Memories of an Aggie Original–The Legendary Harry J. Green, Jr. '52

On April 16, 1930, Harry Joyce Green, Jr. was born in San Antonio, Texas, to parents Cecilia M. and Harry J. Green, Sr. Harry grew up in Houston, Texas, and graduated from Stephen F. Austin High School in 1948.

Proficient in track and field, Harry earned an athletic scholarship to Texas A&M College, where he was part of Company B. He lived in Hart Hall and ran track for A&M in the Southwest Conference. When the Korean War broke out in summer 1950, Harry left A&M and enlisted in the U.S. Navy, where he served for four years. Upon receiving his honorable discharge in March 1955, he returned to Texas A&M to complete his Bachelor of Science degree in Industrial Education in 1957.

After graduation he returned to Houston and reconnected with old friends when he joined the Houston Aggie Club. Harry served as a Co-Class Agent for the Class of 1952 for many years.

His first job was with Browning Ferris, the waste management company, and his Aggie training found him moving up the company quickly as a safety engineer. Ultimately he struck out on his own and bought a Honda motorcycle dealership.

Because of his visibility in Houston, Harry was the perfect candidate to be chosen by Buck Weirus as the first Field Director for the Association of Former Students, whose growth potential would require greater statewide participation among fellow alumni. Equipped with a company car and persuasive speaking skills, Harry Green quickly became the one Aggie who basically knew every other Aggie in the state.

When he spoke, Harry commanded attention as he enthusiastically shared exciting news and updates on how great Texas A&M University was becoming, as it entered a new era where nonmilitary students and women entered the Aggie family. “Joining the Aggie Club and supporting A&M through endowed scholarships was one of the best ways to help our school,” he said, as he traveled up and down the highways and back roads of Texas every day.”

Meanwhile back at the office, one of the Aggie Club employees that Harry would be able to count on was a lovely woman named Nelda. She and Harry were kindred spirits who were meant to find one another. Working together daily, their mutual respect and indefatigable work ethics as both were devoted to Texas A&M eventually developed into devotion towards each other as best friends. Nelda once shared that they were having dinner one evening, when the subject got around to marriage. Posed with Harry’s question, “What are your thoughts on marriage?” Nelda replied, “I think people should marry their best friends,” to which Harry, without missing a beat said, “I fully agree, will you marry me?” Her answer of course was “Yes,” and the two were married in 1980.

Anywhere in town there was an Aggie function, you never saw one without the other. They rarely addressed each other by name. It was always Harry saying, “Dearest, are you ready to go?” and she’d said, “Yes, love.” Always. Whenever she was speaking of Harry to another, she would talk about “Harry J” in a soft, caring tone that revealed her devotion to her “knight in shining armor.” Most often when he spoke of her to others, he referred to her as "my bride." They were blessed with 37 years of joy until Nelda’s passing in October 2017.

They traveled the road together those decades, as Aggie clubs vied for Harry to be “their” Muster speaker each year, and the asks for “next year” went out just as soon as the current year’s Muster concluded. His ability to show people what a difference they could make in the permanently endowed athletic scholarship program was his gift. His name is synonymous with the moniker the Aggie Club, as he became its Executive Director in 1979. The organization had modest beginnings from its start in 1950. A 2012 interview in the 12th Man Magazine noted that in 1975 there were approximately 1200 members with revenues about $275,000. By the time Harry retired in 1992, the newly renamed 12th Man Foundation had 6,500 members and millions in revenues.

Harry preferred modesty, forever boosting his classmates and fellow Aggies for accolades rather than accepting credit, but he should be remembered as the one who broke fundraising records for Texas A&M athletics, for his graceful behind-the-scenes introduction of future friends of a lifetime to each other, for encouraging young men to become their best selves, and to remember forever that Aggies always help Aggies whenever they can. He had equal, welcome access to CEOs and Aggie retirees who were working as security guards in chemical plants. He knew the name of every ticket taker and custodian in all of the athletic facilities on campus and was greeted warmly by all. Everyone loved Harry.

