Tim Johnson’s intelligence, integrity and wit recalled by those who knew, loved and worked with him
Funerals are, by nature, sad events. It is a gathering of family and friends to pay their respects for someone who has recently died.
But they also can be filled with laughter, smiles and hugs, because family and friends are gathered together. These people know and like — and in some cases love — each other.
Especially when the deceased person has lived a long life filled with more triumphs than tragedies, funerals often have as many smiles as tears, laughs as sobs.
Such was the case at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Sioux Falls on Friday morning, as Sen. Tim Johnson’s funeral was held. The church was full and the service was respectful, dignified — and at times, very funny.
The service drew a galaxy of South Dakota political stars. Sens. John Thune and Mike Rounds, Gov. Kristi Noem, former Sens. Tom Daschle and Larry Pressler, former Gov. Dennis Daugaard and others were in attendance. Former Montana Sen. Max Baucus, who is 83, came from his home state to pay his respects.
The guests mingled at the church library before the service, sat close together in crowded pews, and shared stories, laughs and a classic church lunch after the service.
Ira Taken Alive, who offered a Lakota prayer and reflections on Tim, said he was honored repeatedly by Native American groups. Tim was named Wacante Ognake — Holds the People in his Heart — by the Lakota.
He also was awarded gifts at many ceremonies, Taken Alive said. Tim likely had more star quilts than any person ever, he said, eliciting the first laughs of the service.
Tim’s sons Brooks and Brendan gave the first two eulogies. Their love and respect for the father was clear, but they also provided glimpses of their dad away from the Senate floor, the campaign trail or a meeting with staff.
Brooks said he will remember a father with a deep love for South Dakota and its people, a tireless public servant with seemingly endless determination and a work ethic that would make his Scandinavian ancestors proud.
“You never paused when there was an opportunity to do the right thing,” he said.
But like any dad, Tim was proud of his kids. He never missed their sporting events and other activities, Brooks said. The family treasured its canoe trips, Brooks recalled.
He also remembered the boat they owned for a few years. It was, he now realizes, “a money pit,” but the kids loved it. Their dad did, too, especially when he got to see teen boys flying through the air and crashing into waves.
“Dad, thank you so much,” Brooks said in conclusion. “We’ll miss you.”
Brendan said his dad was at home in a church. He attended every Sunday, and had a rule for his kids — if they were too sick to attend, they were too sick to watch TV that day. It was a remarkable way to suddenly improve their health.
Family dinners were a must, too, Brendan said. But Barb Johnson, Tim’s wife for 55 years and the mother of Brooks, Brendan and their daughter Kelsey, was the chief cook.
Thankfully.
“It was really mother,” he said. “She was the glue.”
Tim was, well, limited as a chef, Brendan said.
When Mom was away, he was in charge of the kitchen, and his menu was basic. Very basic.
When the kids requested grilled cheese sandwiches, Tim wasn’t prepared for such an order. How about something simpler, like Raisin Bran cereal?
Apparently Tim later mastered grilled cheese sandwiches, or at least his version of it. The Rev. Lori Hope, who officiated along with the Rev. Sawyer Vanden Heuvel and the Rev. Tim Lemme, said she had dinner with the Johnsons.
Rev. Hope said Tim’s version of grilled cheese was cheese inside two pieces of bread that was heated up in the microwave. Voila!
That was Tim. No frills.
Brendan said his dad was a good football player at Vermillion High School, and cheered hard for kids when they competed. Brendan wrestled in high school, and once added a “signature move” that involved an extended time before he placed a grip on an opponent.
After he unveiled it, his dad stopped by his room that night. He congratulated him on the match, but offered a word of advice.
“‘I could do without the theatrics,’” he told his son, Brendan recalled. “That was the end of the signature move.”
It also was a microcosm of Tim Johnson’s life. He was a workhorse during his long public career, never a show horse.
Former Sen. Tom Daschle, a close friend and political ally for more than four decades, said after he left the Senate in 2005, the regular talks he enjoyed with Tim ended. Daschle said he enjoyed the exchanges and treasured the laughter.
He admired his courage and resilience in the face of his health battles over the years. That was remarkable to witness, Daschle said.
He admitted to regretting not staying in closer contact with Tim in recent years.
“And I take responsibility for that,” Daschle said.
But his deep admiration for the man he called his “legislative partner” and love for a close friend was evident. Daschle said he learned a lot from Tim over the decades.
He also recalled a joke his colleague once shared with him to explain the difference between a Norwegian introvert and a Norwegian extrovert. A Norwegian introvert will talk to you but look at his shoes the whole time.
A Norwegian extrovert will look at your shoes.
The crowd laughed, and Daschle smiled, recalling many meetings and phone calls where Tim’s sly, dry wit enlivened the conversation.
“He not only looked at your shoes, he looked in your eyes,” Daschle said. “And he listened to you.”
Former Rep. Stephanie Herseth Sandlin recalled meeting Tim when she was just 8 years old in 1979. Her family has deep roots in South Dakota politics and government, and in 1986, her father ran for governor and Tim sought his first term in the U.S. House of Representatives.
The Herseths and Johnsons spent a lot of time together that year, she said. Herseth Sandlin later was an intern in Johnson’s Washington, D.C., office.
Eventually, she served seven years in Congress with Tim and appeared on the same ballot with him in 2008. Tim was smart, fair and willing to talk with anyone, even people who strongly disagreed with him.
That, Herseth Sandlin said, was the secret to his long success in politics. He had integrity, humility and decency and voters picked up on that.
She recalled one of his favorite sayings: “Well, we are where we are,” Tim often said.
The front rows of the church, packed with former staffers, roared with recognition at that.
Herseth Sandlin said it was a simple, plain expression that there was work to do and it was time to get underway. No sense complaining — just get to it.
“Tim was about the business of getting things done,” she said.
Now, his work is over, Herseth Sandlin said.
“Tim has yielded the floor,” she said.
Fourth-generation South Dakotan Tom Lawrence covered Tim Johnson for three decades. Lawrence has written for several newspapers and websites in South Dakota and other states and contributed to The New York Times, NPR, The London Telegraph, The Daily Beast and other media outlets. Republish with permission.
Photo: Tom Lawrence
