Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground

By Bob Hill
The Courier-Journal

Louisville KY -- The mourners filled Rocky Hollis' casket with the things they believed he would most need on his final road run — a bright red rose, a yellow pack of Lay's potato chips, a chicken leg, a small package of crackers and a cold, 12-ounce can of Busch beer.

A long row of flowers arched behind him, reaching wall to wall. Behind his head, near the carefully folded American flag -- Hollis was a Navy veteran and strong supporter of the armed forces -- was a huge, curved animal horn from which he often drank beer.

All Hollis had asked of his funeral was that his mourners be neither religious nor long-winded. Even after it was over yesterday, it was hard to tell if either wish had been granted.

Almost all the hundreds of people who came to pay him tribute at the Ratterman & Sons Funeral Home, 4832 Cane Run Road, were members of his Kentucky Motorcycle Association biker family -- and supporters of Wayside Christian Mission.

Pinned to the back of his casket, just past the point where his long, frothy beard almost touched the soft fabric, were photos of Hollis wearing his Santa Claus and Easter Bunny suits -- both of which had been hung with care near the sides of his metallic-blue casket.

For almost 15 years, Hollis had worn the Santa suit while leading bikers on a cross-country fundraising drive for the association's Toys for Tots program -- the beard and the 5-foot, 9-inch, 225-pound physique were his own.

He also was the biker Easter Bunny for the association's fundraising rides to help Wayside fill children's Easter baskets.

One story told at his funeral was the time he lifted off the bunny mask to get a breath of fresh air and that luxurious beard sent one kid to the door.

"Rocky always said he wanted to get everybody together for one more big 'Life Party,' " said James "Preacher Jim" Bernard, who has been a biker preacher for almost 20 years, "and he did it."

The groceries in the casket were part of the Hollis legend: He would stuff chicken wings, chicken legs, crackers, soup, biscuits-and-gravy, and occasionally, spaghetti in his pockets -- the latter commodities in plastic bags -- and offer them to anybody and everybody in sight.

When Hollis won a community service award from WAVE-TV some years ago, he packed doughnuts in his clothes to hand out to the TV staff. He was never too far from chips-and-dip, and, as a former Navy cook, would sometimes prepare food at Wayside.

"Rocky tried to help people that didn't always deserve it," Bernard said yesterday to a funeral home parlor so filled with black leather you could hear it creak as the mourners shifted in their chairs. "I seen Christ in Rocky."

An hour before the service, bikers had gathered in straight, military lines on both sides of the funeral home entrance, each holding bolt upright crisp, new American flags that snapped red, white and blue in the wind.

They had lined their bikes in even rows, each tilted just so, in the same direction, like Harley-Davidson art -- all polished chrome, black leather and clean windshields.

The bikers stood in the hallways, filled all chairs, and lined up before the casket of Hollis, 69, who died last Sunday, leaving two daughters and two stepchildren. His wife of 40 years, Sharon Hollis, died last March.

Many in the long line of mourners reached out to touch him, or jostle his food stash, cracking jokes. Several kissed him, or spoke to him as if he could hear.

Hollis had been an over-the-road truck driver, then went on disability in 1982 after hurting his back. He spent the next 25 years riding his bike all over the country.

The Rocky Hollis stories were revealing, entertaining and occasionally included copious amounts of beer. A friend said Hollis could be good at playing the clown, but also could command total attention if he had something on his mind.

There also was the night his black-powder pistol was fired into the sky just for effect over a local biker bar; mention of his ability to pass gas on cue; the road trip where Hollis -- angry about the expense -- dropped a dead possum into a Pennsylvania toll booth.

There were also the stories of Hollis insisting a daughter give her shoes to a family that needed them more than she did, and all the years he played Santa Claus.

Bishop Dan Johnson, also a biker and head of the Heart of Fire City Church, 5101 Bardstown Road, spoke mostly eloquently of Hollis, saying, "We all need to carry something with us the way Rocky carried food -- and I'm talking about what came out of his heart."

About 25 members of the Wayside Christian Mission choir and band came to the funeral in a big, gray bus -- and sang a song to Hollis. A few bikers in black jackets coated with patches reminding us of old and forgotten wars cried as "Wind Beneath My Wings" was played.

Hollis had died in poor health -- and without much money. Near the end of his service, a mourner stood up to remind the faithful that a special association cycle run to raise money for his family would be held Jan. 21.

Another stood to say the wake in his honor last night would be held at The Swamp bar on Cane Run Road.

Tradition had it that a final beer would be purchased there in Hollis' honor -- and would sit on the bar without being touched.

After the service, about 50 bikers lined up outside the funeral home, carefully passed the casket from hand to hand to hand into the hearse. They roared out of the parking lot on their bikes in escort to Evergreen Cemetery on Preston Highway.

Early last night, a 12-ounce bottle of Miller High Life was placed on the bar at The Swamp where all could see it. The bottle eventually will go on a shelf above the bar -- a plaque to Rocky Hollis with it.

Over in the corner of the new, one-story, cedar-sided bar, entertainer Mike Owens, a friend of Hollis, was setting up equipment to sing songs to remember him by.

One, he said, would be "Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground."