My last visit with Curtis Adams

Curtis Adams has died at the age of 86, after a lengthy illness that accelerated after a fall in recent days.

Last month, I took a day off from work, and it was the best day I’ve had in ages.  As we age, many of our friends move to assisted living facilities and nursing homes, and others are home bound. On that particular day, I visited three of my friends, without having to worry about rushing back to work.  Each visit was special, and I got more out of it than they did, for sure.

Among my visits was an early afternoon stop in East Ridge.  Curtis was best known for being the longest-serving Hamilton County Commissioner in history (1988-2010).  He was also a longtime circulation and business manager for the Chattanooga News-Free Press (when it was an afternoon paper), a city manager in East Ridge and Crossville, TN, the owner-operator of a tire store, a radio host, and a gospel singer.  No doubt his proudest accomplishment was being a loving husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.

He was married to Dot for 65 years, until her death almost five years ago to the day.  Theirs was the unlikely teenage union that worked, and did it ever! When they got married in 1949, Curtis was 16, and Dot was 15.

Everyone who knows Curtis can tell you, he was never the same after he lost Dot.  They were an incredible team.  Not everyone can put up with a spouse putting in long hours at work, and in the political arena.  Dot adored Curtis, and was his biggest fan.  The feeling was mutual.

Earlier this year, some of Curtis’s friends told me he was at a facility in East Ridge.  “You ought to go see him,” they said. “Should I call first?” I asked.  “Nope, just drop in anytime,  He loves company,” they replied.

When I entered the building, I was greeted by an employee who offered to help me find someone.  “I’m here to see Curtis Adams,” I told her.  “Oh, Mr. Adams!” she said happily.  Just keep going straight out the back door.  He loves to sit outside.”

I wasn’t prepared for what I would soon see.  I have visited a few dozen folks at various retirement and nursing homes, They’re usually dressed casual and comfortable, often wearing pajamas in their rooms.  I’m fine with that.  I do that around the house every chance I get.

But there he was: Commissioner Curtis Adams, in all his glory.  Well, most of his glory. He was wearing a black suit.  Not rumpled, not wrinkled. Clean, and sharp.  His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, with no tie.  (That may have been the first time I had seen him without a tie in decades).  So, not quite his political attire, but very sharp for an 86-year-old in assisted living.  I was impressed.

He greeted me, thanked me for coming, and started naming his various friends who had visited in recent days.  Maybe that was the reason for the suit.  You never know who might come calling. For a brief moment, I thought about taking a picture. But you know something? We do that too much these days. So there would be no picture. Sometimes you should just enjoy the moment,  I’m glad I didn’t take one. The image lives on in my mind, and that’s how it should be.

We shared so many memories and stories.  His mind was clear and alert. He regaled me with tales from his newspaper days.  He loved Roy McDonald, the founder and publisher of the paper.  He recounted their battles with the morning Chattanooga Times, then owned by the New York Times.  Curtis loved nothing better than telling David vs. Goliath stories about how his little hometown paper took on the big-money Times family (and the unions), usually emerging victorious. “We sold 120,000 papers a day back then,” he said.  He would then recite the current paper’s circulation, well below that number, saying, “I don’t know what they’re doing now.” Yet he admitted he still read the paper every day, and commented freely about current county news, like the soon-to-be-decided property tax hike. “I couldn’t support that,” he said.

Soon, one of the attendants came outside. “Need anything, Mr. Adams?” the young lady asked.  “You can top off this coffee, darlin'” he said. “If it’s not too much trouble.” She happily complied. As she went back into the building, he leaned in and said, “It’s just like politics, David. If you’re nice to them, they’ll be nice to you.” He added, “I’m tryin’ to get them a raise. They don’t get paid enough for what they do.”

When she returned with his refreshed coffee, I asked her what she knew about “Mr. Adams.”  “He’s just a real sweetheart,” she smiled.  I said, “Did you know this guy has a street named for him? Did you know he has a high school fine arts building named after him?” “You didn’t tell me that,” she said to him.

I went on. “Let me tell you something else. Back in the 90s, my wife’s cousin was visiting us with her fiancee on New Year’s Day. They had driven down from Pennsylvania.  They decided they wanted to get married in Chattanooga.  Now, who would possibly perform a wedding on short notice, on New Year’s Day? Well, I called Curtis.  He came right over, all dressed up of course, and performed the ceremony in our living room.  Our sons were very impressed that this man they had seen on TV was in our house, conducting a wedding.” I added, “And it was one of several hundred he performed over the years.  He was known as the marryin’ commissioner, and he was very proud of that.”  “You didn’t tell me that either, Mr. Adams!” she said.

