a great man has fallen...

from the 10.9.07 print and online editions of the herald-gazette:

above: dewaine bell (right) with general protecht chairman wusheng chen in may, 2007.


By Walter Geiger
Some years ago I was photographing a football game at a crumbling middle Georgia high school football stadium where the Lamar County Trojans were getting waxed on the road.
I grew tired of the debacle on the field, shut down my Nikon and climbed into the nearly empty stands. I sat down next to Dewaine Bell and vented my frustration with the poor athletic performance I was witnessing.
Dewaine had injured his leg in a mishap and was swathed in an array of casts and braces but had made the trip to watch the Trojans as he always did.
I called out two players in particular for poor play.
Dewaine proceeded to tell me about the abhorrent home situations the two players were products of and the domestic crises they had faced just a day earlier.
The importance of the football game faded. After understanding the bigger picture, I felt terrible for my comments of just minutes before.
Dewaine knew the big picture and knew when to share it.
On another occasion, I had been asked to eulogize a longtime family friend. I agreed and set about putting my thoughts to paper.
As the funeral hour drew near, I paced the choir room of my church. I had never been in a pulpit for any purpose other than to read a few verses of scripture.
I cracked open the door to sneak a peak into the sanctuary. A full half hour before the funeral, it was packed.
I had a severe case of the jitters.
At about that time, Dewaine Bell arrived in the room with his soprano saxophone. He was to perform at the funeral and was in the practice area to warm up.
He took one look at me pacing the room and asked what was wrong. I told him about the task before me and my apprehension.
A veteran, natural performer and gifted musician, Dewaine had graced many a stage, pulpit and lectern. He told me he always got nervous before a performance and that a little stage fright is natural.
His words calmed me.
Dewaine ran through a few bars of ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ and confidently pronounced us ready to enter the sanctuary.
I was later congratulated by gracious funeral goers for my eulogy but was struck by Dewaine’s performance.
In addition to the piece he practiced, Dewaine, a black man, had stood in front of a nearly all-white crowd in an all-white church and delivered a masterful rendition of ‘Dixie’ as requested in the deceased’s last wishes.
I was blown away.
I was blown away again early Saturday when the phone rang with the news of Dewaine’s death. I knew he had been sick but did not know death was imminent.
When I first met Dewaine he was a high school band director with a big afro. His bands were topnotch.
Later he became principal at that same high school and did a wonderful job.
After leaving the education field, he became Barnesville’s municipal judge. He had the gift of meting out compassion when called for and discipline when demanded.
Later, Dewaine became the first black mayor in Barnesville’s long history and, again, proved himself up to the task.
He was a tireless ambassador for the community.
Earlier this year, a huge Chinese trade delegation was in town for the announcement of a significant new infusion of foreign capital into Barnesville’s economy.
Dewaine handled the visiting Chinese beautifully.
At a luncheon, he was encouraged to get his sax and entertain the crowd.
Once the sweet sounds poured from that soprano sax, the Chinese were transfixed. Dozens of digital cameras hummed as the visitors posed for pictures with the mayor as he played.
Elvis was never more idolized than Dewaine Bell was at that moment.
I caught his eye as he paused momentarily and a huge smile split his ever friendly face.
When I think of my departed friend, it is that smile I will remember.