Commentary; Posted: 12/1/04

Elmer L. Andersen was one of a kind

Luther Dorr
Guest Columnist

Twenty-eight years and a few months ago there began to be rumors in Princeton that an ex-governor was going to buy the two newspapers in town and combine them into one. Those rumors were of interest to me because I was the editor of one of those papers, the fledgling Princeton Eagle.

And when it became apparent that Elmer L. Andersen was indeed going to buy and merge the Eagle and the Union, I went to the library (the old railroad depot then) to do some research on a potential new boss. There was no assurance of a job at that point and I was hoping to impress former Gov. Andersen.

Then came word that it was a done deal and I wrote a story telling about the merger of the two papers ñ and spelled Andersen as Anderson, using an ìoî instead of an ìe.î Chagrined hardly describes the feeling I had as the error was pointed out to me just before I began my new job with the Union-Eagle.

Three months later Elmer ñ as we had begun calling him by then ñ called me the day after Labor Day in 1976 and informed me I had been named editor of his new newspaper, replacing the guy he had hired first when the two papers were combined. And a few months later, after many conversations and after we had gotten to know each other better, I brought up spelling his name wrong in my first story about him. He laughed and allowed that ìwriters with a lot more reputation than you have done that before.î

Letting that mistake go by without mention should have given me an early indication about the guy I would deal with for the next 10 to 15 years on a weekly basis. When Elmer died at the age of 95 many of you who are reading this column probably didnít realize that he came to town 28 years ago and became publisher of a new newspaper. So many of you have moved to the area since then and his day-to-day dealings with the paper ended many years ago. How could you know?

By the same token, how could any of you fail to see or hear something in the last 10 days about the man who made Princeton his adopted home? He truly was the stateís ìgreatest citizen,î a label hung on him by Tom Swain, his chief of staff during his two years as governor.

Accolades poured in from everywhere from the time Elmer died to his funeral in Minneapolis. So I really donít need to add to those. And, as noted, many of you probably know little about Elmer, or at least his time in Princeton, and that I can write about.

He came to Princeton three times a week the first decade or so and we had many, many conversations, about just about everything. It didnít take long to figure out how well-rounded he was and how committed he was to the service of others.

Elmer was asked to speak at the Memorial Day observance in Princeton a couple years after he had merged the papers. I wondered how that might go, him not being in the military and it being such a military event at that time here. I shouldnít have wondered.

A couple minutes into his 25-minute speech (without notes) he had those crusty old veterans in the palm of his hand. He spoke about country, about dedication and about honor.

I heard many of his speeches after that, all without notes, about everything under the sun. He knew about everything under the sun. He continued to make public speeches into his 90s, including a particularly memorable one to the Minnesota Legislature.

That was the public Elmer, along with the philanthropic Elmer, that many saw, although he didnít seek the limelight. The other Elmer was the one who would sit at his desk on First Street in Princeton and ask sincerely about how your children were doing, or if your mother was OK, or perhaps just impart the wisdom of his 70-plus years to someone 30-plus years younger. We wrote letters to each other through the years. Every once in awhile he would come up with a question about something that had happened 10 years ago. I was surprised at first and then not surprised.

Last Saturday I sat with about a thousand others ñ a former vice president, ex-governors, the present governor, a former U.S. senator and just friends ñ at Central Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. The eulogies were simple and to the point, as was Elmer.

His son Tony read a meaningful passage from a recent book, former chief of staff Swain said Elmer was a man ìconstantly reaching beyond his grasp,î Rabbi Emeritus Bernard Raskas revealed to us that he broke the Sabbath for the first time in his more than 70 years of Jewish faith to speak at the service, and longtime friend Wheelock Whitney, a Minnesota Republican of note, asked if we knew anyone else who had waited until age 90 to start writing his autobiography. ìHow optimistic can you get?î Whitney asked.

The service ended and the great and mighty in Minnesota mingled with those of us who knew Elmer just as a friend, not as an ex-governor, or even as a publisher. After returning to Princeton I dusted off a letter from Elmer dated February 1986. He wrote after we had a disagreement the day before, saying he had spent a sleepless night thinking about our visit.

And in his usual way, after many paragraphs, he wrote: ìIf we are coming to a parting of the ways, which I donít want, letís do it with full appreciation of what has gone before and work together to develop a future plan that will be good for you.î

Suffice it to say, things worked out and I look back on the 28 years I knew Elmer with fondness and with respect. More than anything in those years, I remember his optimism ñÝhis absolute will to get something done, with no excuses accepted ñÝand his vision for serving others and finding a way to make things better for them.

He really was one of a kind.

Writer Luther Dorr is editor of the Princeton Union-Eagle in Princeton, MN.

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