Passing of a local legend

 A bonafide character that I met to record his oral history died here in Columbia last week.

Bill Wulff built it.

If “it” is in Boone County, there is a good chance that statement is true. For decades, Wulff and his brothers Al, Martin and Doc were the premier builders in Mid-Missouri. They built hundreds of houses, dozens of commercial buildings, much of Whiteman Air Force Base, a lakeside resort with its own airport – and the Boone County History and Culture Center.

Born in 1931 near Fort Leonard Wood, he worked his family farm (at one time with the help of German prisoners of war) and later became a police officer in Columbia. He found that police work wouldn’t support his wife and child, so became a brick mason and eventually a developer of masonry buildings. Ever the entrepreneur, he opened his own lumber company and brick plant to supply his construction projects. He and his brother, Doc, built hundreds of houses and commercial buildings in Columbia.

He traded a house in Columbia for land on the then-undeveloped Lake of the Ozarks, buying or trading for neighboring land until he had a half-mile of lakeshore. He built the popular Wulff Harbor Resort there, but roads to the lake were so poor that he built his own airport for easier access.

Drawing on his police experience, he organized an auxiliary force for the Columbia Police Department that for years supplemented the stretched-thin paid force.

My favorite story, however, was how he surreptitiously moved a giant bell from the dome of the Boone County Courthouse to the lawn in front.  The bell didn't fit the plan for the remodeling of the courthouse and there was no money in the budget to move it. Bill took that as a challenge, so sneaked into the courthouse with friends one night to used chains and brute force to snatch the bell.  Getting it down entailed muscling it over a wall and into an elevator and sliding it across the courthouse's main floor. By dawn, they had it installed on the lawn. County officials arrived later that morning to a puzzling surprise.

Wulff and his wife, Helen, also liked to travel. Helen particularly like history and genealogy but was dismayed that Columbia did not have a museum like so many other towns across the  country had. That led to a fund drive and many nights and weekends constructing the museum’s home in Nifong Park.

Today, four flags and a bronze monument in front of the museum commemorate Wulff’s lifetime of work.

Bill died Aug. 7, 2020 at Boone Hospital in Columbia.  He was here for 89 fascinating years.

COVID: Out of fear comes joy

It’s odd how a threat to your life can bring out the best in your life.

I took the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic very seriously. I’m 69 and have the usual health challenges that come with age, putting me right in the crosshairs of the virus. But the 2 ½ months that we isolated together turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life.

It all started simply enough. In March, we drove from our home in Columbia, MO, to Knoxville for a week of classic “grandparent duty.” The daycare center where Fletcher and Cordelia spend weekdays was closed for Spring Break. Cecile and I jumped at the chance to sub-in so Garrett and Brittany could continue to work.

The world went to hell just as we arrived.  By midweek, health officials had issued “stay-at-home” or “self-isolation” advisories as the toll from coronavirus mounted worldwide. Garrett and Brittany could work from upstairs if we could ride herd on the kids downstairs.

We also found ourselves in a bit of role reversal. Son Garrett was now the protective father, “grounding” Mom and Dad to make sure we did not come anywhere near disease carriers. No more trips to the store or gatherings with neighbors.

But we had plenty to keep us busy. I developed a new appreciation for young parents and teachers. Little kids are not only bursting with energy, but they are so fascinating that I willingly let them monopolize my attention.

Cora was just six months old – barely able to roll over, not quite recognizing our faces and not even attempting to talk beyond a gurgle. Fletcher was coming up on his third birthday – intensely curious, insistent that he do it his way and ravenous for stories, songs and books.

What magic those 2 ½ months worked. It’s hard to notice when we are a busy parents, but as grandparents we get to capture what we didn’t really see as our own kids blossomed. Other than a dash home for warm-weather clothes, we spent our time in Knoxville closer to our grandchildren than would otherwise be possible.

Day-by-day, Cora expanded her world. In what seemed only minutes, she grew from infant to toddler.

She loved for me to hold her up to the front window, first just enjoying just the light but later delighting at birds in the yard or dogwalkers on the sidewalk. She went from just a cute little smile to locking her eyes on mine, brightening into a soul-warming smile and waving her tiny hands in excitement. Is there any greater reward for your life than seeing a part of yourself beaming back to you?

I delighted in her quest for mobility. I cheered her on like a championship team as she scooted to her knees and shakily edged toward me. Later I secretly took all the credit when she pulled herself up the side of her playpen and then toddled forward holding my finger for balance. When she tired of it, she rewarded me by falling asleep on my stomach while I lay smiling on the sofa.

You naturally love your grandson, but Fletcher became my best buddy. A high point of my day was to escort him on a walk around the neighborhood. He taught me to literally stop and smell the roses as we trekked at glacial speed. Every stick and rock was a discovery, every leaf a piece of art. It might take an hour to walk around the block but I gladly gave up the vigorous exercise for the Zen of a little boy’s pace.

He excitedly explained his world in a constant stream that I half understood but fully appreciated. It was our own secret when I let him pee in the bushes or made his snack of “mud and sticks” (peanut butter and pretzels). I watched him put his imagination into LEGO constructions. I sang the ABC song more times than I ever did as a child to time our frequent hand scrubs. He hugged me. A lot.

Having four adults constantly in the same house could have been a disaster. But it wasn’t.  It was family.

You might imagine a daughter-in-law resenting the intrusion of a strange old man in her house, but Brittany welcomed me into her life. We grew closer as each day passed and I more and more appreciated how strong and bright she is. We are so lucky that she joined our family.

There were years when Garrett and I simply grated on each other’s nerve, as fathers and sons often do. But our mutual isolation drew us together more than since he was the little boy in the house. We had long talks and worked on projects together. I saw first-hand what a brilliant engineer he is. He pleasantly surprised me in the kitchen, making us with meals both delicious and healthy. The boy shared his life as a man. He is my son. 

As much as I missed my own bed and the comfortable nooks of my own home, my heart ached as we backed out of the driveway to head home once the daycare reopened. A vicious disease the turned our lives upside-down had given me the joy of a lifetime.

Fear? No. Gratitude.