The sad story of how to appear at your own funeral

Last month, Theodore “Pete” Peterson sat at a New Jersey bar with a vodka tonic in hand and an oxygen tank at his side. There was a buffet lunch, a 50/50 raffle and he was surrounded by friends and family, but this was no ordinary party, this was Pete’s wake.

The 67 year-old bricklayer was also an avid hunter, fisherman, drinker and smoker. He had racked up 11 DUI’s over the course of his life, had one serious car accident and had been through one divorce, but earlier this summer he received the worst news of all: he had lung cancer as well as a tumor behind his esophagus and had just a few months to live. Pete wanted a chance to say goodbye to friends and family while still in relatively good health, so he decided to host his own wake. “Why wait until I’m dead to have one?” said Pete, to a local reporter.

Pete was an ordinary working man, though his story is uncommon; very few people have attended their own funerals. In fact, as history tells us, there is only one other, Felix “Bush” Breazeale, of Roane, Tennessee. Bush’s story was recently turned into a Hollywood movie called Get Low, starring Bill Murray and Robert Duvall, a tender and whimsical tale about a hermit who became a celebrity overnight after hosting his own funeral. While Robert Duvall reportedly puts on a good show, the true story of Bush can’t be beat.

He was born in 1864 in the small town of Roane, deep in the hills of eastern Tennessee. Bush’s grandfather was a prominent local lawyer and his father was also a well-respected attorney. A handful of Bush’s cousins had illustrious law careers of their own, one married a Vanderbilt. Bush lived with his parents, farming the same land he had grown up on. He never did marry, saying, “the one I wanted, I couldn’t get, and the ones I could get I didn’t want.” In his later years, he became somewhat of a curmudgeon.

Then in 1938, out of the blue, a local newspaper leaked the story that Bush planned to host his own funeral. The news spread like wildfire, the story was reported by the Associated Press and photos of Bush appeared in Life Magazine. His funeral occurred on June 26th and attracted the largest crowd to ever assemble in Roane, about 8,000 -12,000 people. Cars from more than a dozen states piled in, backing up the highway for two miles. The service was held at the Cave Creek Baptist Churches (two Baptist churches had actually been built side by side). An enterprising local named John Cook charged 25 cents a car for folks to park in his field and reportedly made $300. Soft drinks vendors also made a killing and hot dogs were sold as well.

The funeral procession was late because of the traffic but alas a hearse carrying a hand-made walnut coffin arrived, Bush was seated in the front seat. He wore a brand new suit that had been donated by a local charity, with a shirt and tie, unusual attire for the hermit. The crowds were so eager to get a look at him that police had difficulty clearing a lane for the pallbearers, who carried the coffin to its place in front of a large tent set up in the church yard. At least ten people feinted from the heat and excitement.

A band from Chattanooga called the Friendly Eight Octette performed and a reverend from Illinois handpicked by Bush delivered the sermon. “This service is not a bad idea,” the man preached. “Much good should come from a service divested of the usual tears and heartaches. It gives us an opportunity to take thought of tomorrow and anticipate the great adventure called death.”

A few days later, Bush was asked to throw out the first pitch at a local baseball game. Shortly thereafter, he was invited to New York City for a radio interview with Robert Ripley of Ripley’s Believe it or Not! Bush died five years later. A small quiet funeral was held in Roane and he was laid to rest on a hill above the two Baptist church houses.