Remembering cherished stories lived out with family and friends

Friends and family continue to mourn for Vance Hambelton, still shocked by his unexpected death related to an untreatable brain bleed at 1:20 a.m. Monday, March 2. 

Vance, 79, was widely known throughout the area for his eight years of teaching vocational agriculture at Dora High School followed by 30 years of working as Ozark County's Missouri University Extension agent. When he retired from the Extension service in 2008, Vance retreated to his farm northeast of Gainesville and focused on his family – his widowed mother, his daughter, his son and daughter-in-law, his siblings and especially his two grandsons. Most of them live close to Vance's farm on County Road 312, and many friends and cousins live a short distance away. 

It was as if he stepped out of the limelight of his public life as an Extension agent and was quietly content with just his nearby family, friends and cows. "I called him a hermit," his daughter Renee Hambelton said.

Vance left home only when necessary – mainly for doctor’s appointments, Sunday church (with a grocery-store visit afterward), and his grandsons’ important school and sports events, usually riding with Renee or the boys’ parents, Brian Hambelton and wife Casey. 

Even at those sports events, Vance never drew attention to himself. “In the stands, he never said a word. He just sat there and watched,” Bryce, now 22, recalled last week. “But afterward, he might come up to me and say something about the game, like, ‘That was a big old boy down there, wasn’t it?’” 

Some of Andrew’s favorite times with PawPaw came when the boys were old enough to drive their own four-wheelers, and they would sometimes drive slowly down a dirt road beside Vance on his four-wheeler, just talking and telling stories. 

Since their youngest days as infants, Vance’s world “revolved around the boys,” Brian said. Now, all the Hambeltons are grieving Vance’s death, but Brian thinks it may be hardest on Bryce and Andrew. “I’m more worried about the boys than anyone,” he said. Even though they’re adults now, “without their PawPaw, they feel lost.”

Living out stories together

Vance was almost 80 when he died – a good old age. Still, it seemed too soon for those who knew and loved him, and their broken hearts won’t mend anytime soon. It helps, though, that he left behind the priceless gift of the wild, fun and poignant stories he had lived out with each of them. 

One of his daughter Renee Hambelton’s favorite stories is the time she shot her first buck when she was deer hunting with her dad. “We were sitting there on the ground at the edge of a field; he was sitting behind me,” she said. “It was getting late, and I wanted to get out of the woods.”

But Vance told her softly, “Just wait. Be patient.” 

Some does ran out into the field, and then an eight-point buck came out and ran up the hill beyond the field. “I aimed at him for the longest time,” Renee said. “I kept aiming and kept aiming, and Dad, sitting behind me, kept saying, real quiet, ‘Renee, shoot it. Shoot it!’ But I would say, ‘Hold on, hold on.’”

Finally, Renee pulled the trigger and, in the distance, the buck went down. Behind her came the sound of something else hitting the ground. It was her dad. “He fell back flat on the ground,” she said. “It was the funniest thing. He lay there and said, ‘I didn’t think you were ever gonna shoot it.’”

Multiple people say they never heard Vance utter unkind word to anyone, but he did have a talent for delivering wisecracks with a deadpan face.

When his younger brother Stacy was in college and brought home the city girl he was dating at the time, she was a little apprehensive about getting tickbites. When the girlfriend asked, “Are there ticks here?” Vance told her, straight-faced, yes, there were ticks, but they never crossed the fence that bordered the Hambeltons’ yard. 

“They’ll stay over there,” he told her, waving toward the fence. “And she believed him,” Renee said. 

A proud big brother 

Vance was born in Dr. M. J. Hoerman’s office in Gainesville on July 25, 1946, the first of Hugo and Lura Hambelton’s four children. He and his two sisters, Patricia (Jarman) and Charlotte (Barr) attended the one-room Luna School before heading to Gainesville High School, where Vance graduated in 1964.

Vance was 12 when his youngest sibling, brother Stacy, was born. Despite the age difference, the brothers always had a special bond. “Mom said he was extremely proud of his little brother,” Stacy said last week. “He would even get up with me in the middle of the night and feed me a bottle.” 

Stacy followed Vance’s path into a career with the extension service. While Vance was serving as extension agent in Ozark County, Stacy held the post in Oregon County. Their dad, Hugo, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s while they both held those time-consuming jobs, but Vance stepped in to take care of his parents’ farm as well as his own, and when he asked Stacy to help him, Stacy responded with no hesitation: yes. 

After Hugo Hambelton died in 2002 at age 82, Lura stayed on the farm, with her children’s help. She died in 2021 at age 95. 

When Vance retired from the Extension service, Stacy moved from Oregon County to step into the Extension service job here. He and his wife Brenda and their children eventually settled on a farm near the homes of Lura, Charlotte, Vance and Renee, who lived with her dad, and Brian and his family. The other sister, Patricia, lives with her husband Roger Jarman in Springfield and stays in close touch with her Ozark County family. 

