In the Atlanta Journal, April 28, 1962, we find this write-up of Campbell and his casket and burial in Rockmart, Georgia.
"Will Campbell came back home to Rockmart to rest in the casket he had made for himself more than eighteen years ago. He was buried beside his wife, Ruth, who died last May 22. William Thomas Campbell, 85, was a Rockmart business and civic leader for some thirty-five years before moving to Atlanta when his health began to fail. Mr. Campbell, the oldest of eight sons of the late Charles Porter and Lou Asaline Hobbs Campbell, pioneer residents, was born in Van Wert, parent town of the city of Rockmart. At an early age, he went into business for himself here, owning and operating a lumber yard and construction business. He built twenty-three of the present standing business houses as well as nearly one hundred of the residences in Rockmart. He served on the City Council for a number of years.
"Illness limited his activities but he maintained a cabinet shop in the basement of his Linwood Avenue residence in Atlanta, turning out pieces of furniture and other articles. It was there that he conceived the idea of building his casket. A man of keen wit and good humor, Mr. Campbell
explained to astonished relatives and friends that he had noticed that 'it takes a lot of money to come into the world and to leave it as well, and I want to be as little expense to my folks as possible.'
"He estimated that his own provision of a suitable coffin would save several hundred dollars. Obtaining the best Western fir available, he used this in the construction of the 'box,' as he called it. He cut it out from a pattern he drew himself, and trimmed the outside in handsome polished nickel and silver. It required about three months to complete the job, and the finished product, except for the lining, was placed in storage. On a Wednesday night, after months of illness, the end came, and following his instructions, his funeral was held in Rockmart.
John Synge in Riders to the Sea wrote: "Bartley will have a fine coffin out of the white boards, and a deep grave surely. What more can we want than that? No man at all can be living forever, and we must be satisfied."
Anyway, dead eyes never saw inside a coffin—nor faces of friends who let his coffin down into the grave. Nor monuments erected to his memory. And dead ears never heard funeral speeches.