One of the most beloved “newer” traditions at Aggie football games is the 12th Man towel. In 1985, two leaders in the 12th Man Student Aggie Club went to Harry as Executive Director of the 12th Man Foundation and Jackie Sherrill, then TAMU Athletic Director and head football coach, who gave their approval and the towel debuted in the first home game of the 1985 season. By the time TAMU beat UT in the final home game, Kyle Field was ensconced in a sea of white. It took the approval of Ol’ Army to help make possible a beloved new tradition.

Harry’s devotion to his Aggies never waned. Even though the past 12 months were filled with health challenges, Harry’s extended family made sure he attended every home game in the 2021 season and even one home game this year, which meant the world to him.

Not one to take retirement seriously, Harry accepted his friend Don Adam’s offer to serve as his Executive Vice President and Director of Marketing for First American Bank of Bryan, which grew quickly in the institution’s market share, thanks to Harry’s unparalleled enthusiasm and marketing talents. Everyone loved Harry.

Harry was a 32nd degree Mason and very active in fundraising, first in Houston and then locally. He was dedicated to the mission of the Shriners International Children’s Hospital in Houston for many years before its relocation to Galveston.

He was a vital part of the College Station Noon Lions Club locally.Asked one day how it was he was so successful in the Lions’ trademark project, selling light bulbs to friends and coworkers, Harry explained his pitch. “Well, I took all the light bulb boxes they gave me to sell into the bank one evening after work and I had attached a little note to each coworker that read, ‘Thank you for your support of the College Station Noon Lions Club annual light bulb fundraiser. The amount due is $X and you can bring a check or cash to me by the end of this week at your convenience.” When his coworkers finished laughing, they all put their checks in envelopes on Harry’s desk by week’s end.

In the community, Harry and Nelda supported the American Heart Association, and they served the American Cancer Society's Cattle Baron's Ball for several years, even serving as co-chairs for the Ball one year. [Photo below: Alice and Dick Hickerson and Nelda and Harry Green].

Together, Harry and Nelda were members of the Texas A&M Association of Former Students Endowed Century Club for their philanthropy through the years. Harry continued his service to A&M as a past-president (2012–2013) of the Sul Ross Group of Aggies, who celebrate the passing of at least 55 years since graduation with an annual reunion in College Station.

As the six core values of Texas A&M are identified present day as respect, excellence, loyalty, leadership, integrity, and selfless service (RELLIS), the Core Values Coin was introduced in 2013 by the Association of Former Students “to recognize Aggies who live and reflect the core values of Texas A&M.” Since their inception, only 148 coins have been presented. In the program’s second year, Harry was one of six past presidents of the Sul Ross Group to receive a Core Values Coin. Fifteen of the 148 coins were placed on the graves of Aggies killed in World War II and buried at the Normandy American Cemetery in France.

In the community, Harry and Nelda were faithful members of First Presbyterian Church in Bryan, and always signed up to be greeters for a month each year, an activity they took seriously. Each week they recognized newcomers and welcomed returning visitors and introduced them to other longtime members there, which resulted in many new church members joining because they felt at home. To be recognized, remembered, and regarded—that was the “Harry J.” way.

New athletics coaches, of any sport, were sure to meet Harry and Nelda during their first week here, as they would take them to dinner and learn what was important to new families and coaches relocating to BCS. They made it a point to connect them with others of matching interests to make their assimilation easier. They never sought credit or acknowledgment for what they did. It was simply who they were, two Aggie angels with hearts of gold.

Visitation for Harry will be from 11am–1pm at Callaway-Jones Funeral Center in Bryan on Thursday, December 15. A guestbook is available Tuesday for those wishing to sign early. Following a private burial ceremony, a memorial service will be held on Friday, December 16, at First Presbyterian Church in Bryan, with the Rev. Ted Foote presiding.

Harry was preceded in death by his parents, his sister, Dorothy Green Lovelace, and his beloved wife, Nelda. He is survived by niece Margaret Lovelace Brooks and husband Karl, and their sons, Tom Booker and Mike Booker.

Harry is also survived by Nelda’s loving family, nephews, Tracey Smith and Travis Smith, great-niece Chelsea Jones and husband Cody, and their son Rowen Michael Jones; and great-nephews Austin Smith and Wyatt Smith, as well as a host of Aggies to whom Harry and Nelda were indeed considered “extended family.” [Photo: Cody and Chelsea Jones, Nelda and Harry Green].

