Joe Copeland - Real Life Superhero

NWA Democrat-Gazette/DAVID GOTTSCHALK Joe Copeland, 98 and a volunteer with the Fayetteville Public Library for 40 years, sits Thursday, August 2, 2018, in the used book shop at the library.
NWA Democrat-Gazette/DAVID GOTTSCHALK Joe Copeland, 98 and a volunteer with the Fayetteville Public Library for 40 years, sits Thursday, August 2, 2018, in the used book shop at the library.

It’s summertime, and the movie theaters are chock full of superhero stories: colorfully costumed, caped guardians of the public good, flying or swinging or speeding in their custom vehicles to apprehend the bad guy.

Fayetteville, you don’t need to buy a ticket and overpay for popcorn to see a superhero. All you have to do is visit the Fayetteville Public Library on a Tuesday or Thursday, when FPL volunteer and World War II veteran Joe Copeland is working on the first floor in the used book store.

Consider, if you will, what Copeland has witnessed and accomplished in his 98 years on Earth: The oldest of eight kids, he helped raise his younger siblings as his father struggled to support the family on a teacher’s salary during the Great Depression. As a young man, he would become the family’s financial anchor, working with the Civilian Conservation Corps to build Devil’s Den State Park. In World War II, he was part of multiple military campaigns and sacrificed most of his hearing during his participation in the Allied invasion of Sicily. As an adult, he loyally spent 40 years of his life working for Caterpillar and has, so far, given 45 years to the Fayetteville Public Library, where he is one of the longest-working volunteers in the library’s history.

He is, by any qualification and many times over, a superhero.

And like any caped crusader, he has a fascinating origin story. Copeland’s father was the teacher in the one-room schoolhouse in tiny Antioch when Copeland was born in 1920.

“At an early age,” cracks Copeland with a grin. He has a dry, sly wit that reveals itself frequently as he tells his story. He is dressed in his customary overalls, and his memory is quick and ready, even when the events being discussed took place nearly 100 years ago.

“If I was going to define him, I would say that he is a proud American. I think that stands out as much as anything he does. He loves his country.”

— Bruce Copeland

“He’s just tough,” notes son Bruce Copeland. “He said he made his mind up at an early age that he wasn’t going to be pushed around by anybody.”

Bruce can provide many a story that proves Copeland’s tenacity — take this one, for example: Copeland’s father and uncle had a sawmill out toward Devil’s Den. They would cut railroad ties, and Copeland would load them onto a wagon pulled by a mule team.

He started this job when he was around 9 years old.

“He couldn’t carry them, but he could get one end up on the wagon and then get the other end up, and he would haul those to West Fork to the railroad company,” says Bruce. “If you’re up on top of the mountain by Devil’s Den and going north, when you start getting toward what’s now the Interstate, the hill is pretty steep. When Dad was probably 11 or 12, he ran a wheel off the wagon, and he had to unload all of the ties, hitch the mule up to a tree, get the wagon jacked up and roll the wheel toward West Fork to a blacksmith. The guy fixed the wheel, and Dad had to push it back up the hill, put it back on the wagon, load the ties back up and hitch the mule.”

In addition to instilling this remarkable work ethic in his children, Copeland’s father’s profession meant that he made education a big emphasis in the family.

“He wore my hind end out when he was a teacher,” says Copeland. “I went to him as a teacher, and I sure dreaded it every day.”

LEARNING AND LOSS

His father may have been strict, but it didn’t stop Copeland from loving to learn. He was a good student and a quick study. He would graduate from eighth grade early, skipping several grade levels along the way. The only high school was in West Fork, however, nearly 14 miles away from where Copeland and his family lived, and there was no way to get him there on a daily basis.

So he would help out at home. The Great Depression and his father’s small paycheck meant a daily struggle, one that hit a nadir in the summer of 1934. Copeland’s newest baby sister was stillborn, and the family was still recovering from her heart-wrenching funeral when, two days later, their house burned to the ground.

“My mother was in bed, she had just had this baby, and there was a drought that year,” remembers Copeland. “My two sisters were in the kitchen, getting our dinner, and they noticed some unusual flames. And, right away, they recognized what it was: that the whole house had dry shingles, and a spark got in them and a bit of a breeze, and it just went like gasoline.

“I got out with the clothes I had on. That’s about all I had, anyway.”

Copeland’s mother was still too weak to move, so his father had to push her and her bed out of the burning house. The family, huddled together on their acreage, had no choice but to watch the flames do their work until nothing was left.

“That was a tragedy. King-sized.”

Copeland says his father had long been considering moving the family to California, a common trend in the middle of the Great Depression, because opportunities seemed more plentiful out west. He thought the fire might be a sign that now was the time to do it.

“He got together with some of the neighbors and talked it over, and they told him that they didn’t want to lose him, so they would pitch their finances and help build us a house,” says Copeland. “So the neighbors and my dad and me, of course — I was 14 — all got together and built us a house. We had lots of timber on our land, and there was a sawmill right by, just a half a mile down the road. The man at the mill said that if we would get the logs to him, he would saw the logs for free.

