Arnold, Bernice L. (Bernie)

The Tennessean Obituary

Known for her sharp wit and genteel warmth, Bernie Arnold passed away Monday, February 23, at the age of eighty-eight. While best remembered as the longtime food editor of the Tennessean and the Banner, she was also known for her love of drama and singing. Mrs. Arnold covered Nashville's restaurant and home-cooking scenes from 1965 to 1973 as the food editor for the Tennessean, and then later at the Banner from 1974 until she retired in 1992, six years before the Banner closed. Her tenure at the papers spanned the shift from writing mostly about home cooking to the evolution of fine dining in Nashville. Her daughter, actress and writer Nan Gurley, talks about how her mother had a knack for seeking out superlative cooks and then sharing them with readers, but that when she married in 1948, "Mom couldn't make a glass of tea."

A frequent judge at the Tennessee State Fair and the Pillsbury Bake Off, Mrs. Arnold also won awards for her recipes and writing on nutrition. In 1965, she accompanied Lala Gee of the Nashville Gas Company for cooking demonstrations at the World's Fair in New York. One of those demonstrations was broadcast in color by RCA as part of the exhibition. "We had all sorts of catastrophes," said Mrs. Arnold afterward in the Tennessean. The butter melted and the hot TV lights dried out our lemon extract, which we used to ignite little sugar cubes as the final part of our demonstration."

When the Banner closed in 1998, Mrs. Arnold lamented the loss, “I’ve had a 1ove affair with the Banner for decades. When I retired, it was like a marriage: I was still in love with this thing. Nashville is poorer. A community with one paper is not as healthy as a city with two papers. The irony of all this is that everybody that has come to me and has spoken their condolences has said the Banner was the better paper. I wanted to say, “Then why didn't you subscribe?"

In 1994, Mrs. Arnold published one of the first compendiums on the changing restaurant scene, Nashville Cuisine: A Sampling of Restaurants and Their Recipes, where she used her charm to somehow talk many restauranteurs out of treasured recipes, including Faison's Broken Hearted Fettucine.

Mrs. Arnold was equally at home in the theater and could often be seen performing with her husband Henry ''Buddy'' Arnold, a professor at Lipscomb University, and at Chaffin's Barn Dinner Theater. In 2009, Lipscomb dedicated the rehearsal space inside the Thomas James McMeen Music Center as the Buddy and Bernie Arnold Hall.

Mrs. Arnold is survived by daughter, Nan (Wayne) Gurley; her sons, Cris (Alene) Arnold, Henry "Chip" (Kay) Arnold III, and Tim (Margie) Arnold; brother, Tad Wykoff; sister, Nancy (Jerry) Jennings; grandchildren and great grandchildren. Visitation will be held 4·7 p.m., Tuesday, at the Otter Creek Church of Christ, at 409 Franklin Road in Brentwood,

with a celebration service immediately following, Brother Josh Graves officiating. Private family Interment will be at Middle Tennessee State Veterans Cemetery.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Wayne Reed Center (waynereedchildcare.org) or to Lipscomb University to the Bud and Bernie Arnold Scholarship for Theater Fund at Lipscomb, c/o Advancement Office, 1 University Park Drive, Nashville, TN 37204.

Cremation and Funeral Services of Nashville (615) 885-0012; Chris Neighbours, Funeral Director

FOCUS, June 2015

Article by R. B. Quinn and Mindy Merrell, “Deconstructing the Dish: Slice of History Local flavors sweeten an old summertime recipe

Early editions of Joy of Cooking included something called a Pinch Pie, a straightforward baked meringue shell filled with ice cream and/or shipped cream and sweetened summer fruit. Sure it’s got some age on it, but it’s a delicious and unexpected summer dessert recipe just in time for the peak of Tennessee strawberries and the arrival of fresh peaches.

Bernie Arnold, Nashville’s prolific food writer and editor, introduced us to Pinch Pie. Sadly, she passed away this past February at the age of eight-eight. Over the course of four decades, from the mid-1960s through the early 1990s, Bernie introduced Nashvillians to scores of talented home cooks, restaurants, food trends, new ingredients, and seasonal recipes as a writer for the Tennessean and the longtime food editor of the Nashville Banner. Bernie came to Nashville in the 1940s to study English and theater at Lipscomb University, where she met her husband, Bud. Food writing was not among Bernie’s plans. She said, “I had four hungry kids and a husband who liked to invite people over for dinner. I didn’t have any choice but [to] learn how to cook.”

