Dave Dexter, Jr., wrote in THE JAZZ STORY (1964):
The morning after my first interview with Brown, in 1939 in Chicago, his father arrived at Down Beat‘s old Dearborn Street offices with a glossy 8 x 10 photograph of an alto saxophone, lying in its case without a mouthpiece and flanked on both sides by lighted candles. Boyce had typed on the attractive folder in which the macabre photograph was mounted:
AGNES LYING IN STATE 1928-1939
And on the inside of the folder to the left, he had pasted this mimeographed requiem and signed it with his first name only:
HER VOICE now is mute.
While life was breathed into Her, She revealed to me in audible measures many of my faults, and delicately intimate moods found expression through Her being;
Though She was wholly mine, I was never Her master — quite. Having fully enjoyed the completeness of her unquestioning service, it is with no great sense of sorrow that I lay Her away;
As into the beautiful silence that precedes the touch of the Great Master.
(In Dexter’s interview, Boyce told him of his disappointment with his playing on an unreleased 1935 Charles LaVere session: “They were not good performances. I failed to communicate with Agnes, but it was my fault, not hers.”)