“Everybody was up against it. There was no one that had any money. This old man that lived next door to us had lost a son in the war, and he drew a pension. The day the house burned down, he gave Dad a five dollar bill.”

Copeland continued to help out at home until his younger two sisters finished eighth grade. At that point, his father somehow found the funds to pay for an apartment in West Fork where the trio could stay during the week so that they could attend the local high school. At $5 a month, it was a considerable amount for the family to spare, but education was an important cornerstone to the family, so Copeland’s father made it work.

Despite his excitement and anticipation at returning to school, Copeland’s experience in high school was devastating.

“I was older than any of the seniors, too old to be a freshman, and they didn’t want anything to do with me,” says Copeland. The ostracism was heartbreaking for him. “The ninth-graders didn’t have anything to do with me — they shunned me like sin — and, of course, the older ones, they were smart enough that they didn’t want anything to do with me. It was hard to take. I couldn’t even talk to any of them. I would start to, and they would shut up or move off or talk to someone else. I can see where it’s a bad idea to send a kid to school in the wrong age group. I learned it the hard way. So I quit the school and got into the [Civilian Conservation Corps].”

WAR AND WAITING

Copeland helped construct Devil’s Den State Park while employed with the CCC, where his pay was $30 a month. He kept $8 and sent the rest home to his father to help support the family. He worked there from April until December 1938, when he enlisted in the Army.

“I figured there was going to be a war,” he says. By his calculations, the training he could get by enlisting — versus waiting to get drafted — could make the difference between life and death. “I figured that I had a better chance of living through it if I went on in. It turned out that was one of the best pieces of judgment that I made, because after we got overseas, after we actually got into the war, the kids just got killed by the droves. [They] came in there and didn’t know anything about anything, and, right off the bat, they got killed. It was terrible. Oh, there would be one every once in a while, he would use his brain or common sense a little and make a go of it. But it wasn’t fun, I’ll tell you that. So if I had waited and been drafted, I figured my lot would have been right there with them. That changed my way of thinking about a lot of things.”

It was a harrowing 12-hour period of the Allied invasion of Sicily that would result in Copeland’s near-deaf state of today.

“I was on a .50-caliber machine gun, up on a service truck,” he remembers. “We landed in Sicily after midnight, and we couldn’t get our trucks off the boat before the infantry [got off]. We had to wait until they got out of our way. It got to be daylight, and the German Air Force started working on us just the minute it got light enough to see.” Copeland was stuck in the nose of the ship, on his truck, with two of the guns so close to him that if he reached out his arms, he would touch one on either side of him. “All of this fire power we had went into action every time a German plane would come over. And here was me, in the middle of them. We had 11 air raids that day. The Germans quit us at dark, and we shut down. I had two really close calls myself. But all of these guns were working on my ears all day. I couldn’t hear anything when dark came. I didn’t go to the medics with it, because the foot soldiers had been pulling rough out there, and they were losing a lot of them. I knew that if I went to the medics with ‘My ears are ringing’, they wouldn’t do anything but laugh me out. So I didn’t go. And about 10 days or two weeks later, I could hear pretty good again, hear enough to do what I was supposed to do. So I never did go to the medics about it.”

In fact, Copeland’s ears never fully recovered, and his hearing continued to worsen through the years. It wasn’t until a Veterans Affairs doctor’s visit years ago that Copeland sought relief for the issue. The doctor confirmed the damage, filled out the appropriate forms and sent it to through the channels, hoping to secure Copeland’s eligibility for both hearing aids and a disability compensation.

“About a year and a half later, I got a letter from some guy back in Baltimore or Philadelphia or some place, and he said, ‘We can find where the 15th Infantry was in Sicily all right, but we can’t find where you were with them, so we’re not going to give you any hearing aids. We don’t think that happened to you.’ Well, I went back to my doctor and told him, and he said, ‘Well, I know what happened to you, your ears have been damaged by gunfire!’ So he sent a letter to North Little Rock.”

Copeland followed the letter to North Little Rock himself, sitting down in a VA office to discuss the matter, but he was told that the matter had been decided. This man who spent six years in the service, 18 months in World War II and 12 hours taking direct fire from the air in conditions that damaged his hearing for the rest of his life was told that his government did not believe he actually experienced the combat he was claiming — despite discharge papers that very clearly and plainly stated that Copeland was in combat during the Allied invasion of Sicily.

“I’ve appealed it with every Congressman and Representative that has come along,” says Copeland. “I’ve got a stack of letters that high from them. And the copy of the paperwork that shows them I was there.” But even elected officials have not been able to correct whatever bureaucratic, red-taped snafu that has resulted in Copeland’s contributions to the war effort being virtually snuffed out by the U.S. government.

