I was having lunch with Ben Barnes, 91 years of age with a mind that is as good as ever. And his mind was good, as President of First Bank of Atlanta then was associated with the Bank of London, then in his retirement he started the Wachovia Bank in Savannah. He served 12 years as a member of the Union Mission Board and we are very close.
Thin white hair, a long winkled face with glasses resting on top of a narrow nose he is dressed causal which is rare for him. He even has tennis shoes on. I’m in a tee shirt, blue jeans and flip flops. We’ve always been “Mutt and Jeff” as he refers to us.
I’ve had the incredible good fortune to have had an incredible string of Board Chairmen, virtually all who have become good friends. Jerry Robinson, Carol Beeson (Ben’s daughter), Archie Davis, Philip Solomons, Jr., Curtis Lewis III, Don Kole, Herb McKenzie and …Ben.
Ben is actually mentor to several of the names above. He is a legend in the banking world and walking the streets of Atlanta with him is a history lesson. He knows how every building came about and there is a story behind each and every one. His old office is in 2 Peachtree Street in Atlanta which is now a 40 story government complex. Ben built it.
We were at Johnny Harris which is a Savannah landmark of a restaurant known for its bar-b-que and seafood. In its day, it where Savannah decked out to dance under the inside stars. Today it is used for political meetings and “old Savannah” families. It remains a place to be seen.
We had not seen one another since May and he wanted to know everything that had taken place in my life. Ben’s a good listener and so he did for half-an-hour as I described professional and personal changes that have occurred. He would interrupt with an occasional thoughtful question that pushed my answers to deeper levels.
Then he sat back and stared into space for a second before exploding the words out of his mouth at me with his thoughts.
“You’re a leader,” he began, “so whatever it is that you do you be sure to be out in front cause that’s where you’re most comfortable.”
Ben doesn’t beat around the bushes.
“And people are followers because they follow. There are too few leaders in this world and dammit you are one. And stop taking your time about it! The world needs you. And the world is bigger than Chatham County and your beloved Tybee! And the longer you beat around the bush the sooner people forget who you are! And people forget quickly because they are followers!”
Then he pushes back, wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin, smiles and concludes, “Of course that’s just my opinion which nobody asked for.”
How does someone respond to all of that?
“Um-huh,” I answer.
He laughs and it is a good one. I reach my hand across the table and touch the top of his and he grabs mine as his eyes grow moist. And I know that he loves me as he knows I do him.
It is good to be loved.
“One last thing,” he says pulling his hand back from the brief display of public affection (or PDA as Keller Deal calls it). Ben is the epitome of proper and dignity. It is rare for him to display emotion like this whereas I wear my emotions on both shoulders.
“We’re not going to let this much time pass anymore without talking and getting together! You understand that?”
And I look at this 91 year old man whose days are numbered understanding that he is more concerned about me than whatever amount of time he has left. And I am humbled by it and thankful beyond words.
We walk outside and he sees my convertible with the top down and smiles.
“Go pick up some chicks,” I hear him say as he laughs and gets in his car.