Childhood hijinks

Vance and his first cousin Ronnie Hambelton were born 22 days apart in 1946 – Ronnie on July 3 and Vance on July 25. “We were like twins,” Ronnie said recently. They attended school together – the one-room Luna School, Gainesville High School and what is now Missouri State University. 

They also shared some misadventures. One notable shenanigan happened when they were around 10 years old and used a hatchet they’d found to chop down some small trees in Lura and Hugo’s yard, probably fruit trees they had planted. “Then we ran upstairs and hid,” Ronnie said. 

Years later, a similar incident played out with a different cast of characters and trees.

Vance’s son Brian had quite a fiery temper when he was little. Sometimes he would get so angry he would throw himself to the ground and lie there on his stomach, facedown, and “gnaw on grass,” Renee said.

Vance had planted some little maple trees along the driveway at their farm. One day when Vance and oldest son Brad were going out to check the cattle, little Brian asked to go too, but Vance said no.

“That made me mad, that he left me with Mom,” Brian said. 

Unleashing a childhood temper tantrum, Brian attacked the little maple trees. Now, years later, the mature trees still show the result of the injuries Brian inflicted. Instead of having nice, straight trunks, the trees grew with forked trunks.

“Dad would look at the trees and say, ‘Do you know why those trees are forked like they are? When we got back from feeding that day, you had beat them to the ground,’” Brian said.

‘She was the love of his life’

Vance’s courtship with Phyllis Jones began on a summer evening in 1968 at the old Dairy Princess in Gainesville. Vance, home from attending Arkansas State University in Jonesboro, was hanging out there with some guys when Phyllis and her sister, Linda (now Linda Lewis) arrived with their friends Pat and Kathy Blackburn (Snell). 

The girls got out of their car and were greeted by the boys. “We kind of started introducing ourselves, and the minute Vance and Phyllis saw each other, it was truly love at first sight,” Linda said. “Those other guys didn’t even exist as far as she was concerned. The romance was on!”

The Joneses had moved from Louisiana to West Plains a few years earlier following Edward Jones’s job with Empire Gas. The family lived in Gainesville a year when the company transferred him there. That’s when Vance and Phyllis met. 

They dated that summer. “Vance would come in from Jonesboro and stop at our house,” Linda said. “They would sit on his blue Chevelle, and we would take pictures of them.” 

Vance proposed, Phyllis said yes and on Sept. 14, 1968, they exchanged their vows at the home of Phyllis’ uncle and aunt, Wesley and Ruth Jones, north of West Plains. Ronnie Hambelton and Linda Jones were their witnesses. A reception was held afterward in the Joneses’ back yard.

After the wedding, “they drove straight to Jonesboro,” Ronnie said. 

There was no honeymoon – unless you count the supper they shared at a truckstop outside of Jonesboro that was a familiar stop for truckdrivers from Ozark County. One of those Ozark County truckers, J.U. Strong, happened to be there that evening when the couple arrived. He paid for their wedding night supper. 

In Jonesboro, they lived in a “tiny little camper trailer that Vance had bought for them in a trailer court,” Linda said. “It was tiny, but Phyllis made it a home.”

From that humble beginning, and through 28 years of good times and bad, Phyllis and Vance’s devotion to each other never faltered. Friends and family agree that “she was the love of his life,” and she felt the same way about him. 

After Vance’s graduation from ASU, they moved back to Ozark County into “an even smaller camper-trailer in Hugo’s yard,” Ronnie said. “Phyllis never complained.”

Next, they rented a house at Sycamore. Then they built their own home on property they had bought from Vance’s parents. As soon as the basement was finished, they moved into it and lived there while the rest of the house was finished. 

That home served the family well – until it was destroyed in 2010.   

‘He was an inspiration’

Vance graduated from GHS in 1964, before the school had a vocational agriculture program, but after he finished his bachelor’s degree in agriculture education at ASU, he was hired to set up a vocational agriculture and FFA program at Dora High School.

At his March 5 funeral at the Church of Christ in Gainesville, where a crowd of 325-350 people filled every pew, preacher and friend Halbert Smith called Vance “a pioneer in ag education,” noting that his starting the successful vo ag and FFA programs at Dora was “quite an undertaking for a man who was not in vo ag and FFA in high school.” 

Halbert began teaching agriculture in Gainesville while Vance was teaching at Dora. He said Vance “was a great friend and mentor for this beginning ag teacher.” 

Vance and his family were members of the Church of Christ when Halbert started preaching there in 1993. Through the years, Halbert learned, “if Vance wasn’t in church on Sunday, you knew he was sick or gone from home. . . . He was faithful in his Christian life” and also “a hard-working farmer, educator and family man.”