LOVE AND LOYALTY

Near the end of his service, Copeland was sent home on furlough after an 18-month period overseas. Soon after his break, the Advanced Service Rating Score system was instituted — a means of determining which soldiers could be honorably discharged from the military toward the end of World War II. With his experiences overseas, Copeland had more than enough points to warrant an honorable discharge, and he took that option.

Copeland’s mechanical experience during the war got him a job right away with General Motors in Dallas, where many members of his family were living at the time. Eventually, he decided to return to Arkansas, where he met his soon-to-be wife, Helen.

“She was a pretty wicked dancer, and I liked it, so I thought, ‘Well, I don’t know much of a reason why I shouldn’t get married to her,’” says Copeland with a smile. “She was all for it, too.”

The two would raise chickens for a short while, before selling them all and moving out to California — the same plan his father had considered so many years before. Copeland got a job with Caterpillar, where he would work for the next 40 years, eventually transferring to Oklahoma. When Bruce enlisted in the Air Force, Copeland retired and returned once more to Arkansas, where he and his brother had invested in a farm intending to raise cattle.

“And that’s where I had my bookstore,” says Copeland. He had built a utility shed close to the highway that led to Devil’s Den. On a whim, he decided to see if he could use it to sell off some of the tens of thousands of books that, as an avid reader, he had collected over the years. Called “Books and Bygones,” the store turned some 20,000 books, by his estimate, over about 10 years — until the highway, as Copeland says, “slid off into the canyon out there.”

“Dad enjoys learning,” notes Bruce. “And [reading] is the best way he has to learn. I’ve never known his hearing to be good enough that he could really enjoy television, but he always read. And he knows a lot of stuff.”

That love of books led to his current volunteer position at the Fayetteville Public Library, where he’s been for 45 years.

“He is a legend of the library,” says Margaret Burdette, who was the volunteer coordinator at the FPL for 10 years. “I think one word I would use to describe Joe is ‘dedicated’ — absolutely dedicated and loyal. He’s an inspiration. When I was the volunteer manager, if there was a chance of snow, I would have to go and visit with him and say, ‘Please do not come in if it’s snowing outside.’ Over 10 years, I had to have that conversation with him more than a few times. He has great determination.”

“Everybody loves Joe,” says Carlye Dennis, current volunteer manager at the FPL. “If we don’t see Joe on a Tuesday or Thursday, people will come in and check on him with me and ask how he’s doing. He has so many fans.

“He’s just really happy about his work, and I don’t think he’s ever met a stranger. And I think that helps him in the store, and that helps the store and that helps the library. He’s a great asset to us here.”

Copeland says he’s not sure that he has any advice for those of us who would love to live to be a centenarian. Though he might not know what accounts for his longevity, there are certainly lessons to be learned by studying his life. He fell in love and married twice, and though he lost both, he raised a fine son who takes good care of his father. He worked hard at something that supported his family until he retired, and then he worked hard at something he loved. He spends many hours a week around his passion — books — and mingles with other folks who love them as well. He has a quick sense of humor and likes just about everyone.

“The only thing he doesn’t like are cucumbers,” says Bruce.

Because, like any superhero, Copeland has to have a nemesis.

And, also like any superhero, there is a motivating factor that is the constant thread woven through Copeland’s life: his love of country.

“In 1956 or 1957, somewhere in there, we lived in Hanford [Calif.],” remembers Bruce. “We were standing on the sidewalk, and they were having a parade. It was coming down the street, and, of course, they had a band. And leading the parade was someone carrying all the different flags. Of course, the American flag was at a higher mast. My dad was holding my hand, and he let go of my hand and put his hand over his heart, and I saw the tears flow. I thought, ‘What the heck?’ I didn’t know what that was all about.

“But, of course, now I know what that was all about.”

THROUGH OTHERS’ EYES

JOE COPELAND

“When they landed at Anzio, that was a frontal assault, trying to take that beachhead, and Dad had a [Browning Automatic Rifle]. I think that the BAR with all of the attachments weighs about 14 pounds. When they landed and put the deck down on the amphibian, there were soldiers everywhere. He threw that BAR over the side and grabbed a carbine [rifle]. He said, ‘You could run infinitely faster with that,’ and the Germans had the high ground and had already started firing on them. He was able to outrun the fire. He carried that carbine for the rest of his tenure in the Army.” — Bruce Copeland

“He’s so important to the library, and I know this library is meaningful for him as well. He has a place that he can come to, where he is needed, and he’s able to give back in a way that gives him a sense of purpose.” — Carlye Dennis

“He is always positive, always has a smile and a funny joke to tell. He’s an inspiration. He has a lot of experience in the book-selling industry and a sincere love of books and helping people find the books they’re looking for.” — Margaret Burdette

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NWA Democrat-Gazette/DAVID GOTTSCHALK Joe Copeland, 98 and a volunteer with the Fayetteville Public Library for 40 years, walks Thursday, August 2, 2018, with Carlye Dennis, manager, Volunteer and Outreach Services, to the used book shop at the library.

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Copeland

Lara Jo Hightower can be reached by email at lhightower@ nwadg.com.

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