a man of - Simpson Funeral Museum

a man of
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PHOTOS BY: BOBBY CARLSE
William C. “Bill” Simpson, a funeral director and President and
CEO of Mastercraft Casket Company, had a vision over 20 years
ago to establish a place to preserve and honor his profession, as
well as educate the public.
This vision provided the momentum behind the development
of the new, non-profit Simpson Funeral Museum at 16 South
Main Street in Chatham, Virginia, which opened this summer.
Visitors to the 4,000-square-foot museum will experience the
history of funerary practices through several centuries, including
a one-of-a-kind collection of coffins and caskets - both authentic
and replicas - from different eras and of those for world-famous
figures including U.S. presidents, European government officials
and celebrities. It also includes Simpson’s stunning collection of
one-of-a-kind antiques collected during his travels over the years.
The museum welcomes all visitors free of charge, with donations
accepted.
“This town has been good to me, the good Lord
has been good to me and funeral service has
been good to me. I just wanted to do something
for the town,” Simpson said, explaining his
motivation to establish the museum. “I also
wanted to honor the funeral directors who
guided me in this profession.”
He is joined in the business and the museum operations by wife
Janis and his son, Robert Scott (named after his mentor Kenneth
Scott), who began traveling with his father as a youngster of six.
Bill Simpson attended the prestigious Hargrave Military
Academy in Chatham, which is known for creating gamechangers, leaders and innovators to carry the school’s tradition
of service and success. Of the school’s more than 6,000 alumni,
Simpson is a member of the Academy’s elite Order of the Saber.
He sometimes worked 100 hours a week just to attend the
academy. When he graduated in 1964, he held the distinction of
being the only student in the Academy’s history to actually work
his way through the historic school.
“This town has been good to me,
the good Lord has been good to
me and funeral service has been
good to me. I just wanted to do
something for the town,”
This is his story . . .
Bill Simpson was born in 1945. World War II was winding down
and soldiers were returning from battle, ready to begin the rest
of their lives. In Chatham, Virginia, life was returning to normal
and three year old Billy Simpson was spending much of his time
playing with Ken Scott, Jr. in the sandbox next to the chapel at
Scott Funeral Home or in the Scott family’s apartment just above
the funeral home. The two were close in age and had become
good friends.
This was Bill’s first exposure to funeral service and to funeral
director Kenneth Scott, Sr., who was to become his father figure,
mentor and friend.
“I became a regular visitor at the funeral home,” he recalled.
“I loved Mrs. Scott but there were times when she asked Ken,
Jr. and me to sit quietly on the big couch. Later I figured out
these times were when services were being held in the chapel
downstairs and the patter of little feet on the upper floor would
be disruptive,” said Simpson, 69, as he reflected on his 52 years
in funeral service and his close relationship with funeral director
and funeral home owner Kenneth Scott, Sr.
Little did three-year-old Billy know
that his perfect life would soon change.
His father would abandon Bill’s mother and his three little boys.
Billy was the youngest. Soon a divorce was in the works.
In 1951, judges were not trained in domestic
law or child welfare. So, after an hourlong hearing, the judge ended the
22-year marriage and ordered
17-year-old Bobby Simpson, then a student at Hargrave Military
Academy, to be sent off to the army and Mac and Billy, to the
Hughes School Orphanage.
Bill Simpson spent the next six years, doing manual labor,
attending school and acquiring a strong work ethic. He was
awakened each morning at 4 a.m. and sent to the laundry to
take and retrieve laundry for his cottage. After a few weeks, he
learned the work rotation, to be done three hours each morning
and three hours in the evening, allowing for school between: one
week in the laundry, the next in the kitchen, next in the coal
plant and finally, one week in housekeeping.
During those six years in the orphanage, Billy and Mac’s
mom never missed visiting day on Sunday. Neither did his
grandparents and his aunts. The boys saw their father twice when he came to Chatham for a family funeral.
