Maris Boatman, 75, of Conestoga R2, was found dead at his home by neighbors Wednesday evening. An autopsy will be performed to determine cause of death. He was formerly employed by John L. Hoetzel, paper hanger and interior painter, Lancaster. Boatman was a member of Bible Evangelical Church, Lancaster, and was a veteran of World War I, serving in the U.S. Navy. Born in Martic Twp., he was a son of the late Harry C. and Abbie J. Bleecher Boatman. He is survived by four sisters, Mrs. Hanna Beach, Neffsville Brethren Home; Mrs. Matilda Gingher, St. Petersburg, Fla., Mrs. Ruth L. Andre, Lancaster, and Virginia, wife of Paul Deitzel, Harrisburg. (Intelligencer Journal - May 19, 1972)
UPDATED BY Anonymous (50463965)
I suspect few people remember Mr. Boatman. As a child he was a neighbor and a good friend. This is a tribute to him.
"Boaty" as he preferred to be called, lived in a small efficiency apartment near us. I can't remember when I first met him, and he passed away when I was about nine. Still, I remember him well. Those memories have gained insight as I close in on being a senior citizen myself.
Boaty was retired and, looking back, quite poor. Other than a few basic pieces of furniture given to him, all he had was furniture he made himself. His apartment had a heating contraption he made himself out of coffee cans. As kids, we didn't notice. He had a bench in front of his apartment. When we came home from school, or when he saw us outside over the summer, he would call to us and we would go for a visit. He was always dressed the same - blue overalls and a white tee shirt. He was a great story teller, and a teller of tall tales (but honest, and would always admit that it was just a story if you asked). One time, during some of the manned moon missions, he explained that the moon was only a half moon because the astronauts used a large dump truck to bring back samples of rocks...so many that they brought back half the moon. He told stories of his supposed life with the Indians, riding through the Pennsylvania forest on the back of a deer. Also, he always had a ready supply of candy and would give the kids more than they could ever consume.
Boaty supposedly had family, but no one ever came to visit him. Only the neighborhood kids and my parents visited with him. Once, when we left to visit relatives for several weeks, he cried. Another time we gave him a small styrofoam Christmas tree, and that brought tears too.
He drove a very old car which he just called "the machine." The cars were metal clad at that time and subject to rust. Where his car had rust, he would cover damage with neatly tacked on and form-fitting sheet metal. At times it would not start so he would ask the kids to help him push it until it would drift down a hill and he could jump in and start it on compression. His trips were limited...local store, church, and trips to a local farm where he would buy corn for his home-made squirrel and bird feeders. He taught the neighborhood kids to make bird houses out of wood from old orange crates. He planted berry bushes and told the kids that they belonged to them, and that they could help themselves to the berries any time, and we did. He didn't have much, but what he did have was his to give, and he gave freely.
One day I went up to visit him. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer. Looking in his window, I saw he was asleep in bed. In fact, he had died in his sleep of a heart attack I found out all too soon.
After his death, the landlord, who never treated Boaty with much respect, commented that in Boaty's dresser, the drawers had one layer of clothes in each, under which the drawers were filled only with boxes of candy for neighborhood kids.
Marris Boatman passed away nearly four and a half decades ago at the time of this writing, but his kindness is still remembered.
Contributor: Patrick McSherry (46599794) • [email protected]
UPDATED BY Anonymous (50463965)
I suspect few people remember Mr. Boatman. As a child he was a neighbor and a good friend. This is a tribute to him.
"Boaty" as he preferred to be called, lived in a small efficiency apartment near us. I can't remember when I first met him, and he passed away when I was about nine. Still, I remember him well. Those memories have gained insight as I close in on being a senior citizen myself.