Halbert said, “As far as I know, he was liked by all who knew him.” And he added, “He not only worked hard, he also played hard.”

Don Hamby, Vance’s fellow teacher at Dora, confirmed that description. “Vance always had a smile on his face,” Hamby said. “It wasn’t fake. That’s just the way he was.” Don was the coach and PE teacher at Dora while Vance taught vo ag, and just about every day during lunch period, the two teachers joined their students in a vigorous basketball game. 

When the lunch period was over, sometimes, instead of going back to their classrooms, “we would extend the time and play a little longer.” Sometimes they played straight through the whole class time, Hamby said, adding, “the principal probably didn’t know anything about it.”

But, back in the classroom, Vance was serious about educating his students, Hamby said. “He worked hard with his students and had a great relationship with them. He was an inspiration.”

Terry Newton, now Ozark County’s presiding commissioner, was one of Vance’s ag students – and one of the three students (with Ted Mayberry and Tony Bird) who were the school’s first to earn the coveted FFA State Farmer award a few years after Vance started the program in 1970.

“He was not only a wonderful teacher but one of my dearest friends,” Newton said. “He was a great role model and mentor. I have lots of great memories and will miss him dearly.”

30 years with Extension

In 1978, after completing his master’s degree in ag education, Vance left teaching and accepted a job as youth specialist with the Missouri University Extension, working out of the basement of the Ozark County Courthouse in Gainesville. He also worked “in the field,” helping area farmers and livestock producers implement new ideas and solve problems. 

 As the county’s Extension agent, he supported the area 4-H program, and he and Phyllis led the Gainesville Go-Getters 4-H club, which their own kids belonged to. 

Chrystal Holmes Meek worked in the Extension office with Vance for nine years as the nutrition program associate then stayed on another year when Vance retired and his brother Stacy stepped into the job.

“Vance was a very kind person. He taught me a lot about how to deal with the public,” Chrystal said, “especially when they’re not in a good mood.’”

And there was always that smile. “I never saw him come into work in a bad mood,” she said. “We would get people who were mad about something, and he could always de-escalate anything that came in the door with his even-keeled demeanor and his calm voice.”

Vance helped run the annual summer 4-H camp that was held at Hammond Camp in Mark Twain National Forest east of Dora with other Extension employees and volunteers. Don Pinckney, Extension community development assistant and later youth assistant, was one of them. The Extension staff and volunteers also ran two other camps there – DOW Camp for Douglas, Ozark and Wright county kids and White Oak Camp for kids from Howell, Oregon, Texas and Shannon counties. 

Pinckney, who described Vance as “a fantastic man,” remembers how, in the early years, when safety awareness wasn’t as prevalent as it is now, Vance would haul the campers down to the access on the North Fork of the White River in his cattle trailer. “The kids would ride back there and moo like cattle,” Pinckney said. 

Later, vans or school buses hauled the campers to the river – safer, but not as much fun. 

53 years of deer camp

Summertime kids camps were one thing; deer camp with Vance’s relatives and friends was completely different. It started 53 years ago when six close friends who were also longtime hunting and fishing buddies – Vance, Danny Holmes, Roger Anderson, Ronnie Hambelton, Larry Bushong and Jerry Hambelton – decided to camp out a few days while they were hunting during bow season. They didn’t get off to the best start, however.

They headed to some land along the river owned by Vance and Ronnie’s cousin Leo Hambelton. There was a cabin, but Vance, Danny, Roger, Ronnie, Larry and Jerry wanted to rough it and instead settled into the tents they’d brought along. 

“That first night, it was pouring rain,” Ronnie said, “and the water was 3-4 inches deep in the tent when we woke up.”

Undeterred, the men continued with their hunt and had such a good time, they decided to do it again the next year. And the next. As the years went by, they invited other bowhunter friends and relatives. Then sons and nephews came along. And now grandsons are involved. In recent years, as many as 50 to 60 hunters and visitors have participated in at least a night or two of deer camp.  

The gathering is still held in the same place; it starts in late October on a Tuesday night and continues until Sunday morning. Wives usually come for supper one night and then go back home, Danny Holmes said. 

In recent years, truck-mounted campers have replaced tents, and some of the hunters regularly stay in the old cabin. “We’re like a bunch of old women,” he said. “We can’t get by without electricity.”

Ironically, deer camp has transitioned into a beloved event that doesn’t include much deer hunting. “I think probably in the last six years, I can count on one hand all the deer that have been killed. The old ones like me and Vance stopped hunting years ago,” Danny said. “Now we eat, tell lies and have a good time.”

Vance’s son Brian, a longtime deer camp regular, said now the old-timers sit and tell the young ones “what they’re doing wrong.” 

Deer camp is famous for the food that’s served. “Usually Tuesday night is hamburger night,” Danny said. “Wednesday night is the fish fry; that’s usually the biggest night. A lot of people come just to eat and visit.”