From that extended family, serving as pallbearers are Jim Peterson, Bill Carter, Steve Stevens, Arno Krebs, Arnold Hayes, Kyle Lednicky, Tom Kennerly, and Kent Caperton. Honorary pallbearers are Don Adam, John Sharp, Kyle Lewie, Bookman Peters, Dick Hickerson, James Connor Smith, Dick Witherite, Otway Denny, Ron Lueck, Bill Housman, Karl Brooks, Tim Booker, Mike Booker, and all Past-Presidents of the 12th Man Foundation.

In lieu of flowers, gifts may be made to the Texas A&M Foundation, 12th Man Foundation, or the charity of choice.

Today, Harry and his Nelda are reunited in Heaven, and undoubtedly there are legions of Aggies standing in long lines to welcome him home. The strains of “The Spirit of Aggieland” should be wafting through the clouds. This coming April 21st, for Muster 2023, when the name of Harry Joyce Green, Jr. ’52 is announced, the response “HERE” is sure to reverberate throughout Reed Arena. And so it is that Harry J. Green, Jr. ’52 is home at last.

Marking a Memorable Day and Remembering a Loved One

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon as I was leaving Callaway-Jones, headed into the back parking lot last Thursday, when I spotted something you don’t see every day here. A rooster and a hen were strutting down a nearby driveway, headed home after a visit to one of the neighbors’ lawns to search for who knows what. I just stared at them, amused, thinking that they didn’t think anything about what I was thinking. They were on a mission of their own and heading home afterwards. Country living in the middle of a city. I guess that’s what you call mixed-use development.

My eyes then moved right as I saw a delivery truck backed up and ready to offload. The truck’s logo bore the name of a well-known casket manufacturer of whom I’d been aware for close to 15 years now, today being 14 years to the day of my mother’s passing. The year before her death, my best friend and I had driven to two manufacturers’ sites in Texas, while I was studying the pricing, quality, and elements of exactly the kind of casket I wanted for Mom’s burial. As a good nerd, research is always comforting. Understand the unknown and it can’t flummox you later.

When you think about these topics early, it takes much of the emotion, grief, and trauma out of the equation. I wanted time to think about what I’d like, what I could afford, and what was available. As an only child, all decisions were up to me. Don’t feel sorry for me, because I had no one telling me I was “doing it wrong,” ha.

By the time my research and review of caskets was done, I knew the top manufacturers’ names, the model names of many caskets, the difference between various metal gauges, and other terms that don’t come up often in daily conversation. And I knew the pricing. When it came time to select Mom’s casket, I was well prepared and trusted Cody and his grandfather, Raymond, to make sure the casket of my choice would arrive on time. They did, precisely. It was exactly what I wanted for Mom, and it was beautiful. And then I forgot about all that, for 14 years in fact.

As some of you know, I now work for Callaway-Jones as their Certified Life Celebrant and Life Tribute Writer, so you think I’d be thinking a lot about caskets, but in fact I don’t. I think about life after death, about celebrating the life that meant so much to those they left behind, and on constructing services that provide healing and celebration of the best times of their lives. But Thursday afternoon was different.

As I stood there actually seeing the delivery truck back into position, time froze for a few minutes as I just watched something profound happen. I’ve known my friend and work colleague Catherine Ewing-Cates for over 20 years, and I know she’s been a Funeral Director for many years. But most recently I have thought of her as the manager of Restever Cemetery in Bryan, because that’s where I see her often.

But Thursday, Catherine was outside in the parking lot standing quietly until the driver had opened the bay of his truck and she moved forward with the carrier that the casket would be offloaded to. She greeted the driver respectfully and professionally, and there was no idle chatter. Both driver and funeral director offloaded the casket and transferred it onto the carrier with such respectfulness, that it reminded me exactly of the scene I’d seen many times on “NCIS,” when a military serviceperson is flown home to the United States and military personnel await the transfer of the casket. There’s a quiet reverence about that process. And yes, I've been known to shed a tear at the beauty of the ceremony because of what it means.

And Thursday, there was a similar stillness and solitude in that scene. In fact, neither Catherine nor the driver even noticed me watching them. They were doing their jobs so professionally, even when no one was (seemingly) watching. There was a beautiful cover over the casket, for protection during the drive, and yet another layer of secure covering after the cover was removed. Catherine handled that transfer with exactly the same level of respect as she would have, were there someone inside it. That just hit me as profound. It’s the parts of the world we work in that the public doesn’t see that are even more impressive than all the things you do see that cause you to have confidence in us.

