Arthur Brannen - the bearded gentleman often seen around town riding a bicycle while wearing a jumpsuit and white rubber boots - actually died of natural causes more than a year ago in Jacksonville, Fla., according to his death certificate.
He would have been 83 last July 27.
If you're like me, you might be thinking, "Gosh, I saw him not too long ago pedaling across the Thunderbolt Bridge or sitting on the side of the road knitting a cast net."
In fact, when I heard that Arthur had died I was secretly hoping that it was a rumor and that I would bump into him and he would offer up that famous quotation: "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."
But that was not the case.
Arthur had plenty of guardian angels, including Betty Richards who had known him all her life. Betty's husband, Glaen, like Arthur, grew up at Bethesda Home for Boys and not far from English's Grocery Store, which was owned by Betty's family.
Betty feared the worst when Arthur didn't show up for the 2004 St. Patrick's Day Parade or Bethesda's alumni celebration the following month. She started asking around and heard all kinds of stories.
"We heard that he died at St. Joseph's but that wasn't true," she said.
Eventually, she discovered he had died April 22, 2004, at Shands Hospital in Jacksonville. She received a copy of his death certificate, which included bits of information that authorities may have found on one of Arthur's homemade business cards. A Jacksonville mortician told her that Arthur was cremated and, when no one claimed the ashes, the police disposed of them.
That bothered Betty because she knew that a burial plot was waiting for Arthur at Bonaventure Cemetery. His late friend, Everett Flowers, had paid for a spot beside him, she said.
A memorial service at Bethesda is planned for 11 a.m. May 18 and arrangements are in the works to place a headstone at the Bonaventure lot.
She is certain that Arthur would think he didn't deserve much attention, but she and others want to pay their respects to their friend, the free spirit who preferred a life on the street.
"Arthur was a loner and he was different," Betty explained. "But he was not a panhandler."
She said it would take a book to tell Arthur's story, which would be full of Bs for beard, bicycle, boots and buckets.
Arthur was distantly related to local television news anchor and radio DJ Lyndy Brannen, who described him as an "amazing man."
On a personal note, I had seen Arthur around town for years, and ran into him several years ago while vacationing in Vero Beach, Fla. It was Arthur's dream to row a boat to Key West, and he was taking a break from the oars that day. I walked up to him and told him I was from Savannah. Without missing a beat, he looked at me and asked in his dignified manner: "Shall we dance?"
For many years, Arthur was a fixture in Johnson Square, playing his harmonica, dancing a jig and reciting poetry for the lunchtime crowd.
The late Archie Whitfield often mentioned Arthur in his City Beat column in the Morning News.
I interviewed Arthur in 1989 in Johnson Square where he told me a little bit about his life. He was 9 when he went to Bethesda, after having spent most of his early years at the King's Daughters Day Nursery. His mother died when he was 2 and he didn't see his father until the day his father was buried.
Arthur was a teenager at Bethesda when someone came in and said, "Get your clothes on. You're going to your daddy's funeral," Arthur recalled.
A few years later, Arthur joined the Marines and was mentioned in a narrative called "Brothers in Battle."
"By this time, one tank had run through the Second Platoon position, running over Private First Class Brannen and straddling him and his flame thrower. However, he rose up behind it and was mainly responsible for its destruction ..."
Lyndy said Arthur fell in love with an Australian nurse, something happened and life never was the same for Arthur after that.
That day in the square Arthur told me he wore white boots so the tops of his feet wouldn't get sunburned. And among the items in the buckets were spare batteries, an extra toothbrush and a Bible with his name imprinted in gold on the cover.
May God bless his sweet soul.
He would have been 83 last July 27.
If you're like me, you might be thinking, "Gosh, I saw him not too long ago pedaling across the Thunderbolt Bridge or sitting on the side of the road knitting a cast net."
In fact, when I heard that Arthur had died I was secretly hoping that it was a rumor and that I would bump into him and he would offer up that famous quotation: "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."
But that was not the case.
Arthur had plenty of guardian angels, including Betty Richards who had known him all her life. Betty's husband, Glaen, like Arthur, grew up at Bethesda Home for Boys and not far from English's Grocery Store, which was owned by Betty's family.
Betty feared the worst when Arthur didn't show up for the 2004 St. Patrick's Day Parade or Bethesda's alumni celebration the following month. She started asking around and heard all kinds of stories.
"We heard that he died at St. Joseph's but that wasn't true," she said.
Eventually, she discovered he had died April 22, 2004, at Shands Hospital in Jacksonville. She received a copy of his death certificate, which included bits of information that authorities may have found on one of Arthur's homemade business cards. A Jacksonville mortician told her that Arthur was cremated and, when no one claimed the ashes, the police disposed of them.
