Lake City man was a classic

I’ve known James Vernon Epps for 50 years, and I still don’t know how he was able to accomplish so much with only two hands and one heart.

An automobile is metal and paint, and a man is skin and bones. A 79-year-old automobile is a classic; it’s admired for its looks. James Vernon was admired for what he did and he was a classic.

Lake City never had a lake. Kingstree never had a king. Both were better because of him. If his life was made into a movie, the cast would be sensational. He painted Lake City red, and when it’s time for a second coat, who will fill his shoes?

When I saw Lake City the first time, it was tombstone territory. Tobacco filled up the collection plate on Sunday. And cash registers all over town sang a song of prosperity. Lake City survived the loss of tobacco; now, it will have to get along without James Vernon Epps.

It says no man is indispensable, but James Vernon comes close. I shot countless poison darts through countless radios at this man in a time when radio announcers were supposed to sound like preachers delivering a sermon on behalf of those paying the bills.

If I march to a different drummer, James Vernon marched to a different brass band. He grew up in Cades with some of my favorite people: Jim and Anna Graham, former Gov. Ron McNair, Guy and Jack McFadden.

John McKissick grew up in Cades when Cades had a bank and a cotton gin. At one time, he was larger than Lake City.

On the radio, my tongue was a chainsaw and no one was immune. James Vernon had a cemetery and Christmas tree farm at Cades. I called the cemetery the garden of perpetual debt. He offered a free Christmas tree with the purchase of a cemetery plot. And with great delight, I told the radio audience this offer was void in December.

At one time, James Vernon had a cattle ranch at Cades. I thought about his $5,000 bull named Nicodemus, who lived in a sterling silver mobile home.

My favorite James Vernon Epps story happened at the Christmas parade in Kingstree. James Vernon, who had several Rolls Royces, decided to drive one in the parade. I was the passenger. The parade rode down Main Street past the courthouse. The sidewalk was full of people trying to get a glimpse of Santa.

When we reached the railroad tracks, there was this little old black lady. Her complexion was the color of milk chocolate and her smile lit up Main Street like a birthday cake with 1,000 candles. What she said made my day: “Uncle Charlie, that’s the biggest Chevrolet I ever did see.”

Lake City may be better off without a lake, but it will never be the same without James Vernon Epps. To his children, I say, “They don’t make men like your daddy any more.” His wife, Dorothy, is an old-fashioned girl. She kept the same husband 56 years.

— Charlie Walker is a local newspaper columnist. He can be reached at P.O. Box 441, Kingstree, SC 29556.