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W.C. Kirkendall's Eulogy of Walter Murray Kirkendall Delivered during funeral of Walter M. Kirkendall July 17, 1991 Saint Michael's Catholic Church, Houston, Texas:

Thank each of you for attending and for your thougts and prayers. I can't tell you what a comfort this has been to my mother and our family during this all too sudden travail. After the service all of you are invited across the street from the church here for a gathering. Please join us.

My brother Tom and I want to share with you some remembrances and thoughts from the family about Dad and his life.

We are comforted in a sense in knowing that life goes on -- birth and death are the eternal cycle from which none of us are immune. Dad died in the Chicago-area while there to attend my cousin Sarah's wedding. As my brother Jim mentioned, that really is a beautiful symmetry.

But although this is the natural course of things that Dad too should pass from this temporary existence, it is not only fitting but necessary that we pause to reflect on the life of this truly remarkable man.

I've heard many wonderful anecdotes from many wonderful people this week about Dad, his foibles, his passions, his humor - but anecdotes aren't adequate to tell the full measure of this man. Very few people can honestly say that their father was the best person they ever knew but I believe Walter's kids can.

When I think of Dad, the foremost attribute I remember - the underpinning of all the others we will mention - was his integrity. Somebody called him "the last truly honest man" and in many ways he was.

He didn't lie

He wasn't obfuscatory

He was rarely disingenuous unless absolutely necessary to win an argument at the dinner table when he had taken a clearly untenable position simply for the sake of argument.

He was totally honest about everything - except, of course, golf, about which he was an incurable optimist. My cousin Joe said that the night before he died, Dad was trying to find a driving range to practice on. Totally unrealistically, he believed the next swing might be the perfect one.

Dad once told me that "an honest man never minds having his change counted." He lived by that bromide - in fact, I suspect no one ever made change for him that he did not count. Quintessentially fair, though, he expected his to be counted as well.

He never sought an unfair or unearned advantage in any situation in his professional or personal life---although some of his golfing friends might dispute that after being subjected to his 1st tee soliloquies. One friend of mine, a notoriously parsimonious dentist in Seguin, played once with my dad several years ago with a new friendly wagering game Dad was promoting, called "Wolf". When the game was over and the wagers computed, my friend had shot about an 80 and Dad shot his usual 105-110 — and my friend owed Dad about $30.

Thereafter this friend wanted to know whenever Dad came to town -- so he could be gone.

In addition to the sense of fairness (or possibly because of it) he had the rare habit of expecting the best from people because he expected people to act as he did.

But he understood one truism of life--you can never be happy with other people if you hold them to the same standards you hold yourself.

Quite possibly some former students or residents would dispute that but you must remember his altruism--the people he was concerned with while teaching were not so much his pupils as their future patients.

He would demand excellence but no more than a person was capable of. Because of these attributes he could extract that which was good from everyone he encountered and promote their continued excellence.

He could be understanding and forgiving, with time, and, unlike many at his level of achievement, adaptable.

That is not to say he was passive or never angry or frustrated but he got over it, put it in perspective and his belief in people allowed him a remarkable resilience and persistence. Which, of course, is the major reason he survived in the politics of academic medicine--surely the most labyrinthine since the court of Louis XIV.

A true egalitarian, he never met a person from whom he couldn't learn something. He could as easily have a good time speaking to the gas station attendant as to a judge or university president. Being in politics and elective office myself, I pride myself on that quality but Dad outstripped us all because he noticed people. He could joke with them or share a frustration with them. He had many, many patients from very different walks of life with whom he remained close because they had made that "connection" he was so good at making. Naturally and incurably curious, Dad regarded each person as a resource.

He had no personal pretensions of any kind. When the young kids would visit his office, we would wonder why everyone else's office was so neat, no piles of articles, no notes pinned to wall, no boxes piled up in the corner. The fact is that Dad didn't care a whit what his work area looked like as long as he knew where everything was and he could work in relative peace and efficiency.

