Church and work ordered the long life of James Mitchell Rowley, who died Sept. 5 at age 100.
Born in what was then Oklahoma Territory, he was the youngest of eight children born to a Kiowa, Okla., postmaster and reservation schoolteacher.
He and his brother were the only siblings who survived past age 2. Rowley’s father, who became increasingly deaf as he aged, died when he was struck by a local taxi driver whose horn went unheard as the elder Rowley crossed a Kiowa street. Rowley’s own first marriage ended in divorce.
All this propelled Rowley into an early, lifelong understanding of how attenuated life could be. He found solace in religion.
As an adult, he was a devout Presbyterian who attended services on Wednesdays and Sundays, along with weekly prayer meetings. After he married Nell Carlson in 1937, the two co-hosted a weekly Bible-study group.
For 15 years, Rowley worked as a machinist for the Rio Grande Railroad. He left that job to work for the U.S. Postal Service in Denver, delivering mail for most of his career there. The work, which required about six hours a day of walking, kept him fit.
He kept his mind sharp by memorizing addresses. In the evenings after dinner, as his three children did their homework, Rowley practiced for his job, tossing letters into a homemade grid that replicated the cubbyholes used to sort mail at the post office.
“When you worked for the P.O. back then, the way they’d check on you was to have a guy time you once in a while to see how many letters you could throw,” explained his daughter, Mary Hall. “It was a black eye if you got an envelope in the wrong one.”
Sunday services invariably held Rowley’s attention, even when his wife and children grew bored enough to doodle on their copies of the church bulletin. On the way home from service, he and his wife debated the sermon’s high points.
About 25 years ago, Rowley’s second wife became ill, and he and a friend began meeting weekly to pray for the sick and needy. After his wife died, Rowley got in the habit of starting his days by praying for people whose names filled at least two pages with his spidery handwriting.
After marrying Viola Knecht in 1987, he continued his routine, arising early to pray and singing hymns between the intercessions, the volume of his voice rising in proportion to his advancing deafness.
Rowley sang hymns on his last day of life. His favorite, “How Great Thou Art,” and a secular song he loved, “I’ll Be Working on the Railroad,” will be included at his funeral at 2:30 p.m. today at Crown Hill Mortuary, 7777 W. 29th Ave.
Besides his daughter, survivors include sons Robert Rowley of Aurora and Daniel Rowley of Greeley; seven grandchildren; 13 great-grandchildren; several great-great-grandchildren; and one great-great-great- grandchild. His wives predeceased him.
Staff writer Claire Martin can be reached at 303-954-1477 or cmartin@denverpost.com.
