Everett Taylor: Taylor's Yarns

EDITOR’S NOTE: Today’s feature is a guest column written by Tyler Courier-Times--Telegraph Publisher Nelson Clyde IV on his recollections of his friend and teacher Bob Wyche, who died Friday.

By NELSON CLYDE IV

My first recollections of Bob Wyche were a particular Halloween when I was about 8 years old. My grandparents had been on vacation in England and had returned with a Palace Guard costume for me to wear during Halloween and other occasions. That particular year, I wore it as I went trick-or-treating and I happened upon Bob Wyche’s house.

The neighborhood kids referred to him as “Wychie” (Wy-chee), and he lived at the northeast corner of Sneed Avenue and Second Street. When I rang his doorbell, he was absolutely gleeful about my costume. He was so pleased he retrieved his camera to take a picture and several days later he gave me a copy of the picture.

Over the years I progressed, as did Bob, toward my education and landed at Robert E. Lee High School as a junior. My knowledge of Wyche at that time had been he was a highly respected history teacher who had also taught my parents, aunt and uncle in the 1960s. Bob was known for his outbursts, for choosing favorites among students, and for his high standard of excellence he held his students to that caused them to clamor to take his courses.

I did not take a course from him in my junior year, but I did learn he was the sponsor of an organization called the “Cannoneers.” When it came time to submit my application to be a canoneer toward the end of that junior year, I eagerly threw my name into the hat. To be elected you had to be voted upon by teachers and my good friend and teacher, Allen Shumate, nominated me per Wyche’s requirements. The chance I would be elected seemed very slim since I was a new student, substantially, during my junior year, but it was something I hoped very intently would come true.

I was so delighted to be notified by the previous year’s captain, Jimmy Jinx, I would be part of this organization rooted in so much history and tradition at Robert E. Lee High School. The original group was called “The Rebel Guard” when REL was the Robert E. Lee Rebels, and in the early 1970s the name of the school’s mascot changed to Red Raiders and “The Rebel Guard” became “The Cannoneers.” Many Tylerites will recall in the early days this organization fired a cannon at REL football games. Somewhere along the way, a person at another school’s activities — which involved a cannon — had lost their hearing due to its loud discharge and a law was passed cannons could not be fired anymore at ball games.

Nevertheless, we dressed in our antebellum costumes and we would run down the football field right through the center of Rose Stadium, making a charge with Texas and American flags and the cannon. We received training on how to fire the cannon properly, and Wyche was just as exacting and demanding in the field as he was in the classroom, considering the sheer danger of the exercise and his feeling of responsibility for us.

Bob was certainly one of the most eccentric people I have ever known, to say the minimum. He would go off on tirades when he became upset and then he would cool off and he had a very nurturing side. From time to time he would hold evening events at his home for the cannoneer troupe and prepare meals made from scratch, including pies and other delicacies. He enjoyed having a whiskey sour before dinner and he was a great student of Civil War history.

One of the mornings during our training, when we were about to set off for a trip to the country to be instructed further on how to operate the cannon, I had arrived at his home with a heavy heart. I had just learned that my great-great aunt, who was the closest adult to me other than my parents, had passed away the night before. I arrived with a sick stomach and a heavy heart for the training. I sat down and thought I could go through with it, but found myself with my head in my hands, sobbing over the loss. Bob took me in his house and told me I would not be required to participate in the day’s activities and we just had a nice talk. He shared how sorry he was for my loss and I saw his human side in that encounter. He was a very caring person, although totally enigmatic. As it worked out, I went on to that day’s training and he continued to watch out for me and it meant the world to me.

Throughout my senior year, we continued in our activities, one of which was a trip around the South, from Tyler to Vicksburg; Atlanta; Lookout Mountain, Tenn., Chickamauga battlefield and fired the cannon in exhibitions for people. This included a firing at Stone Mountain in Georgia. These occasions were times when he would share his vast Civil War history brain trust. It was truly an experience of a lifetime. My father once told me Bob was probably one of the top three Civil War historians in the United States, and I believe this to be true, unless at some point in his life he might have been No. 1. In my book, he had already risen to that plateau.

About four years ago, I found an odd-sized box that had come in the mail that day. The return address was Bob’s address; I opened it and enclosed was a cannoneer uniform like we had worn in high school with a note from Bob that said, “Nelson, I know you felt the canoness represented the best of the best and I wanted you to have this.” It meant so much to me to hear from him and I wrote him a note telling him how grateful I was for his thoughtfulness.

Many of my friends have great memories of Bob Wyche. I hope my memories will spur on the thoughts of others to remember fascinating times of our lives, spent with this most extraordinary of individuals. If your memories are stimulated by this, I hope that you will share them with all of us. In the meantime, I hope Bob rests in peace now and I am grateful for the intersection of our lives. I am a better person for having known him.

Nelson Clyde IV
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