The spirit of Billy Ray Anderson
By KEN WELBORN
Record Publisher
There are folks who say there are no such things as coincidental
happenings. Others just as adamantly insist life is but a series of
coincidences.
But, either way, this one struck
me, and I am going to tell you about it.
Some time ago, while antique shopping in Boone, I was wandering through
a store, booth-by-booth, basically waiting on my wife to finish looking around
so we could leave, when I happened upon a section wallpapered in old, yellowed
newspapers.
Naturally, this caught my eye and I peered closer.
From the looks of the hairdos in the photos, the papers appeared to be
from the late 60’s, so I looked some more.
I determined that the newspapers in question were mostly issues of The Blowing Rocket, the weekly paper in
Blowing Rock.
As I scanned over the articles and ads glued tightly to the paneling, a
photograph of a kid caught my eye. It
was one of the cutest pictures I have ever seen — a small boy wearing a ball
cap cocked to one side, eating an apple, and above that, a picture of a
soldier.
My heart sank when I got to the headline which read, to the effect of,
“Boy in photo made famous promoting Brushy Mountain Apples Killed in Viet Cong
Ambush.”
The date on the newspaper was Feb. 2, 1971.
Figuring it might be someone from home,
I read on and found the picture was taken in Wilkes County
in 1952, by a photographer named Max Tharpe,
who was just passing through the Pores Knob section. The piece went on to identify the boy as Billy
Ray Anderson, and his survivors included his mother, Mildred Lane Anderson
of Winston-Salem. He had joined the Army at 17, and was 25 when
he was killed. A few moments later, I
told Laura about the article, and didn’t think too much more about it, other
than the fact that I graduated from college with a draft status of 1-A in the
spring of that same year, 1971.
A few days later, a man stopped by my office at The Record with a trunk about a third full of newspapers and
records to sell. As I briefly leafed
through the things in the trunk, I did see a program from the early 60’s of the
Daniel Boone Wagon Train full of pictures of Ivey Moore and other local
characters, as well as some other types of advertising, and ended up buying all
of it, including the trunk.
After work that day, I began to sort out the stuff I had purchased,
mainly trying to fold out as neatly as possible the old newspapers to get them
flat so I could look through them without further damaging them. Once I removed
the newspapers and put the old records and books on top to hold them down,
there wasn’t too much left, but I went through it, piece by piece. A Sears
flyer, an old checkbook, an almanac, and an order blank for a dry goods store
in Baltimore.
But, it was the last item that made my eyes widen. There, on the very bottom of the trunk, face
up, was that same kid, Billy Ray Anderson, staring up at me, as if from the
grave.
Truly, it made the hair on my neck stand up.
Above his picture, it read, “Apple Orchard & Packing House Map.”
Gingerly, I unfolded the piece from its three-by-seven inch size out to
14-by-22. In addition to the map, it
listed members of the Brushy Mountain Apple Growers Association, and had a full
compliment of advertisers, including The Northwestern Bank, the Bank of North
Wilkesboro, Jenkins Hardware Company, Insurance Service and Credit Corporation,
the North Wilkesboro Building
and Loan Association, and Blue Ridge Tractor Company. At the bottom of the brochure, it was noted
you could call the County Farm Agent in Wilkesboro for further
information. “Telephone 21,” it read
simply.
The next day, I leafed through the newspapers from the trunk and was
surprised yet again. In an edition from
1957, once again I found myself staring at little Billy Ray Anderson. The story announced the planned use of the
photograph to promote Brushy
Mountain apples.
Coincidences?
I couldn’t get that boy off my mind.
I made a few phone calls to folks I knew had lived in the area, one of
them being my friend Max Joines. As I began to tell the story, Max immediately
knew exactly who I was talking about, and had even played with him as a kid.
Max went on to tell me that Billy Ray’s father, Reid Anderson had worked for
Max’s father George at his sawmill, and often the boy would be there as well.
Max also told me that Billy Ray Anderson was buried at a military cemetery in Georgia.
A trip out to Perry Lowe’s Orchard on N.C. 16 at Kilby Gap also proved to be useful. We found Shirley
Lowe in her office, and she greeted us with one of her sweet smiles that make
you feel welcome every time you see her.
In a matter of a minute, she had produced another, more up to date
brochure from 1999, still featuring the famous photo of Billy Ray Anderson. Shirley went on to tell us that the photo was
taken at the old Davis Orchard just down the road, and apple growers used it
nationally and internationally for more than 40 years.
We left the Perry Lowe Apple House with a box of Pink Lady apples and a
good feeling, just like always.
I also called Charles Bentley, whose mother got us in touch with a
relative of Billy Ray’s. The relative
did not wish to have their name used, but provided us with the photo of Billy
Ray in his Army uniform, and
shared some information. It seems as
though the boy with the apple had come up hard through the years, and had
dropped out of school. He joined the
Army as soon as he was old enough to enlist with a parent signature, and soon
had turned his life around. He completed
his education in the service and had been promoted to sergeant. Billy Ray had volunteered for duty in Viet Nam, and
was on his second tour of duty there when he was killed.
A little boy, smiling, as he
eats an apple. Almost 20 years later, that
little boy is a soldier, killed while in the service of his country.
I don’t know why that photograph kept finding its way to me, but I’m
glad it did. I’m only regretful that I didn’t get a chance to know Billy Ray in
life as I have in death.
Billy Ray Anderson
Rest in Peace
