L&C’s ‘beacon is long defunct, but A.M. Burton remains a guiding light’

A.M. Burton and Marshall Keeble breaking ground on Nashville Christian Institute in 1942. (Photo: Courtesy of Center for Restoration Studies, Abilene Christian University)

In the spring of 2015, the redrawing of Nashville’s skyline spurred my impromptu visit to its first true skyscraper, Life & Casualty Tower, finished in 1957 and Tennessee’s tallest building through 1965.

It seemed larger, shinier buildings soon would completely overshadow and envelope stately L&C.

“The tower is beginning to fade into obscurity,” I thought, and my songwriter brain couldn’t avoid an obvious and poignant metaphor: “as is the memory of the man who built it.”

Now, my great-grandfather, A.M. Burton, did not literally build L&C Tower. He founded and built its namesake, Life & Casualty Insurance Co. That fact alone represents a classic, self-made American success story: A Trousdale County farm kid with mere months of formal education came to Nashville in 1896, earned $1 a day shoveling dirt for the construction of Centennial Park, saved half his pay until he had enough to start an insurance company, and made a fortune.

And yet, Burton was so much more than a successful entrepreneur. Making a fortune isn’t the story. The story is what he did with it.

He gave it away as he made it.

By the late-1920s, Burton was a mere conduit for most of his own income, with 75% passing right through to charitable causes. As the years went on, that share grew to 90%. His will was two pages.

Burton was one of the most generous philanthropists of his time, giving away over $100 million total before his death in 1966 (nearly $1 billion in 2025 dollars). Beneficiaries included colleges and universities throughout the country. The church he founded, downtown Nashville’s Central Church of Christ, opened one of the nation’s first daycare centers. 

“The work we are doing is non-sectarian and non-partisan in spirit,” Burton said in an April 1926 radio address printed in part by the Tennessean. “A number of children have been kept in school during the past winter only by our supplying the needed clothes for the cold weather. … We have also been able to find homes for a number of orphaned children, and secure work for unfortunate older persons.”

Central was not just a church but “in reality a civic center,” the Nashville Chamber of Commerce proclaimed in 1927.

Burton founded the Nashville Christian Institute, a school for African Americans whose alumni include the segregation-fighting icon, Attorney Fred Gray Jr. Burton befriended and financed the work of Marshall Keeble, a Black preacher who helped bridge racial divides before the Civil Rights Movement. L&C itself bucked Jim Crow-era prejudices in the insurance industry and got its start selling fair, affordable accident and death insurance policies to Black Nashvillians.

While Burton’s legacy was a constant presence throughout my life, for me he was more reference material than man, a story that grounded and exemplified our family ethos and provided an example we could aspire to emulate. I was just 5 when he died.

So, what I craved as I walked in the doors of L&C Tower a decade ago were details. Specificity. Words he wrote. Pages he touched. Inhabiting a shared place. Walking his halls. In short, I craved the closest thing to a conversation one can have with a person already gone. Such opportunities, like the chances of easily picking L&C out in the skyline, would inevitably grow fewer.

The staff were tremendously helpful and kind in response to my unannounced visit, rambling explanation of it and my uncertainly defined request. (To them all, thank you.) In short order I was given access to artifacts in the basement and some vacant office space on the top floor to pore over the collected words he had written and a spectacular view of the growing city. 

I found myself sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed in contemplation.

“How do I tell your story?” I asked. “How do I tell your story?”

It wasn’t exactly a prayer, but it was nonetheless answered in a most unexpected manner.

I believe in the power of stories — and Burton’s, specifically — to win hearts, change minds and inspire action. I wouldn’t be a songwriter if I didn’t. But bigger questions have started to replace that initial desire: What do I do with your story? What have I learned from it? How do I honor it? How do I live it?

It’s time to walk the walk.

Arriving at the 100-year anniversary of Central Church of Christ’s first service on Oct. 4, 1925, my family proudly announces the A.M. Burton / Matthew 25 Fund. We start from humble beginnings, just like Burton. We will be guided by his example of service, community empowerment, and civic responsibility, with a core mission to uplift individuals and thus strengthen our city.

Luckily, the causes Burton championed, and the philanthropic services Central offered to all, provide a roadmap for our efforts: from charity medical care and disaster relief to affordable housing and childcare. The community’s voice, support and needs will determine our future.

Decades ago, L&C Tower’s color-coded weather beacon shared the day’s weather forecast to all with a clear view of downtown Nashville.

The beacon is long defunct, but A.M. Burton remains a guiding light.

We share his hopeful vision for a more compassionate and equitable Nashville. We humbly invite you to join us in the pursuit. Learn more at www.cfmt.org/amburton.