One fateful September day in 2023, Martinsville lost its mayor, city attorney, clerk, and collector and it was more than an emptying of offices — it was a vacuum of leadership that could have left the town adrift. For a moment, Martinsville’s municipal governance faced the real possibility of unraveling.

But Martinsville didn’t unravel.

Instead, retired Navy chief, councilman, and longtime volunteer Bob Lovell was tapped to step in as acting mayor. “I was enjoying retirement,” Lovell admitted. “Fishing, hunting, gardening — that was my world. But the city needed someone who could devote themselves fully, and I couldn’t say no.”

Down the road, Superintendent Bob Waggoner was navigating his own second year at the helm of Martinsville Schools. He had already built trust with his board and community by acting decisively and moving projects forward. When he saw an opportunity to work with the city to finish stalled recreational improvements, he didn’t hesitate. “When the Stronger Connections grant came along, I thought it was a great opportunity for us to work with the city to do something that would really benefit the community,” Waggoner recalled.

Neither man could have predicted that their paths — one rooted in decades of service, the other still in the early throes of school leadership — would intersect so powerfully.

Courts That Sparked a Movement

By the time Waggoner reached out, Martinsville had already invested nearly $100,000 into a new pickleball complex. Concrete was poured, but the project had gone dormant. Lovell, newly in the mayor’s chair, was staring at an unfinished slab. Waggoner, sensing both the need and the potential, brought in Stronger Connections funding to pair with the city’s pursuit of an OSLAD grant.

And then came the children.

Lovell called the schools, asking if students might lend their voices to the grant application. The response was overwhelming: more than 400 letters and drawings in just a day. Among them, one line from a third grader that would become a touchstone: “Martinsville might be a small town, but it’s a big deal.”

That single sentence captured the pride of a place that refuses to be defined by population. Today, it hangs on signs downtown — a reminder that Martinsville’s heartbeat comes from its youngest voices.

IDNR grant readers were equally impressed. The flood of children’s drawings and testimonies was the tipping point. By December, Martinsville had secured the OSLAD award, and soon after, the courts came alive in Martinsville blue and white. Neighboring communities noticed — one even chose to borrow the colors for their own pickleball project.

Sidewalks, Dugouts, and Safe Pathways

The courts were just the beginning. Lovell and Waggoner quickly found more opportunities to combine resources. Safe pathway sidewalks, once a distant hope, became reality when Waggoner offered grant dollars to accelerate the work. Lovell promised quick action: “I said, ‘What would it take if I gave this check?’ and the Mayor replied, ‘We’ll start next week.’”

Today, new sidewalks are on-track to stretch from the district office toward Dollar General, offering safe routes for students and families. City crews, under the direction of Jesse Snearley, poured the concrete, turning outside grants into local paychecks.

Meanwhile, Martinsville High School’s building trades class is getting ready for some hands-on experience rebuilding baseball dugouts at the city park. Funded through the same grant, it’s a project that will continue to improve community facilities while giving students a practical opportunity to hone their construction skills.

Other collaborations followed: removing a dilapidated house beside the school to create new teacher parking, sharing athletic facilities through handshake agreements, and coordinating schedules so city leagues and school sports could coexist seamlessly.

Service Without Spotlight

Both men are quick to deflect credit. Lovell, with 22 years in the Navy and another two decades counseling offenders in Illinois prisons, shrugs at the idea of recognition. “Somebody’s getting this money and somebody’s getting this help,” he said. “Why not Martinsville?”

Waggoner echoes the sentiment. For him, the work is rooted in family and continuity. His wife, Lori, is a Martinsville alumna (’90), and her late father, Phil Reeds, once served as both mayor and longtime school board member. That legacy — of service that bridges city and school — lives on in Waggoner’s own approach. “The mayor has really been great for the community,” he said. “He’s moving things forward in the right way, and he’s using community members to do it.”

Neither sees their role as a star player. Both see it as collaborative stewardship.

A Town That Refuses to Just Survive

Martinsville has weathered challenges before. The 2008 flood that destroyed the old school forced students into temporary trailers for a time. That experience could have been the lasting story of the town — one of loss and endurance. But Martinsville has chosen differently.

“Surviving isn’t enough,” Lovell said. “We want to thrive.”

And thrive it has. From new courts to sidewalks, from student-built dugouts to safer crossings, Martinsville has transformed its setbacks into catalysts. The work has been unconventional at times, but effective. “If we can’t get it done one way, there’s always another way,” Lovell said. “We just have to reach out to our resources.”

Collaboration as the Currency of Progress

The partnership between Mayor Lovell and Superintendent Waggoner is not about ego or titles. It’s about a simple understanding that together, the city and the schools can achieve more than either could alone.

It’s about students whose letters tipped the balance of a state grant. It’s about city workers who put shovels in the ground. It’s about a community that has decided not to be small in spirit, even if small in census.

And it’s about two leaders who, by leaning on one another, have reminded Martinsville of something profound: progress is not a solo act.

As the courts light up under evening skies and sidewalks guide children safely along, that truth shines bright. Martinsville may be a small town, but today — and tomorrow — it is a very big deal.