Posted: Monday, January 11, 2010 8:55 am

In the news business, you never know what stories will get under your skin.

One in particular was the heroic death of Jerry Anderson back in 1989. It was a story that touched people across the nation.

Jerry had been a football star at Murfreesboro Central on championship teams coached by Gene Windham. Personally, I didn’t really know him, but I was among the thousands of local fans who packed the field at MTSU to watch his exploits.

After graduating from Central, Anderson was signed by the University of Oklahoma, and he went to on start as a cornerback on the national champion Sooner team.

He seemed likely to be one of the first Murfreesboro players to earn a spot on a National Football League roster.

He was drafted by the Cincinnati Bengals, then traded to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. A knee injury ended his career at the Hamilton Tiger Cats of the Canadian Football League.

By 1989, he was back in Murfreesboro beginning life anew. He enrolled in recreation and sociology classes at MTSU and got a job at a local soft-drink bottler. Anderson was toying with the idea of becoming a coach.

It was Memorial Day weekend, when Anderson took two youngsters from church out fishing in Stones River near Riverdale High School on a bright Saturday afternoon.

While Anderson and his young friends tossed out their lines, two young boys got in trouble nearby while trying to walk across a low dam. Without hesitation, Anderson dove into the river and swam to their assistance.

The normally placid stream was up and a strong eddy caught Anderson and one of the youngsters. After endless moments, Jerry tossed the boy out of the whirlpool and he was able to swim to safety.

Unfortunately, Anderson was unable to break the strong current and was pulled under the turbulent river.

The Murfreesboro Police Department responded quickly, but was unable to save Anderson. Police Sgt. Dale Robertson was the first to arrive and began to dive looking for Anderson. Sgt. Byron Motley arrived soon afterwards and began to aid in the search.

It was a desperate scene, finally Robertson was able to pull Anderson out, but despite valiant resuscitation efforts, it was too late.

Ironically, Motley died in 2006 in a similar rescue effort, saving a young relative from drowning but losing his own life in the process.

In January 2007, the Murfreesboro Branch of the NAACP honored Motley posthumously with its annual Jerry Anderson Hero Award.

• • •

This week was marked by the death of Murfreesboro’s oldest resident: Willie Brandon.

He was 103 years old and his life spanned several generations. After all, he was born in 1906 during a period when prospects were rather grim for African Americans.

But by just looking at his family, it is possible to see how his hard work paid off and the influence he offered his own family members. His cousin, Gilbert Brandon, became one of Rutherford County’s first African-American sheriff’s deputies. And Gilbert’s son, Larry, now serves as General Sessions Judge.

Back when he was a youngster, Judge Brandon spent considerable time with Willie Brandon who came by his family’s house almost every day. His positive, hard-working message was shared across the generations. It paid off for his family and for the rest of Rutherford County as well.

Mr. Brandon will be missed.

•••

While we are still on a serious note, it is interesting to consider the long life and career of Andrew Nelson Lytle.

A brief article about Lytle is contained in Sunday’s Looking Back section.

A Rutherford County native, he is “best” known today for his article in the 1930 book, “I’ll Take My Stand.” That book was a product of the Southern Agrarian movement, an effort launched chiefly in response to the uproar raised over the Scopes monkey trial.
But to grade Lytle solely upon his “The Hind Tit,” is to seriously misjudge one of the most serious authors (and teachers) of his day.

His novel, “The Velvet Horn” is still being passed from generation to generation and his Civil War novel, “The Long Night,” remains one of the best.

But besides his novels, articles and work with the Sewanee Register, Lytle was foremost a superb teacher whose pleasant, clever methods have helped shaped a number of America’s best writers like Flannery O’Connor and James Dickey.

“Life is melodrama. Only art is real,” he once said.