A Tribute to John Henry Kirby

There is no greater honor than being asked to write a eulogy.  Following is one that I wrote for my dear friend, and client, Blake Tartt, III, to deliver at the funeral of his dear friend, John Henry Kirby.  Blake was masterful in telling the story of his friendship with John Henry and bringing a celebration of life to the tribute to John Henry's life.

From its earliest days, Kinkaid emphasized academic achievement and character development.  And, boy was John Kirby ever a character.  He loved people and most notably his Kinkaid friends.  And, I loved John Kirby.   He was like classic vinyl - old school music – Journey, Boston, Bachman Turner Overdrive, the Eagles, and like Neil Young said, John had “a heart of gold.”  

John affectionately referred to the girls by their first name but us guys were always known by our last name.  To John I was BT3 and he was John Henry.  He was my first friend when I arrived at Kinkaid in the fifth grade.  We became instant buddies.  John Henry had a love for music, motorcycles, clothes and cars.  We shared those passions. I vividly remember him coming over to my house and helping me roll newspapers for my Houston Chronicle route. John Henry had an ulterior motive though.  If he helped me I could finish quicker, because on Saturdays he wanted to sit in the rear of Avalon Drugstore to watch black and white Kung Fu movies, eat a cheeseburger, go by the Barber Shop and roll down to the Groove Record Shop to buy the latest 45 or album.  We’d finish the day by riding our dirt bikes on a track we built next to St. Luke’s Church. Boy, were those great times?

In the sixth grade our affection for music, clothes and girls really started to grow. I remember going to the Galleria and finding this neat new store called The Gap.  John Henry and I would spend all of our money to get new jeans and a pair of Dingo boots so we could go to the Kinkaid Sock Hop after Field Day.  Boy, were we cool!  John Henry was my first “wing man”.  We’d listen to the music and debate about which girls we were going to ask to dance. 

 Many of you may not have known it, but John was also a practical joker.  He had a contagious laugh and smile.  In the seventh grade, John loved to get to class early so that he could talk one of us into hiding the chalk and erasers so that Mr. Webster would have a nervous breakdown. Kathy Goette remembers how John broke out in laughter as Mr. Webster frantically searched the room. 

On our trip to Washington, DC in the eighth grade, Bob Cummings, Allan Holland, John Henry and I roomed together.  It was John Henry’s idea to talk Holland into taking an entire roll of toilet paper, soaking it in the toilet and dropping it out the fourteenth-floor window.   The only problem was that it narrowly missed our English teacher, Mr. Sallee, as he was getting off the bus.  In less than five minutes Mr. Sallee, Mr. Weld, and our Shop Teacher Mr. Penn were in our hotel room.  When they pushed the door open John Henry had the most innocent look on his face and all I could do was laugh.  I vividly remember John Henry sitting on the bed as Mr. Penn said “Tartt I’m about that far off your butt boy.”  Little did anybody know that it was all John’s idea.  He must have re-told that story a thousand times, always ending with that contagious John Kirby laugh. 

I left Kinkaid after the eighth grade, but my friendship with John Henry only grew stronger.  Though we went to high school in different parts of town that only enabled John Henry to make a new set of friends at Northwest Academy.  He was just that kind of guy.  He loved people and they loved him.

In my senior year in high school I was working part time selling cars at Timmer’s Chevrolet.  John would make the drive to Pasadena so that he could see the newest Z-28 Camaros and Corvettes.  Picture this, a kid from River Oaks selling cars, visited by the great grandson of the legendary wild catter John Henry Kirby at a car dealership in Pasadena.  That was classic!  Yet, John made friends with everyone there from the sales manager to the mechanics.  He was just that kind of guy – genuine like classic vinyl.

We went our separate ways in college – John became a Longhorn and I became an Ole Miss Rebel. Just like in high school, our friendship remained alive.  John just took this as yet another opportunity to make more friends in Mississippi.

When I arrived back in Houston in 1984 after being away for four years, John Henry once again became my “wing man”.  It was like things had never changed.  I remember going to the Metropol on Friday and Saturday nights.  Just like in middle school, we’d hang out, listen to the music and decide which girls we would ask to dance.  

As many of you know, John spent many years on his motorcycle with Lane Chaney traveling throughout the country.  I never knew where John was going to be next. But, I always knew when John Henry was back.  He’d call me when he got to the stop sign at Kinkaid Drive and San Felipe.  At the first glance of the crossing guard, Leonard George, whom we affectionately nicknamed “Soul” after the TV show “Soul Train, John would give him a big “Soul” sign.  He’d call to tell me, and I knew John Henry was back in town.

Over the last ten years John Henry and I continued to play many practical jokes.  I owned property on Kirby Drive and would often bump into John at one of the local restaurants.  We all know how John Henry loved cocktails, great food and fine wine.  I’d introduce him to my New York clients as “John Henry Kirby, as in the Kirby of Kirby Drive.”  We had more fun playing with his fourth-generation legacy.

Okay, John Henry I know what you’re thinking, it’s time to get this over with.   For the guy you called the BT Express, I’m not being very speedy, am I?” John would want me to tell all of you, like the Eagles said, “lighten up while you still can, don’t even try to understand, just find a place and make your stand and take it easy.” 

And John Henry, I’’ve got just one last thing to say to you, – as we always said “peace, love, and soul.”