Remembering their ‘rock’

When the Hoover Library Theatre first opened in 1992 and had trouble drawing a crowd for events, Library Board member George Farmer helped “pack the pews” by filling two to three rows with his friends and people from his church.

He wanted to make sure the theater – and every other aspect of the library – was successful, and he was thrilled when the theater began selling out shows on the first day of ticket sales, Library Director Linda Andrews said.

It was just one of many ways Farmer showed his love for the facility that he, other Library Board members and Andrews helped grow from a small storefront operation to an 85,000-square-foot library with the largest circulation of any single-location municipal library in the state.

Farmer, who died in September at the age of 87, had a special place in his heart for the library and took great pride in its success, said his son, Dan Farmer.

George Farmer was one of the founding members of the Library Board 33 years ago and served as its chairman, vice chairman and treasurer at different times over the years.

He provided the library with a continuity of purpose and perspective that comes with experience, care and commitment, said Andrews, who was asked to give the eulogy at his funeral.

“He was committed to excellence and set the standard of service to the community which has brought our library to the place where it is today,” Andrews said. “Our library has been referred to as the heart of the city, and George Farmer gave his love and commitment to this library, as a parent would give love to a child.”

Eloise Martens, another founding member of the Library Board, said Farmer was a rock and anchor for the board. He was always very thoughtful and never made rash decisions, she said.

 “It’s rare that you have an opportunity to serve with someone like that,” Martens said. “He had such integrity and a dedication to this library. We will sorely miss him.”

Farmer was born in Greenville, South Carolina, in 1928. He worked in a textile mill owned by the Union Bleaching and Finishing Co. and later became a salesman for Prudential Insurance Co. of America. He and his wife, Helen, moved to the Birmingham area in 1967, his son said. Farmer was promoted to district manager and moved to Huntsville for a year and a half before being brought back to Birmingham. He retired from Prudential in 1981 with 30 years of service to the company.

“He was always very upbeat and optimistic,” his son said. “He always looked for the best in people and in situations. I think that’s why he was so successful in sales.”

Farmer loved to meet new people and hear their stories, his son said. He never met a stranger, and people seemed to look to him for leadership, his son said.

Farmer was appointed to the Library Board in 1982 and was a faithful leader for the group, providing financial guidance and managerial skills, Andrews said. He also helped secure nearly $13,000 in grants for the library from Prudential because of his volunteer work, which at least once included modeling in a fashion show fundraiser for the library.

He always attended library board meetings, Southern Voices conferences and shows in the Library Theatre, Andrews said. When he could no longer drive to board meetings, library staff would pick him up from his home, she said.

But his service extended beyond the library. He also volunteered for 14 years at the food bank at Green Valley Baptist Church, was a mentor for college students, volunteered with the March of Dimes and performed with the Meadowbrook Baptist Church Sunshine Singers senior group at area nursing homes.

Dan Farmer said his father loved music and had a great sense of humor. Martens said Farmer was known for his corny jokes, which she is now going to miss.

Michael Krawcheck, another Library Board member, said Farmer wasn’t a backslapper or demonstrative person, but he was a doer and someone who treated everyone with respect and courtesy, no matter their station in life.

“He and Helen both conveyed a certain dignity and charm – an old school and perhaps lost art form in human behavior,” Krawcheck said. “They represent a tradition of humanity, humility and civility – things we’re seeing less and less of.”