I traveled recently to Sioux City to deliver a program about Iowa author MacKinlay Kantor. Kantor was born in 1904 in Webster City and spent his boyhood there. In the 1920s, he and his wife, Irene, lived briefly in Cedar Rapids, ironically neighbors of artist Grant Wood, who soon became a close friend. Preparing for my presentation, I came upon a letter sent to “Mack” Kantor in January, 1942, from someone described as “Wood’s friend and PR person”.
“You are about to lose a dear friend. Grant Wood has been ill for several months with what we first thought was a gall bladder ailment. Recently an operation was performed. The doctors found cancer of the liver. Of course, there is no hope. I know Grant would like a letter from you, just a casual note, mentioning perhaps that you read of his operation in the paper and hope that he is feeling better. He speaks of you frequently: wonders how your work is coming and how you and your family are. I’m sorry to write you this stunning news but I knew you’d want to know.”
Two weeks later, Wood responded personally to a letter he’d received from Kantor: “Your note was waiting for me when I got back to Iowa City… I’m back home taking it easy for a while. Florida sounds fine and I’d love to see you and Irene. But I’m afraid that’s out of the question just now… “
In mid-February, Mack received a telegram: “Grant Wood died peacefully Thursday night.” I share this exchange because I knew the man who wrote the “stunning news” letter. Park Rinard was personal assistant to Grant Wood from 1935 until Wood’s death. Park went on to work for Iowa Governor and Senator Harold Hughes and Iowa Senator John Culver, among others. In 1980, my wife, Paula, and I were staff members on Senator Culver’s re-election campaign, which is how we came to know Park Rinard.
Among his many talents, Park was a gifted speechwriter, deft with language, artful in expression. I’m certain Park drafted Governor Hughes’s 1963 inauguration address, delivered sixty years ago. (His stylistic “fingerprints” are all over it.) “We live in a conservative state, but it’s a conservatism of prudence, rather than of fear and inertia. There are times to watch and wait and there are times for action. …The needs of this hour call for decisive action on the part of us entrusted with the responsibilities of government. Such action requires people willing to put their political futures on the block — because they believe in something. It’s sometimes said the knack of skillful government is to hang back, do as little as possible… I hope there is another way — for between you and me, this prospect does not invite my soul.”
Friends and I exchange these last seven words occasionally, a tribute to Governor Hughes… AND his equally talented speechwriter. Sixty years ago.
Two weeks before the 1980 election, Park invited Paula and me to dinner at the Des Moines Club, then atop the Ruan Building in Des Moines. He was characteristically gracious, interesting… and interested. Here we were, mere KIDS, breaking bread with a gentleman four-plus decades older, significantly wiser, well respected by political players in both Iowa and Washington. I recall for dessert, Park insisted we all indulge in bananas foster — made table-side — which we did. Paula and I enjoyed the evening immensely; I dare say, Park did, too.
Memories of this thoughtful, consummate professional, a veteran of myriad political battles, are still vivid after four-plus decades. When Park died in 2000, he was eulogized by Senator Culver at his funeral and on the Senate floor by Senator Tom Harkin. Both are worth reading: [https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/CRECB-2000-pt18/html/CRECB-2000-pt18-Pg26270.htm]
Thoughts of Park also prompted me to check his age the year we met. In 1980, he was my current age. I still aspire to gain a measure of Park’s remarkable character… and hope it’s not too late.