[title subtitle=”WORDS: Brenda Baskin
image: courtesy Dorwin Shaddox and Brenda Baski”][/title]
Eighteen-year-old Dorwin Shaddox bought another Heath bar. He’d gotten one earlier, but gave it to a friend, so he’d have an excuse to go back to the lobby. The girl working the concession stand at the Buffalo Movie Theater was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted to make sure he had a chance to talk to her again. Earlier, she’d mentioned she was dating the projectionist. Dorwin was dating someone else too, but there was no harm in standing at that counter, just long enough to buy candy and look into those sparkling eyes.
It was 1968. Dorwin was a “river rat,” born and raised beside the Buffalo in Pruitt, Arkansas, but as he grew older, he worked and socialized in Harrison. The movie theater was there, and so were many of his friends. After one late night of fun, his buddy James worried that he might not be able to get up in time for work the next day. He gave Dorwin directions to his house, and asked him to come wake him up.
The following morning, Dorwin drove his Chevelle down the dirt road. “I thought my family was poor until I saw where James lived,” he recalls. “It was a shack.” Dorwin knocked, and the door creaked open. There before him stood Patsy, the concession stand girl, her blue-green eyes and pink bathrobe brightening the drab front porch. Dorwin was dumbstruck. He had no idea that James had a sister, much less a beautiful one who worked at the theater.
A few weeks later, James invited Dorwin to a party at his house. Patsy was there with her boyfriend, but they weren’t getting along. Dorwin had earlier determined the girl he’d been dating wasn’t the one he planned to spend his life with. After Patsy’s boyfriend left the party, the two stayed up late into the night, talking and getting to know each other. She broke up with the projectionist soon after.
On their second date, Dorwin told her he loved her, and he meant it. “I never knew what love felt like ‘til I met her,” he recalls. A few months later, he stopped in front of the local Whataburger and asked her to get something out of the glove box for him. She popped it open, and there was a cardboard envelope. On the front was written, “Patsy – Please Open.” And that’s how he gave her the ring.
He was poor, but wanted to assure her parents she’d be well taken care of. He went to her house and sang the Charlie Pride song, “All I Have to Offer You Is Me,” then asked her father for his daughter’s hand. It must have been a good rendition. On August 14, 1970, nine days after her eighteenth birthday, James “Dorwin” Shaddox and Patsy Alaine Thomason married. Patsy held a bouquet of daisies, the only flowers they could afford.
They rented a small house on Union Road in Harrison, and both got jobs at Walmart so they could be together. Two years later, daughter Misty arrived, followed by Kevin, then Christy. The family struggled financially, but the Shaddoxes were fueled by a desire to succeed. They saved their money, and in 1978 bought a Century 21 franchise. They then bought a convenience store and a small apartment complex on Highway 7 South, and set up shop in one of the apartment units. It was the beginning of what would become one of the most respected real estate firms in Boone County.
Dorwin attributes their success to Patsy, who was considered the best closing agent around. “She was wholesome and kind,” he says. “People in town called her ‘Honest Abe.’” They won the Realtor of the Year award thirteen times between them—eleven by the Regional Board of Realtors and twice by the state.
From day one, Patsy’s desk sat next to Dorwin’s, and they worked side-by-side throughout their entire marriage. In their spare time, they hunted, fished and traveled to almost every state in the US. They worked with the Special Olympics and established the annual Garth Shaddox Fishing Derby at Lake Harrison (now in its seventeenth year), in honor of Dorwin’s late brother. “Everything we did, we did together,” Dorwin says. People teased them because they were always holding hands, but over the years, while many of their friends’ marriages ended, they grew even closer.
In 2004, Dorwin’s legs were crushed in a four wheeler accident. It was then doctors discovered a cancerous tumor in his lower back. It rendered him unable to walk or drive, and his vision was severely impaired. Patsy tended to him while running the household and the business. She’d always said that she’d give her life for his, and every night, as they lay in bed, Dorwin remembers her praying aloud: Take it from him and give it to me.
Together, they fought Dorwin’s cancer battle, and after two years, he won. He and Patsy were eager to get back to business as usual.
In June of 2010, they were hired to auction off a turkey farm. They rolled up their sleeves and went about cleaning the place up. The mold and feathers made Patsy cough a lot, but after three weeks, the place sparkled.
A few days after the auction, Patsy sat beside Dorwin at her desk, filling out paperwork. She got up to go to the back, but a moment later, she returned. Gasping for breath, she told Dorwin that something was wrong, then fell to the floor. Dorwin scooped her up and took her to the doctor who examined her and immediately sent them to the hospital.
Patsy had a small spot of cancer above one of her lungs, and it had probably been there for a while. Dorwin says that normally, it would have been slow-growing, and probably treatable, but while working in the turkey houses, she’d developed histoplasmosis, a fungus of the lungs caused by (among other things) bird droppings. The disease accelerated the growth of cancer so quickly that it was cutting off her oxygen supply. “They gave her three weeks, maximum,” Dorwin says, his voice breaking.
The day she came home from the hospital, fifty friends stopped by, and they kept coming until the end. Patsy held her husband’s hand. He remembers her instructions. “She said, ‘Dorwin, when I’m gone, I want you to dance. I know we danced together some, but we didn’t do it enough. I want you to dance more.’”
Heartbroken, he prepared for the inevitable. He drove to Pruitt to choose their plot at the Shaddox Cemetery. There he spied a black gum tree, one of the strongest trees on Earth. Two branches grew from its one sturdy trunk. Dorwin pointed to the grass beneath it and said, “That’s the spot.”
Patsy died on August 7, 2010, seventeen days after her diagnosis, nine days before their fortieth anniversary. Her memorial service was one of the biggest the city of Harrison had ever seen. Between 500 and 700 people crowded into the church to honor the woman who had touched so many lives with her kindness.
It took Dorwin seven months to decide on her headstone. If you go to the Shaddox Cemetery on the Mill Creek hiking trail, you’ll see it. Its glossy newness stands out among the other markers, some of which date back to the Civil War. On the left side is Dorwin’s name; on the right is Patsy’s. There are daisies etched into the granite, a reminder of the day they began their lives together. On the back are the names of their children. Beneath are the words, “The World’s Greatest Love Story.”
Dorwin visits her often. One day, while sitting on the grass beneath the black gum tree, his legs still hurting from his earlier accident, he decided to share their love with the rest of us. He had a bench placed near Patsy’s grave. Shaded by ancient trees, it reads Dorwin and Patsy Shaddox in large letters across the top. Beneath that is a simple suggestion: Have a seat and hold hands. Countless passersby have done just that, carrying on the tradition the couple was famous for.
After Patsy’s death, Dorwin closed their business and never returned. He bought a tractor and some land near his house and spends hours there, clearing brush, digging a pond, thinking. His children visit often, and he spends a lot of time with his grandkids. In 2012, the Arkansas Board of Realtors established the Shaddox Hearts and Homes Award. It’s given annually to an agent whose actions are “compassionate, kind, caring, generous and committed. Engraved in the award is a picture of a couple, standing close together. The first recipient was Dorwin.
It’s hard to move on, but Dorwin’s trying. Daughter Misty reports that finally, he’s dancing again. “He can cut quite a rug,” she says and then laughs.
Still, he knows he’ll never completely get over losing Patsy. “There was no one like her,” he says. “It was the world’s greatest love story.”
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Dorwin invites DoSouth readers to share their hand-holding photos at The Dorwin and Patsy Shaddox Bench Facebook Page.
For directions to the Shaddox Cemetery and Mill Creek Trail, visit TraiHeaderFinder.com and search Mill Creek Trail.
