Where are all the Great Men?

It is unclear how old Harvey Jackson was when he died. Some say he hit the ripe old age of ninety, others might submit eighty-nine. This, of course, is irrelevant when you’re talking about the last frontier of American heroes, where Harvey Jackson’s star shone brightest.It is with deep sadness that I write this article, because I reflect on a moment at Harvey’s funeral when tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at the massive American flag and wondered, “Where are all the great men?”When Harvey left this earth, we found ourselves one shorter.He was a “Greatest Generation” guy who understood that God, Family, Country, and Work took top billing to all else. As Tom Brokaw once wrote, it was a generation of “towering achievement and modest demeanor” and Harvey was no exception.Harvey grew up dirt poor during the Depression. He graduated from Walker High School, and worked at the old bra factory on Ridgewood Road, saving up $100 to hitchhike to Auburn University. But war severed his schooling, as he enlisted in the Army Air Corps and trained to fly bomber planes—B-24s and B-29s— after Japan’s infamous sucker punch at Pearl Harbor.Truth be told, Harvey wasn’t always a specialist at aeronautics. He once got lost in a plane somewhere in the skies over Georgia and South Carolina and missed his checkpoint because he was reading a comic book.Peering back on these black-and-white memories, we find that Harvey received his law degree from the University of Alabama in 1947, just two years after the war of all wars reached its end. After law school, he became a special agent in the FBI, chasing “Commies” (a term he used for the rest of his life) during the age of postwar McCarthyism.But the lure of the South made him curious for home again, and he rung in New Year’s 1952 by opening up his own law practice in Jasper. He made $600 his first year. Later, Harvey was elected as County Solicitor (now equivalent to District Attorney) and didn’t make any friends with the people who made moonshining stills and sold whiskey.But it was the everyday chorus of practicing law and the chants of small town, honest lawyering that rang uppermost in his mind. In 1970, Harvey, along with Charles Tweedy and Jim Beech, swung open the doors of Tweedy, Jackson, and Beech law firm and promised gusto. And gusto they delivered.Harvey continued to practice law after the death of his partners, and naturally welcomed his son, Eddie, to the firm. While the names on the letterhead have changed over the years, it was Harvey who held the firm together with the rope of hard work and zealous representation. Harvey worked until the last day of his life, though it was not uncommon to spot the old counselor with his feet propped up on his desk, quietly napping in his office.Someone once asked him, “What would you do if you didn’t work?” Harvey replied, “If I didn’t work, I’d lose my identity.”Harvey taught Sunday school at First Baptist Church for sixty-one years. He had a strong faith in Jesus Christ, which, out of the handful of things that shaped his identity, was the cornerstone. Harvey left this earth as appropriately as he lived it. He died with his feet propped up on his desk, with his Bible and Sunday school lesson in his lap. When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will indeed be, and we can be sure that we will be clapping our hands and tapping our feet with Harvey Jackson.In his near century of living, he also built a family along the way. Harvey left this earth with a son, a daughter, four grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren to his credit. Harvey and Nell, his wife of sixty-eight years, pledged their lives to this posterity.Jud Allen, attorney at Jackson, Fikes, Hood & Brakefield and Harvey’s lunch partner until the day he died, remembers: “The main quality about Harvey and something he did not budge on, was honesty. He said that it doesn’t matter what situation you are in, the truth is the only application. He would say it only takes one time for a person to lie to you and that person has lost his credibility forever, especially in a small town like Jasper.”Harvey came from the old school, where you could expect toughness on the daily syllabus. When Harvey went to the dentist, he used no anesthesia. “The price of the pain was not as much as the cost of the anesthesia,” said Allen. He still used old school, bygone verbiage. When he exercised, he went to “take” his exercise. Even into his eighties, Harvey would put on his “togs” and run stadiums at the high school. When he couldn’t do that anymore, he walked at the track.At Harvey’s funeral, his grandson Reed reflected on his daredevil exploits with airplanes and a dog named Ten Spot. Reed retold stories of barrel rolls and the infamous squaring-off with the Appalachicola Bridge, which Harvey won by flying under it. But it was that same steady hand that helped him to soar through life.“Another funny thing about him was he that he always commented on my girls’ and my brother's girls’ shoes. He grew up with the idea that a new pair was a wasted thought; every time he'd see one of the girls he would always notice and comment on their shoes. It made him happy to know he helped create an environment where they could be afforded such a luxury. Lastly, he loved taking us to eat. It made him very proud because eating out was something he didn't do growing up,” Reed said.Mike Adams, the former pastor at First Baptist Church, eulogized Harvey. He narrated on Harvey’s habitual nature, eating at People’s restaurant and tipping the waitress a nickel, and a story or two about the practice of law. Adams summed it up by saying, “Law is what helped Harvey to understand grace.”Harvey Jackson experienced very little turbulence in his life, because he held steady to the controls of God, Country, Family, and Work. He was a patriot, a Christian, a family man, a devout lawyer, and a fighter.His last days on earth were spent enjoying the simple little pleasures of life. Adams said something that I will always remember about Harvey’s last day on earth. He said, “Harvey came home from work, made a sandwich, watched The Andy Griffith Show, and woke up with the Lord.”I hope the skies of heaven allow barrel rolls. I hope that up there Harvey is spiraling through the azure horizon and reading his comic book without a care in the world.Where are all the great men? They’ve gone to be with the Lord.And I hope that one day, I’ll join them.