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IN-HOUSE NEWS
Longtime Columbia developer dies
Mr. LeMone died Monday in his home, surrounded by family. He was 65. Friends cited his legendary work ethic and support as what Columbia will remember him by, but those close to Mr. LeMone said it was his character that truly set him apart. “Bob was a mentor to many,” said John States, Mr. LeMone’s colleague and friend at Little Dixie Construction Company. “He talked in a way where people would listen and learn.” States first met Mr. LeMone as a student in Columbia and had worked with him ever since. Mr. LeMone’s career in construction is what led him to become a major developer in Columbia. The construction company that he worked for, and later co-owned, built many projects, including MBS Textbook Exchange, Home Depot, Columbia Regional Airport, Perry Chevrolet and the recent reconstruction of the Heidelberg restaurant. The successful contracting business never dampened Mr. LeMone’s humble persona, his family said. His daughter, Sara Emily LeMone, recounted Mr. LeMone’s trademark graciousness. Sara Emily LeMone said her father always stressed that the important things in life aren’t material but rather the people one surrounds him or herself with. Mac LeMone said his father’s large stance was pretty intimidating to many of his friends, but once in conversation, they would agree that Mr. LeMone was the most caring person one could ever meet. Born Oct. 9, 1942, in Columbia, to David V. and Margaret Meyer LeMone, Mr. LeMone attended Columbia Public Schools and later played football at MU. This laid the foundation for his support for MU athletics. Mr. LeMone’s other passions included hunting and fishing, according to his family. Mr. LeMone was always ready to lend a helping hand to those in need. States said as recently as last week, Mr. LeMone was planning to donate three acres of land in the Concord South Industrial Park to build a police training facility for the Columbia Police Department. “Right out of the blue, Bob donated all the brick for the brand new project,” States said. “Just to make it look as nice as possible.” Mr. LeMone is survived by his wife, Sara; a son, Mac LeMone of Columbia; three daughters, Sara Emily LeMone, Tracy Thompson and Tricia Rackers, all of Columbia; one sister, Peggy LeMone-Gilman of Boulder, Colo.; one brother, Charlie LeMone of Roanoke, Va.; three grandchildren; and several nieces and nephews. Article from the Columbia Tribune. Commentary. LeMone was larger than life By DOUG PUGH When I left off last Sunday, I was smack dab in the middle of reviewing my top 10 favorite childhood restaurants. For those of you hoping to find the continuation of that column, I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait a couple more weeks. Something dreadfully more important has come up, and I’m not much in the mood for trifling humor right now. My good friend Bob LeMone died earlier this week. When the news hit Monday morning, it seemed all of Boone County stopped for a moment and took a huge collective gasp. Then we all paused and breathed out a tiny sigh of relief. The news of Bob’s passing didn’t come blaring straight at us in a loud, furious roar. In other words, we were struck by his death in the complete opposite manner as we were struck by his life. Everyone had been keeping close track of his fight since he was diagnosed with cancer a couple of months ago. The news had pounded everyone straight in the midsection, just like one of LeMone’s patented roundhouses from his Golden Gloves boxing days almost 40 years ago. Bob didn’t lose the fight to cancer. Bob LeMone never lost a fight in his life. He simply made the decision, like all great fighters should, that his fighting days were finally over. He walked away with all the dignity of an undefeated champion. Bob LeMone was, quite probably, my father’s closest friend on the planet. I think the first time I ever met Bob was during a cocktail party my parents threw when I was in high school. My folks had hired me to wash dishes and fetch appetizers for the guests. I’d heard legends about a larger-than-life character named LeMone throughout my childhood but had never actually seen him in person until he strode through the door about midway through the party. The whole aura of the crowd changed instantly. It was as if Babe Ruth, John Wayne and George Patton had all simultaneously walked into the room together. He might as well have been 10 feet tall as he marched in through the parting crowd. "Somebody get me a beer," I recall him muttering out loud to no one in particular. Within a matter of seconds, he’d been handed 15 cans. I remained intimidated by Bob for a number of years, certain that if even one-tenth of the dazzling rural legends I’d heard about him were true, he’d certainly have little use for a skinny college kid much more inclined to raise tropical fish than wrestle with live bears at the county fair. But as the years went by, and as I had the luxury of spending more and more time at the main tables of local beer halls, and as I was allowed more frequent peeks behind the gigantic facade of his persona, I grew to know something important about Bob LeMone. I learned that even as every one of his legends was completely true, they only made up a tiny part of the man’s whole story. It turns out he wasn’t only a folk legend and a cult figure, but a devoted family man, an unmitigated business genius and a tender-hearted friend to more different and diverse people than many of us will possibly even meet in a lifetime. Those of us who congregate down at Shiloh knew Bob as "Pierre," but beyond the nickname there was nothing French about the man. He never backed down from a single thing, and he was a fierce ally. It was impossible for Pierre to ever walk through the bar without someone asking him for something: a couple of football tickets, a donation for an upcoming charity auction, a job for their son. And by the rare off chance that Pierre couldn’t grant the wish right then and there, he would promise to work on it. And almost always he made our wishes come true. A bunch of us have been eagerly waiting for the new Shiloh to open for almost three moths. LeMone’s construction company did the remodeling. I don’t think it was any coincidence that Bob died the day Shiloh finally reopened. I think he knew the job was done and all of his friends would be down there talking about him later that night. Just like always. Homeboy, aka Columbia attorney Doug Pugh, is the father of two daughters. Beyond that, it gets weird. He’s a Kewpie married to a Bruin, a graduate of both MU’s journalism and law schools and is working to become domesticated for the sake of his wife and the girls. AWARDS
Little Dixie Constrution, LLC, General Contractor,
Construction Management, Design-Build |