When Billy was 12 and Mac was 17, their mother took the initial
decree back to court. By this time, child protective laws and
family law had been developed and both boys were released to
their mother’s custody.
It wasn’t until four years later that Billy found he had an interest
in funeral service. Billy was about 16 and had gone to Scott
Funeral Home to see his friend Ken, Jr. - a place he usually was and was greeted by Mr. Scott, who was reading the paper.
“Did I see you driving a car, Billy?” Mr. Scott asked.
“Yes sir.”
“Have you a license?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then you start working Monday,” Scott said. “But you’ll need
two suits, a blue one and a gray one, so go to the haberdashery
and get them.”
“I was so excited, I went down to the store, but as soon as I got
there, I realized, I didn’t even have $2,” remembered Simpson.
“So I went back to the funeral home, embarrassed that I would
have to explain I couldn’t afford the suits I needed.”
“I asked Mr. Scott if we could talk in his office and explained
my dilemma . . . and that’s when he leaned back in his chair and
smiled. ‘Well, I think the first thing you need to learn is to listen.
What I said was that you go up to Thompson Haberdashery and
get them. I had called ahead and said I would pay for them.’”
“The fact was, I needed the job,” Simpson said. “I was going
to the local military school and my mother couldn’t afford the
tuition, so I was able to pay my way by working for Mr. Scott.”
In 1964, the year Simpson graduated, the war in Vietnam was
gaining momentum and high school graduates were quickly
being shoved from boyhood to manhood by the draft. Simpson,
who joined the military voluntarily so that he could be a Green
Beret, received orders to go overseas on three occasions. Two were
cancelled in order for him to attend other training schools. With
his third orders, he had to complete one more parachute jump
- and when his chute didn’t open properly and his emergency
chute was deployed, he ended up in the hospital for three
months, left behind by his team, which was now in Vietnam.
Once discharged from the hospital, Simpson completed his
military obligation stateside.
He continued working at Scott Funeral Home in Chatham until
ambulance service was transferred to the rescue squad. Simpson
then went to work for Colbert-Moran Funeral Home in Gretna,
Virginia, 10 miles north.
In 1970, Simpson attended Cincinnati College of Mortuary
Science and learned that the Marscellus Casket Company
planned to build a new factory in the south.
“I talked to Mr. Scott about it and his comment was, ‘you’ll do
better there, we’ll always have a job for you here if you change
your mind, but I think you’re making a good decision.’”
Simpson accepted a job with Marscellus, and
became the youngest manager hired in
the company’s 99-year history.
When the newly-minted funeral director went on the road for
Marscellus in 1971, he was given the territory of Virginia, North
Carolina and eastern Tennessee. His goal was to increase the
number of hardwood caskets available in the funeral homes in
Even after Simpson went on the road, he would help his beloved
mentor and father figure, Scott, with services back in Chatham.
“Kenneth Scott was the epitome of a Southern Gentleman and
an outstanding businessman,” his protégé’ said. “We could be
handling two calls at the same time, one from the White House
and the poor house! Mr. Scott would make both families feel
important and that they had his undivided attention.”
Named the Marscellus Salesman of the Year and on target for the
same award the year he left, Simpson blazed a trail through the
south. “I liked sales and we put hardwoods in many southern
showrooms.”
In 1979, Simpson selected a corps of Marscellus employees and
began Mastercraft Casket Company. Since that time, Mastercraft
has continued the tradition of producing the finest hardwood
caskets made today.
“We are one of the last casket
companies producing caskets by hand,”
Simpson said. “We’re also the last company using solid copper
nails, brass screws and tongue and groove bottom construction
for a more rigid, more durable casket design . . . and finishing
each casket takes anywhere from several days to several weeks to
achieve their signature hand-rubbed furniture finish.”
Bill Simpson looks over his new museum and takes time to
remember his experiences of the last 50-plus years. “I love this
profession. I love helping people. I still work every day and as
long as I’m able, I’ll continue to follow my passion,” he said.
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