Staff and archive reports| Tallahassee Democrat
Wally Amos, a once Tallahassee resident who built a cookie kingdom, died Tuesday in Hawaii.
The Florida capital city native who became known to the world as Famous Amos in the late '70s and '80s "died peacefully at his home with his wife Carol by his side after a battle with dementia," Amos' children said in a statement, according to news reports. He was 88.
Amos was born in Tallahassee's Smokey Hollow neighborhood, a thriving Black community in what is now downtown Tallahassee. However, many residents were forced to leave due to the construction of Apalachee Parkway in the 1950s and the Florida Department of Transportation building after that.
Amos moved to New York City at age 12 to live with an aunt. While he didn't have particularly good memories of his early upbringing in Tallahassee, he never forgot where it all began.
"That was back during segregation," he told a Democrat reporter after a 2006 visit. "There was racism everywhere, and it just wasn't a good time for me. I can now say I'm proud to be from Tallahassee. This has been the best trip ever."
He visited his birthplace a number of times, including in 2006, 1995 and 1994, when Democrat entertainment columnist Mark Hinson was there to chronicle his homecoming.
From the archives: Cookie king comes home
Sept. 10, 1994 ― Wally Amos extracts a plump scuppernong from a plastic bag and examines the grape with the same admiration that a jeweler might study a prize ruby.
"This is absolutely great," Amos says with reverence and relish. "I haven't had one of these since I left Tallahassee. And that was 1948."
Amos – a Tallahassee native who became known to the world as Famous Amos the cookie king in the late '70s and '80s – hushes the bookstore crowd that has queued up to get his autograph.
"This is a moment of ecstasy," he says and slowly bites into the grape.
"Oh, man, that's as good as I remember," Amos says and smiles his contagious grin.
Sometimes, it seems, you can go home again.
Amos, 58, was on home turf Friday to promote his new book, "Man With No Name: Turn Lemons into Lemonade," champion his passion for literacy, visit with school kids, give motivational talks, spread his infectious positive attitude and see some old friends from the neighborhood.
"You know me?" a woman in a red dress says as she stands over the table where Amos is signing books.
"Help me out," he says, "it's been a long time."
Pause.
"I'm Willie Mae, I'm Robert's wife," she finally says.
"Oh my God," Amos laughs. "I grew up next door to Robert. Is he still talking slow like he used to?"
"Yeah, I talked to him last night," Willie Mae Fisher says and laughs. "He's still talking slow."
Amos howls and stomps his feet, which are wrapped in a pair of socks that must have been woven in Technicolor. He's obviously loving all this attention.
Amos grew up in a three-room house in the Smokey Hollow community, right by the railroad tracks. His house is still standing - a little pink number on Lafayette Street behind the Chili's restaurant.
"I went back (to Smokey Hollow) and it hasn't changed a bit," Amos says. "It's frozen in time."
His mother was a domestic, his father worked at the nearby natural-gas plant. When they divorced in the late '40s, Amos was dispatched to live with an aunt in Manhattan.
"It was my Aunt Della who taught me to love home-baked chocolate-chip cookies," he says.
After a stint in the Air Force, Amos went on to become the first African-American agent for the powerful William Morris talent agency.
"I was in the right place, right color, right time," Amos says jokingly.
It also didn't hurt that the guy packs enough energy and charisma to bring a smile to the face of even the most devout pessimist.
During the '60s, Amos worked with such well-known entertainers as Simon & Garfunkel, Helen Reddy and Marvin Gaye.
It was those connections that helped him financially when Amos got fed up with the entertainment industry and decided to open up a chocolate-chip cookie shop in Los Angeles on March 10, 1975 (Amos has a remarkable ability to remember specific dates). It turned out to be a gold mine and blossomed into a national company.
However, by the mid-'80s, Amos had overextended himself with investors and he suddenly found himself stripped of the company he started from scratch. To boot, Amos was forbidden to use the Famous Amos handle.
"I screwed up," Amos says. "I'm not a victim . . . I lost it because of the mistakes I've made. I was a little irresponsible."
That's what led to Amos' newborn Uncle Noname Cookie Company, his "Man With No Name" biography charting his legal nightmares and his trip home.
"I used to tell people I was from New York City when they asked me where I was from," Amos says while he signs another book at the downtown Black Cat News Exchange.
"For years, I didn't have fond memories of Tallahassee - I grew up during segregation. But when I came back in 1981 to visit, and went back to my old neighborhood, I realized that a big part of who I was came from here. That community. Now I'm proud to be from Tallahassee."
A young fan approaches the table with another book.
"Mr. Amos, will you sign my book?"
"What's this mister stuff?" he says. "Call me Wally. Never call a guy with funny socks mister."
Then Amos offers her some scuppernongs.
"These are really great," he says.
Wally Amos visited local schools with inspirational message
Tuesday, December 19, 1995 — On a recent trip through his old homestead, Wally Amos took time to share a motivational message with students at Lincoln High School, Wesson Elementary School and Nims Middle School.
Amos, who speaks with a wisdom gained through years of roller-coaster fortunes, said he has learned that attitude is the key to everything.
"You get from life what you give to it," he said, "so respect yourself and always give your best."
Convinced there is no such thing as a "self-made man," Amos said: "That's a lie! To be a success you will need the help of others."
Since you never know who will be the next person to offer you a "critical piece of the puzzle," he encouraged students to keep a positive attitude and treat others well.
"Your attitude," he concluded, "will create your reality."
