On a colorful day in early November, a flotilla of young people were sculling on the river while being watched by thousands along the river bank. It reminded me of the man who had started this, years ago, my longest time close friend, William Gaston Raoul.

On May 2, 1911, William Gaston Raoul, my longest time friend, was born on Lookout Mountain. According to an autobiographic sketch he gave me years ago, "It was cold that year and snow fell on April 29. In Henry IV, Shakespeare has the Welshman say, 'I tell you, at my birth the goats ran from the mountains.' There were indeed cattle in the woods in those days, and some goats, too, which belonged to Wauhatchie Bill Pryor, a railroad detective."

We met when we were about four. I am some six months older than William and attended kindergarten at his home on the West Brow of Lookout Mountain. My own home was on the East Brow, about a quarter of a mile walk across the then largely uninhabited mountain. After kindergarten, he would walk part of the way home with me through the woods. We shared a myth that bulls lived in the woods, but if we were together the bulls could not harm us. He would walk half way home with me, then turn and go back to his house, and we would call back and forth as long as we could hear each other. When we could no longer hear each other, we were at home.

His autobiographical sketch continues: "I was taught at home until ready for the fifth grade, when I attended Lookout Mountain School for one year. My teacher was Miss Rachel Whitaker, later Mrs. Joe Persinger, one of the three beautiful Whitaker girls from Bell Buckle, Tn. In harmony with the styles of that distant period, she wore her hair in a massive construction on top of her head. Though I did not know it, this illusion was supported by a wire construction called a 'rat.' All I knew was that when she called you up to correct a paper, you could see vast open spaces under the surface of her coiffure.

"I entered Baylor in the sixth grade, but since that school did not then, and does not now, have a sixth grade, I had to attend seventh grade classes without getting any credit for them. This injustice marred my outlook on life. I graduated from Baylor in the spring of 1929 and worked that summer, as I had the year before, at the Lookout Mountain Hotel, a creation of Mr. Paul B. Carter, which turned out to be as much of an illusion as the rat in Miss Whitaker's hair for those unfortunate investors who put money into it. But I came out ahead, earning $.30 an hour for two full summers and having absolutely no time to spend it. The work week was 60 hours when we weren't rained out.

"I entered Dartmouth College and stayed there four years, graduating in the Class of 1933. I taught English at Baylor for one year, then went to work at Tennessee Furniture Corporation, which later changed its name to Cavalier Corporation. Except for five years in the Army of the United States, I was there until retirement."

In 1939, William met Kit Popham, whose full name was Louisa Cheves Popham. She was from Charleston, S.C., and was his third cousin, once-removed. They were both descended from Langdon Cheves, once President of the Bank of the United States. They met when she came to Lookout Mountain to visit her uncle, Gus Stoney.

He and Kit became engaged in 1940, but the engagement was dropped the latter part of the year, and William decided to go in the Army.

In January 1941, nearly a year prior to Pearl Harbor, he entered the Army at Ft. Oglethorpe as a private. His commanding officer there quickly discovered that William could "do things" and had him act a sergeant. He soon had a considerable responsibility for the way the place was run.

After several months, he was given orders to go to Ft. Sill, Ok., to Officers' Candidate School. After graduating there as an officer, he remained at Ft. Sill. In April of 1942, he and Kit, who had decided that they would marry after all, were espoused in Goose Creek Church near Charleston, S.C. Bena and I attended the wedding, and I participated as William's best man.

From Ft. Sill, he was sent to the Armored Force at Camp Campbell, Ky., attached to the Twelfth Armored Division, and in the fall of 1944, his outfit was sent to England. He recalled that while in England they were housed, for one night only, in a huge aircraft hangar near Salisbury, and that there were 6,000 troops in that one hangar.

It wasn't long before the Twelfth Armored Division was sent across the Channel. His account continues: "Late in January of 1945, the 494th Armored Division Artillery Battalion was detached from the 12th Armored Division and ordered to support the free French troops that had recently occupied the city of Strasbourg. Our battalion commander directed me to report to General Schwartz, the French commander, who headquarters were in the old Maison Rouge Hotel, a landmark torn down some years after the war ended. I took my place in the French headquarters. There was just enough heat in the building to keep the water pipes from freezing. Nevertheless, we gathered for dinner every evening. At the end of each evening, General Schwartz, who had been badly wounded in World War I and was very lame, would walk around the table and shake hands with every officer present.

"Our true situation quickly became apparent. Though they had plenty of infantry along the Rhine, the French could not deploy them because many had no shoes, and the snow was deep in the countryside. The 494th had been brought in to make a show of force. So we fired at everything we could see that moved on the other side of the river. I even arranged that some firing be directed right over the Maison Rouge at dinnertime, which greatly pleased the General. General Schwartz explained to me, however, that we should not fire at any target in the German town of Kell, an industrial district just across the river from the center of Strasbourg, because, he said, 'Kell is only an industrial town while Strasbourg is a historic city they could destroy in retaliation.' He also warned me not to enter the spire of the cathedral, because that beautiful structure would then be seen as an observation post and would be shelled. (Strasbourg Cathedral, with its marvelously lace stonework is still intact, and I like to think I had a minuscule part in its preservation simply by staying out of it.)

On one occasion, William was on a hill in a rock quarry from which he could spot German guns and direct his own gunners to shell them. He was spotted there by the Germans, who sent shells that wounded him . . for the rest of his life he carried steel splinters in his body . . and could not have an M.R.I.

William came out of the service as a highly decorated Lieutenant Colonel, having been awarded the Croix de Guerre, the Silver Star, and the Purple Heart, and returned to Cavalier Corporation, subsequently succeeding Joe Lane as president of the company.

After retiring, he actively engaged in all sorts of service in the community. At various times, he was president of the Family Service Agency and the Chattanooga Opera Association. He quoted that he had "also been known to associate with the leftist group, the Mountain City Club." He continued, "I am the only man who has served on the town governments of both Tennessee and Georgia communities on Lookout Mountain. No one stops to reflect that most of Lookout Mountain lies in Alabama. Perhaps some day I can perform a civic duty down there, and if so, it may be in Dog Town. This is not intended in any way to reflect on current problems in the towns of Lookout Mountain, Tennessee and Georgia."

William had been a pillar of strength at Thankful Memorial Church in St. Elmo, where he assumed the responsibility for rebuilding the fine pipe organ there. He was one of the leaders in the Tennessee River Gorge Foundation's development, along with Adele Hampton, Elizabeth Patten, and Dudley Porter. He was active in the American Chestnut Foundation, and he established the Chattanooga Rowing Club.

Although six months younger than I, he had always been the leader in any activity in which we were engaged, not because he demanded it, or even wanted it, but because it came naturally, he being what he was. That is true whether it was on a hiking trip in the mountains, or rock climbing or helping Reflection Riding get established.

One of the many facets of William's skills was his calligraphy. Some years ago he transcribed the entire book of Psalms and had it published, sharing the costs with his friend Scotty Probasco. Scotty gave his 500 copies to Ben Haden, and William gave his to Baylor School. The book is beautifully printed, with the Latin version on one page and the Old English on the opposite.

I've never known a person so quietly generous and so multi-talented. More than anyone I ever met, William Raoul deserves the title "a Renaissance Man."

He demurs, saying that "Renaissance Men were above all scholars. In fact, they introduced the idea of adventure into scholarship. The rediscovery of classical civilization was the adventure: the Greek, Latin and Hebrew languages were the keys to the exploration of antiquity."

My West Brow Friend was truly The Renaissance Man of the Mountain.