Service to people and to the community was one of the most important attributes he preached to us. When we wrote his obituary, it was amazing how often the word serve or service had to be used:

he served in the army;

he served as a teacher;

he served as a doctor;

he served as a consultant;

he served on numerous boards and committees;

and all without regard to compensation. That is not to say he didn't enjoy it when he got compensation but it was never the primary reason. His goal, his primary goal, was to be productive (which was possibly his favorite word in the English language) and to leave the world a better place.

He knew that the only way for the world to work is for everyone to make the best contribution possible--and he did, every single day of his life.

But the defining aspect of his life will always be his family. He told me once that he always knew that his greatest joys and his greatest sorrows would be in his family. He got his priorities right very early.

When we were young he worked long hours and very hard but he gave up everything else to raise a family. No golf until we were old enough to join him, no private hobbies or sanctuaries. Every moment away from the hospital was devoted to his family.

This man who liked order and the scientific method in his work loved chaos at home--the more the merrier. Remember the song from Les Miserables? "Master of the house, keeper of the zoo. . ." That was Dad. Nothing thrilled him more than seeing a half dozen or more cars in the driveway when he came home.

Mom and Dad will leave many legacies but their family is the greatest. Not many people can say they have done the sheer physical act of having and raising 10 children but to have 10 productive & reasonably well-adjusted adults thrilled him to no end. And he has had, and the lessons he left will have, the same kind of impact on his grandchildren.

Funerals for Christians represent sadness at a temporary separation. We will always have Dad here in spirit but we cannot help but grieve at all our loss.

Jesus said "in my father's house are many rooms. . ." When we someday join Dad in that house I know that he will have explored every room, in the company of his beloved grandson, Walter Hugh, who predeceased him this year, will know every person in those rooms and will be impatiently wondering what took us so long.

Matthew Kirkendall's Eulogy of Walter Murray Kirkendall Delivered during Memorial Service for Walter Murray Kirkendall, M.D. July 18, 1991 University of Texas Medical School, Houston, Texas

Dr. Ribble and Dr. Willerson:

My family is honored to be with the University of Texas Medical community today to share our sorrow at the death of Dr. Kirkendall.

You all were very important to him and in truth represented an extended family for him - bound by his love for the practice of medicine.

He had a productive life with a medical career that spanned 50 years and gained a national reputation for clinical and academic excellence. Many of you helped him in his work and share in his accomplishments.

I've talked to so many of you over the last several days and thank you for your condolences and kindness to our family. I was struck, though, by how often it was personal interaction with him that was so important. Ward service together, committee assignments, discussion of a problem, or just a joke in the hallway — many such events over months and years established for you individually many of his endearing qualities. So many of you noted that you would just stop in on a regular basis to exchange ideas.

His office was on the first floor and his door was always open. This kind of activity gives the school its life and soul.

I'd like to share some memories of Dr. Kirkendall with you.

He was born in Louisville, Kentucky and supposedly obtained his demanding nature and southern charm from his mother, one of the Caplinger girls who were notorious Southern belles of the day. These women were known for a series of Byzantine-like feuds where one or another wouldn't talk for months at a time. Walter noted that while growing up he often wouldn't know which aunt he was officially allowed to talk to. All of this may have prepared him for the intricate politics of a career in academic medicine. But he preferred cooperation rather than confrontation. Many of you noted to me that he seemed to be a man without enemies and above criticism.

He went to the University of Louisville Medical School and this provided the only deep, dark secret I know about him - in that he planned to become a surgeon. It was the needs of the U. S. Army which determined his career as an internist.

He served in North Africa and Italy with distinction during World War II. His medical citation noted his organization of a field hospital provided excellent medical care with limited supplies and became the model for such facilities in the entire theatre. He was always quite reticent about his wartime service and never gave many details. However he did note that a portrayal of General Patton in one movie was "too nice to the S.O.B."