Boaty was retired and, looking back, quite poor. Other than a few basic pieces of furniture given to him, all he had was furniture he made himself. His apartment had a heating contraption he made himself out of coffee cans. As kids, we didn't notice. He had a bench in front of his apartment. When we came home from school, or when he saw us outside over the summer, he would call to us and we would go for a visit. He was always dressed the same - blue overalls and a white tee shirt. He was a great story teller, and a teller of tall tales (but honest, and would always admit that it was just a story if you asked). One time, during some of the manned moon missions, he explained that the moon was only a half moon because the astronauts used a large dump truck to bring back samples of rocks...so many that they brought back half the moon. He told stories of his supposed life with the Indians, riding through the Pennsylvania forest on the back of a deer. Also, he always had a ready supply of candy and would give the kids more than they could ever consume.
Boaty supposedly had family, but no one ever came to visit him. Only the neighborhood kids and my parents visited with him. Once, when we left to visit relatives for several weeks, he cried. Another time we gave him a small styrofoam Christmas tree, and that brought tears too.
He drove a very old car which he just called "the machine." The cars were metal clad at that time and subject to rust. Where his car had rust, he would cover damage with neatly tacked on and form-fitting sheet metal. At times it would not start so he would ask the kids to help him push it until it would drift down a hill and he could jump in and start it on compression. His trips were limited...local store, church, and trips to a local farm where he would buy corn for his home-made squirrel and bird feeders. He taught the neighborhood kids to make bird houses out of wood from old orange crates. He planted berry bushes and told the kids that they belonged to them, and that they could help themselves to the berries any time, and we did. He didn't have much, but what he did have was his to give, and he gave freely.
One day I went up to visit him. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer. Looking in his window, I saw he was asleep in bed. In fact, he had died in his sleep of a heart attack I found out all too soon.
After his death, the landlord, who never treated Boaty with much respect, commented that in Boaty's dresser, the drawers had one layer of clothes in each, under which the drawers were filled only with boxes of candy for neighborhood kids.
Marris Boatman passed away nearly four and a half decades ago at the time of this writing, but his kindness is still remembered.
Contributor: Patrick McSherry (46599794) • [email protected]
Maris Boatman, 75, of Conestoga R2, was found dead at his home by neighbors Wednesday evening. An autopsy will be performed to determine cause of death. He was formerly employed by John L. Hoetzel, paper hanger and interior painter, Lancaster. Boatman was a member of Bible Evangelical Church, Lancaster, and was a veteran of World War I, serving in the U.S. Navy. Born in Martic Twp., he was a son of the late Harry C. and Abbie J. Bleecher Boatman. He is survived by four sisters, Mrs. Hanna Beach, Neffsville Brethren Home; Mrs. Matilda Gingher, St. Petersburg, Fla., Mrs. Ruth L. Andre, Lancaster, and Virginia, wife of Paul Deitzel, Harrisburg. (Intelligencer Journal - May 19, 1972)
UPDATED BY Anonymous (50463965)
I suspect few people remember Mr. Boatman. As a child he was a neighbor and a good friend. This is a tribute to him.
"Boaty" as he preferred to be called, lived in a small efficiency apartment near us. I can't remember when I first met him, and he passed away when I was about nine. Still, I remember him well. Those memories have gained insight as I close in on being a senior citizen myself.
Boaty was retired and, looking back, quite poor. Other than a few basic pieces of furniture given to him, all he had was furniture he made himself. His apartment had a heating contraption he made himself out of coffee cans. As kids, we didn't notice. He had a bench in front of his apartment. When we came home from school, or when he saw us outside over the summer, he would call to us and we would go for a visit. He was always dressed the same - blue overalls and a white tee shirt. He was a great story teller, and a teller of tall tales (but honest, and would always admit that it was just a story if you asked). One time, during some of the manned moon missions, he explained that the moon was only a half moon because the astronauts used a large dump truck to bring back samples of rocks...so many that they brought back half the moon. He told stories of his supposed life with the Indians, riding through the Pennsylvania forest on the back of a deer. Also, he always had a ready supply of candy and would give the kids more than they could ever consume.
