I’m in a situation of wanting to write a story, yet not wanting to.
I’m told there will be no obituary for Graham Bodwell, probably because of his wishes. That in and of itself tells you a lot about this man.
Graham owned the Minneapolis-Moline farm machinery dealership at 21 S. Washington Street in Oxford when I arrived here in May 1955. He closed it that same year, after about six years in business.
His personality was magnetic to both men and women. He was ruggedly handsome with a strong jaw, full-teethed smile and easy laughter. Too, he could be provoked into a fight, and I don’t mean wit-matching.
Graham had hands like hams. Large, strong gripping and fist fighting hands. He and our friend Pansy Baldwin would clean out a bar in the days following World War II when returning vets hung out in bars.
Yet both were gentlemen. They were admired by men because they were men’s men. They drew women’s attention because they were like Bounty Paper Towels, tough but oh so gentle.
Graham was the kind of man we’d envision as one who would have led a group of settlers heading west to settle in a new land.
A tall man, strong, raw-boned, energetic, able.
For years he worked for John Miller Electric, the same company that electrified GM’s Willow Run plant for WWII production. Miller owner, Charles Pierce, lived on Hosner Road in Addison Township. Because of their electrical contracts many electric poles accumulated.
Pierce gave them to Graham, who besides being an electrician, worked at Pierce’s farm. Graham was a lover and collector of steam engines. One of those old timers he used to power a sawmill at his place in Metamora.
He built his house of these discarded poles – the cabinets, trim, door jams, flooring, trusses, etc. A couple years ago I visited Graham at his home. A drop-in lasted two hours. Fascinating, interesting man.
Through his years he met several whom we’d call celebrities. One was Detroit Tiger great, catcher Mickey Cochran, who gave him a baseball bat. Graham cut it to make the clutch work on his sawmill tractor. When friend and neighbor Pat Sweeney asked Graham if he knew how much that would be worth today, Graham said, ‘It’s worth a lot to me making the clutch work.?
The Graham Bodwell stories I like best are his flying experiences. In the late 1940s he and Walt Hart bought a Cessna 120 two-seater. For something to do, he flew it to Chili in South America. There he befriended a family on an island.
He revisited them three times and they came to his home in Metamora once. They were sheep-raisers.
One time on a flight back from Florida, Graham crash landed in a field in Tennessee. The crash bent the propeller. Walt Hart took him another, and after the repair, offered to fly it out of this relatively limited field. Graham said, ‘I put her in here and I’ll take her out.? Which he did, ruffling the tops of trees en route.
He had other plane flying friends, including Lloyd ‘Cupie? Wait and Stan Allen, who flew out of Lee VanWagoner’s field north of Oxford.
On trips they carried a couple of 5-gallon cans of gasoline for emergencies. Once while a passenger in Cupie’s biplane, the gas was running low so Graham carried a can of gas out on the wing and refueled the plane in flight.
He loved to attend Michigan State University Farm Days, run his steam engines in parades and rebuild machinery. His workshop was busy, some say cluttered, with yet-to-be-finished projects – cars, tractors, farm tools. Graham also flew with Michigan’s Dawn Patrol.
For a short while he owned The White Horse Inn in Metamora, such was his adventuresome, risk-taking life.
It was Graham’s wish to be cremated, and to have no memorial service, though I’ve heard one may be being planned. He kept a diary, writing in it every day. He also had multiple pictures of Oxford, Metamora, Lapeer, and Orion. Hopefully, Pat Sweeney will be given them by the estate executor and we’ll have a chance to tell you more about this pioneer-type man, Graham Bodwell ? October 1911 – July 2004.