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by fb*502911729
on Feb 6, 2008
At Boots Jones' funeral service today at Fitzhugh Baptist Church in Dripping Springs, his grandchildren intend to serenade him with his favorite song, the old country standard "Beautiful Brown Eyes."
Being in a church and all, the kids plan to sing the cleaned-up version. Jones never sang the cleaned-up version.
He sang the original lustily, relishing the naughtiness of a song about romance ruined by drink. He used to sing, "A man never knows of his troubles until he marries a woman" — the song has it the other way around.
And he always finished by changing the last mournful line to include what was once his beer of preference: "I'll never drink Falstaff again."
For about 30 years, Jones never drank Falstaff or anything else alcoholic, not that it mattered much. Stone-cold sober, Jones was a cutup, joshing people, playing practical jokes, flirting with women 70 years his junior. And when it came time for him to go Monday at South Austin Hospital at the age of 96, Jones wasn't ready.
"He was fighting it the whole time," granddaughter Glenda Roselle said. "We'd come to see him, and he would have a nurse hold his hand and he'd sing to her. He would tell her, 'Now, don't you tell my girlfriend I'm singing to you. Naw, go on and tell her. I like you better anyway.' "
When Glen Alvin Jones was a boy growing up in Dodge, a little town near Huntsville, he came into the local mercantile store wearing a brand-new pair of boots. Never shy, he clopped back and forth in the aisles, showing them off and mightily aggravating the owner, who gave him his nickname.
"Kind words, music and friendship" was his motto, and although he never kept them in any particular order, he lived up to each of them his entire life. He worked hard, never getting too far ahead, measuring the fullness of his life in the closeness of a family that would come to include children, grandchildren, and great- and great-great-grandchildren.
"What he instilled in us was the importance of family," his daughter Leda Roselle said.
It was a family that he and Ruth Ran Robinson started in 1932 in Hyde Park in the early years of the Depression, when he was 21 and she was about to turn 16. In typical fashion, Jones had decided on the spot to marry Ruth the first time he saw her, when she came to his birthday party.
Somehow, the marriage withstood the differences between a quiet, teetotaling Baptist girl and a man with more than a passing acquaintance with life in a tavern. Withstood them for 69 years, until Ruth Jones died in 2001.
Because his life spanned much of the past century and because he came of age at a time of economic hardship, Boots Jones worked many different jobs, some of them footnotes in Central Texas history.
His steady job was delivering ice at a time when Andrew Jackson Zilker was making a fortune manufacturing it. He ran cement-mixing equipment during the building of Mansfield Dam. He helped put engines into tanks at Camp Mabry during World War II.
He was a dairyman and a good mechanic, and he was well into his 60s when he decided he'd give ranching a whirl. He was versatile because he had to be. "When somebody told him, 'I can't do that,' he would tell them, ' "can't" — that's not in my vocabulary,' " said Leda's husband, Travis Roselle. "Then he'd go ahead and do it. There wasn't anything he couldn't do."
Almost anything. Jones was a bandleader. Drove around to Central Texas nightspots in a three-seater LaSalle with a sign on top that read "Boots and His Melody Boys." He liked to strum a banjo on stage. The family has a black-and-white photo of him posing with a guitar.
Well into his 80s, Jones would round up family and friends and invite them out for music nights at what he called the Pavilion, a metal carport he had built on the family's 65 acres off of Hamilton Pool Road.
But Boots Jones never learned how to play.
"He always wanted to play an instrument, but he never did," Leda Roselle said. "That didn't matter. He loved the music, and he loved the band."
His last pair of boots, tan Tony Lamas, will be standing alongside his last Stetson hat at his casket at 2 p.m. today at Fitzhugh Baptist Church.
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