He came to the University of Iowa after the war to finish his medical residency. It was during this time that he met Margaret Allen who was an R.N. at the university hospital. Apparently, their relationship developed slowly, Dad had the reputation of being rather the General Patton of the medicine wards. The courtship was marked by a series of fits and starts with Margaret vowing more than once to be done with the 30 year old spoiled, confirmed bachelor. Thankfully, for myself and my 9 brothers and sisters, things finally worked out. The marriage they developed over 43 years was marked by profound love and respect. Margaret was supportive and a partner in all his accomplishments and endeavors. Woe unto the poor person who implies to Margaret Kirkendall that a housewife and mother is not a career woman.

He was always very competitive and loved to challenge someone. A patient evaluation was part of the Internal Medicine board exam at that time. Dr. Kirkendall drew a patient with dyspnea reportedly from COPD, which had been diagnosed by several dozen examiners prior to that time. Walter disagreed with that diagnosis and found mitral stenosis instead. His examiner could not hear a murmur, but he was a gastroenterologist who had access to the correct diagnosis, but felt unsure of himself when confronted by the self-assured candidate. He asked another examiner, a cardiologist, his opinion, who agreed with the diagnosis of mitral stenosis. So was started the legend, soon to become the bane of a generation of medical students, residents and fellows of Dr. Kirkendall's preeminence at physical diagnosis.

Through his life, Dr. Kirkendall received many awards and honors. Those that he cherished the most were the teaching awards he received from his students. It is so appropriate that he should be remembered as a teacher. He so often tried to impart not just medical information to students but some of his joy and enthusiasm in the practice of medicine. Admittedly, this could be painful at times — such as trying to commit large tracts of Debocolin and DeGowin physical diagnosis to memory. But he also tried to foster curiosity — to instill the need to research a problem because so much of medicine has to be self-taught and the need to reeducate oneself never ends.

He had rigid standards — but then his predominate concern was for competent patient care. He always had great compassion for his patients and felt whatever their background or means, they were due his best effects. A patient had come to pay his respects and when asked what he remembered best about Walter he said "he's my doctor who'd do just about anything to keep me well." A fitting epitaph for any physician.

Another physician when surveying Walter's life noted that he had always been a builder, that each place he went he would build a foundation and not an empire. Each institution would have a chance to grow and develop. It was this urge to build which attracted him to Houston and the University of Texas — to help create a new medical school, one without limitations that with work and care might become one of the preeminent schools in the country — this challenge continued to stimulate him. Margaret had long ago given up hope that he might retire one day, but took solace in knowing every day he was happy and doing what he wanted and loved to do.

My Father's death has left a great void in our family. It is a period of transition for us, but also for you. Walter knew better than most that things change — he always sought to grow in his life, for if you didn't, you risked stagnation.

But he exhibited qualities that helped him deal with new situations and these should be important to us in our personal and professional lives:

Kindness and honesty.

Compassion to patients and loyalty to friends, and always an insatiable curiosity.

He leaves us challenges — that as physicians, nurses, and medical personnel, we strive always to improve patient care and as colleagues we make a commitment to continue to build this university.

Try to hold his memory with us.

In the library or in the hall when you pass his old office — remember his door was always open.

Dr. Walter M. Kirkendall: husband, father, physician, teacher, friend.

MEMORIAL

WALTER MURRAY KIRKENDALL

CHEVES M. SMYTHE

JOHN W. ECKSTEIN

Walter M. Kirkendall died suddenly and unexpectedly on Saturday morning, July 13, 1991. He was born March 13, 1917, in Louisville, Kentucky, and graduated from the University of Louisville School of Medicine in 1941. He interned at the University of Iowa in 1941-42 and, after a three-year stint in the Army in North Africa and Italy, returned to Iowa to complete his training in medicine. There he married Margaret Allen in 1948. He spent 26 years at Iowa developing a national and international reputation as a student of hypertensive disease.