That bothered Betty because she knew that a burial plot was waiting for Arthur at Bonaventure Cemetery. His late friend, Everett Flowers, had paid for a spot beside him, she said.
A memorial service at Bethesda is planned for 11 a.m. May 18 and arrangements are in the works to place a headstone at the Bonaventure lot.
She is certain that Arthur would think he didn't deserve much attention, but she and others want to pay their respects to their friend, the free spirit who preferred a life on the street.
"Arthur was a loner and he was different," Betty explained. "But he was not a panhandler."
She said it would take a book to tell Arthur's story, which would be full of Bs for beard, bicycle, boots and buckets.
Arthur was distantly related to local television news anchor and radio DJ Lyndy Brannen, who described him as an "amazing man."
On a personal note, I had seen Arthur around town for years, and ran into him several years ago while vacationing in Vero Beach, Fla. It was Arthur's dream to row a boat to Key West, and he was taking a break from the oars that day. I walked up to him and told him I was from Savannah. Without missing a beat, he looked at me and asked in his dignified manner: "Shall we dance?"
For many years, Arthur was a fixture in Johnson Square, playing his harmonica, dancing a jig and reciting poetry for the lunchtime crowd.
The late Archie Whitfield often mentioned Arthur in his City Beat column in the Morning News.
I interviewed Arthur in 1989 in Johnson Square where he told me a little bit about his life. He was 9 when he went to Bethesda, after having spent most of his early years at the King's Daughters Day Nursery. His mother died when he was 2 and he didn't see his father until the day his father was buried.
Arthur was a teenager at Bethesda when someone came in and said, "Get your clothes on. You're going to your daddy's funeral," Arthur recalled.
A few years later, Arthur joined the Marines and was mentioned in a narrative called "Brothers in Battle."
"By this time, one tank had run through the Second Platoon position, running over Private First Class Brannen and straddling him and his flame thrower. However, he rose up behind it and was mainly responsible for its destruction ..."
Lyndy said Arthur fell in love with an Australian nurse, something happened and life never was the same for Arthur after that.
That day in the square Arthur told me he wore white boots so the tops of his feet wouldn't get sunburned. And among the items in the buckets were spare batteries, an extra toothbrush and a Bible with his name imprinted in gold on the cover.
May God bless his sweet soul.
Arthur Brannen - the bearded gentleman often seen around town riding a bicycle while wearing a jumpsuit and white rubber boots - actually died of natural causes more than a year ago in Jacksonville, Fla., according to his death certificate.
He would have been 83 last July 27.
If you're like me, you might be thinking, "Gosh, I saw him not too long ago pedaling across the Thunderbolt Bridge or sitting on the side of the road knitting a cast net."
In fact, when I heard that Arthur had died I was secretly hoping that it was a rumor and that I would bump into him and he would offer up that famous quotation: "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."
But that was not the case.
Arthur had plenty of guardian angels, including Betty Richards who had known him all her life. Betty's husband, Glaen, like Arthur, grew up at Bethesda Home for Boys and not far from English's Grocery Store, which was owned by Betty's family.
Betty feared the worst when Arthur didn't show up for the 2004 St. Patrick's Day Parade or Bethesda's alumni celebration the following month. She started asking around and heard all kinds of stories.
"We heard that he died at St. Joseph's but that wasn't true," she said.
Eventually, she discovered he had died April 22, 2004, at Shands Hospital in Jacksonville. She received a copy of his death certificate, which included bits of information that authorities may have found on one of Arthur's homemade business cards. A Jacksonville mortician told her that Arthur was cremated and, when no one claimed the ashes, the police disposed of them.
That bothered Betty because she knew that a burial plot was waiting for Arthur at Bonaventure Cemetery. His late friend, Everett Flowers, had paid for a spot beside him, she said.
A memorial service at Bethesda is planned for 11 a.m. May 18 and arrangements are in the works to place a headstone at the Bonaventure lot.
She is certain that Arthur would think he didn't deserve much attention, but she and others want to pay their respects to their friend, the free spirit who preferred a life on the street.
"Arthur was a loner and he was different," Betty explained. "But he was not a panhandler."
She said it would take a book to tell Arthur's story, which would be full of Bs for beard, bicycle, boots and buckets.
Arthur was distantly related to local television news anchor and radio DJ Lyndy Brannen, who described him as an "amazing man."
On a personal note, I had seen Arthur around town for years, and ran into him several years ago while vacationing in Vero Beach, Fla. It was Arthur's dream to row a boat to Key West, and he was taking a break from the oars that day. I walked up to him and told him I was from Savannah. Without missing a beat, he looked at me and asked in his dignified manner: "Shall we dance?"
