The folks around the conference table, four in person, two more via FaceTime, are talking up their favorite politician, extolling his many virtues: his ability to reach across the aisle; his integrity; his refusal to be beholden to anyone, no matter how much money they give his campaign; his commitment to term limits; his tireless energy.
So what’s their man running for?
Not a thing.
Jake Garn hasn’t been in office since 1993.
Garn, the former Salt Lake City mayor (1972-74) and three-term United States senator from Utah (1974-1993), turned 93 a few weeks ago. That prompted an email I received from a group called the Jake Garn Legacy Team. Attached was a document detailing Garn’s efforts with the Central Utah Project, legislation that ensures we Utahns are entitled to 27% of the water from the Colorado River Upper Basin. Thanks to him, we have plenty to drink.
Significant information, but not exactly breaking news. And why are they emailing a newspaper columnist about it three decades later? And who is the Jake Garn Legacy Team?
The next thing I know, I’m sitting at a conference table at the Alta Club finding out.
In attendance are Kimball Young, the sender of the email; Scott Howell, the husband-wife team of Alvina and Danny Wall; and live via FaceTime, Bob Weidner, the person who wrote about the water history in the email; and Joanne Neumann, who lives in Washington, D.C.
All except Howell worked for Garn at one stage or another of his political career. Howell, a former Utah Senate minority leader, interacted often with Garn when he was a U.S. senator.
They are charter members of the Jake Garn Legacy Team, along with Kimball’s wife Laurel, Jake’s daughter Ellen, Jesselie Anderson and the late Dave Buhler.
The team was formed in 2019, when Howell led a crusade to have the rebuilt Salt Lake airport renamed the Jake Garn International Airport, in honor not only of Garn’s political achievements, but his accomplishments as an aviator. He flew combat missions in Korea and orbited the Earth 108 times, while spending almost a week in space as a senator-astronaut in the Space Shuttle in 1985.
No sooner had Howell launched the airport-naming campaign with an op-ed in the Deseret News than he started hearing from Garn staffers and supporters — including all of the above — wanting to be involved. So they formed their club.
Collectively, the team raised $200,000 for the project, although in the end the renaming effort didn’t succeed — but the airport did agree to name its new greeting room after Jake Garn, and set up a permanent exhibit honoring the pilot and senator.
Howell and the others found so much enjoyment in reliving the old days together, when the airport effort ended, the Jake Garn Legacy Team did not. They’ve been meeting periodically ever since. Their collective cause is to not forget the time they all spent together, and to preserve and keep alive all that Jake stood for and accomplished. (They have a website: jakegarnlegacy.com).
“We just felt like if we didn’t stake out some territory for Jake’s legacy, all that he did for this state would be forgotten,” said Bob Weidner.
“To me, he embodied all the principles of what I believe good government service should be,” said Howell. “What keeps the passion going is the example he set for political leaders today.”
“We all love him still,” said Joanne Neumann, Jake’s former legislative director.
The sad irony of this story is that the man who did so much that deserves to be remembered can’t remember.
Jake Garn has Alzheimer’s disease.
He still lives at home, where he is taken care of by his daughter Ellen, and by all accounts he is in good physical condition. But memories of everything he did for Salt Lake City as mayor, for Utah as senator, the tireless work on the Central Utah Project so we all have enough to drink, those 108 orbits around the Earth, all of it, it’s locked away somewhere in his mind.
His loyal staffers from days gone by still see him from time to time. Danny and Alvina Wall drop by to take him to lunch. Alvina was Jake’s personal secretary and assistant for 37 years; Danny was his director of legislation when he first came to D.C. Danny sometimes shows him World War II movies. They take day trips to Hill Air Force Base and the Wendover war museum.
“We’re old memories; he knows us when he sees us, which is gratifying,” says Alvina, “but other than family, he hardly knows anyone else.
“Yes, it’s hard,” she laments, “but the memories are good, and they’re there.”
And those who haven’t forgotten aren’t about to let them die.