By Dale Buchanan
Your reporter has spent the last hour reading Gayle’s notes collected during our interview with David. They are extensive! Let me mention that we have another David Brown here at Big Red, thus the use of his middle initial “W” to distinguish him from The Rev. David Brown.
We met for this interview in the Fellowship Hall. David is a most interesting gentleman. The atmosphere was congenial. Other folks realizing what we were up to smiled and greeted us as they passed by the benches where we had settled toward the rear of the hall.
Earlier David had told me that he was born in New York City. I got excited spent the next week thinking about growing up in the Big City. Imagine my chagrin when David responded, “I was born there but only lived in the City for nine months.” It was here that the story got interesting.
“It was 1931—the middle of the Great Depression—and my folks were desperate. Dad was out of work and mother earned extra income playing the piano on a steam driven calliope up and down the streets of New York neighborhoods. Dad was an accountant and finally secured a position in upstate New York in a small mill town near Syracuse called Fulton. It was in Fulton that I grew up.
“My father was of Boston lineage and his ancestors can be traced back thirteen generations to England. My mom’s ancestors arrived here during the Irish potato famine. Dad was English through and through and fit the stereotype of the reserved English gentleman—very cautious and conservative. I don’t remember him ever hugging me. Still he provided me with a work ethic and the opportunity to work in his company gaining the experience that taught me how companies worked and businesses operated.
My mother, on the other hand, was adventurous. I decided at one point that I would become a professional photographer. My plan was to buy a van and convert it into a traveling studio complete with a dark room. Mom was excited and said, “Let’s start shopping for the van.” I think maybe she envisioned traveling with me, while my ambition was to get out of Fulton and on my own.
As an only child I grew up in a quiet house. Dad was always busy at his desk with his accounting work. Mother worked full-time as a homemaker. I did, however, have three or four close buddies and we managed to get into a fair amount of mischief. A particularly fun time was Halloween. We would stand two on each side of the road holding an imaginary rope pretending we were stretching it in the path of an oncoming car. How fun it was to watch the cars come screeching to a halt!
Mother was a Methodist. I was a skeptic. A change in my attitude came when a Sunday School teacher made the Bible stories seem real.
I sailed through high school making no plans for college. A friend named Bob whose father had a car was going to Clarkson University to be an engineer. He invited me to go with him and be an engineer too. My family never had a car. In fact, I remember my mother taking my red Radio Flyer wagon and walking two miles to the A & P to do her grocery shopping. Because my folks didn’t drive, I accepted Bob’s offer and this set the direction of my life. I started majoring in mechanical engineering, but soon realized that it was not for me and switched to Business Management in Industrial Engineering. I was on my way.
I began my career at a most opportune time. The computer world was exploding with new and exciting opportunities. I spent most of my working years with DEC (Digital Engineering Company). At one point I was sent to be a plant manager for a struggling plant where we manufactured printers, computers, and assorted peripherals and employed 1800 people. I remember getting lost in that huge building just trying to find the men’s room and cafeteria.
I have lots of work-related stories but let’s talk about my family. While serving in the Signal Corps, I married a Georgia peach named Nell. A precious memory is when I saw my first-born son Eric in his bassinet in the hospital. Nell blessed me with two more sons, Nathan and Jeremy. While this marriage ended in divorce, I still maintain a relationship with my sons.
Many years later in Boston I found Mary—the love of my life. We had two daughters, Laura and Jessica. These two daughters continue to fill me with joy today. Mary died last year after thirty-four years of marriage.
Mary’s family were Armenian exiles from Russia. I asked a friend’s advice about this marriage and he said, ‘Watch out. Your proper New England culture bumping up against her Armenian world view will clash like, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” But if you combine the best of both worlds you will experience a marvelous love and build a wonderful family.’ He was right. Mary taught me so much and if I had it to do over, I would marry an Armenian sooner.”
My last prompt was, “David, what is your ambition for the future.” Without hesitation he responded, “I want to write my memoirs.” A great ambition. Go for it!