A  Memorial                                                              

                                                              EDWARD EUGENE (Gene) MCINTOSH
                                                                        March 7, 1963 - June 13, 1987
 

Edward Eugene McIntosh, son of Barney R. and Ruth McIntosh, was born March 7, 1963. He had one Sister Wanda McIntosh Shand and one Brother James R. McIntosh.

Gene grew up in Sedan, attending school at Wilcox Academy where he was an honor student and quite popular with his fellow students and the faculty. The last several summers before his high school graduation Gene worked at the Camden cleaners with Jimmy and Mary Ann Brock. After graduation he attended college at Troy State University for a short time and then transferred to The University of Alabama. With the experience he had gained in his association with the Brocks and honorable name he had made for himself, he worked at one of the larger cleaners in Tuscaloosa while going to school.

Gene graduated from The University of Alabama on 17 May 1986 and was quite in demand to operate a chain of cleaners for several individuals. He chose a chain of cleaners in the Birmingham area, making his home in Riverchase. He was nominated one of the top young business men of metropolitan Birmingham his first year in business.

In the early hours of Saturday, June 13, 1987, our community was devastated upon learning of Gene’s tragic death in an automobile accident in Birmingham at the age of 24.

Gene was an exceptional young man in many ways, some never quite realized until after his death. His magnitude of friends was evident in the hundreds who attended his funeral on June 15, 1987.

Burial was in Reaves Chapel Cemetery with John Enslen, Vaughn Memory and Bob Baker, Elders in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

The following is a poem written by Gene McIntosh remembering his Granddad, Barney McIntosh, Sr. The Lonely Whippoorwill by Gene McIntosh April 22, 1986 In the distance I hear it, that lonesome cry, bringing back memories of my childhood and you. I remember searching, riding down the dusty roads at night, sitting in your lap looking for the whippoorwill. For days I would be excited, counting the hours until Friday night, when our search would continue. A child of seven, proud to be your "doll", bragging to my friends of our magical adventures. Remember when we found him, his eyes reflecting in our headlights? That small crying bird, alone in the dark. I felt sorry for him. That eerie, lonesome cry, "Chip fell of the white oak" was at last understood. You told me he slept in winter, but on that cold December day when you left, I heard him cry too. I remember the confusion, Why did we have to leave you on that lonesome hill beneath the moss-filled trees? I was only eight.  I didn't understand how my Granddaddy could leave without saying goodbye. Fifteen years have passed, and the lonely cry of the whippoorwill can be heard, as he still misses you. In the distance, I hear it, that lonesome cry, and I can't help but wonder if you can hear it too.