Bernie really took to cooking and even won second place in a statewide baking contest. Shortly after, an editor at the Tennessean and former Lipscomb classmate contacted her. They needed a food writer. Bernie wrote from her Green Hills home on a typewriter at the kitchen table with a view of the garden and the wall phone over her shoulder. Many a Sunday evening, she’d be on deadline and driving like mad to deliver her copy for the week.

Known for her charm and sharp wit, Bernie once shared with us the unlikely beginning of her career as the food editor of the Nashville Banner. One Sunday in 1974, while the family watched the local evening news, a report aired about a neighborhood gas leak and explosion. The Banner’s food editor was the unfortunate victim. Bernie recalled her son looking up at her and saying, “I guess they’ll be calling you on Monday, Mom.” And they did. She stayed with the Nashville Banner until her retirement in 1992.

No doubt Bernie would agree that Middle Tennesseans have long been guided by the seasons and the agricultural bounty of the area. Pinch Pie was one of her favorite summer desserts. Here’s our adaptation of the recipe.

Pinch Pie

4 egg whites, at room temperature 1 ½ pints vanilla ice cream, slightly softened 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 cup heavy cream, whipped and sweetened with a little powdered sugar ¼ teaspoon cream of tartar 4 cups local strawberries or peeled and sliced peaches, sweetened to taste 1 cup sugar

Comments by Sandra Collins

Otter Creek lost another of its brightest lights in the death of Bernie Arnold. Among the many things I loved about Bernie was her ability to cut through to bare truth in happy little discussions of motherhood. She had a crisp, one-eyebrow-raised sense of humor that nailed that truth for the rest of us. “I would go into the bathroom, lock the door, sit down with my back against the door, and drink a Coca Cola.” As a young mother, I was glad to hear undiluted honesty instead of platitudes.

I coveted the remarkable speaking voice, which Nan inherited, along with the raised eyebrow and rollicking laugh. She managed a household of four talented and creative children who all listened to different drummers, performed in plays, wrote food columns for the Banner, judged food contests, and on and on. Here she is helping with VBS. The list would boggle the brains of women today complaining of balancing work and home. It was not an option. She had to work, just as Buddy did. He too had a teaching job, performed in plays, wrote a music column, acted in commercials. Money was scarce. Yoked together, however, doing whatever it took, they helped four remarkable children graduate from great universities debt free.

Sunday nights after church were family nights, without exceptions—no dates, no guests, no other events. So ingrained and beloved were these evenings that on the Sunday evening after his honeymoon trip, Chip and his bride headed for family night at the Arnolds. No one was there. The absence of Chip was so hard that the family had gone elsewhere for that evening.

A favorite Arnold story at Otter Creek is about ice cream and a recipe: “born out of desperation when asked to bring a freezer of homemade ice cream to DLU President Willard Collins’s home for a freshman mixer. Arriving late from the office, I mashed several over-the-hill bananas and stirred them into a gallon carton of vanilla ice cream. To add authenticity, Bud scraped the mixture into the can of our ice cream freezer and packed it in crushed ice and rock salt. The hoax worked fine until I was asked for the recipe.” She called it White Lie ice cream. (taken from the Otter Creek cookbook)

At the funeral the children told many other funny stories. The one that nearly brought the house down involved someone’s having asked Bernie what had made the great changes he had noticed in every part of Lipscomb from buildings to attitudes. Her one-word response was “Funerals.”

The last time I saw Bernie at the assisted living home, she told me, “I am standing on tip toe,” ready to go on. Oh, my, how we miss her, just as we have missed Buddy, the love of her life.