Walter, a happy, competitive house officer, was fond of quoting, "Residents are people who reside in the hospital." He followed this dictum and was the first to arrive on the wards in the morning and last to leave. He became a role model for students and younger house officers. He made popular the "game" of upstaging colleagues by uncovering physical signs and important details of the patient's history which others had missed. Thus when William B. Bean arrived in 1948 to be the Head of the Department of Internal Medicine, the intensity of the search for missed heart murmurs and skin lesions was established. Bean understood the value of this emphasis on precision and thoroughness in clinical data gathering as an important teaching technique.

Walter joined the Iowa faculty in 1949 and played a major role in the development of the Department during the next 23 years. He belonged to that special group of young physicians who returned from World War II to become the new academic leaders. His colleague, Mark Armstrong, remembers Walter Kirkendall at the bedside in those post-war years insisting that malignant hypertension could be reversed, that cardiac edema could be treated, and that bacterial endocarditis need not be a mandatory death warrant. This optimistic view of therapeutic intervention was a remarkable change from the sense of therapeutic powerlessness which these men inherited from their pre-World War II professors. Armstrong believes that Kirkendall's attitude of therapeutic optimism, which he held throughout his life, was one of his greatest contributions to the education of his students.

Kirkendall developed a program of teaching and research in hypertension and renal disease for which he received national and international recognition. This was to continue throughout his professional career. His first publications involved various aspects of renal disease, and by 1955 there were papers on the effects of drugs in patients and hypertension. After 1960, virtually all his 85 abstracts and 72 papers can be considered studies of the clinical pharmacology of hypertension. He was active in many organizations including the American Heart Association, the American College of Physicians and those clinical and research societies concerned with hypertension and kidney disease. For the National Institutes of Health he was chairman of the Heart Training Committee B from 1966 to 1970. He was a member of the Executive Committee of the National High Blood Pressure Education Program of the NIH, and a member of the NIH Policy Board on the Study of Sodium, Potassium and Weight Reduction in Hypertension. He was a member of the Merit Review Board for Nephrology in the Veterans Administration; he chaired the Board from 1968-1970. He was a member of the Executive Committee of the V.A. Cooperative Study of the Effects of Withdrawal of Antihypertensive Medication. One of his favorite organizations was the American Heart Association's Council for High Blood Pressure Research where he served on all important committees of this council and went through the offices.

He became the first Chief of Medicine at the Iowa City Veterans Administration Hospital in 1952, and in that role he helped initiate an affiliation which later became a model for Dean's Committee Hospitals. He directed the Cardiovascular Research Laboratories at Iowa from 1958 to 1970 and the Renal-Hypertension Division from 1970-1972. During his years at Iowa, he directed or participated in the training and academic development of many residents, fellows and junior faculty members. Each of these persons became close friends and professional colleagues. It would be difficult to count the number of deans and associate deans, professors of medicine, division directors in cardiology and nephrology, and faculty members in pharmacology and physiology whose careers were advanced because of Walter's help and advice. He was liked and his help and counsel was appreciated.

In 1972 he went to Texas as the first Professor and Chairman of the Department of Medicine at the new University of Texas Medical School at Houston. He remained there as an active contributor to the work of the Department and its major teaching program at Hermann Hospital until the day of his death. Walter was not the retiring type. Indeed, his name is on an abstract to be presented four months after his death.

This outline epitomizes much about him: two institutions served loyally for over twenty years each, one area of medicine persistently studied for a lifetime. But it does not present his unique and endearing qualities. He truly cared about people. As Chief of Medicine, he was devoted to his residents and development of their careers. He was an outstanding and gifted teacher of medical students. Although he possessed an acutely developed and sometimes applied critical sense, his was a generous spirit which could forgive much.