Yes, it’s how we make you feel after losing a loved one that you remember most of all, but I really wanted to say that, even though I’ve seen many aspects of afterlife care that most of you have not, I’m really proud of the family team I work with, because I see what you can’t, and don’t, and it is truly as worthy of lifting up. Yet, there’s no standing ovation for honor and grace, although there really should be. At the end of the day, you can know you’ve done your job well, and served your families with total respect and appreciation because of all who see you doing that, but it’s who we are when no one is watching that I think is worth just as much merit.

I just took a few minutes again this afternoon to vote in The Eagle’s Reader’s Choice Awards 2019 contest. You can vote once a day through tomorrow. I’m proud that Callaway-Jones is in the Top 3 as best funeral home and that two of the Top 3 best funeral directors are ours, as well as one of the Top 3 receptionists in the competition. I may be biased because I work there, but I only work there because many years ago, I was their customer first. And my confidence in them has only become stronger with every day I interact with them.

I do so love “country living” in the middle of Bryan, Texas. I’ve got deer in my front yard looking for supper and a rooster and a hen strutting up and down driveways and parking lots out for a walk. It just doesn’t get any better than this. As we begin to prepare for Memorial Day weekend ahead next weekend, we remember and appreciate all the professionals whose work involves paying respects to those we’ve loved and lost. Their memories, and their love, remain with us forever.

Turning on the Lights in Memory of Gene McDaniel Woodell—A Good Man from Grapeland

Friday night I drove to Callaway-Jones Funeral Center to pay respects to a gentleman whom I’ve had the privilege of knowing since 1993, Gene Woodell. It was going to be hard to say goodbye, even if Gene lived 91 wonderful years, because he was so timeless to all who knew him. The welcome smiles of my work colleagues who opened the door for me, Jon Shirley and Morgan Shirley, made my visit comfortable immediately.

As I signed the guest book, Marissa Crouch and Ricky Alderete greeted me as all around me I saw a beautiful display of photographs, awards, certificates, and more. I already knew Gene was legendary in his career—and yet, seeing all the framed accolades reinforced my awareness of what I already knew. We’d lost a legend, on so many levels.

My eyes immediately located a framed photo of Dixie and Gene, from their 50th Wedding Anniversary party at First United Methodist Church, and all of us there (virtually the entire church membership, plus neighbors and friends who’d filed through en masse that day) had signed the now framed matte board surrounding their wedding photo. At the end of his life, Gene and Dixie had marked 63 years of marriage, and all who knew the couple smiled in awe of the joy they showed whenever they were together.

Greeting Gene’s widow, Dixie, and his sons, Gene Martin and John, I knew to expect their strength, but as the beautiful video that Gene Martin had created was showing, it was truly a lifetime of love that was Gene’s greatest legacy to all of us. Even though the light of their lives had been extinguished on January 11th, the Woodells were such gracious hosts to all of Bryan-College Station who came through to share a hug, a tear, and so many memories.

I am continually humbled, when I see the “greatest generation” show up en masse, no matter what kind of impediments might try to dissuade them from paying respects. To be sure, in attendance were several Millenials, including Clayton Cates who came in, who’d known “Mr. Woodell” as the senior usher at First United Methodist Church, the man whose heart was filled with the incandescent countenance of grace and peace. John Woodell had asked Clayton to be an usher for the next day’s service, as Clayton was one whom Mr. Woodell had known from birth.

Trying to count the number of ushers who were asked by Mr. Woodell to work with him on Sunday mornings, I gave up—too many to count. He was truly a pillar of the church. In the past year alone, First Methodist has lost many pillars but Gene Woodell was one pillar for which it was almost too hard for me to say goodbye to, and I’m well practiced in saying goodbye bravely. After I’d paid my respects, I saw more of the photographs of the Woodells’ lifetime of love. They brought me to near-tears.

Fortunately, Rose Cates spotted me and we visited and reminisced about what Gene meant to our church, and as others came in, we knew they were from other parts of the Woodell’s lives. Whether it’s visitation or a funeral, we all need closure, we need people to be there with us and for us, which is the most important reason for a visitation, as you are not alone in your grief. Others miss whom you miss. Others remember what you remember, and together there is comfort.