A Classy "Old Broad," by Marilyn Switzer

She was a friend. She was a mentor. She was a gift. As her sister, Nancy, said at the hospital, "It is hard to think of Bernie in the past tense." That it is. For so long, she has been woven in the fabric of our lives, but just because she has finished this leg of her eternal journey does not mean her presence will unravel. She will continue to weave memories in our minds ~ her beautiful smile, that mischievous gleam in her eye, a delicious meal graciously served, an unexpected "bawdy" remark.

My first remembrance of Bernie was an invitation to lunch after church. Marshall was a babe in arms. Unbeknownst to me, Ken had accepted the invitation with the caveat that we could come, but Kentucky was playing basketball, and he would need to watch the game on TV. We sat down at Bud and Bernie's beautifully set table, enjoyed a lunch of stuffed peppers (I had never had such a thing - extraordinarily elegant to me), and before dessert Ken was up from the table watching the little TV in the sitting area between the kitchen and dining room. I was mortified. Bernie was, from that moment, enchanted by Ken. She had found a kindred non- BSer, and she loved him from that point. Oh, and dessert was the most wonderful meringue tart with ice cream and fresh berries, Wow, could she ever cook.

She loved to tell the story of when Marshall, "just a little fellow," came to her house selling popcorn or candy or some such thing for Cub Scouts. It was a Saturday morning, and when she invited him in, he looked around, slack- jawed, and asked, "Do you live like this all the time?" He meant, is your house always this clean and straight? It was a concept with which he was unfamiliar. What I love about her reaction to that interchange was in some way, in her unique Bernie way, it made her love us more, not judge our slovenliness.

When our first dog was hit by a car and died, Marshall was inconsolable. Buddy had just had to have a beloved pet put down. We asked if Marshall could come and visit with them, and maybe Bud could help him through his grief. Bud and Bernie welcomed him, not as a child with childish pain, but as a peer. There is no way to know the number of people whose lives they, as a couple and as individuals, touched with grace and beauty.

I have so many memories of time spent with Mz. Bernie. Perhaps, the best one was our adventure into the world of tattoos. It was the result of a Ladies' Luncheon at church. We were seated at tables with those with whom we had some oddity in common. Bernie was at a table where everyone had a tattoo. The problem was only two of them actually had tattoos, and the rest had been given fake ones. Well, there was nothing fake about Mz. Bernie. After the lunch, I was helping her put some items in the Thrift Smart bin when she lamented her displeasure in having a fake tattoo and that she thought she would like to get a real one. I told her that I had always wanted a tattoo. She said, "What's stopping us?" I replied, "Nothing!" So a plan was begun. I am not sure that this was the intended outcome of the church ladies' lunch, but then again, it is Otter Creek.

I was in charge of finding the proper tattoo parlor, suitable for two good C of C "girls." We picked the Christian tattoo parlor in Downtown Nashville, right in the middle of Fan Fair. We excitedly arrived, giggling, a bit nervous, pondering what masterpieces we would have forever stamped on ourselves, and where exactly we would put them. The one thing we did know was that if we were going to do this thing, we would not be embarrassed, and we

On a trip with special friends, studying the Bible

would not put it in some unseen place. She chose her ankle. I chose my foot. She chose a nail cross. I chose a Celtic cross. Sheri came and giggled with us and offered moral support; being a tattooed girl herself, she knew the ropes. People from all over the place were there, getting their Nashville Fan Fair tattoos. The children of the owners were selling bottles of water to raise money for a mission trip. People were asking us where we were from and had we ever been to Fan Fair before. We explained. They were fascinated by the eighty-year-olds Nashville native getting a tattoo. She was a major attraction, and just possibly the thing some of those tourists would remember most about their trip to Nashville that year.

When we were driving home, Mz. Bernie said, "Well, when I die, and I'm laid out on that table, they're going to know I was a lively old broad." And, that she was.