Vance used to be in charge of bringing the groceries; at the end, the hunters share the cost. For the last several years, his son Brian has carried out grocery duty. He confirmed Danny’s claim that sometimes the groceries include 80 to 90 pounds of potatoes. “And we eat every one of them,” Danny said.

After the nighttime crowd goes home, as many as 25 to 30 hunters might stay over and be ready for breakfast the next morning – or brunch for the few guys who get up early to hunt. 

Brian said a typical schedule is “get up, eat, then make lunch, and then just sit in chairs and visit or sleep.” Depending on the weather, “some lay down in the yard, and I always say we look like beached whales out there sunning.” Then they get ready for supper.

“It’s all about the camaraderie of just being together and telling old stories,” Danny said. 

Vance was at deer camp last October, but he was having health problems and didn’t spend the night, opting instead to ride home on his four-wheeler. He returned early each morning for breakfast, though, and spent the day with his longtime friends. 

Now, as he remembers his friend, Danny thinks not only of the 53 years they spent together at deer camp but also the many, many other times they’ve shared, often fishing in Danny’s bass boat. Vance “was the most perfect gentleman you could have in a boat with you,” Danny said. “He never said anything out of line unless it was in fun. He always had a kind word for everyone, and I don’t think I ever heard him say a bad word about anybody.” 

Heartache and loss

In his sermon at Vance’s funeral, Halbert Smith said, “Vance did face his share of heartache and loss, losing two sons and a wife at an early life. He endured the heat and the cold, storms, drought and pestilence, but he continued to live a faithful Christian life, enjoying the time he had with his family.”

Despite the losses he endured, “You could always count on Vance to have a smile and a kind word,” Halbert said. He later told the Times, “Vance was faithful, independent and had the respect of Christians and non-Christians, as evidenced by the large numbers at his visitation and his memorial service.”

Phyllis and Vance’s first child, Brad, arrived in 1969. A second son, Steven, was born in June 1973. Steven lived only one day. Ronnie Hambelton helped Vance and his dad, Hugo, dig the baby’s little grave at Patrick Cemetery. 

Two more Hambelton children followed: Brian in 1975 and Renee in 1977. The Hambeltons were busy and happy, and Phyllis and Vance surely thought they had survived the hardest thing any parents can endure – the death of a child.

Then, when he was in high school, Brad was diagnosed with leukemia. He spent many months undergoing treatment at St. Jude’s Research Hospital in Memphis. Phyllis stayed with him while Vance, with the help of friends and family, tended the other two kids, the cows and his job back home.

Brad was able to graduate with his class in May 1988, but he died three months later, in August. Friends and family surrounded the family – again – with love and help. 

Tragedy struck again in 1997, when Phyllis was diagnosed with a serious heart impairment on June 10, three days after their son Brian had married Casey Alexander. Phyllis died Aug. 7 at age 48. She and Vance had been married 28 years. 

The grief was hard, overwhelming at times, but there was also happiness in the years ahead, especially when the two grandsons arrived. But another big hardship lay ahead.

On April 30, 2010, four tornadoes tore through Ozark County. One of them destroyed the home Vance shared with Renee; it was the house he and Phyllis had built in 1971. 

A real good last visit 

After Stacy Hambelton retired from the Extension service in 2016, he saw Vance almost every day as they both worked on the family farm next to each other. “He’d usually come down on his four-wheeler as I was feeding our cows,” Stacy said. 

On the last day the brothers spoke to each other, Vance went to Stacy’s place, as usual. “He drove up with his big smile and said, ‘I can’t help you much, but I can at least open the gate for you.’” 

As Vance’s health had deteriorated, he wasn’t able to do the physical work he once had done. “Usually, he would come and say something and then just go on,” Stacy said. 

But for some unexplained reason, Stacy wanted his brother to stay longer that Thursday. After the cows were fed, Stacy drove back through the pasture gate, and Vance closed it. Then the two brothers sat awhile, “and we had a real good visit,” Stacy said.

Vance headed back home to check on his own cows, and Stacy and Brenda headed into town for Bible study. When they got home later that night, they could see Vance’s four-wheeler parked in his front yard, with the headlights still on. 

“Brenda said, ‘Does that look unusual to you?’ and I agreed it did,” Stacy said. 

A few minutes later, Renee called and said, “Uncle Stacy, get here now!”

Vance collapsed in his yard due to the brain bleed on that Thursday night, Feb. 26, and died early Monday morning, March 2, surrounded by in family in a Springfield hospital. His family thinks he never regained consciousness; he never spoke again.

But he didn’t have to say anything. His family and friends know how deeply he loved them and how devoted he was to them. The proof is in the gift he left behind – the many wonderful stories they had lived out together.