Eulogy for Pop

This is the Eulogy for my father, L. Bascom Moore, delievered at his funeral on April 3rd, 2005 at Davis Street Methodist Church.


Perhaps it is as Tom Brokaw said in his book. One of the greatest generations of America is passing. This was a generation of men who grew up during the great depression, and many fought in WW2 and Korea. They raised their businesses and families during some of the best times in American history and are leaving us to a world that is much changed. The one clear difference between that generation and ours can be summed up in two words: no whining.
Dad, by all accounts has lived the American dream. He married a beautiful woman, had 4 good kids, grew a successful business from nothing, and sacrificed a good part of his life for his family’s well being and for his company. I know that I owe a lot of what I am to his and mother’s generosity. It is a debt I can never repay.

My mother never left his side through almost 50 years of the ups and downs of his life, which were many. Pop was never a healthy man and never an easy one. We all watched her keep his ship afloat. He adored her. She was his soul mate and loved him dearly as did his children.

The triumphs in his life were many: his marriage, the birth of his children, the growth of Burlington Chemical, his grandchildren, a good game of golf and catching a bigger fish than Mother (which did not often happen).

His name was L. Bascom Moore. His first name was just the letter “L”. We always heard that the L stood for “little” Bascom because Grandpa was such a big man. He did not favor this explination. He did like it when my fraternity brothers named him Lord Bascom.

Pop was a man that loved a good joke, and enjoyed his own jokes better than anyone else’s. Pop always saw himself as 6 feet tall in a fight. He told me when I turned 16 that I might be bigger than him now, but I would never be tougher. He was right.

He was however a man pursued by demons that only he understood. Many times I felt these demons sucking the joy out of his life, but he was unable to let any of us share these burdens. Because of this, Pop did not have the joy in his life that everyone wished for him. His last few years were full of irrational challenges: the decline of his beloved Burlington Chemical and the insidious decay of his health. His long sad decline has something to teach all of us: All of us must die but not all can really live.

If Pop was here with us today, he would tell each of you to: live life to the fullest, travel, have fun, work hard, have a cold beer, and play a good round of golf. He would thank Mike Scott and all the people of Burlington Chemical for the quality of their relationship and all their hard work. He would tell you that one of his great accomplishments were to sire and hire only the best people. He would tell you that the customer always comes first. He would also lament the fact that he did not travel or have as much fun as he could have.

There are so many good memories from our family and business life: The time he drove with Butch Harrington with us kids from Burlington to Ft. Lauderdale for vacation. The night the naked woman came to the door when mother was at bridge club and he was at a complete loss as what to do!

The time my brother in law Tim and I had a very successful blue water fishing trip and we gave him and mother a few really big ones. We transferred the fish to his little boat out in the river, so he could take them back to the harbor and tell folks he had caught them right off the harbor rocks. The next day there were 50 people fishing off the rocks. He thought that was funny.

Pop lived the fullest when he was working at Burlington Chemical. I was privileged to have worked with him there for almost 30 years. He taught me the importance of people in business whether they were customers, suppliers, or employees.

He took everything about his business personally, and like so many of the “greatest generation”, did not separate his personal and business life. This made for some challenging Thanksgiving dinner board meetings.

He told me once that the greatest joy he had in his life was creating opportunities for other people. He loved seeing young people come into the company and grow with the company into valuable members of the community. He liked to think of the hundreds of families that benefited from Burlington Chemical. He liked to see hard work and believed strongly that it always paid off.

He was a man who could charm the skin off a snake or make you so mad that you wanted thrash him…but he always demanded and got, your respect.

In his last years, there was much pain in his life. The decline of the textile industry coincided with the decline in his health. For the last two years he was in a great deal of physical pain as his spine collapsed and his breathing became more labored. He struggled to keep his chin up and I will never forget his last visit to my house in 2002, as he, Wade, and I toasted in the New Year. It was the last time I saw him really laugh. I cried that night because I knew it was the end of a normal life for him.

My fraternity brothers always called him Lord Bascom when they came over to wash their clothes and visit when we were in college. He loved this. Wade Harrison always called him the Captain. He always called Wade the kid. I always called him the Chief at work, and Pop at home. I will miss him every day.