State

Just a Plain Bus Driver Come to think of it, however, he's very much more than that. We believe you'll agree with us after you have read what Mr. Arnold has to say about him. м EN of scintillating person¬ ality, of great achievements. • of outstanding ability, al¬ ways make splendid subjects for newspaper and magazine articles. Leading industrialists, statesmen, movie actors, musicians, etc., are being written up all the time. So are the heroes of the present war. Up to the present time, I don’t believe anyone has written up Mr. Frank O. Edwards, of Weaver- ville. Mr. Edwards doesn't have a scintillating personality. He has never achieved outstanding success as a great industrialist. He’s just a plain, hard-working citizen, en¬ gaged in the rather prosaic employ¬ ment of driving a bus. Despite all this, however, he is one of the most interesting characters I ever have met. While visiting some of the chil¬ dren’s camps in the Blue Ridge Mountains recently, I included Camp Sequoyah, operated by Mr. C. Walton Johnson. He and his good wife, the talented musician from Raleigh, live on the camp property the year around. Travel by Bus In order to get to the camp, it was necessary to take a bus, oper¬ ating between Asheville and Beech. (Beech is a small settle¬ ment, consisting of a store or two, postoffice and several homes. It is located about a mile from the entrance to Camp Sequoyah.) I boarded the bus in Asheville at about four o’clock. The good folks of Reems Creek soon filled the vehicle and we started off. But we didn’t travel far. When we came to the city market, Mr. Edwards stopped the bus, got out, and paused in front of several piles of watermelons. He spent some time, thumping the melons and finally made a purchase. The melon was placed in the rear of the bus. "For Mrs. Anderson,” he said casually, as we resumed our way. A little further along, he stopped in front of a dry-cleaning estab¬ lishment. "Got to leave this here By A. S. ARNOLD for Mrs. Thomas,” he said, as he got out again. We finally left the city. Just as we turned near Weaverville to go up to Reems Creek, he stopped the bus at an old mill and got a couple of bags of flour that were waiting for him. Further up the road, he stopped in front of a house and delivered the flour. A mile or so beyond that place, a man came out of a store and sig¬ nalled the bus to stop. “I’m short of money," he said to Mr. Edwards. "Cash this check for me, will you please, Frank?” Mr. Edwards reached into his pocket, counted out some money, took the check, and once more we were on our way. He delivered several more pack¬ ages. Two small girls with school¬ books under their arms, were walk¬ ing along the side of the road. Mr. Edwards stopped and opened the door. The children took the seat beside him and rode with us about a mile. Then they got out. saying "Thank you, Mr. Edwards!" as they hopped to the ground. Arrival at Beech Finally we reached Beech, the end of the regular run. Those passengers who were still on the bus proceeded to get out. I did also. Mr. Edwards looked around and said: "Wait a minute: I thought you said you were going to Sequoyah.” "I am,” I told him. "But I understood that this is as far as the bus goes.” "Well,” he said, “this is supposed to be the end of the regular run, but I don’t mind driving you up to the camp. It’ll take only a couple of minutes.” When I got out at the camp entrance, he asked me: “When are you figuring on going back?” “A little after seven o’clock this evening,” I told him. “I’ll get Mr. Johnson to drive me to Weaver¬ ville. and I’ll catch the bus from there.” "Don’t do that,” he said. "I'll call for you at that time and will drive you to Weaverville. It won’t take long.” While I was talking to Mr. John¬ son, I asked him to tell me some¬ thing about Mr. Edwards. “Most accommodating man I’ve ever known,” he stated. "He en¬ joys doing favors for folks. As a matter of fact, he goes out of his way to do them. Of course, it’s a very unorthodox way to operate a bus, but no one objects to being delayed while he delivers pack¬ ages to people along the route. Folks ask him to do all kinds of errands for them in Asheville, and he never refuses.” Started Bus Route in 1941 Driving back to Weaverville that evening, I got Mr. Edwards to tell me something about himself. He began operating the bus in July, 1941. He was told that he would never be able to make any money out of it. It wasn’t long, however, before he was doing right well. After a year, another man decided to compete W'ith him for the busi¬ ness. He didn’t last three weeks. In October, 1943, still another operator entered the field as a com¬ petitor and proceeded to get a franchise. After considerable work, he succeeded in getting his petition signed by fifteen people, six of whom lived across the mountain and never used the bus service. While this was going on, the worn- en-folks of Reems Creek circulated a petition of their own and secured 552 signatures for Mr. Edwards. From Mr. Johnson and some other people in that section, I found out a number of other things about Mr. Edwards. Whenever anybody dies on the Creek, Mr. Edwards furnishes his own car, without charge, if ^t is needed. On Sundays he hauls old folks to church. When anybody is taken ill, he drives them to the hospital in Asheville. Old people, children, and men in uniform are picked up along the ( Continued on page 16)