Honoring one of the best— a true and giving friend
He grew up on the south side of Chickamauga Avenue in north Knoxville. I lived on the north side at the foot of Sharp’s ridge. We walked the same streets, played ball on the same soil, and attended the same schools, and like any kid growing up in Lincoln Park during the 40’s and 50’s, we drank the same cold water from streams dribbling down from the ridge bound for First Creek. Everyone knew of the McCoy brothers, the three of them all part of the “Drug Store Cowboys,” a group of teens hanging out at the pharmacy at the corner of Chickamauga Avenue and Pershing Street across from Lincoln Park School. Jerry was the baby. It those days Lincoln Park was a community of railroaders, policemen, firemen, and textile workers and their children, all born at nearby St. Mary’s Hospital. Jerry became a builder of homes, apartments, condominiums, and commercial buildings all over Knoxville and beyond. He was a woodworker supreme and enjoyed building furniture to give away to friends and family. When my daughter-in-law suddenly passed 20 years ago at the age of 31, he built my grandchildren a playhouse that could comfortably accommodate a family of four. His giving was limitless. Tomatoes, peppers, and squash from his well-tended garden would show up on the tables of his many friends. I was one of those, one of Jerry’s friends. He was always easy to like. An authentic man with no pretense. You know, the kind that fit best into a lifetime friendship.
The “Real McCoy” was funny, country funny. He didn’t know any jokes. His humor came naturally and revealed itself through life experience and simplistic observations. He was one of those people who just made you laugh. His impatience was hilarious and the stuff of legend. Did you ever know a man who would leave the house for work after eating a big breakfast and immediately phone back before he reached the end of the driveway to ask what would be served for supper? This is a man who often got out of his pickup truck before it stopped rolling. When he called me, his seatbelt alarm always drowned out his voice. Jerry’s mind was always preoccupied by thoughts of improving on yesterday or, more importantly, planning for tomorrow. The importance of the now, of being present in a moment, alluded him to the delight of everyone. Zen he was not.
Oh, the fun we had. Jerry and I were golf partners on numerous occasions – perfect situations for lacking patience. Although we had discussions about the importance of taking his time with all the money on the line, his mind was always on to the next hole before his club reached the ball. On the one occasion we were in contention, he promised me “Bob, I’m gonna take my time the rest of the way and par every hole.” When we reached the green, Jerry was the first to putt and barely looked the ball or the line over before yanking it offline. He started walking before the ball stopped and looked at me and said, “Bob, I forgot to take my time.” When he told me that he had bought a table saw for his workshop and that he could stick his finger in the saw and it would stop immediately and not even break the skin, I told him that this was a great feature because he was going to need it.
Did you ever know a man who would leave the house for work after eating a big breakfast and immediately phone back before he reached the end of the driveway to ask what would be served for supper?
A gambler at heart, Jerry loved competition on any level. I sat down with him on one occasion to watch “Dancing with the Stars” and noticed that before the judges voted Jerry would accurately guess the score each judge eventually gave. I accused him of watching a rerun. He told me, “No, Bob, I just know dancin’.” I asked him if he knew how to Cha Cha or Tango or do the Texas Two Step and he told me, “I don’t do no dances that’s got names.” He took me for $40 betting on TV dancers.
In the Air Force, he told a fellow airman, who happened to be a music teacher, about his wish to play a musical instrument. The man volunteered to teach Jerry how to play the harmonica. Jerry asked that he just teach him one song – “Oh! Susanna.” It took a few weeks, but Jerry learned to play that one song on the harmonica. When the airman was transferred out, he gave Jerry the harmonica. One day Jerry was bragging about his musical abilities and a group of new airmen in the barracks challenged him to prove it. Jerry found his harmonica and played “Oh! Susanna,” as if he’d written the tune himself. As the requests for additional songs rang out, Jerry abruptly threw his harmonica on his bunk and said, “No, boys, I’m too tired.”
He had no fear, especially if there was an opportunity for a memory. Once, after being rained out of a round of golf in Myrtle Beach, he looked out the window and spotted a catamaran for rent. With the storm blowing in, Jerry and five others decided that they would rent the catamaran and sail out into the Atlantic with a cooler of beer. Jerry knew nothing of sailing, but said he had once ridden on a catamaran. The boy at the marina, with a look of confusion on his face, refused to rent unless someone had experience in sailing. One of the sailors said, “Jerry knows how to do it,” and the marina boy relented, saying “Okay, but look at those whitecaps out there . . . you better know what you’re doing.” Jerry replied, “Hey, buddy, that’s just the way we like it.” They capsized before they left the marina harbor with everyone and the beer in the surf.
He always bartered and haggled on price. During a sale at a discount golf shop, Jerry was considering buying a pair of black golf shoes to look like Phil Mickelson. He held up a pair of black saddle oxfords and asked the salesman “What you want for these?” The salesman said, “They’re marked on sale for $38,” to which Jerry responded, “You can do better than that . . . they don’t even fit me.”
His ability to talk to anyone and haggle without offending endeared him to others. On one shopping excursion in Florida, he claimed that he was robbing all the merchants by paying such cheap prices. “They’re practically givin’ this stuff away,” Jerry stated. When driving from the mall with our friend, Wayne, Jerry said he needed to stop at a convenience store for a roll of Tums. Jerry and Wayne ate Tums like candy. I stopped at a convenience store, and Jerry got out and asked Wayne if he wanted a roll and Wayne asked him to bring him a roll of orange Tums. Jerry was gone a long time, and I finally went in the store to see what the delay was only to find Jerry standing in the middle of the store looking perplexed. I asked him what was wrong and he said, “There’s nobody working in here and they don’t have any Tums.” About that time, a lady popped up from behind the counter and said, “I’m down here. What do you need?” Jerry asked her where the Tums were located and she said, “They’re back here with me in a box . . . we had a pipe leak and the box got wet.” She said she was going to have to throw all the Tums out and she offered the entire box to Jerry for free. He went back to the car carrying a box of about 300 or more rolls of Tums, and as he got in the car, he threw an orange one to the backseat to Wayne. When Wayne asked him what he was carrying, he said, “They gave me this whole box of Tums. I told you, I’m robbing these people down here.”
I’m losing a lot of friends these days, but I’m discovering an incredible power and warmth of overwhelming appreciation and peace that rushes in from the many memories I’ve created with those who have enriched my life with laughter and friendship. An authentic and genuine friend is a gift to treasure. Gerald McCoy passed away August 31, 2024. The cause of death was impatience.