Death of a Leader

When I was younger, I had the opportunity to work with 4 term Idaho Governor Cecil D. Andrus for three years. I say “with” rather than “for” because, at that point in his career, he held an of counsel position and required and requested very little administrative support.

In the beginning, I was starstruck working for such a beloved prominent political figure, but he quickly became less of a celebrity and more of an approachable patriarch. His formal political career began before I was born, and ended before I was old enough to vote, and it was by all accounts honorable and impressive (you can read it all on Wikipedia). However, the man underneath the politician – the Cecil Andrus I came to know was more than an accomplished statesman and was a true bright spot in my days.

Conversations were not always just politics or official business. I would sit in the former Governor’s office, and we would talk about family and life – and even boys. He truly understood the life of a single mother and often used the term “Nogoodnik” in reference to the men we sometimes encounter. If ever there was a man who understood and respected (truly respected) women – it was Governor Andrus. With a wife, three daughters, two granddaughters, and a great granddaughter, he was surrounded.

In the time I had known him, I could plop down in a leather chair in front of him in his office to talk about anything I wanted. The man was hard of hearing, so when we spoke, he always stood close. There was never a distance that had to be kept. He let everyone into his bubble and he was always welcome in mine.

When he spoke, he looked everyone in the eye as if there was no one else in the room and no conversation more important than the one he was having with the person in front of him. There is something to be said for that kind of consideration and integrity. He took the time to listen and be present in every encounter.

He was a realist and was comfortable telling it as it was. When a young local politician who I thought was a friend slighted our firm, I asked The Gov. why he was not more annoyed, and his response was, “It’s politics kid, there are few friends in politics.” This was clearly something he had learned long ago, and I had just begun to see the seedy underbelly of politics and political figures. Young political wannabes seeking his endorsement would show up in the office, and he would offer advice and support, but could always tell when their passion, talent, and qualifications did not line up. “I’m pretty sure POLY SCI 101 is about all he knows, but I wish him luck, and that was a really nice suit.”

He was wise, and an eloquent speaker, but he was also one of the funniest people I have ever known. He loved a good joke and had more one-liners than I can even remember. “Hey Julie, what do you think of the gentleman who was just in my office? Pretty fit for an old guy huh? Did you know he does 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups every morning? Well, just so you know, I did BOTH of mine today.” Pretty funny huh?

Governor Andrus laid in state at the Idaho capital building for 24 hours before his funeral. I talked by best friend into going with me to see my hero one last time. My Governor was placed on the first floor of the capital directly below the rotunda. The view looking up from that vantage point and the way the light fills the space is simply stunning. I stood on the second floor looking down on the flag draped casket surrounded by four guards, and cried like I hadn't cried in quite a long time. In that moment he was out of reach, and I understood what his wife and family had always known-he belonged to the people.

I had not planned to attend the old man's funeral until I recieved a call from a close friend of his former chief of staff urging me to go see him one last time. "He really liked you and asked about you often - please be sure to pay your respects." He cared about me, and as my last act of love for him, I sat in a room with over a thousand other admirers and cried a hundred more tears for him. It was an afternoon well spent.

​Governor Andrus’ birthday has popped up on my calendar every year since 2009, and sadly he missed his 86th birthday by one day. Even though he has gone, I am not going to delete the reminder – because he and the memories I have of him will live on with me for years to come. They don't make them like that anymore.

Rest In Peace Sir - we will all be missing you.

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Falling and Flying…Living and Dying