One-man mission helped prisoners and children

David Barnwell was the busiest retiree his friend Mike Herman ever knew.

If he wasn't playing on the courts at Millbrook Exchange Tennis Center, he was teaching tennis at Biltmore Hills park as part of a youth outreach program.

If not there, he might have been at WSHA-FM, hosting "Jazz Cafe," his classical jazz radio show on the Shaw University station; at St. Ambrose Episcopal Church, where he taught Sunday school and directed vacation Bible school; working with other board members at Summit House, a home for mothers convicted of nonviolent felonies; or, counseling the incarcerated as part of a prison ministry.

If he was at none of those places, he might have been working with Herman, collecting clothes, furniture and food for the poor.

Herman said a need to live the ideals of his faith drove Barnwell to offer his hand to prisoners, young people -- anyone who needed it. Much of his work focused on Raleigh's black community.

"But David was pretty much colorblind," Herman said. "It was more about people, regardless of their circumstance. People end up in places that they never thought they'd be. It was more about finding people who need help and finding ways to help them."

Barnwell was 78 when he died Dec. 7. He was born in Branchville, S.C., and moved with his family to New York City, where he spent his boyhood. On his radio show, Barnwell would enthrall listeners with his knowledge of jazz history and anecdotes about the musicians he met growing up in Harlem.

Phyllis Barnwell, his wife of 38 years, says her husband described the Harlem of his youth as a prosperous, open place where renowned artists mingled easily in the community. Musicians who were set to play the Apollo Theater at night would lunch in Harlem cafes, where the kids could come and talk to them, she says.

Phyllis Barnwell met her husband-to-be at a party in New York City, where they spent much of their first evening together talking about race cars, another of David's passions. Her mother helped direct the couple toward the altar.

"It never occurred to me until my mother asked me -- after about five years of him being with me -- why we weren't going to get married," she says. "I said that was because that was not part of my plan ... I didn't really have a plan."

Phyllis and David married in 1970 and had a son, Timothy David, two years later.

David Barnwell's occupation as an electrical engineer took them to Poughkeepsie, N.Y., where he worked at IBM. While there, he served on a committee that led to the creation of the Occupational Safety and Health Administration. In 1982, the Barnwells moved to North Carolina, where David worked for the N.C. Department of Labor's OSHA division.

Barnwell left behind him in New York the same legacy of generosity that he would establish in his new home. Phyllis Barnwell recalls that he belonged to a group of successful men in New York who volunteered their time talking to at-risk high school boys about careers and college, about what it means to be able to take care of yourself and care for your parents.

"When he left New York, he found someone to take his place," Phyllis Barnwell says.

She says her husband's greatest joy was teaching young people, including their son. In a cruel turn of fate, Timothy died last year at the hands of a violent criminal. Police have charged a suspect in connection with his killing. The loss was devastating for the couple and for their wide network of friends.

Phyllis Barnwell says she and her husband shored each other up after their son's death. Friends often didn't know what to say to them, so they relied greatly on each other for comfort.

"The only thing we could do was cling together," she says. "We could talk about Tim, and it wouldn't create a silence in the room."

She says they grew closer as a couple.

"I think we went back to the way we started our lives together," she says. "After Tim died, it just seemed more important that, except for work, we spend our time together."

Herman, the Barnwells' friend, says David Barnwell would talk to him about Tim's death.

"While he didn't understand the 'why,' he accepted the fact that they weren't separated forever," Herman says. "He certainly never lost his faith and his belief that they would be together again."

Phyllis Barnwell says she recalls that her son's funeral service was touching, and her husband's even more so. So many people spoke so wonderfully about David.

"The things that they said, I was thrilled to hear," she says. "In the middle of my sadness, there was such great joy."

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