Boaty supposedly had family, but no one ever came to visit him. Only the neighborhood kids and my parents visited with him. Once, when we left to visit relatives for several weeks, he cried. Another time we gave him a small styrofoam Christmas tree, and that brought tears too.
He drove a very old car which he just called "the machine." The cars were metal clad at that time and subject to rust. Where his car had rust, he would cover damage with neatly tacked on and form-fitting sheet metal. At times it would not start so he would ask the kids to help him push it until it would drift down a hill and he could jump in and start it on compression. His trips were limited...local store, church, and trips to a local farm where he would buy corn for his home-made squirrel and bird feeders. He taught the neighborhood kids to make bird houses out of wood from old orange crates. He planted berry bushes and told the kids that they belonged to them, and that they could help themselves to the berries any time, and we did. He didn't have much, but what he did have was his to give, and he gave freely.
One day I went up to visit him. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer. Looking in his window, I saw he was asleep in bed. In fact, he had died in his sleep of a heart attack I found out all too soon.
After his death, the landlord, who never treated Boaty with much respect, commented that in Boaty's dresser, the drawers had one layer of clothes in each, under which the drawers were filled only with boxes of candy for neighborhood kids.
Marris Boatman passed away nearly four and a half decades ago at the time of this writing, but his kindness is still remembered.
Contributor: Patrick McSherry (46599794) • [email protected]
UPDATED BY Anonymous (50463965)
I suspect few people remember Mr. Boatman. As a child he was a neighbor and a good friend. This is a tribute to him.
"Boaty" as he preferred to be called, lived in a small efficiency apartment near us. I can't remember when I first met him, and he passed away when I was about nine. Still, I remember him well. Those memories have gained insight as I close in on being a senior citizen myself.
Boaty was retired and, looking back, quite poor. Other than a few basic pieces of furniture given to him, all he had was furniture he made himself. His apartment had a heating contraption he made himself out of coffee cans. As kids, we didn't notice. He had a bench in front of his apartment. When we came home from school, or when he saw us outside over the summer, he would call to us and we would go for a visit. He was always dressed the same - blue overalls and a white tee shirt. He was a great story teller, and a teller of tall tales (but honest, and would always admit that it was just a story if you asked). One time, during some of the manned moon missions, he explained that the moon was only a half moon because the astronauts used a large dump truck to bring back samples of rocks...so many that they brought back half the moon. He told stories of his supposed life with the Indians, riding through the Pennsylvania forest on the back of a deer. Also, he always had a ready supply of candy and would give the kids more than they could ever consume.
Boaty supposedly had family, but no one ever came to visit him. Only the neighborhood kids and my parents visited with him. Once, when we left to visit relatives for several weeks, he cried. Another time we gave him a small styrofoam Christmas tree, and that brought tears too.
He drove a very old car which he just called "the machine." The cars were metal clad at that time and subject to rust. Where his car had rust, he would cover damage with neatly tacked on and form-fitting sheet metal. At times it would not start so he would ask the kids to help him push it until it would drift down a hill and he could jump in and start it on compression. His trips were limited...local store, church, and trips to a local farm where he would buy corn for his home-made squirrel and bird feeders. He taught the neighborhood kids to make bird houses out of wood from old orange crates. He planted berry bushes and told the kids that they belonged to them, and that they could help themselves to the berries any time, and we did. He didn't have much, but what he did have was his to give, and he gave freely.
One day I went up to visit him. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer. Looking in his window, I saw he was asleep in bed. In fact, he had died in his sleep of a heart attack I found out all too soon.
After his death, the landlord, who never treated Boaty with much respect, commented that in Boaty's dresser, the drawers had one layer of clothes in each, under which the drawers were filled only with boxes of candy for neighborhood kids.
Marris Boatman passed away nearly four and a half decades ago at the time of this writing, but his kindness is still remembered.
Contributor: Patrick McSherry (46599794) • [email protected]
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