For many years, Arthur was a fixture in Johnson Square, playing his harmonica, dancing a jig and reciting poetry for the lunchtime crowd.
The late Archie Whitfield often mentioned Arthur in his City Beat column in the Morning News.
I interviewed Arthur in 1989 in Johnson Square where he told me a little bit about his life. He was 9 when he went to Bethesda, after having spent most of his early years at the King's Daughters Day Nursery. His mother died when he was 2 and he didn't see his father until the day his father was buried.
Arthur was a teenager at Bethesda when someone came in and said, "Get your clothes on. You're going to your daddy's funeral," Arthur recalled.
A few years later, Arthur joined the Marines and was mentioned in a narrative called "Brothers in Battle."
"By this time, one tank had run through the Second Platoon position, running over Private First Class Brannen and straddling him and his flame thrower. However, he rose up behind it and was mainly responsible for its destruction ..."
Lyndy said Arthur fell in love with an Australian nurse, something happened and life never was the same for Arthur after that.
That day in the square Arthur told me he wore white boots so the tops of his feet wouldn't get sunburned. And among the items in the buckets were spare batteries, an extra toothbrush and a Bible with his name imprinted in gold on the cover.
May God bless his sweet soul.
He would have been 83 last July 27.
If you're like me, you might be thinking, "Gosh, I saw him not too long ago pedaling across the Thunderbolt Bridge or sitting on the side of the road knitting a cast net."
In fact, when I heard that Arthur had died I was secretly hoping that it was a rumor and that I would bump into him and he would offer up that famous quotation: "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."
But that was not the case.
Arthur had plenty of guardian angels, including Betty Richards who had known him all her life. Betty's husband, Glaen, like Arthur, grew up at Bethesda Home for Boys and not far from English's Grocery Store, which was owned by Betty's family.
Betty feared the worst when Arthur didn't show up for the 2004 St. Patrick's Day Parade or Bethesda's alumni celebration the following month. She started asking around and heard all kinds of stories.
"We heard that he died at St. Joseph's but that wasn't true," she said.
Eventually, she discovered he had died April 22, 2004, at Shands Hospital in Jacksonville. She received a copy of his death certificate, which included bits of information that authorities may have found on one of Arthur's homemade business cards. A Jacksonville mortician told her that Arthur was cremated and, when no one claimed the ashes, the police disposed of them.
That bothered Betty because she knew that a burial plot was waiting for Arthur at Bonaventure Cemetery. His late friend, Everett Flowers, had paid for a spot beside him, she said.
A memorial service at Bethesda is planned for 11 a.m. May 18 and arrangements are in the works to place a headstone at the Bonaventure lot.
She is certain that Arthur would think he didn't deserve much attention, but she and others want to pay their respects to their friend, the free spirit who preferred a life on the street.
"Arthur was a loner and he was different," Betty explained. "But he was not a panhandler."
She said it would take a book to tell Arthur's story, which would be full of Bs for beard, bicycle, boots and buckets.
Arthur was distantly related to local television news anchor and radio DJ Lyndy Brannen, who described him as an "amazing man."
On a personal note, I had seen Arthur around town for years, and ran into him several years ago while vacationing in Vero Beach, Fla. It was Arthur's dream to row a boat to Key West, and he was taking a break from the oars that day. I walked up to him and told him I was from Savannah. Without missing a beat, he looked at me and asked in his dignified manner: "Shall we dance?"
For many years, Arthur was a fixture in Johnson Square, playing his harmonica, dancing a jig and reciting poetry for the lunchtime crowd.
The late Archie Whitfield often mentioned Arthur in his City Beat column in the Morning News.
I interviewed Arthur in 1989 in Johnson Square where he told me a little bit about his life. He was 9 when he went to Bethesda, after having spent most of his early years at the King's Daughters Day Nursery. His mother died when he was 2 and he didn't see his father until the day his father was buried.
Arthur was a teenager at Bethesda when someone came in and said, "Get your clothes on. You're going to your daddy's funeral," Arthur recalled.
A few years later, Arthur joined the Marines and was mentioned in a narrative called "Brothers in Battle."
"By this time, one tank had run through the Second Platoon position, running over Private First Class Brannen and straddling him and his flame thrower. However, he rose up behind it and was mainly responsible for its destruction ..."
Lyndy said Arthur fell in love with an Australian nurse, something happened and life never was the same for Arthur after that.
That day in the square Arthur told me he wore white boots so the tops of his feet wouldn't get sunburned. And among the items in the buckets were spare batteries, an extra toothbrush and a Bible with his name imprinted in gold on the cover.
May God bless his sweet soul.
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