The passion behind our favorite places, and the story of a great man named Brooks Gremmels

The Hidden Stories Behind Famous Landmarks

What if Gustave Eiffel’s controversial design for the Eiffel Tower had never survived? Or New York’s merchants and landowners had never proposed their idea for Central Park to the city of New York?  Going on vacation typically means relaxing, so we often don’t think too hard about the “why” and “if” behind the treasures we visit.  But without knowing the specific history of our favorite destinations, one thing is for certain: behind every beautiful place and every famous landmark lies a rich story of the people that brought it to life.

The center of downtown Ben Wheeler, post revitalization. Photo by Peggy Ryan

Sometimes the root of their vision is clear: money. But I’m writing now not of those cases, but of the exceptions. Of the magic that happens when an exceptional person has a vision — not for their own personal gain, but for a collective gain — and finds the resources they need to preserve or create an important destination that affects the quality of life of a generation, or more.

The center of downtown Ben Wheeler, post revitalization. Photo by Peggy Ryan

When Vision Preserves History

Have you ever been to Colonial Williamsburg? As of 1926, some of the buildings were nearly in ruins.  A man named Reverend Dr. W.A.R. Goodwin feared the permanent loss of this invaluable piece of U.S. history, and he found the resources to achieve his vision of restoring the city — mainly from the Rockefeller family — which is now one of the most significant preservations of U.S. colonial heritage.

One of the artists in residence in Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

Believing in Living Artists

And the existence of Manhattan’s Museum of Modern Art, arguably the world’s most influential modern art museum, can be traced back to the vision of three remarkable women — Lillie P. Bliss, Mary Quinn Sullivan, and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller — who founded it in 1929, a period when there was very little respect for living artists. They skillfully united the museum’s earliest proponents among countless naysayers, with support from allies like Harvard curator Paul Sachs, who helped legitimize their vision in the broader art world.

A group of volunteers at Ben Wheeler’s annual Fish Fry. Photo by Peggy Ryan

Everyday Heroes in Our Own Communities

The people I’ve mentioned above are not especially famous. But the output of their dedication is world-famous.  And there are people who possess similar qualities in our own hometowns who also remain virtually anonymous to us, but their vision and devotion to their city and the people who live in it improve our every day.  Simple touches like the seasonal flowers that might adorn the corners of your city’s downtown or the summer film series in your local park are proof that those people are working behind the scenes.

Locals enjoying The Forge restaurant in Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

The Transformation of Ben Wheeler, Texas

Which brings me to my favorite story of the devotion that shaped a place, a true embodiment of a dedication that continues to touch thousands of people, and the reason I wrote this article. Around 2005 or so, a man named Brooks Gremmels began transforming the city of Ben Wheeler, TX, a small city about an hour and a half east of Dallas, from a place where people kept trash in their front yards, to an incontestably charming place to live and visit.

Locals enjoying the center of downtown Ben Wheeler, post revitalization. Photo by Peggy Ryan

While the chances that you’ll ever make it to Ben Wheeler are low, the story of Ben Wheeler is something that applies to every one of us, regardless of place and time. Ben Wheeler illustrates the process of pride and empathy taking root and driving community building, without which there is very little left to a city.

One of the artists in residence in Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

The words of Mayor Joe Riley of Charleston, South Carolina, eloquently explain this concept, “In a great city, every citizen’s heart sings.”

Brooks never heard Mayor Riley speak, but he shared the same attachment to the place that he called home, and the same drive to make it better for everyone that lived there.  He worked tirelessly, and at times for a goal he himself didn’t fully understand.  It would actually be easier to write about what Brooks didn’t do to this city because he did so much.  

Shirts for sale in Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

From Trash to Treasure: A Town Reimagined

He got rid of the trash in Ben Wheeler.  He moved buildings and created a downtown.  He lured artists there by offering them free rent.  He yearned for a place to share a glass of wine with neighbors in the evening, so he put in a restaurant. And then the music came.

Students enjoying yoga at the community center. Photo by Peggy Ryan

And a park, and finally, a library doubling as a community center that holds yoga and karate classes.  And residents of Ben Wheeler that saw each other but once a year were now seeing each other weekly at the Pickin’ Porch, an open mic in a restored open space in the center of town.

Fun at the Fish Fry. Photo by Peggy Ryan

A Community Finds Its Heart

The people in and around Ben Wheeler now have a place to go to celebrate birthdays.  There are books to borrow for their children.  There’s a Christmas parade. These are basic elements of a community that many of us take for granted, but there are many communities, still, who don’t have these basics. And it is these very simple qualities of a place that, altogether, alter our quality of life.

A busy Saturday night in the center of Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

Word got around about Ben Wheeler.  Suddenly this place that people used to blink and miss when they drove through on their way somewhere else, became so many much to so many different people: a tourist destination for art, a small retirement community, and a weekend hotspot for music lovers.

After the concert is over on a weekend in Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

Remembering Brooks Gremmels

Brooks died Sunday, January 26, 2014, after a bravely-fought battle with pancreatic cancer.   He was 70.  In the weeks following his death, the community gathered and planted 1,000 daffodil and buttercup bulbs in the center of town in his memory, in front of that restaurant where he cherished his evenings of sharing a glass of wine with neighbors, and sometimes even dancing on a table or two later when the music got really good.

A portrait of Brooks Gremmels. Photo by Peggy Ryan

Brooks was my real-life Reverend Goodwin and Paul Sachs. He was my hope and faith that there are still people in this world with the heart, the intelligence, the imagination, the guts, the talent, and the devotion to make the change that should be made.

But I took his death hard.  I procrastinated writing this blog post, as it made his death more real.  I have a lingering question weighing heavily on my mind: When someone like Brooks — so brimming with passion — dies, where does it all go?  Does it just disappear? I don’t want to believe that.

Members of the great team that helped make Ben Wheeler what it is. Photo by Peggy Ryan.

Carrying the Torch Forward

I think the secret to his passion is its contagiousness, which most definitively has spread to the some of the closest people in Brooks’ life including his family Reese, Cary and Richard, his team Steve, Donley, Jenni, and the superb community of Ben Wheeler, who treated me like family when I was there for two weeks in 2013.

Brooks Gremmels with a friend at the Fish Fry. Photo by Peggy Ryan

And when I think a bit harder about my life at home, right under my nose I find these passionate people in my own community, my personal heroes, like my friend Cheryl, who fights tirelessly for our local library.  And my dad, whose work is never done, most notably helping found a major food bank.

A quiet evening in the center of Ben Wheeler. Photo by Peggy Ryan

A Call to Remember the People Behind Places

It is hard saying goodbye to magnificent people like Brooks. But I believe in the persistence of their devotion. I know Ben Wheeler will remain a beautiful community. And life will go on. And after reading this article, I just have one request for you: the next time you go to a community event with your family, or you admire a historical building in your downtown, you see a picture of the Eiffel Tower, or you visit an exhibition at MoMA, please, take a moment to think about the people that are behind them.

---

• If you would like to read more about Ben Wheeler’s story, my entry about my summer experience can be found here.
• Another article written about Brooks and Ben Wheeler.