Mz. Bernie was in our house often. She was included in all invitations to the Inner City Catfish dinner, Southern Living Home events, Tupperware parties, Home art sale parties, etc. I could always count on her presence and her rave reviews on the food, no matter how mediocre it might have been. She called me (and everybody else she knew) “Honey,” and would often refer to Ken and me as "you kids." She once said that if I invited her to my house and was serving "cow patties," she would come. On occasion, she would give me the greatest compliment of them all ~ "You remind me of Nan." Nan, her beloved, talented, gifted, beautiful daughter. There was no higher praise coming from Mz. Bernie. I feel compelled to add that her thinking I was like Nan is a testimony to the rose-colored glasses through which she viewed me rather than any true similarities. I haven't in my entire body a modicum of talent that Nan has in her pinky finger. No one was any prouder than Mz. Bernie when Ken was given a judgeship. The last time I was with her, she commented on how beautiful Mary-Pullias was and is. She loved well. She felt deeply. She grieved with those she loved, she rejoiced with them as well. She was a little feisty, sometimes bawdy, funny, talented, gracious, wise woman with a servant's heart. I loved her. I will miss her, like so many others. I do not really know what happens when this leg of our journey ends, but I will rest in the hope that she and Buddy are having a most spectacular reunion.

She left this realm yesterday, quietly and peacefully, with her family "singing her out." Just how she would have orchestrated it. Perhaps, she and her Father did just that.

Email to Bernie’s children by Carolyn Wilson on February 24, 2015

Dear Chip, Cris, Nan and Tim,

I know well the busyness you are dealing with now and realize that you wish it would all go away. I hesitate to add to this, but the compulsion to let you know what is on my heart is too great to ignore.

Yesterday when the word came of Bernie’s death, I could think of nothing affecting me so profoundly outside losing one of my own family. You have all experienced these losses of mine with me, as I have done with you. Our relationship transcends just friendship. It has been a very special one all its own. As Jenny and I talked, we remembered there were few of these special times in both our lives that were not shared with your family. Fifty years of friendship will endure but the loss is pain beyond imagination. I simply cannot fathom my life without Bernie.

We came to Nashville and to Otter Creek when Jennifer was a few weeks old. Tim was born several months earlier. April 16, a day later than Larry’s birthday. It has been easy to remember these birthdays as so many are close. I was a new mother and Bernie was a more seasoned one, although you did present some new challenges, Tim. Bernie became my role mode. She showed me how to be a good mother, a better wife, a compassionate and understanding friend, and above all, the epitome of the Christian woman. She was as nearly perfect as one could be. She would have denied all this, as she knew her flaws, and with her delightful wit, admitted them freely. Her sense of humor was one of her defining charms. Bernie became so skillful in her writing, but she was not so good with spelling. Somehow she learned I was a champion speller in the fifth grade, so the calls came with, “Honey, can you tell me how

to spell ( )?” I would ask her if she had a dictionary and she would say yes, but she would rather call me. I became her “Spellchecker” and I was happy to be so.

[I am going off script here} I have sat here looking at the wonderful family photos, so dear and so nostalgic. What many do not know is that Bernie had an avowed distaste for looking at any family photos, vacations, children--any other than her own--and expressed her dislike often. She and Larry always had a dialog about this as he liked nothing better than showing our trips, family vacations, and of course our children. When Nan and Wayne married, Larry volunteered to take the candid photos, the un-posed ones. When we got the slides back, for some reason we were and Nancy and Jerry’s for a family gathering and Larry advised he could show the wedding photos. I noticed when he loaded them into the carousel, he was smiling and chuckling and I thought these must really be good. As we began the show, everyone eagerly awaiting, the first slide came up--a lovely photo of the bride in her beautiful gown. Second slide, picture of our family vacation on Nags Head, next slide, the wedding party, next slide, Larry and Carolyn in Germany at a castle where we stayed, and on and on. Bernie said, “Larry Wilson, I will never forgive you.” And Bud said, “Honey, you asked for this.”

I am grateful for these past months when I have been able to spend more time wither free from other constraints. During this time as I would begin to leave, I had a distinct sense she was saying goodbye to me. In January I was sidelined with the flu and could not see her, but we talked. That was precious time lost, but it is soothed with all these dear memories. I cherish each of them forever.

How blessed you and your families are to inherit this amazing legacy from bud and Bernie. I am a better person for having her as a friend for these many years. I wish I could have lived up to all she thought I was. I realize she wore blinders and saw me only through the eyes of love. All of you are so special to me and mine. We love you and grieve with you.

Carolyn Wilson, Otter Creek Church of Christ Celebration of Life Service, March 3, 20