By Lawrence Emerson

FauquierNow.com Editor

“See you up the street,” he said thousands of times over the last seven decades.

On a sunny Presidents’ Day afternoon, J. Willard “Bill” Lineweaver made his final trip along Warrenton’s Main Street, where he sold furniture and knew everybody in the town he served as mayor for 24 years and 15 years as a councilman.

Mr. Lineweaver died Feb. 15 at 89.

Moser’s silver hearse Monday passed before his former shop and storefronts where Mr. Lineweaver could name every merchant from the post-World War II days until modern times.

Flags lined both sides of the street.

Before that final trip, Mr. Lineweaver’s three daughters had the crowd at St. James Episcopal Church in full-throated laughter several times during a 75-minute funeral.

His youngest, Bitsy Goldmeier told of her father leaving the old Gold Cup steeplechase course on slick, muddy Broadview Farm. Mr. Lineweaver used to load a couple of dozen guests in his furniture van for the race day festivies.

Because of the conditions — not the cocktails — that first Saturday in May, he clipped a couple of cars going down the hill to Bear Wallow Road. But he kept driving, headed for home on Winchester Street.

When Bitsy later asked why he didn’t stop, Mr. Lineweaver replied: “Honey, I thought this was one time when your mother should take care of things.”

“Bizz” Lineweaver, in a car behind the furniture van, stopped, pulled out the mayor’s business cards and wrote notes that essentially said: Call this number and we’ll pay for the broken mirror or dented fender.

“The always-happy, smile-on-his-face Bill Lineweaver you saw on the street was the same, always-happy, smile-on-his-face Daddy we knew at home,” Bitsy said.

Babs Alliman shared her father’s list of 10 things he'd learned about life, the basis of his 1998 Fauquier High School commencement speech.

Babs’ daughter Abby graduated from FHS that year.

“Granddaddy, you’re old, you must have something useful to say. Just keep it short,” Abby suggested.

The mayor's final trip on Main Street.

But, those 10 rules worked well for Bill Lineweaver. They deal with love of country, happiness, education, trust, friendship, personal responsibility and faith.

Babs also told of going to the Charles Town racetrack with her dad as an almost-broke college senior. He parlayed her meager savings into enough money to fund a specular spring break trip to Florida.

“Our father was not a complicated man,” his eldest daughter, Beth Knapp said. “He didn’t just love, he cherished . . . .”

In addition to family, he cherished Warrenton.

“I had 39 years of representing the greatest place to live,” Mr. Lineweaver wrote in a letter that he asked his family to open only after his death.

Toe-tapping music escorted the old, dance band guitarist from the church and welcomed him to the center of the Warrenton Cemetery.

A Dixieland jazz quartet stood near West Lee Street and played “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

A huge American flag flew from atop the Warrenton Volunteer Fire and Rescue Co.’s ladder truck on Keith Street.

The Rev. J. Richard “Dick” Winter, a former Marine and longtime friend, said the last few words before a 21-gun salute and “Taps.”

Another friend, retired Air Force Gen. Alton Slay presented Mrs. Lineweaver with a tightly-folded flag.

Thus, Warrenton said farewell to “The Mayor” . . . a war hero, friend and good guy, who wore a perpetual smile and usually inspired the same in others.

Click here for memories of Bill Lineweaver.

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