Prof. Coston Franklin Whitaker, "the peerless weather prognosticator" whose forecasts amazed even Weather Bureau meteorologists, died at 5:25 yesterday afternoon at the home of a son at 4129 Getwell. He was 77. The professor, who wasn't a professor at all, was a motorman on Memphis Street Railway's old Crosstown streetcar line until he "resigned" in 1938. He lost his job because he and MSR officials couldn't get together on how much Mr. Whitaker should capitalize on his weather predicting prowess. MSR officials told him not to "borrow money, solicit gifts or otherwise seek remuneration as a result of his reputation as a weather prognosticator." The professor was fired in 1938, several months after the warning, because, he said he was told, he had left the end of his line a minute too early, that he hadn't called out transfer points, and that he had talked to his passengers. "I told the superintendent that if he would excuse the expression, I would say it was a damn lie," Mr. Whitaker said. The professor was slow to anger though and he described himself as a man who seldom swore and was a regular Bible reader. He was a Baptist. Although know to thousands of Mid-Southerners as "the streetcar motorman deluxe" (a self-proclaimed title), his greatest reputation was made for his weather predicting. His last prediction was made to his family two weeks ago, when he warned them to expect "another cold snap before it gets warm for good." Early this year he had predicted a "wet spring and a dry summer." Not an uncommonly modest man, Prof. Whitaker disclaimed any secret formula for predicting weather and scoffed at the Weather Bureau's scientific instruments. "How can steel and glass predict anything," he scoffed. "Those shiny instruments can measure air current and moisture, but they can't feel anything. Feeling is the important thing." He wasn't always accurate, but he sometimes out-predicted Federal weathermen. There was the time, for instance, that a sudden cold snap caught him short and froze up the water pipes at his old home at 565 Vandalia. He crawled under the house with a blowtorch to thaw them pipes and set the house on fire. Other times, though, his predictions could have saved trouble for those who would listen. During the early days of his streetcar career the company decided to use a pleasant spell of winter weather to fix its closed cars. Open summer cars were put on the line instead. Prof. Whitaker expected snow and wasn't surprised a day or so later when he ran his car in six inches of snow. Prof. Whitaker was touchy about his predictions. Scoffers knew, when they saw him breathe huffily through the walrus mustache that was his trademark, that he brooked little jeering. Born in Salisbury, N.C., Mr. Whitaker lived in Gibson County, Tenn., before moving to Memphis soon after he finished his freshman year at the University of Tennessee. He spent two semesters studying astronomy. After he left school astronomy became his hobby. "The stars and a good memory are all a weather prophet needs," he said. "Weather repeats itself. Remember what today's weather is like and seven times out of 10 it will be the same next year." Services will be held at 2 tomorrow afternoon at National Funeral Home with the Rev. W.D. Grissom officiating. Burial will be in Mount Vernon Gardens. He leaves five sons, Ernest R. Whitaker, with whom he lived, and Clarence Whitaker, Robert Whitaker, John Whitaker and William G. Whitaker, all of Memphis; two daughters, Mrs. Pauline Cook of Memphis, and Mrs. Dorothy Learned of Rockford, Ill., and four brothers, Robert Whitaker of Kenton, Tenn., Lonnie Whitaker of Trenton, Tenn., and Walter Whitaker and Curtis Whitaker of Jackson, Tenn. (Published in The Commercial Appeal, Memphis, TN, on May 8, 1957)

From Tennessee death certificate:
Coston Franklin Whitaker
White, Male, Widower, Age 77
Usual Residence - Memphis, Tenn.
Birthplace - Saulsbury, No. Carolina
Father - Henry W. Whitaker
Mother's Maiden - Maria Little
Informant - John H. Whitaker
Burial - Mt. Vernon Gardens, Memphis
Director - National Funeral Home