When my family first moved to Bridgeport, I was in the second grade and lived on Third Street. Three doors up on the opposite side of the street lived a 16-year-old boy named Tommy Davis. He was cute and as teenagers can be, he was a little ornery. As the story goes, our pumpkins went missing from our front porch that Halloween and my mom was asking around as to what might have happened to them. I guess a neighbor suggested that maybe Tommy and his neighbor friend may have had something to do with it. So my mom asked him. He said that yes, the duo did take the pumpkins – and several others – and did a little pumpkin bowling - rolling them right down Third Street. Hey, at least he was honest. 

 

Tommy’s family owned an awesome little store on Main Street. The Handy Shop was much cooler than modern-day convenience stores. It carried all the grocery and household necessities – and, more importantly, had a case full of candy from back in the day. In dripping bathing suits, my friends and I would file in there during rest periods at Bridgeport Pool and put our change to very good use.

Tommy was also known around town for his involvement with livestock at the Bridgeport Stockyards. But I’d say what he has always been best known for is his friendly demeanor. He didn’t know a stranger and was always willing to help out. He had a nice loud, clear voice – and liked to use it. Everyone liked him.

 

When I became an adult, Tommy started another business. For several years, he ran it out of tents right above where SuperAmerica now stands. Just this past October, we were talking about that. He said when it rained, water ran through there like a river. I’m not sure which came first – the expansion of Tom Davis Garden Center during which time he started selling Christmas trees and other items – or the relocating of his business, just up West Main Street a half mile or so.

 

For years and years, I stopped there, buying pansies in the spring, annuals in the early-summer and Christmas trees in the winter. The trees were always color coded; depending on price. He or someone else at the store would always offer to help put my purchases in my car. And, like old times, I’d buy some candy and shoot the breeze a little bit. When my kids were little, I’d take them up to see goldfish in the summer and go through the hay maze in the fall. We'd take home a pumpkin or some corn stalks, sometimes even a ceramic knickknack, wind chime or something. He bought a lot of his stuff - well, the live stuff - from Critchfield Farms, located on the West Virginia side of the Ohio River. 

 

As some of our kids were close to the same age, I’d also run into Tommy at ball games, like Saturday afternoon Jerry West Basketball games at Bridgeport United Methodist Church. He wasn’t the kind of fan that slipped in quietly and took his seat. If he was there, you would know.

 

I’d see Tommy around town at various other times; sometimes he’d be on his horse. On more than one occasion, I saw his horse tied up outside Oliverio’s Ristorante. I thought that was pretty neat. Yes, Tommy Davis was still cool.

 

He loved kids and that was obvious. He would laugh as he talked about the kids going through his Halloween-time maze, especially when he said they used to turn the lights out and tell the kids ghost stories. Those kids would come in groups from area schools. He got such a kick out of it.

 

The last time I saw Tommy was just a week or so before Christmas. My husband and I went up and bought our tree – one with a white tag. It was pretty. And he was his same jovial self. We loaded our tree in the truck and when we left, Tommy yelled “Bye kids. You have a Merry Christmas now.”

 

I liked it that I was still a kid to him, even about 50 years after I first remembered knowing him.

 

Tommy Davis is one of the many people who have helped shape the Bridgeport community and he did that with his personality, knack for business, unique interests and desire to serve the public. I feel blessed to have known him. He’s not the kind of guy you ever forget.

 

I'll never drive by his place of business and not think about him. I’ve really had his boys and other family members on my mind. I hope knowing how very much their dad meant to Bridgeport and the surrounding areas will help in some small way to ease their pain during this time.

 

Here’s to looking forward to that harvest in the sky someday. To everything, there is a season.