A sign was taped to the Church Avenue post office door in downtown Roanoke on Friday.

"It is with great sadness that we inform you of the passing of our good friend Melvin Bradley," it read.

There it was, simple black letters on white background. For many on the cold morning, the words held deep-felt meaning.

J. Melvin Bradley was a man who liked holding doors for people.

The Roanoke resident was an ordinary man -- retired, with time on his hands and a good heart -- who became somewhat extraordinary. He stopped by the post office several days each week, often for hours at a time, to greet strangers and open the door for patrons.

After years of the routine, Bradley died Thursday at age 77.

During his life -- and now, after his passing -- he was referred to as a gentleman by some. A good Samaritan by others. But mostly, he was just Melvin, the kind, elderly man with the big grin who opened the door.

"It's a little favor to people," Bradley said in a 1999 newspaper interview. "And it kills some time."

Bradley was a member of Huntington Court United Methodist Church and retired from Roanoke Engraving.

No one can say exactly when he began his volunteer doorman duties. While picking up his own mail at the post office one day, he noticed people having trouble with the door.

From there, in a society in which neighbors often are strangers and rudeness is sometimes the norm, Bradley's friendliness set him apart.

He saw many of the same people every day, said Stuart Bentley, a postal clerk who has known Bradley since the 1980s. When Bradley was around, postal clerks never needed a weather gauge. He stood inside the lobby opening the door when it was cold and stationed himself outside on nice days.

He just liked talking to people. Last week, Bradley and the postal clerk discussed the 1960 Chrysler 300 Bradley was restoring, a rare model that's as dark and sleek as the Batmobile.

The speedometer reached 160 miles per hour, Bradley bragged. But when the postal worker asked if he ever drove it full throttle, Bradley admitted he hadn't.

Others, such as Trina Williams, knew Bradley from daily post office visits, when they chit-chatted about Bentley's garden. When Williams last saw Bradley a few weeks ago, he said he missed her when she did not visit the postal center during the holidays.

She kissed him on the cheek and told him, "Happy New Year," not knowing he would not make it to February.

Although Bradley had survived a stroke and cancer, his son Tim, 44, said his dad came down with a virus last week. He was admitted to Carilion Roanoke Memorial Hospital on Saturday after a fall. Although his condition improved, his heart and lungs gave out early Thursday morning.

One day after his death, Tim Bradley said he already missed his dad, the man who liked everybody and who taught his three kids to listen when others talked. Often, Tim Bradley listened to his dad talk about the post office, how he helped people and how they smiled.

"They don't make people like that anymore," Bradley said of his dad. "If everybody else in the world was like him, the world would be a great place."

Those Bradley befriended at the downtown post office agree. His spot at the door has, for now, been replaced by a sign. And on Monday, in Bradley's honor, the door will hold a wreath.