An Era Ending
...Our farewell to friend, Steve Roberts
Richard Gilbert, co-captain of our Potluck Life, begins with some of his takeaways from attending the memorial service for our friend Steve Roberts, followed by Julie’s observations.
Richard Gilbert:
Steve Roberts loved going to funerals. Or so the speakers at his memorial service last Tuesday told a full house at Des Moines Central Presbyterian Church.
And he would have especially enjoyed his own, at least we all think so, because many of those at the lectern stressed that what was going on was following Steve’s explicit, written instructions. That was entirely credible because Steve had also written his obituary. Here’s the link: https://www.ilesfuneralhomes.com/obituary/Steve-Roberts/Des-Moines-Iowa/1880997
Technically, the event was billed as a memorial service for the Des Moines lawyer, politician, and civic leader. April 12, 2022, would have been Steve’s 83rd birthday, but his long and productive life ended on November 7, 2020. The wish to have the service in the spring, complicated by the pandemic, accounted for the long delay. But it was worth it to all attending.
Steve was the service producer, and I say it was a big hit. Right down to his son Justin Roberts and spouse Anna Steinhoff's postlude performance of country music legend Hank William’s “I Saw the Light”, recognizing Steve’s unabashed love of country music generally and Hank W. specifically. (It was no amateur effort. Justin has four Grammy nominations for his musical performances for children’s audiences.)
As Justin and Anna wrapped up, the audience rose and burst into sustained applause. Not your everyday funeral conclusion.
During that performance, I noticed Julie wiping away tears. She explained why later.
In his obit, Steve acknowledges that most people connected him with Republican politics, and rightfully so. My friendship with Steve goes back to the early days of Bob Ray’s governorship. It was politics of a less contentious kind than experienced today; only we didn’t know it then. While devotedly partisan, Steve was regarded as a trusted and likable foe by Democrats.
As friends and family gathered for a reception after the church service, I expected to see familiar faces from my political era. I asked David Oman, still a well-known presence among Iowa Republicans, where all the political types were today. David correctly observed, “most of them are dead.” But if Dave was a good representative of the Steve Roberts era, so did another attendee, Tom Whitney, former rising star and former chair of the Polk County Board of Supervisors and chair of the Iowa Democratic Party. He continues to practice law in Des Moines.
I came away from the service realizing my friend Steve had just set a very high bar in the funeral planning department for all his friends to follow, or should I say when we follow.
At the reception, I made a beeline for Steve’s daughter Staci Roberts Steele of Los Angeles, now a movie producer and occasional actress. Staci was featured in “Don’t Look Up,” a thoroughly entertaining satire about the end of the world released in 2021, and was also a co-producer. And even if our good friend's daughter hadn’t been involved, it would have gotten my vote for best picture at the Academy Awards a couple of weeks ago. It was nominated, itself a big deal, but lost out to “CODA” which I have to concede was pretty good. I am not a particularly star-struck kind of guy, but now that I’ve shaken hands with Staci, that makes me one degree of separation from “Don’t Look Up” co-stars Meryl Streep, Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett, and Jennifer Lawrence.
So I still think Staci’s movie should have won.
Richard Gilbert
Julie Gammack’s Potluck Column, Don’t Look Up!
Julie’s perspective
Des Moines, April 12, 2022:
Sitting in the pew of Central Presbyterian church awaiting a memorial service for Steve Roberts, I was reminded of other times I’d been in the beautiful old church for funerals, weddings, or meetings.
‘Central Prez,’ St. Augustines, and Plymouth churches are still standing, reminders of when Grand was Grand and before a mish-mash of architectural styles replaced the truly grand old homes that gave the main artery from east to west of the city its name: Grand Avenue. Even the Christian Scientist church at 38th and Grand is being used as a cornerstone of another condo building.
It’s a familiar feeling these days, remembering what once was and now is no longer. I lived away from Des Moines for more than 20 years, and upon return, the changes feel abrupt, not gradual.
An era ending.
Death is the ultimate change. A funeral or memorial service calls friends, family, and colleagues together to memorialize the deceased. We learn about different aspects of the person we all knew. And, as Steve was quoted as saying, it’s the one time everyone has to say nice things about you.
Steve’s son-in-law, Brian Steele, summed up how a good number of us in attendance felt about being a friend of the former GOP State Chairman, noting how quaint (my word, not his) it was to be able to love someone with such differing political views.
“Don’t get us started on universal health care,” Steele joked.
Steve and I would debate issues over long lunches through the years. We wouldn’t change each others’ minds, but there was a common thread; we cared about the community, people, and their problems but saw solutions differently.
That was then.
Steve was so proud of his kids. They’re all grown up with families, Wikipedia pages, or IMBD (movie mogul stuff) entries today. Back in 2014, I got to see one Roberts kid in action. Richard and I accompanied Steve and Dawn to their son’s concert. Justin Roberts and his ‘Not Ready for Naptime Players’ performed in Ravinia, Chicago’s answer to D.C.’s Wolf Trap venue. The place was packed with families who came to hear this contemporary Pied Piper.
Last Tuesday, eulogists at the memorial service talked about Steve’s story-telling, humor, love of dancing, country music, politics, and how he embraced people with different points of view.
Yeah, I cried. Several times. Justin played a song he wrote that Steve requested be played at his service, and in conclusion, he played Hank Wiliams's “I Saw the Light.”
Granddaughter Frieda, a tiny blond echo of her grandfather, could no longer sit still when Uncle Justin sang the Williams tune, so she danced and twirled to the country song. In her later years, Frieda and cousins Grayson and Eli will know their grandfather through photos of him shaking hands with former presidents and through stories passed down. Their shared DNA will continue to show up, no doubt, beyond Frieda’s urge to dance.
My experience of grief was more than the loss of a friend who regularly celebrated my quixotic career moves, which most thought to be crazy. It was also for the loss of the spirit of bi-partisanship Steve practiced.
A real era ending.
Julie Gammack
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Together, you captured the magic of Steve! Beautiful and fitting.
Your collective comments are right on! Well done you two!