The Legacy They Built: A Look Back on How Bob and Betty Tointon changed Greeley

Betty and Bob Tointon pose for a photo. Courtesy photo.

By Dan England for the NoCo Optimist

When Betty Brammell said yes, Bob Tointon found a lifelong partner at age 22. But his life changed, even swerved, decades later, on the day she asked for help. 

He heard her name many times as he searched for someone to run for secretary of the senior class at Kansas State University under his new political party. He liked her right away, as did everyone, because she was so darn nice. But they had similar values, too, beyond the fact that they were six weeks apart in age — neither drank or smoked (though Bob learned to appreciate wine later on) — and that stoked an attraction that grew as they campaigned.

Still, Bob’s life followed the path he had mapped out for himself, even as Betty helped him walk it. Tointon worked as a civil engineer for a construction contractor because he loved the big trucks, cranes and mixing machines as well as what they created. They moved to Greeley in 1959, a town that reminded him of his western Kansas days but was surrounded by the good weather and beautiful mountains of Colorado, a place he’d dreamed of living since he was 14. They raised two boys, Bill and Bryan, and Bob worked for Joe Phelps before he created Phelps-Tointon and built it from an $8 million company to a $600 million company. They served on boards and got to know lots of people from all social structures. They were leaders at K-State. It really was the life Bob thought he would have, and then they decided to open an antique store. 

That store led to Bob becoming a local legend for the way he turned around downtown. But the legacy is as much hers as his, he said a couple weeks ago from his office, which, of course, remains downtown. He hopes she is remembered for it at a time when people are offering tributes to her for all the other good things she did. Betty died on July 20. She was 87. 

Betty needed a little push from Bob to open Antiques at Lincoln Park. Bob bought the empty JC Penney building in downtown Greeley as a favor to a friend. It was cheap — Bob, a rancher, said with a wry smile that they “weren’t betting the farm on it” — but he didn’t want it to just sit there. He suggested the antique store, loyal workers said today with a laugh, because he wanted Betty to find a place for all her treasures. But it was also because he trusted her with it. She bought antiques like a hoarder, but their home remained classy and elegant, and he thought she could have the same touch with the store.

It was her store, just like it was his businesses, but the two helped each other, much like their partnership seeped into everything they did. Many close companions said it was the perfect partnership: When Bob’s bluntness rattled people, there was Betty to say exactly the right thing to calm them down, and when Betty needed some business advice, Bob was always there to talk it through with her. 

“She had sort of a combination of grace and pure goodness,” said their youngest son, Bryan. “I think my Dad had grit and determination, and she would polish it up and make it spiffy and presentable.”

The Tointon family poses for a photo. Courtesy photo.

And that’s why Bob was willing to listen to her when Betty told him that she needed help. She was president of the Greeley Town Center Association, and she came to realize that her store was indicative of a much larger problem: It wasn’t a good sign that her husband could buy a huge empty building for cheap because a major retailer moved out. Downtown was dying. She told him he had to get involved, as it was too big a problem for just her. 

He would have been well-regarded anyway, as the two gave their time and money to many innovative projects, even formed a few, but it’s hard to say if he would have been named Citizen of the Year by the Greeley Tribune a decade ago, or the 2019 Citizen of the West by the National Western Stock Show, perhaps his greatest honor (and to be honest, he said, one that he hopes ends all the accolades) had he not saved downtown Greeley. 

He hired a consultant from Fort Collins and formed the Downtown Development Authority on the consultant’s recommendation, asking the Greeley City Council for $50,000, a figure he matched, and he stayed on as chairman of the board for 20 years. He owned buildings and encouraged businesses and charged cheap rents to house them, all because he believed Greeley needed a strong downtown.

He gives Betty the most credit for the two most important things in his life, other than their sons and the company. She worked harder on the marriage than he did, by his admission, (though his actions in their sunset years would dispute that), and she worked hard to convince Bob to make downtown Greeley his life’s work.

“I think she believed in the idea stronger than I did,” Bob said. “She had been involved. She’d been active in it.”

Would he have tried to save downtown if she didn’t push him? 

“Probably not,” Bob said. 

A rare kindness

As Bob’s read through the stack of condolence cards these last few weeks, it’s comforting to know that the years, or her condition, haven’t sullied his first impression of her after 65 years of marriage. 

“She was such a pleasant individual,” Bob said. “People saw her as a good person.”

Everyone interviewed for this story raved about her personality, even to the point where they said they learned about how to be kind by observing and absorbing it. 

“I haven’t said this to Bob yet, but she felt like a grandmother to me,” said Jennifer Shute, the company’s controller, who’s worked for Bob for 16 years and drove Betty to appointments among her regular work duties. “I felt like I could talk to her about everything. I remember her one day asking about my son’s karate test. She didn’t ask about your life because it was the polite thing to do. She genuinely cared.”

That kindness was a tool as well as a trait, especially when Bob’s employees got to know Betty because they had to learn that she came first. 

“I’ve had two bosses in my life,” said Travis Gillmore, president of Phelps-Tointon. “Joe Phelps and Betty Tointon.” 

Betty’s demands came with a sharp, even stinging wit, but the kindness, the kind you get from living in the Midwest, acted as an anesthetic. 

“You would be sitting there, and then it would hit you, and you’d be like, ‘Wait, what did you just say to me?’” Shute said with a laugh. “She said those remarks with such grace and elegance and sweetness that you’d never get mad at her.”

