Vernon "Archie" Adams - B.S.A.  

Ann Arbor News
Scout leader leaves his footprint
Wednesday, July 11, 2001

The obituary was short and to the point, telling how
Vernon "Archie" Adams had died peacefully in his
Ann Arbor home this spring at age 85.

He had never married and was preceded in death by his
two brothers and his sister. He had worked for a
newspaper distribution company and the local postal
service, and served as a medic in World War II,
earning two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star. For
years, he had been active in Ann Arbor's Northside
Presbyterian Church.

Amid these details, one number stood out, telling
volumes about a small but ebullient man who rarely
talked about himself and who made no headlines, but
spent his adult life teaching and mentoring children.

For 60 years Adams served area Boy Scout
organizations, as a Scoutmaster, an assistant Scout
leader and a volunteer at many activities.

During that time, friends said, he attended more than
300 campouts, and numerous jamborees and
national events while imprinting the values of
integrity and self-sufficiency on thousands of Ann
Arbor boys.

Coleman Jewett, an Ann Arbor native and a retired
administrator from its public schools, fondly
remembers his boyhood years, when Adams led a Scout
troop in the old Dunbar Community Center,
across from where the Kerrytown Concert House sits on
Fourth Avenue, near Beakes Street.

It was primarily an African-American troop, but drew a
variety of boys from all over Ann Arbor's north
central area during the 1940s.

Jewett remembers how the "spunky," elfin Adams taught
them the importance of helping older people,
and of how the Scouts embraced a motto of never taking
money for such efforts. But cookies and cakes -
those were OK, Jewett said.

"He was just a delightful man," said Jewett, noting
that Adams always moved briskly as he spoke.

"Plant this tree; plant that tree," Jewett recalled
him as saying. "He was always offering encouragement."


Time after time, Archie would tell Jewett and other
anxious Scouts that, "You can do that ...

"Paint, woodwork ... he couldn't do it, but he was a
great motivator," Jewett says now, laughing. "That
(positive outlook) goes a long way."

The Dunbar Center eventually faded as a gathering
spot, and Adams later became Scoutmaster of Troop
1, at Tappan Junior High School. He helped lead that
group along with Frank Weber who, like Adams,
was single and found fulfillment and friendship in
Scouting.

"He was like me," Weber said of Adams. "He just liked
Scouting. It gave us something - we enjoyed
camping and hiking."

Harold Sindlinger, another Ann Arbor native, has known
Adams for more than 50 years. He remembers
the many winter campouts for his son and other Scouts,
and how on many chilly nights Adams would
sing, "I'm NEVER gonna sleep in a tent again."

Sindlinger and Adams also became fixtures at spots
such as the old Westgate Kroger, off West Stadium
Boulevard, as they rang the bell for the Salvation
Army each holiday season for 40 years.

"People would see these two old men out there,
freezing," Sindlinger said. "We would always get a lot
of money."

Adams remained active in Scouting after stepping down
as a troop leader. He kept attending regional
events, where he would hear from grown-up Scouts who
now had kids and even grandkids in Scouting.
He also volunteered in the area Scouting office.

Joyce Leslie, a retired, longtime office manager of
the Great Sauk Trail Council office on Huron
Parkway, remembers how Adams would label and collate
newsletters and stuff envelopes with other older
men. He would also help Scouts park cars for Michigan
football games over the years. "He was
dependable and caring - he really cared for those
kids," Leslie said. "Sometimes you get volunteers in
it for themselves, but this was an important thing for
him."

Fred Adams, a nephew, is Adams' only surviving
relative in the area. Fred said that while you have to
love your relatives, he truly liked and admired his
diminutive and kind uncle.

"He was 5-foot-2 and 105 pounds on a good day," Adams
said. "He was a small man with mighty big stature.

"He never had a bad word to say about anybody. Say
something bad, and he would just ignore it. He had
a gift for making people feel special."

The number 60 tells the story.

Geoff Larcom can be reached at
glarcom @ annarbornews.com

Submitted 15 July 01