When Heaven holds a foot race

Heather Ainsley
ECB Publishing, Inc.

Life for James Wiley Roe began much like any other boy. He was born on Aug. 21, 1921, in Jefferson County at the “Old Cobb Place,” a local saw-mill camp that was owned and operated by J.R. Hughes. When James was just 18 months old, however, he fell ill to a mysterious disease that affected his mobility severely, and the young boy suffered fever, fatigue, vomiting and stiffness in his neck and limbs. Local doctors were helpless to cure little James, and could do little to provide his worried parents with answers as to what was causing his afflictions.
The young child had become one of the first in the area to contract Polio, a severe and (at the time) untreatable illness that can cause paralysis and death, as it affects the spinal cord and brain. The infamous Polio epidemic of 1916 had heavily affected the more populated cities and towns, leaving the rural area of Jefferson County relatively untouched for many years.
Indeed, hospitals in highly populated areas like New York were completely overwhelmed by the epidemic, and even doctors in the big cities knew nothing about the virus or how to treat it. The 1916 epidemic is considered, still, to be the most devastating outbreak in the history of poliomyelitis, and the fatality rate, even years later, was extremely high. Little James was fortunate to survive the initial sickness, but his small body remained partially paralyzed as a result of the virus. That same year, two other children in the county contracted polio, but neither child survived.
James' grandparents lived in nearby Thomas County, where medical services were better due to the presence of multiple plantations and a hospital. Cases of polio were still rare, but James was able to get a diagnosis. A local chiropractor, Dr. Frank Strobel, who worked for wealthy plantation families was told about James' affliction and decided to take on his recovery. While the paralysis was permanent, Dr. Strobel worked hard to teach two-year-old James how to use other muscles to compensate, enabling him to learn to walk.
Treatment was crucial to begin right away, and for the first two weeks, James underwent daily chiropractic visits. Because the road leading from Monticello to Thomasville was paved only in clay and was impassible after rainfall, James and his mother had to move in with his grandparents in Ochlocknee to ensure that he didn't miss even a single chiropractic treatment. As his condition improved little by little, James was able to go longer between treatments, and by the time he was six years old, he had improved so much that he was able to walk on his own. Family says that James led a relatively normal life after his treatment, and although he was never able to run, he led an active and productive childhood.
James had already finished his final year of high school and had begun his first semester of college when news of the attack on Pearl Harbor reached his hometown, and it wasn't long before World War II began. James would never forget the day the news reached Monticello. He had come home from college for the weekend, and on Sunday afternoon he drove down to the local service station just after lunchtime.
The service station, then owned by Nason Revell, was located on the corner of Waukeenah Hwy and E. Washington Street, where Brenda Sorenson's office stands today. Back then, it was common for boys to gather at the service station to talk and hang out, but that Sunday afternoon, when James arrived, he found all the boys gathered around a radio, listening intently. As they listened to a report about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the boys admitted unanimously that they had no idea where Pearl Harbor was. Many years later, when James would recall the story to family and friends, he stated, by that night, everybody knew exactly where Pearl Harbor was.
He, like many of his classmates, was served a draft notice, but although he filled his out, he was told that he was ineligible to go to war due to his condition. This hit James hard, and he had trouble accepting that he was not going to be permitted to serve and protect his country like many of his peers.
His family wasn't very well off, but worked hard to earn enough money to send James to college. They knew he would need a desk job in order to make a living, as his infirmary prevented him from carrying out a labor-intensive job like many of the other men his age. He began his college education at Jones Business College in 1940, but was not to finish his degree.
Shortly after Christmas, James got a phone call from a Mr. Clayton, who was on the rationing board in Monticello. Clayton told James that they were looking for someone to run the rationing board, and that his, James', name had come up. Clayton then asked James if he would consider quitting college in order to come home and run the board. James agreed, seeing this as his chance to serve his country and play an important role in the community. He moved back in with his parents and ran the rationing board until 1945.
In 1945, when it looked as though the war was coming to an end, James got a call from a man from the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad (ACL), who told him that the railroad was seeking young engineers. James replied that he wasn't an engineer, as he had not been able to finish his education. The caller stated firmly that an incomplete college education didn't matter, that they needed people right away and would train him in-house if he was willing to start as soon as possible. With that, James quit the rationing board, moved to Jacksonville and went to work for the railroad company. ACL merged with its long-time rival, Seaboard Air Line Railroad in 1967 to form the Seaboard Coast Line Railroad. James worked for the company his entire adult life, retiring around the year 2000.
James had a younger brother, nicknamed “Geechie,” who was nine years younger than him. In light of James' condition after his diagnosis with polio, his parents had waited until James was able to walk on his own before having another child. James and Geechie were close brothers, despite of the age difference, and the two were rivals like many brothers are.
Cindy Roe LittleJohn, daughter of Geechie, recalls her uncle James having many conversations with her, and describes him as a positive and unassuming character, even in spite of everything he had lived through. As one of his closest living relatives, Cindy would visit her uncle frequently, and the two became quite close towards the end of James' life. Cindy recalls him confiding in her about his end of life ideas, and his views of Heaven. James was a devout Christian man, and one conversation in particular stood out with Cindy.
“One day, we were talking,” says Cindy, reminiscent. “My dad passed away in 2003, so dad passed away 14 years before Uncle James, and one day, we were talking about Daddy. Now, Daddy was a star running back at Jefferson County High School.” In fact, Cindy continued on to reveal that her father, Geechie, was so good at running that his mother kept a scrapbook of letters he had received from various colleges stating that they were watching his athletic exhibition and wanted him to come and play for them.
Cindy went on, recalling the conversation, “Uncle James said one day, 'you know your daddy could run really fast?' and I said, 'yeah, I know that, I've heard people tell me about it in town,' and he said, 'Well, you know, when I go to heaven I'm going to be whole again,' and I said, 'yeah?' and he said, 'And the first thing I'll do when I get there is, your daddy and I are gonna have a footrace, because I have wondered all my life if I could ever beat your dad!'” Cindy chuckles at the memory, and says that James always held a positive, can-do attitude about his life and his condition.
In life, he loved to collect railroad memorabilia, and enjoyed fishing and spending time with his friends, Dr. Jack Brinson, Rudy Hamrick, and Wilson Shepherd, among others, including friends he had made working for the railroad. He loved the University of Florida Gators, and would have liked to attend there if his family had been able to afford to send him. He was married in 1947 to his first wife, Nell Thomas, and together they had two sons, Jimmy and Kenneth. Jimmy passed away at the age of 65 from cancer, and Kenneth currently lives in Arlington, Texas. Jimmy was buried locally in the Roseland Cemetery, located in Monticello.
In 1976, Nell passed away, having perished from cancer of the liver. She was 48 years old. She was originally from McClenny, Fla., and had taken a job in Jacksonville, which was where she had initially met James.
In the late 1970s, James married his second wife, a woman named Doris, who was known by most as “Dot.” The two remained happily married even after they had to move into separate assisted living facilities. Dot moved into a women's Christian home, and James moved into a rest home called West Jacksonville Therapy. While the two were unable to live together, they visited one another daily until Dot passed away in 2014. James Wiley Roe died in 2017 at the age of 96 years old.
He is laid to rest in the Roe family plot at the local Roseland Cemetery, and his legacy lives on in his friends, family, and the communities that knew him. Perhaps somewhere out there, Heaven is holding a footrace.