When high school graduate Cecil B. Sims began Vanderbilt Law School in 1911, middle Tennessee scarcely knew the legacy that would unfold from this man’s life. Perhaps graduating first in his class gave the Vanderbilt community an indication. Maybe Nashville began to recognize it in 1921, when Sims founded a law firm with his friends Frank Berry and Frank Bass, and established a reputation for his intelligence, fairness and wide-ranging interests.
But his family had always known. Sims was “everyone’s hero,” his granddaughter Becky Sims Campbell of Nashville describes, “ and a genius.” During the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, while growing a law firm, managing a home in Belle Meade, and fathering four children with his wife Grace, he made a hobby out of farming at Cecilwood – the land that most Fieldstone Farms residents now call home. Purchased by the Sims in 1927, the summer homestead was later named for their son, Sgt. Cecil Sims, Jr, lost to World War II.
“He read every farm book that ever came out,” remembers his daughter, Grace “Susie” Sims Irvin. “He was a completely self-taught farmer.” Sims read voraciously every evening, often finishing a book in one setting. He required a mere four hours of sleep each night. All the Sims’ summer nights were spent on the screened-in sleeping porch of their three-room house made of numbered beech logs transferred from the 1800s Perkins cabin.
With the help of trusted tenants the Sawyer family, Sims rotated fields of barley, oats, corn and wheat to sustain Cecilwood’s livestock. As children and grandchildren grew up on the farm, Mr. Sims researched and built useful and recreational novelties such as a bridge made of old telephone poles, tree house, observatory, bee hives, tennis court, zip line, an automated water trough hooked to a well, and an innovative concrete-floored hog house.
Meanwhile, he caught the week-day bus into Nashville to grow Bass Berry and Sims into a premier law firm. As a Vanderbilt University trustee, Sims played a significant role in the law school’s re-opening after the war and its voluntary integration in the 1950s.
It was Sims’ clients – a railroad company and construction company – who delivered a red caboose to Cecilwood in the 1960s as a playhouse for the grandchildren, who called him “Oppa.” Irvin recalls summer parties with the band standing atop the caboose, friends dancing on the tennis courts below, and serving food under the workhouse lean-to. Other evenings, Oppa enjoyed reading to the grandchildren in the caboose.

