Family, friends speak fondly of veteran Broxson

Although he successfully flew 56 combat missions in World War II, went undefeated in 26 fights as a welterweight boxer and was an accomplished artist, musician, hunter and fisherman, Mel "Bud" Broxson very nearly blew it the first time he met his future mother- in-law.

It was 1943 and Broxson, stationed in England, took advantage of a short break in the war to meet his English girlfriend's parents.

"The first thing he told them was `Yeah, I'm married, and I've got six kids,'" recalled Margaret Broxson with a laugh. "Mother turned to me later and said, `Don't you ever bring that man in this house again!'"

"He soon became her favorite son-in-law."

Broxson, 84, a longtime resident of the West Central neighborhood, died June 8 of congestive heart failure. He was described as quiet, handsome and fiercely intelligent. And certainly not above doing the unexpected for a few laughs.

Shortly after marrying in September 1944, Broxson returned to Walla Walla, where he had grown up with a passion for the outdoors. Two months later, Margaret sailed over on the Queen Mary as one of the first English war brides in the Pacific Northwest. At the time, she was pregnant with Rod, the first of three children.

According to his family, Broxson was a lot like John Wayne's character in his favorite movie, "The Quiet Man."

"When you say the words `good man,' I can't think of anyone else," said daughter Janice Broxson, who, in tears, declared her father as the ultimate standard for a husband. "He's a hard act to follow. He's one in a million."

"The word `good' just seems so small," said Margaret, who still retains her gentle British accent.

He was admired by friends as well as family.

"It's easy to be loved by family, but it's hard to be respected outside of family," said grandson Mike Cagle. "Just listening to all of these people (at Broxson's memorial service) share about him was overwhelming, awe-inspiring."

A strong-principled man, Broxson never smoked or drank. When his military buddies caroused at the local bars, it was Broxson who lit up the evening with lively piano playing, a skill he picked up by ear.

"I just found out yesterday that he played the piano," said Cagle, a professional musician from Las Vegas who was thrilled to discover another link with the grandfather he admired. "I was always envious because he was a phenomenal artist."

Family members called him "a walking Discovery Channel," as he read every nonfiction book he could get his hands on, said his younger sister, Francis Burnett.

And then there was the infamous sense of humor.

Broxson's second son, David, remembers camping with his father and Uncle Bill at age 8 when Broxson, unbeknownst to his fellow campers, spread Cocoa Puffs cereal in the snow around the camp.

"The next morning we were all geared up to go hunting, and dad says, `Oh, rabbit poop!' and starts eating this stuff," recalled David with a grin.

Margaret remembers her husband most for his gentle countenance, even during the war.

"The young fellows then never knew when they would die, living for today because they might die tomorrow. But Mel was so quiet and gentle, not boisterous. I just loved him."

He hid many terrible things he'd seen in war, things of which he was not proud, she said. It was only recently that Broxson could bring himself to talk about the war.

"He always felt terribly guilty that he had killed someone," Margaret said. "He said, `Am I ever going to be forgiven?' That really bothered him."

Although he hated war, Broxson served on six more missions than the requisite 50 as a top turret gunner on a B-17 bomber. He was shot down twice and was awarded the Purple Heart.

When he returned home, he worked as a manager of a hardware store, standing long hours on legs supported by braces because of his war injuries. He moved his family to Spokane, where they've lived for 42 years.

In recent years, Broxson enjoyed sitting with his wife in a room with a view of the Spokane River and adorned with tokens of his interests - farming, horses, planes and fish.

And on a warm June afternoon, Margaret placed two small tractor toys to rest with her husband of 58 years.

"I would have put a little B-17 in there if I could find one," she said softly.

Copyright 2002 Cowles Publishing Company
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.