Any account of his life must include his family. Walter and Meg raised ten children-seven sons, three daughters and now twenty-two grandchildren. As one of his sons said at the memorial service, "He must have been doing something right because all of us have turned out to be reasonably well-adjusted and productive human beings." He was a caring father and was deeply involved in transferring to his children those values which guided his life. These principles were evident daily in Walter's work. He brought to clinical medicine the same qualities he brought to everything he did: thoroughness, fairness and profound concern for his patients, their problems and their families and understanding humor. Patients rich or poor, famous or unknown, in Iowa or Texas sensed this as did students and residents. It was from his being a superior physician that he was awarded the respect which allowed him to be so effective in Medical School and Hospital affairs.

As the years went by, Walter became the father, the patriarch of the faculty of the University of Texas Medical School at Houston. Many parts of his personality came together to make this role almost inevitable. As a result his always open door was entered by a stream of people seeking advice, or just in for a chat, and this included everyone from junior medical students to the most senior members of the faculty. The value placed on his judgment also led to yet another role as the person to whom both Medical School and Hospital turned when a firm and even hand was needed. Thus, he chaired the Committee for the Protection of Human Subjects, the Student Evaluation and Promotion Committee, served repeated terms on the Curriculum Committee, and was repeatedly appointed to lead internal department review committees.

Walter had other facets. Any conversation about him invariably turns to anecdotes about his detestation of wastefulness; the clutter of his office; his sense of humor; his competitiveness; his stress on physical fitness especially after his first myocardial infarction in 1972, his suspicion that the sodium ion is bad for your health, and golf. He loved the game, and in his arrangement of teams, bets, presses, his unremitting verbal psychological warfare against his opponents, his delight in winning, we all saw much of his zest for living.

As one could predict, the attendance at this unusual, much loved, active man's funeral was huge, as it was at a memorial service held for him at the Medical Center. Not only the numbers, but the extraordinary range and diversity of people who came to honor him, added up to a powerful statement of his positive influence on many lives.¹

Headstone legend:

SARAH A. DAVAULT

Born April 4, 1858

Died May 3, 1871.

while visiting her daughter, Birdie King.

OBITUARY :

MRS. A. C. BROYLES

Mrs. A. C. Broyles, formerly of Knoxville, died Tuesday at Monmouth, Ill., her home, after a brief illness. She was 67 years of age. The remains will be brought to Tennessee and interred in Jonesboro, where the deceased resided years ago. A husband and seven children, including one daughter, Mrs. S. H. Ballard of Knoxville, survive her. Other relatives also reside in Knoxville. Besides Mrs. Ballard the children are: Dr. Frank Broyles, of Bethany, Mo.; Hubert E. Broyles, of Tulsa, I. T.; William M. Broyles of Denver, Col.; Robert S. Broyles, of Table Rock, Neb.; Mrs. Jacob Hunt, of Skiatook, I.T., and Mrs. W. R. King, of Monmouth, Ill.

OBITUARY - Jonesboro Sentinel, April 1906

MRS. A. S. BROYLES

Special to the Sentinel.

Jonesboro, April 2. - The remains of Mrs. Andrew C. Broyles, who died in Monmouth, Ill., March 27, were brought here Saturday, this being her home for many years. The funeral services was held in the M. E. Church, south and many friends and relatives were present. The remains were accompanied here by the husband, A. C. Broyles and the children. Rev. and Mrs. W. R. King, of Monmouth, Ill.; Mrs. Jacob Hunt, of Skiatook, Indian Territory; Dr. F.H. Broyles, Bethany, Mo.; and Mrs.S. H. Ballard, of Knoxville. The other children are: R. S. Broyles, Tablerock, Neb.; W. M. Broyles, St. Louis, and Rev. E. H. Broyles, Tulsa, Indian Territory.

Mrs. Broyles died at the age of 67 years. She was the mother of nine children, two dying in infancy. She was a member of the Broad Street M. E. church, south, Knoxville and was a sincere christian, a devoted mother and true and faithful wife. Her disposition was sweet and sunny and she made friends everywhere. She has many friends and relatives in Tennessee who mourn her death.

