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Hey there my Lost in Your Arms of Love subscriber friends,
How’s that for an mouthful? Today’s song release is track number 6 on my upcoming CD, Lost in Your Arms of Love. This is a remix of Wild Man From Tennessee. This is a quick little ditty, a little country-ish tune I wrote about a guy who was a big influence on my life, Grandaddy Lee Hill. I included a repost of my original notes about this song below.
In my list of songwriting things to do, I have wanted to write about the influential people in my life – especially in my growing up years. I have already completed my song dedicated to mom song, Always There. So, when I began this song, there were several very colorful characters from my past that immediately came to mind. And one of the most interesting and colorful of all these people was beyond a doubt, “Granddaddy”, Lee M. Hill. Founder of Hill’s Meat Market in Fort Wayne, Indiana. If you are from Fort Wayne, then you will know that it is actually known as “Waynedale”. Waynedale is within the Fort Wayne city limits as the residents voted in 1957 to allow themselves to be annexed by the city.
The Hill’s Market history as I remember hearing it was that Lee was originally from Paris – Paris, Tennessee that is. Times were hard everywhere during the Great Depression, but especially so in small towns like Paris. As I remember it, for a period of time Lee worked as a truck driver and I suppose his travels brought him as far north as Fort Wayne…this was probably thought of as a considerable distance in that day and age. I don’t know all of the details or reasons behind it, but at some point Lee settled in Fort Wayne and opened his own grocery store, “Hill’s Market”, on Lower Huntington Road in Waynedale and even lived in the back room for a while. Perhaps this was simply to try to establish a better life and earn a better living than he could in Tennessee. All I know is that Waynedale gained a bit of southern hospitality thanks to the Hills. I also have to confess that I fudged on Lee’s age…in the song I said he was 95, but you will notice his obituary says “91″….95 fit my rhyme scheme!
In my family’s world, some things happened, or actually didn’t happen in my parents reproductive years, such that the time span separating me from my brothers was so great that either one of them was old enough to be my father. Needless to say, I first saw the light of day rather late in my parents’ lives and both my maternal and paternal grandfathers had died young…5 or 6 years before my birth. So, I never had a grandpa that I got to know and learn from as a kid. That’s okay…it’s just the way it was. But this is where granddaddy Hill came into the picture, and he probably didn’t even know it at the time. (but, maybe he did)
So, Lee was the closest thing I had to a grandfather and in fact, he never hesitated to offer advice either, even when I wasn’t asking. I first got to know Lee when I was around 9 or 10. I was best friends with Lee’s grandson, Rick Hill, who lived across the street from me in the “Indian Village” subdivision. Before I ever even met Lee, he was already a folk legend in my mind as Rick talked about the exploits of “granddaddy” constantly and I knew Lee must have been a big influence on Rick too. I would eventually get a job at Hill’s Market, but before I did, I was already coming under the influence of granddaddy.
Lee would come by Rick’s house from time to time usually in the course of working…either going to the store, coming back or driving off somewhere in quest of some great deal on a load of produce. On one trip, at a tender 12 years old, I got to tag along on a trip through Parrot’s meat packing/slaughter house and boy, did I get an eyeful. I still can remember seeing the entire slaughter and butchering process for the cattle and hogs going through. It was one bloody place let me tell you. On another memorable excursion, granddaddy again stopped by Rick’s house to see if he wanted to go on a drive in the truck to pick up a load of lettuce, and Rick wanted me to come along. So, my mom gladly gave her permission. What none of us, except Lee, knew was that we were actually going on a trip to the other end of the state! By the time we got back home 6 hours later, my mom was a bit beside her self, but very relieved to see that we were okay. Can you believe there were no cell phones back then?!
Eventually, I got a regular job at Hill’s market and ended up working with Lee quite a bit. Whether he knew it or not, I was learning a lot from him, besides being able to say “yonder” and “hnnnuh, boy”. Lee always encouraged me to work smart, to work hard, to “use both hands”, and it impressed me a lot when I saw him put extra free groceries in a struggling customer’s bag after they had paid. Lee was known by a variety of affectionate names: Granddaddy, Dad, “wild man”, the Duke….but I just called him Lee. So, here’s to you Lee, The Wild Man From Tennessee. Thanks for the memories.
The Wild Man From Tennessee by , unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 United States License.
