soprano all my life, I’m going to stay a soprano,” Joan told her husband.