REMEMBERING MILTON TUCKER DeVAULT

Milton Tucker DeVault, sailed from Seattle, Washington, after a visit of several days with his brother John J. DeVault, on the 16th day of September for Shanghai, China, and arrived there October 11, 1921, and after visiting his son Henry S. and daughter Emily, who are residents of Shanghai, for seven months, he sailed from Shanghai, on the 11th day of May 1922, after a very pleasant voyage of many days just before reaching San Francisco, Cal. on June 2nd he was taken seriously ill of heart trouble and when he landed June 4th had to be removed to the Mount Zion Hospital at No. 2200 Post Street, San Francisco, where he was met by his brother John J. DeVault, of Seattle, Washington, and much surprised to find him ill, as he had anticipated much pleasure from the meeting, but gave him every attention possible, and was with him for some days and it was thought he was improving and on the 12th day of June he returned to his home in Seattle. Wash. believing his brother would recover, and as D. Sullins DeVault, of Syracuse, N.Y. had arrived and was at the bedside of his father, giving every attention to his wants and needs, after a consultation with his Doctors it was thought best to remove him to his home in Syracuse, N.Y.

On the 21st day of June, 1922, the father, son and Nurse began the journey in a very comfortable Pulman Car and receiving the very best attention and seeming to be doing well, but when near Chicago, Ill. at about 3 o’clock A.M. Saturday June 24th he passed away.

At Chicago, his remains, in company of his son Sullins, began the long journey for Bristol, Virginia, where they arrived Monday June 26th at 1:20 P.M. and was taken to the home of Mr. & Mrs. E. S. Kendrick, his sister, 127 Solar Street, Bristol, Virginia, where his remains were viewed by a great many of his former associates and friends. The funeral service was conducted Tuesday June 27th at State Street M. E. Church South, at 11 o’clock A.M. where he was formerly a member and for a number of years a member of the official board, Dr. J. Watson, and Dr. D. S. Hearon, officiating.

Dr. Hearon referred to the fact that he had known Mr. DeVault, for a number of years and that when he came to Bristol, (then Goodson,) Virginia, and later married and then occupied a brick dwelling on James Street, just opposite the home of Mr. DeVault, where the two families became the very best of friends, and that one evening Mrs. Hearon said she heard someone singing and she went to the door and listening for a short time said she recognized the voice of Robert L. Taylor, the later was Congressman, Governor, and later United States Senator of Tennessee, and that he and Mrs. Hearon went over to Mr. DeVault’s home and heard Mr. Taylor sing a number of songs and among them “Grandfather’s Clock.” Said he knew him as a member of State Street Church, as a member of the Board of Stewards also as a Trustee of Sullins College and that he performed the duties of these positions in an intelligent and satisfactory manner, giving freely of his time and means for the promotion of the best interest of his Church, City and State, and continued his interest in these enterprises, as shown by his always being connected with his church after leaving Bristol and the impression he made upon those he came in contact by being made on the Official Board in every church where he was connected, and he paid a high tribute to his life and character.

Doctor N. M. Watson, read from a letter written to his sister Mrs. E. S. Kendrick, dated January 29th 1920, “We, that is Father, Mother, I, you and John left Elizabethton, Tennessee about 2 o’clock on the morning of October 3rd 1865 with all of our worldly goods in two covered wagons and landed in Goodson, (now Bristol, Va.) about 2 o’clock that afternoon and by night had bought the Isaac Nickels house, (Blanch Nickels father.) on Main Street, (now State Street) the next door west of the old brick house we afterwards swapped for with old Mr. Ayelett, and which was our home until Ma went to live with you and you now own. It was probably a year after reaching Bristol that I became a member of the M. E. Church South the church being located on Lee Street just North of what is now the Virginia & Southwestern Railway and before I was married and made a steward in the church, (I married in May 1874) and was a steward from that time until I left Bristol for Baltimore, Md. in 1899. I and all of my family joined the Madison Avenue M. E. Church, South, Baltimore, Md. and I was soon elected a member of the official board of that church.

My transfer is now in progress to join Church Street M. E. Church South here in Knoxville, Tennessee.