Taking time to see all the names in the visitor registry, I smiled, because the lives that Gene touched in his lifetime were those from Grapeland, Texas, from his career position with Merck, Sharp, and Dohme (now Merck & Co.), within his church, and in an established Bryan neighborhood of longstanding. Everyone smiled as they shared their memories of Gene with his family.

The visitation was just the beginning of the energy and warmth that would surround the celebration of his life. I’d not known before that Gene was a Mason, or a member of the Circle Squares Square Dance Club, and the Knife and Fork Club. We must always remember that as well as we think we know others, we can always learn something new about an old friend, if we take the time to talk and ask questions.

The lights came on early Saturday morning in the sanctuary of First United Methodist Church in Bryan, at 28th and Houston, as a special event was to take place, with the public arriving for a 11 am funeral to pay final respects to one of the true “pillars of the church.”

It would be the first special occasion in the past 67 years in the life of the church where Gene himself was not present to open the doors. Instead, we the massive group of friends, family, fellow church members, neighbors and Bryan-College Station residents filed in to fill the pews for Gene’s Life Tribute service.

My door was opened by a professional teen usher whom Gene inspired and trained, Clayton Cates. That door was originally Gene’s to open, as he did virtually every Sunday of his 67 years as a member of the church now in its 150th year. Imagine…a man who has been part of a church for almost half of its existence. Truly, this is an awesome achievement. I was one of hundreds who processed through those portals over various years. He took the time to greet everyone by name…he brought a great “Welcome to your church” to visitors and guests alike.

For the funeral, pews held so many of the subsets of the church membership, one pew holding the surviving spouses of former FUMC ministers and their friends, another pew holding members of the 2x2 Sunday School class, of which Dixie and Gene were members, yet another pew with many of the Wesley Sunday School Class, another pew with a beloved former senior pastor and his entire family, on and on, as you then saw pews of others you didn’t know, but you’d come to know as the service proceeded with James Polasek on the organ with the prelude.

After Ricky Alderete led the family in to their reserved pews, Pastor Rick Sitton welcomed everyone and the music began. Young Michael Bettati perfomed a sterling violin solo as the opening then Rev. David Henry led the Sanctuary Choir in “On Eagle’s Wings” and all was right with the world. The FUMC Sanctuary Choir is one of the reasons many people return each week, to hear whatever they’ve worked up next as their gift to the congregation. Gene Woodell was another reason people returned each week.

Jeff Hobbs, Children’s Minister at FUMC, read from the Psalms, and took his rightful place as one who deserved to be part of the final farewell. Gene had watched him become the church leader he is, encouraging him all the way, sometimes good naturedly, but always with a smile. Count on Dr. Tim Scott to share from the lectern and keep everyone’s attention in a positive way. First, Tim read John’s tribute eulogy to their dad, and then it was time for the congregation to sing “Blessed Assurance,” always a favorite. Michael Bettati performed a powerful version of “Long Time Traveler,” and then it was time for the Eulogy.

Tim invited anyone who wished to come forward to share “I am thankful for Gene Woodell because…” and as people filed up there, including Texas State Rep. John Raney (who came down from the choir loft to do so), and wife Elizabeth, to Gene’s neighbors, friends from Grapeland, and other church members, the accolades flowed beautifully and smoothly.

Tim then continued by sharing the contents of a beautiful anonymous note that the Woodells had found in their mailbox one day. For four years a student had ridden his bike down their block, en route to classes at Texas A&M, and every day when Gene was outside, he would wave and smile at the student, neither party knowing the other’s names.

The student was just about to graduate and decided on that occasion that he wanted to thank the “resident” there for his daily encouragement that was, some days, what kept him going in his journey and through his education challenges. Imagine the power of a single wave and smile. That was Woodell Wattage light that flowed through him wherever he was.

Tim reminded so many of us of the truly sainted man who’d grown up in Grapeland, after having lost his dad very early in his life, one reason Tim projected that he’d been such a loving and caring father to their sons. Gene had co-founded “The Better Men of Grapeland” as a young man, vowing not to drink or smoke or swear, or go with girls who did. That’s an achievement to admire…without a father figure in his life, Gene and his friends decided early what kind of men they would be. Who does that anymore? Only special people with special gifts.

