Clyde Crabtree Sr. | A Life Remembered

BIG POOL — Clyde W. Crabtree Sr. was a quiet, soft-spoken man whose humble nature belied an interesting career.

His work took him far from his modest beginnings in Western Maryland, even though he never lived more than 150 miles from where he began.

Clyde was born and raised in an era where technical training was on the job — carpentry in his case.

It was through that training that Clyde got a job with the Department of the Army and worked at Arlington (Va.) National Cemetery.

A self-described jack-of-all-trades, Clyde did carpentry and maintenance work, and closed off roads for funeral processions.

No matter when it snowed, Clyde was expected to help keep the cemetery roads plowed, and clear a path at the Tomb of the Unknowns and the eternal flame at President John F. Kennedy's grave.

He helped build the space shuttle Challenger memorial gazebo, and was involved with the burial of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

Clyde and his co-workers removed the granite stones around President Kennedy's grave one by one, marking them so each stone could be replaced exactly as they were removed.

They worked through the night after her burial so that when the cemetery opened in the morning, everything was in place.

With the Pentagon across the street from the cemetery, Clyde recalled the terrorist attacks on Sept. 11, 2001.

He was at work and saw the airplane, noting the darkness from the plane's shadow as it flew so close to the ground.

"He was surprised it didn't hit the street lights, it was so low. The ground shook first, then there was a bang," said oldest son Clyde W. "Pete" Crabtree Jr. of Big Pool.

Wife Lois Crabtree said she was at work, and became hysterical when her co-workers talked about a plane hitting the Pentagon.

The family couldn't get ahold of Clyde on his cellphone, and with the cemetery on lockdown, it was late when Clyde returned home, much to the family's relief.

Clyde took pictures of the Pentagon from the cemetery, showing the destruction to the building. He found the whole experience traumatic, Lois said.

He received certificates and plaques in honor of his civilian service in those instances.

Early years

Clyde was the second youngest child of Gilbert and Mary Crabtree. He was born at home in Cumberland, Md., and the close-knit family had four brothers and one sister besides Clyde.

His father worked at a tin mill, and one day was so overcome by heat from the furnace that they thought he was going to die. That prompted a job change for Gilbert, who became a sharecropper at an orchard, and a move for the family.

Clyde spent most of his younger years on Warrior Mountain, which was five or six miles from Oldtown, Md., and the children took turns picking peaches, tomatoes and apples.

The children walked to school, and, as Clyde told the story, both he and his younger brother flunked first grade because they didn't have shoes and the snow was so deep when they walked down the mountain.

Despite that setback, Clyde graduated from Oldtown High School in 1954. He moved off the mountain to live with his sister in Pasadena in Anne Arundel County, Md.

The summer before her seventh-grade year, Lois Ankeney's family moved when her father, a signal maintainer with the Western Maryland Railroad, was transferred from Clear Spring to Oldtown.

She and her sisters were in the front yard of their rental house when Clyde and his brothers whistled as they walked past on their way to play ball.

Courting Lois

Clyde was three grades ahead of Lois, and they made a point of passing in the hallway between classes so they could hand off folded notes to each other.

Once Clyde got his driver's license and bought a car, they went to the drive-in every Saturday night, always with another couple and often with stowaways in the trunk.

Lois said if she was lucky, they went to the North Branch Fire Hall for a square dance, even though Clyde wouldn't dance. She got to dance only if someone else asked her.

After Lois graduated in 1957, she worked and lived in Takoma Park, Md., while Clyde was in Pasadena. He would drive home on weekends, and she would take the train to Oldtown.

They got married on a hot late June day in 1959 in a church without air conditioning. To surprise Lois, Clyde put a deposit on an apartment in Glen Burnie, Md., but the landlord rented it out to someone else and wouldn't return the deposit.

Instead, the newlyweds ended up at the home of Clyde's sister in Pasadena with her four sons and three of Clyde's brothers, who were all jokesters and famous for their one-liners.

It wasn't long until Clyde and Lois found an apartment in Ferndale, near what is now Thurgood Marshall Baltimore-Washington International Airport.

Pride in work

After high school, Clyde learned carpentry working for a company that assembled prefabricated homes, which required some overnight trips with jobs as far north as New Hampshire.

At one point in their marriage, Clyde and Lois started their own company, and she handled the bookkeeping.

They worked together for two years, and closed the company when Lois was pregnant with their second child, daughter Kathy.

Clyde worked for several other construction companies, always working full time and doing jobs on the side.

He helped build the Wheaton Library, as well as building the cement forms for high-rise buildings in the Washington, D.C., area.

Lois' brother-in-law worked at the Pentagon, and it took some persuading to get Clyde to fill out the paperwork for a government job.

He was hired as a temporary employee, and helped build shipping crates for The Smithsonian Institution's displays.

A full-time job opened up at Cameron Station, Va. with the Department of the Army, then Arlington National Cemetery, where Clyde spent the bulk of his 28 years as a government employee.

Home is where the family is

Even with his background in construction, the Crabtrees lived in rental apartments in Takoma Park and Derwood, Md., for years, with their two sons and daughter attending school in Takoma Park.

When Clyde wasn't working, weekends were reserved for family, either in Oldtown, Pasadena or with his own family of five. In time, they welcomed four grandchildren.

Clyde and Lois were thrilled when they bought their first home in Silver Spring, Md., in 1993 or 1994, but it was the purchase of their Big Pool home in 2005 after Clyde retired that brought the most satisfaction.

He had always wanted to return to the mountain, and Big Pool was the compromise. It was about halfway between Silver Spring and Oldtown, as well as close to Lois' roots in Clear Spring.

Clyde delighted in mowing the 5-acre property on his John Deere riding tractor, and he proudly showcased his love for John Deere on his keychain and with other memorabilia. For his birthday in 2016, the family decorated a cake to look like a John Deere tractor.

"He thought he had a Cadillac," and even the interior of the garage was painted in the John Deere color scheme, Pete said.

Clyde spent his free time helping family members with projects, puttering around the property and feeding the animals. He put salt licks and 5-gallon buckets of water around the property for the deer, and put out corn and bird feeders.

His daily routine included watching the deer in his favorite chair and his twice daily trips to AC&T for coffee. In his younger years, Clyde loved playing softball, throwing horseshoes and hunting.

"He tinkered. He was always working on something and trying to make things work," said daughter Kathy Manley of Frederick, Md.

Even when Clyde had trouble navigating the steps in their home and Lois suggested they move, he told her she could go, but that he and their beloved Lhaso Apso, Daisy, were staying put.

"He wasn't budging. He was still a country boy," Lois said.

'Once in a blue moon'

In 2009, Clyde was diagnosed with lung cancer.

Lois said the house feels empty now, and she misses having her "sweet man" around, one who used to be able to fix just about anything during their 58-year marriage.

"He grew up with nothing and made something of himself. ... I'm at a loss without him," Lois said.

"Someone like him comes around once in a blue moon," Kathy wrote of her father.