Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, August 22, 1993 TAG: 9308180232
SECTION: BUSINESS PAGE: B-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: KATHLEEN WILSON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
"I can't remember wanting to be anything other than a country undertaker," explained Lewis, who describes himself as a " '29 model." He'll turn 64 in October.
And it seems more than likely that when J.B. retires, the funeral home in Lexington that bears his name and took an entire lifetime to build will quietly retire with him.
"I'm waiting for a call to try to make a young man an offer," he said rocking back in his chair.
J.B.'s been waiting a long time for that call.
Lewis Funeral Home is much like the man who runs it. Simple. Humble. Proud. And dignified.
There's no stained glass in his chapel. No church pews. There's no fleet of fancy limousines.
But if a customer wants a limousine, Lewis has a friend in Waynesboro who will lend him one.
"It's not the newest, but I'm proud," explained Lewis showing off the garage and basement of 100-year-old structure on Randolph Street.
"But I dug it out with my own two hands. I poured the concrete, paved the parking lot and graded it myself.'
He's particularly proud of his preparation room, which is as good, he swears, as those at any other area funeral homes.
"You and I could sit down and break bread on that table," he said, pulling back the sheet. "Not that I guess you'd want to . . . "
It wouldn't be fair to call Lewis Funeral Home a one-man operation. He can't imagine having done any of this without his wife, Mary.
"She's my buddy," he said when she left the room. "I can fuss at her and she can fuss at me. For years she worked as a teacher and came in here to help me."
Since she retired, Mary's been helping out J.B full time.
He doesn't really have any employees, although he has as-needed people who help with the 30 or so funerals the business handles in a year.
Over the years, J.B. figures he's probably earned only about half of what he should have.
That is, if you measure a man's worth in dollars and cents.
"When we've done our job - dotted every i and crossed every t - and we're patted on the back, that's payment," he said slowly.
It hasn't been an easy life. When J.B. started, he started from scratch.
"I can still show you the 15-cent modeling stick I had when I left embalming school," he said. "And that's about all I had."
Some 35 years later, he's got a little more. But Lewis Funeral Home is thoroughly unpretentious. In fact, it's downright plain.
Instead of fancy artwork, you'll find a framed picture of the class of '57 from Eckel's College of Mortuary Science School in Philadelphia.
Beneath that, his framed straight-A report card and a yellowed newspaper clipping about the young man from Clifton Forge who graduated tops in his class.
It's appropriately sparse for a man who advises those who need his services "to only do what is reasonable and necessary."
Mary says they become friends with just about everyone who comes to them in need.
J.B. sounds almost weary as he describes this life he's chosen as that country undertaker, but you still get the impression he wouldn't have had it any other way.
"It's been a 24-hour-a-day, 365-day-a-year confinement," he said with a sigh.
"There aren't any young people today who wants to live that life and return to a small town.
"Today, young people are just smarter than I was."
by CNB