To the best of my recollection my wife as Timmie E. Cardwell, joined the old church on Lee Street in 1873.

Our children were born, baptized and raised in the Bristol Church and three of the family were buried there all lying now in East Hill Cemetery, Hazel the first born, then Clyde, then my wife, this leaves Myself, Sullins, Henry and Emily, Sullins here with me, Henry and Emily in Shanghai, China.

I get very sad sometimes and miss the loved ones, but keep a cheerful exterior, and no matter what other or others may say – I am clear and sure that “I have kept the faith” “I have fought a good fight” and I have no fear.”

His remains were then conveyed to East Hill Cemetery and laid to rest in the family plot by loving hands to await the resurrection day.

Active pall bearers were Judge Joseph L. Kelly, Charles J. Harkrader, H. G. Lavinder, R. M. Crumley, Frank Miller, and A. B. Whiteaker; honorary pall bearers; Maj. A. D. Reynolds, Maj. W. G. Sheen, J. N. Huntsman, E. W. King, C. L. Sevier, Judge H. H. Haynes, Judge C. J. St. John, W. H. Fillinger, J. M. Barker, Sam L. King, and John H. Caldwell;

Flower bearers, Joe Pilo, H. E. Graves, W. L. Morely, Anson King, H. G. Peters, J. D. Taylor, George H. Davis, J. B. Lyon, A. F. Pepper, Gordon C. Faqua.

DEATH NOTICE

COL. M. T. DE VAULT

Word was received in Shanghai yesterday by Henry S. DeVault, of Haskins and Sells, of the death at New York City of his father Colonel Milton Tucker De Vault, who had been in Shanghai from October of last year until May 11, when he sailed for America. Colonel De Vault, who was born in Knoxville, Tenn., and served in the Confederate Army, celebrated his seventy-third birthday in Shanghai on April 2. He having been an extensive coal operator and financier, but had retired several years ago. He came to Shanghai to attend the wedding of his daughter, Mrs. V. A. Padon.

Note: The above death notice contains a number of factual errors: Milton Tucker DeVault was not born in Knoxville, he did not die in New York City and he probably did not serve in the Confederate Army. His daughter married B. A. Padon.

REMARKS BY NOBLE M.T. DE VAULT

AT THE MEETING OF THE NOMAD OASIS ON

MAY 9TH. 1922, AT SHANGHAI, CHINA

AT THE FAREWELL RECEPTION

TENDERED HIM ON THE EVE OF HIS

DEPARTURE FOR THE U. S.

NOBLE PRESIDENT FOWLER AND

SIR NOBLES OF NOMAD OASIS OF SHANGHAI:

A day or two ago I received a notice that the regular monthly meeting of Nomad Oasis would be held this evening May 9th. 1922, at the Union Club rooms, and in addition a farewell entertainment would be tendered to myself as the youngest or baby Noble of this Oasis. It being on the eve of my departure for homeside in the southland of the U.S.A.

Nobles, I would be recreant to all that is good in human nature if I did not try, however feeble and inadequate my efforts may be, to let you know what a wonderful gracious thing you have done unto me. My heart is overflowing with grateful thanks for the courteous kindness you have extended to me. It is like the dews of Heaven that settled on Aaron and ran down his beard even to the skirts of his garment.

I was told by the Chairman of your entertainment committee, Noble Lee C. Solomon, that I would be expected to make a little talk, and that I should have liberty of thought and freedom of speech. And now if you will bear with me a moment, I would like to tell you where I was born and spent my early boyhood days, but in doing so I quote a little from another who has long since passed over.

A little over seventy-three years ago I was born in upper East Tennessee in Happy Valley on the Watauga River, which in the Indian tongue means beautiful river – and beautiful river it is.

