By Solomon Crenshaw Jr.
Judy Butler didn’t let a first impression keep her from learning more about Eugene Britt Butler, the man who would become her husband.
She lived up the hill from Butler in Vestavia Hills’ River Run community and had come home to tend to her dog, Molly.
“Britt was in my yard where that playground equipment is with a chain saw one day when I came home,” she recalled. “He was in my yard with a chain saw, and you don’t argue with a man with a chain saw.”
Turns out Britt – as he’s generally known – was being a good neighbor, cutting up a couple of fallen trees.
“He was doing me a favor,” Judy said. “That’s how we met. From there on it was history. We would walk around the block, walk our dogs and what have you.
“I told him my life story so he knew all my warts and all,” she said. “Likewise, he did the same for me.”
Except Britt didn’t divulge his age and she couldn’t figure out how old he was.
“He would talk about the war,” Judy recalled. “I know it wasn’t in Vietnam because he’s older than that. I don’t know anything about Korea. He never did tell me how old he was. Never did.”
The “war” about which he spoke was World War II, and he is about to celebrate his 100th birthday.
Judy knows now that Britt was 78 when they met, and she was 53. She had no clue he was that old.
“He did not look it or act it,” she said. “He would play golf at Altadena.”
The couple started going to UAB basketball games and performances of a symphony orchestra. “Before I knew it, he popped the question,” she said. “I nearly passed out. I’m like, ‘Ughhhh.’”
At 75, Judy is nearly 25 years younger than Britt, who was born on Oct. 31, 1922.
“I’m 75 and Britt will be 100 on Halloween,” she said. “His grandfather delivered him; he’s a doctor in Memphis, was a doctor in Memphis. When Britt was born, he said, ‘Spooky has arrived.’
“He went by Spooky for a long time, I guess until he went to the service,” the wife of 22 years said. “I’m not sure, but that was a nickname that they gave him.”
A Multifaceted Man
Britt lives a quiet life these days, rising late and taking frequent naps. During a recent meeting, he wore a 5-pointed star belt buckle and a blue ski cap with a bald eagle and the words: “Proud To Be An American.”
The native Texan attended Texas A&M for two years, partly because his mother wouldn’t let him enlist. In the interim, he worked as a surveyor for the highway department. That served him well as he did that job with the Construction Battalions, better known as the Seabees.
“They had just developed this particular unit of the Navy so he joined,” Judy said. “Because he had surveying experience, they made him an officer. He served in the Aleutian Islands in Alaska and then also in the South Pacific.”
Britt returned to Dallas after his stint with the Seabees. By then, his grandfather Tate Butler had started Progressive Farmer magazine. The young veteran followed his father into the business.
“By that time, they had an office in Birmingham so he moved to Birmingham,” Judy said. “He was their pencil-counter, more or less. His job was to watch the family jewels – supplies and stuff like that. He was in charge of buying things. Then he was on the board of directors with the whole deal.”
The company launched Southern Living magazine in 1966. Nearly two decades later, in 1985, Southern Living was sold to Time Inc. for $498 million, the most ever paid for a publishing company at the time.
Britt has had other interests. He was a volunteer deputy sheriff, what Judy called “a weekend warrior.” He was also involved with Boy Scouts, which opened his eyes to conservation.
The former troop leader funded several efforts to preserve clean water in the state and protect green spaces.
“It should be important to all of us,” he told ABC 33/40 in 2016, “because without the trees and the water and the lakes and stuff, we wouldn’t be around; we wouldn’t be around very long.”
In 1988, Britt started a non-profit foundation called ABAHAC, which is Cahaba spelled backward. From this foundation, the Cahaba River Society was born.
The soon-to-be centenarian gave 38 of his 43 acres to the Freshwater Land Trust as part of his commitment to not let it be developed.
“He fusses every time I want to cut down a tree,” Judy said.