Pam Bricker was a young flower shop owner of Mariposa in downtown Greeley when Betty opened up the store, and Bricker learned a lot from the parties and events Betty hosted and the projects they worked on together, such as the Holiday Open House, which encouraged shoppers to visit every store and even find something special about it by checking it off on a list. 

“She was the kindest person I’ve ever known, and we’ve learned what kindness isn’t in this time,” Bricker said. “Now my most important objective is to really embrace kindness. People need to learn from Betty Tointon.”

Bricker learned a lot from Betty beyond being kind because she also possessed a sharp mind about what helped make a business like hers successful. 

“There was this big, empty building like that, and she made it a place where people wanted to come,” Bricker said. “It wasn’t just a store. It was a big deal.”

Betty sometimes took on her own projects without Bob even knowing about it. Nikki Elsberry, who worked for Edward Jones and was married to Jim, who published the Greeley Tribune at the time, was frustrated at the dearth of opportunities available to her and wanted to start a place to offer women advice and grants. She called Betty looking for a donation. Betty gave $50,000, and then she offered her time, all without Bob’s permission. 

“She said, ‘I believe in this,’ so I asked her to be on the board and help me start it up and guide me through it,” Elsberry said.

Betty’s experience was invaluable, Elsberry said, because of her common sense.

“If there was a conflict on the board, she knew the right words and how to address them,” Elsberry said. “She was always a voice of reason. This fed right into it. She was a very strong lady.”

Since then, the endowment started by Betty’s donation is now at $650,000, and the Women’s Fund of Weld County brings in successful women to speak to elementary school girls to encourage them to think bigger, distributed grants totaling more than $300,000 and hosted wellness events.

Betty was quiet, even reserved, despite the herds of people she called friends, Bryan said, but she loved to get involved in projects like the Women’s Fund. She was awarded the KSU Medal of Excellence for her contributions both financially and intellectually and was inducted into the college’s Sports Hall of Fame. She received the United Way Humanitarian Award. 

“The wheels with mom always quietly turned,” Bryan said. “She would find ways to help out.”

Saving downtown

As Betty ran the store, she hated to see how desolate it was downtown. She would talk about it before she finally asked for help. 

“Betty had Bob’s ear,” Gillmore said, “and I think she was definitely the driving force behind downtown, which I think is their biggest legacy. It pained them to see downtown as a ghost town.”

Bob admits Betty was more concerned, but as he started to get involved, he realized what a problem it was for Greeley for everyone to shop out west.

“A lot didn’t understand why we should be that interested in downtown,” Bob said, “but both of us looked at it as what people saw what your city was like. You don’t talk about Greeley as a nice place because of Bittersweet Plaza. Downtown is unique. It has more character.”

Bob then bought places such as the Kress building, now home to the Kress Cinema and Lounge, a centerpiece of downtown. Betty ran an art show downtown, and that led them to put in enough time and money in the Union Colony Civic Center to name the Tointon Gallery after them. 

“You can’t look at anything downtown, our civic center, our hotel, anything, really, and not see them in it,” Bricker said. “Greeley literally wouldn’t be what Greeley is if it hadn’t been for the Tointons.”

But life, or the passage of time, or, if you don’t want to be too romantic about it, just getting older, is not fair. It has a way of dimming the flame, no matter how nice you were to people or how much you did for their city. Dementia and Alzheimer’s took a toll on Betty in her final years. But it didn’t snuff her, as it can. 

“Maybe she would ask the same questions sometimes, but she still remembered some things,” Shute said 

Betty Tointon

Shute has a story about that. One day Bob wheeled her into the office, and Shute noticed she was just sitting there, and so she brought her some magazines she had with her, gossip fluff like People Magazine, and Betty took a look at them and said, sweetly of course, “I’d rather sit here and do nothing, but thank you,” Betty said.

The next time Betty came to the office, Shute had Downtown Greeley brochures and the local paper waiting for her. Even in those sunset years, Betty found a way to change things, nicely, for the better.

‘”She was the same, nice, considerate, graceful lady,” Bryan said. “That was nice to see.”

Still, it couldn’t have been easy for Bob to see the woman he loved so dearly, his partner and life confidant, slip even a little bit. But that also provided an opportunity for Bob to work on the marriage more. 

“We didn’t see much of Bob the last few years,” Gillmore said. “She was the priority, and that was great to see.”

He never stopped bringing her to events, especially those downtown, and spent as much time with her as he could. 

“I didn’t want her to be isolated,” Bob said. “I thought that it was good therapy for her to be involved. It could be a bit of a confining life, but she was still Betty.”

Betty seemed content to allow Bob to pile up the honors for all their accomplishments, and downtown had a lot to do with them. Betty didn’t want too much of the recognition, or even her fair share of it, Bob said, but she was human, and so she did want people to know she had her part in it too. 

The year before she died, Bob was named Citizen of the West, and Betty seemed especially proud of that. When guests would come over, she liked to show off a book of photos Bob received as part of the award. She glowed when she showed it off, Bob said. He’s not sure why — he even wonders if it was her illness, although he also knows she was proud of him — but when the idea is raised that she recognized the role she had in it, he smiles. 

Though she would never say it, the way she showed it to visitors said it for her, as she showed off the book: Here, she seemed to say, let me show you the legacy we built together.