I didn’t want to keep her too long, but I had to add one more thing. “Now before you go, this is the main thing I want you to know about this man. I’m in the news business.  Mr. Adams was a politician.  Often times, the two sides don’t get along.  But every time…EVERY time I needed him to comment on a hot topic in the news, even if it was something he supported that may have been against the prevailing public opinion, he stood up in front of the camera, and explained his position. He never hid out, never gave an excuse.  He was always accessible and available.”

Shifting my gaze to Curtis, I looked him in the eye and said, “And Curtis, I appreciate that.  If I’ve never told you before, I’m telling you now.”

Curtis thanked me, then looked at the young lady. “Everything he just said is true,” he said with a sly grin.

She had to check on some other residents, so Curtis and I chatted a few minutes more.  Although his mobility was limited, there was no reason to think this would be my last visit.

Curtis and Dot endured two stunning tragedies, just a year apart, when both their adult sons died of cancer in their 40’s.  He told me how tough that was to overcome.  I always believed that he stayed busy, in part, to get his mind off his great losses.

I will miss this one-of-a-kind character.  This impeccably dressed, “not a hair out of place” gentleman, who fought the political wars with passion.  He changed parties, he supported (and opposed) tax increases with fervor, and he even offered to build a high school for a community that didn’t want a new building; they just wanted the old one restored. “I tried to give ’em a 21 million dollar building, and they wouldn’t take it!” he said with a puzzled look on his face.

He loved the arena so much, he tried to win his commission seat back at the age of 81, despite frail health.  He came to accept his place in life, and during our visit, he seemed at peace with his legacy.

The joke about Curtis among area politicians went something like this: “Where’s Curtis?” someone would ask. The response was, “Well, just drive around, and if you see two cars in a driveway, he’s probably in there campaigning.” He loved that joke.

He took great pride in being a public servant.  He maintained a beautiful office on Ringgold Road, with framed photographs, and a lifetime full of plaques and awards on the wall  I’m glad I got to know him, I’m glad he was my friend, and I will forever be thankful for that one final visit.

FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS Curtis D. Adams, 86, passed away July 2nd, 2019. He resided in East Ridge, TN for 45 years.

Curtis was a dedicated public servant who loved working for and serving Hamilton County.  He was the longest serving Hamilton County Commissioner in history (1988-2010).  He was a very outspoken member of the commission that never backed down from his opinion and views on any matter. He was also a longtime circulation director and advertising director for the Chattanooga News Free-Press and Times newspapers.  He went to work for Roy McDonald when he was 18 years and grew to love Mr. Roy like a father.  He was a city manager for East Ridge and Crossville, TN.  He was a radio host and had a love for gospel music.  The highlight of each month, was attending the gospel singing that his dear friend, Bill Hullander, hosted at his barn in Apison, Tennessee.  He worked with his wife and sons in their family tire business for several years after retiring from the newspaper. Curtis loved meeting people, marrying couples, telling stories and jokes and working in his yard.  He was a great public speaker and gave hundreds of speeches, usually without a note in sight.

He was preceded in death by his loving wife of 60 years, Dorothy “Dot” Adams, his two sons Curtis O. Adams and Michael W. Adams, parents, Rev. Dewey Adams, Estelle Priest, step-father, Morris Priest, and brothers, David and Edward Adams.

He is survived by his two daughters Jennifer (Gus) Hopper, Lookout Mountain, and Debbie (Lynn) Gibson, East Ridge, 10 grandchildren, 11 great grandchildren, and several nieces and nephews.

Funeral services celebrating the life of Curtis Adams will be Sunday, 2:30 PM, in the funeral home chapel with Rev. Paul McDaniel and Bill Hullander officiating.  Interment will be in Lakewood Memory Gardens, South.

Honorary pallbearers will be all former Hamilton County Commissioners.

Visit www.heritagebattlefield.com to share condolences with the family and view the online memorial tribute.

Memorial contributions may be made to the American Cancer Society.

The family will receive friends from 4-7 p.m. Saturday, and 12:30 – 2:30 PM, Sunday, at the Heritage Funeral Home on Battlefield Parkway.