I sported on its banks in sunny childhood and looking down into its crystal waters have seen the heavens reflecting as in a mirror, the moon and stars, and the great Milky Way. Looking across the valley I could see the mountain ranges, the Smokeys and the great Roane rearing their heavy heads amongst the clouds, and on whose summit the storm king delights to rest. I have seen him arouse as from slumber, shake himself and let loose the rumbling thunders, and have seen the lightning flash swifter then as eagle’s flight along the mountain side.

And again at day dawn I have seen the sun come forth over the mountain top and shed its light and warmth over the hills and valleys, bringing joy and gladness, love and hope to the people.

Amid these surroundings I spent my boyhood days, until the great Civil War broke over our fair land bringing its train of evil and bloodshed, arraying neighbor against neighbor, and brother against brother.

It was during the strife and horrors of this war that I caught my first glimpse, as a boy, of Masonry.

One day I was caught and became an unwilling witness at close quarters, of a battle between two opposing companies. I saw men shot down and heard their screams of agony above the roar of guns; I saw a soldier shot from his horse, wounded unto death; I saw him crawl across the road and try to pull himself up by the panels of a fence.

I heard him in his agony speaking strange words, and saw him make peculiar signs, and to my astonishment saw a white-headed man come out of a nearby house, run to the wounded soldier, and cover him with his old body, right in the midst of this awful strife, and at the imminent risk of his own life. Stranger still, the dying soldier wore the gray, and the old man who went to his relief was a Union man and in sympathy with the other side – I knew him as a neighbor. When the battle passed on and I was able to get back to my home, I told my father of the occurrence and asked him why Mr. Bradley would do such a wonderful deed. My father, with tears in his eyes, said, “My son, they were Masons.

Then and there I determined to become a Mason – do you wonder?

Masonry is a living thing comparable to a great, good man having eyes, ears, feet, hands, and above all a great heart.

Eyes to see the sign of distress; ears to hear the cry for help; feet to run swiftly to the relief of those in trouble; hands to sooth the fevered brow and relieve agony and distress; and a heart, a great throbbing heart, to feel for those who suffer, weep with the sorrowful, and rejoice with the happy.

That is the mission of masonry on this earth; it knows no religious creed except the brotherhood of man, and love which is charity.

Brothers, when you go out and mingle with the world, amidst its concerns and employments, forget not the tenants you have heard so often inculcated within the sacred precincts of the lodge. Remember that every human being has a claim on your kind office. Do good unto all, more especially to the household of the faithful.

Wherever you may go on this earth, North, South, East or West, around and across even to the farthest corners thereof, there a mason may be found, and as unbounded should a mason’s charity be.

Now sir Nobles, I have exercised liberty of speech, and have rambled around, nevertheless, I want you to know and believe that my heart is filled to overflowing with love for each and all of you. And now sirs, let me enjoin upon you in parting to keep ever in mind the insignia of your membership in the Mystic Shrine and what it stands for. Live up to it and so order your lives and conduct that when the Great Artificer of the Universe shall call you from the terrestrial lodge to the celestial shrine above, it may be said to you at the entrance, “You have been examined and found worthy – Enter, and don’t forget your Fez.”

I have done, and now turn you loose. Enjoy yourselves.

D. A. R. Number: 80200 - descendant of Lieutenant Colonel Henry Shryock

Note from David Sullins DeVault

After the death of Mary's husband in New York she moved back to Bristol and lived on James Street. The Kendrick house was next door to my father's house on James Street.

Washington State Death Certificates show twin boys born to John and Minnie on March 8, 1915. The twins lived just one day. It is not clear if these boys were really the two children that died between 1900 and 1910 -- probably they were born and died earlier than 1915, given the birth date of Naida.

Name: Twin Infant Devault; Death date: 08 Mar 1915; Death place: Seattle, King, Washington; Gender: Male; Race or color (on document):; Age at death: 1 day; Estimated birth year: 1915; Father name: J. J. Devault; Mother name: Minnie Geadicke; Film number: 1992325; Digital GS number: 4221440; Image number: 1573; Reference number: 560; Collection: Washington Death Certificates, 1907-1960.