He shared how Gene wanted so much to join the Boy Scouts, even at age 13, but he’d learned the age of entry was 14, and the Scoutmaster wouldn’t make an exception. So, he went to the library and read up on the rules, and learned that you could join at 13 years old if there was a board member to sponsor you. One day the scoutmaster was out of town, so Gene sought out a Boy Scout board member to sponsor him. The man was so impressed, he agreed to sponsor him, and he hired him to work in his business. The man was Otto Walling, whose family had been in Grapeland, forever it seemed.

Otto hired Gene and that was the beginning of his interest in drug stores and in pharmaceuticals.

Gene was definitely a people person, so he combined his people skills in a business that made people feel better, a representative of a major pharmaceutical company, one that he devoted 37 years of his work life to serving, Merck & Co. Seeing some of his award plaques at visitation was so as you’d expect…for all the years I knew him, he never once mentioned an award. You just “knew it,” but doctors in town and their office teams always respected him. Gene was like no other in what he did and how he did it. Hard to quantify in words.

The sermon delivered by Pastor Sitton was as you’d expect, hard for him to deliver, as clearly he respected Gene so much, but he made it meaningful to all who heard him. What do you say when a visible pillar of your congregation is no longer there to welcome you each week? Many pastors and their spouses were in attendance on Saturday—they know exactly how Pastor Sitton felt. As Pastor Sitton said in closing, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” Amen and amen.

The concluding hymn was “Because He Lives,” and it was almost as though someone was picking favorites out of the old Cokesbury Hymnal, and nothing would have made Gene happier. Well done, Rev. David Henry.

In any church, in any career, and in any community, you come across people who improve your life, and those of all around you, simply by their indefatigable smiles, their optimistic outlook on life, and their ability to be calm in any crisis. It reminds me of what Fred Rogers used to say to young children who were being taught what to do when there’s trouble around them. “Look for the helpers,” he’d say. For most all of his 91 years, in life you could say, “Look for Gene Woodell, he will help you.”

Dr. Fran Kimbrough is responsible for the takeaway remark of the individual eulogies…paraphrasing as closely as I can, she said, “For mumble-something years, I’ve known the entire Woodell family, as a lifetime member of this church, and my two favorite ushers of all time are my uncle, Jim James, and Mr. Woodell. And I know for a fact that one day when I get to Heaven, there will be two ushers standing at the door up there as they always did down here, and that will be my uncle, Jim James and Mr. Woodell.”

And that, of everything I heard and appreciated yesterday, made me smile the most.

The lights of the sanctuary in First United Methodist Church glowed brightly again this morning, and will every day hereafter in which any worship service occurs in the now 150th year of that church.

But the lights in the night skies, when they can be seen, will undoubtedly be stronger and brighter, and light-years away someone has already said, “Hey look, Woodell has arrived!”

Following the benediction, the family paid final respects in passing the casket for the last time en route to the reception in the church’s Fellowship Hall. Larry Whitlock and Zach Johnson had joined Ricky Alderete in folding the U.S. Flag draping Gene's casket, a reminder of his service to country in the U.S. Army. The rest of the congregation followed behind them.

In the Fellowship Hall, at every table you’d find people gathered together in rapt conversation, talking about how they first came to First Church, how Gene had welcomed them, and invariably the statement, “This church will not be the same without him.” A beautiful collective of church women acted as hosts for the reception, providing recognition and regard for all who attended, ambassadors of FUMC as Gene would so have loved.

However, rather than drop into deep depression, you could be uplifted as you’d see only the countenance of calm on Dixie’s face, the active and appreciative way in which both Gene Martin and John engaged in conversation with all who came to speak special words. It would be a long day for their family as the interment would take place at Bethel Cemetery on Hardy Weedon Road, and final goodbyes would be said.

When you think of Gene Woodell in the daytime, just look for the brightest light in the sky around you, and he’ll be there.

To read the full, beautiful life tribute that John Woodell wrote, and to watch the exquisite video of Gene's life that Gene Martin created, visit Gene's tribute page on the Callaway-Jones web site at http://www.callawayjones.com/gene-mcdaniel-woodell/