- April 30, 2025
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Most of us don’t ever really know how much of a difference we make in our lifetimes. For sure, we don’t get to see how many people turn out for our funeral or a celebration of life, a measure of our effects.
Charles “Charlie” Stottlemyer — the modest, most-likable giant of Sarasota — likely would have blushed and perhaps over-whelmed April 11 at First Presbyterian Church in Sarasota.
He made a huge difference.
More than 500 people filled First Presybterian’s pews and overflowed into its fellowship hall for Stottlemyer’s celebration of life. He died March 20 at age 95.
Stottlemyer touched every one of those attendees in his 70 years of business and community involvement in Sarasota. He touched them and, no doubt, hundreds more who were unable to attend, in a good, meaningful and lasting way.
Everyone who came in contact with Stottlemyer surely has fond remembrances of him. But as is often the case, not until someone is gone do we learn the full measure of the individual and the life he or she lived.
If you had the good fortune of attending Stottlemyer’s celebration of life and hearing the tributes from his brother, son, daughters and Pastor Timothy Boggess, the portrait surely could be titled: A life well-lived. A life to which we can all aspire.
In the accompanying tributes below, given by Stottlemyer’s brother, Steve, and his daughter, Karen Eastmoore, they tell the story of a man whose life can and does serve as a model for us all.
Take the time to read them.
Indeed, the life of Charles “Charlie” Stottlemyer in his beloved home of Sarasota should be a legacy for all of us to carry on.
Charles left us several weeks ago, but the impact, the effect, the love that he shared for his family and this community will never be diminished or forgotten.
Charles made many good decisions in his life, but the best was his marriage to Dee. For 73 years, they loved and supported each other, partners in every meaning of the word.
They had four kids, 15 grandchildren, 19 great-grandchildren. He knew every name, and every one of them knew they were his champion. His love was everywhere.
Charles’ parents, Peggy and Garnet Stottlemyer, were married in 1926. Both of them had dropped out of high school to help on the family farm.
They lived in a barn, truly a shack, with a wood stove the only heat. There was no insulation, and the temperatures were below freezing. Charles and Jean — his 3-year-old sister — slept between Mom and Dad to avoid dying of the cold.
Charles’ dad, Garnet, was a smart man and saw value and opportunity when others didn’t. After building a successful lumber business in Indiana, he saw promise and the future in Sarasota and moved the family — then Patricia, David, Michael and myself to Siesta Key.
Charles was at Indiana University, then in the Army and Korea. I’m not sure where Charles and Dee would have settled, but I know his mom told our father to either bring the kids to Florida, or “I’m going home to Indiana.”
The Lumber Yard was born. John and Jean Shoemaker soon joined.
When Charles and Dee arrived in Sarasota, he immediately set out to change things. He built relationships in the community, played church league softball. I remember so well sitting in the stands of Payne Park, Charles was the best pitcher in the league, and on one occasion hit the ball so far it hit the centerfield wall — home run.
Charles practiced his pitching for hours, bringing that determination and will to everything he ever did.
I recall a day in 1955 when I was with him, and he had convinced the Lindsays of the newspaper to let him use an old house on South Orange Avenue. That was the beginning of the YMCA of Sarasota.
And there was Charles: ripping out the walls to make a place for young people to gather, to grow, to learn community.
Sarasota in the 1950s was a Southern town full of bigotry and racism. The water fountains, the bathrooms, the movie theaters, the schools — all segregated.
The Stottlemyers and Shoemakers, along with other new arrivals, set out to change that. Their business was the first to allow black employees to use the bathroom and the first to pay a black man a paid vacation.
Stottlemyers and Shoemakers came from modest backgrounds, but somehow they were imbued with a sense of right and wrong, of justice, of decency and respect for all people.
Charles served on the boards of numerous Sarasota organizations — both civic and financial in nature. He was recognized for his excellent judgment and intelligence and a whole list of qualities that set him apart. Most always, he was selected to lead those organizations.
Charles and Dee were extremely generous with both their time and resources. The aquarium at the library, the art at the hospital, this church, to name just a few.
Charles was always there for his parents and his siblings. Dad lived to 91 and mother 103. Mom was an avid reader as was Charles. Weekly trips to the library were routine.
Our brother, Michael, was confined to a bed with MS for 14 years. Charles would be there every Saturday morning to check, to let him know he cared.
Charles loved his brother, David, who died three years ago. Charles always looked forward to David’s recounting of how he was living every day as though it was his last.
Every time I would see Charles, his first words were: “I really miss David.”
Charles and his sister, Jean, had a special bond, and a love forged out of a beginning in a barn. A lot of hard times and a great life of success.
It was amazing and wonderful to have a big brother like Charles. He looked out for us all. He never turned away, and I and my family owe him for the success we enjoy today.
Charles was diagnosed with lung cancer almost 11 years ago — the variety that gives you six to nine months to live. When I saw him after learning the news, I told him, “Well, you’ve always been a winner, and somehow you’ll find a way to beat this.” He did.
Charles was with his sweetheart Dee, his family, for most of 11 years. This last year, it was, as he might say, “a little tough,” but it was still Charles. “How you doing? … How are the kids? … How’s Terry doing? … Tell them I said hello.”
… We know Charles couldn’t be here with us, any longer, and he knew that ...
He handled it as he did everything else in his life. His passing leaves us feeling a little less, his being here made us so much more.
–Steve Stottlemyer
The following are excerpts from Karen Eastmoore’s tribute to her father.
The morning Dad passed, Mom went back to bed and slept for a while.
When she awoke, she talked about seeing Dad in a bright white house. They were both young. She wanted to get inside. Dad told her she couldn’t come in. It wasn’t her time. She wanted to go there again …
I have so many memories, Dad.
I remember standing on your white bucks when I was a little girl while you walked around with me.
I remember reaching up to hold your index finger.
I remember you handing out pads and pencils to us in this sanctuary when we were little.
I remember all of us dragging vines and branches and helping to clear the jungle that was to be our home on Fruitville Road.
I remember your crew cut, your white gym shorts and white T-shirt and the sweat dripping down your nose.
I remember you reaching into your back pocket for your wal-let when one of your employees stopped by the house and needed some help until the next payday.
I remember watching “Wild Kingdom” on Sundays and how much you loved the animal families living on our property.
I remember Bridge Club picnics at Myakka, and how you missed the grounder on purpose so one of the younger kids would make it to first.
I remember late summer evening on Bobby Jones with you and Joe, playing a few holes, and sinking putts as the sun set.
I remember your playing the jellybean game with the grandchildren and great grandchildren and how much they loved it.
I remember your faith and resilience and how hard you tried no matter what life brought your way.
Dad, I see your tenderness in the way your grandchildren care for your great grandchildren.
I see you in the beautiful oak trees that you had planted on Southgate Circle.
I hear you in the bells at church.
I see you in your sons and grandsons and the way they play with and tease their nieces and nephews.
I see you when I see kindness in the world.
Dad, Thank you for loving Mom, your family, your friends and your community so well.
I hope that bright white house that mom saw is big.
We’re all coming. We can’t wait to see you.
–Karen Eastmoore
