Anthropologist, Journalist, Pickup Driving Philosopher, Robert Leonard Joins Our Zoom today
...fresh from a protest at the Iowa Capital and a trail in the woods
Dear Subscribers,
Our Monday Zoom guest today is none other than Robert Leonard—aka Bob, aka Dr. Bob. We’ll be live at 12:00 p.m. Central, and you’re invited to join the conversation:
🔗 Click here to join us on Zoom
Bob is a columnist, anthropologist, and member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. He's also a dear friend, trusted colleague, and an unwavering source of wisdom. Just about every day, Bob and his dog Violet walk the wooded trails near his home in Bussey, Iowa—and from those walks come stories that bring overlooked people and places into full view.
We’ll talk about writing, community, protest, radio, and what he sees from the front porch of a country grappling with change.
The Arc of My Lifeline
I am at a point in the arc of my lifeline where the time remaining is much shorter than the time lived. Yet, somehow, I find myself in one of my life's most rewarding and productive chapters—while many of my peers are happily retired and perfecting their golf swings.
Thanks to the COVID-19 quarantine, I started this column in 2021. That led me to launch the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative, created to fill the growing vacuum in professional commentary as mainstream newspapers slashed their opinion sections and news holes. And because I believe there's a story in everyone, I began producing the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat—a gathering of truth-tellers, songwriters, and storytellers by the lake.
This period of my life is glorious, not only because of the work but because it brought me into conversation with kindred spirits—among them, Robert Leonard.
Meeting Bob
I had long admired Bob Leonard from afar, following his social media posts and marveling at his reverence for the everyday: first responders, road crew flaggers, thrift store shoppers. Through his writing, he elevated the often overlooked with a quiet grace that felt radical.
Eventually, we met. I had the honor of helping him launch his Substack column, sitting side by side at the Smokey Row restaurant in Knoxville, Iowa. Watching him transition to the platform was like handing a paintbrush to a muralist.
Later, I rode with him in his pickup truck along the back roads of Iowa. As we passed by farms and fence lines, Bob would point to a weathered roof or the tilt of a porch and quietly say, “That family’s in trouble.” He sees what most miss—not just in objects, but in people.
An Anthropologist at Heart
Before becoming a journalist, Bob Leonard was an anthropologist—a trained observer of people, power, and culture. And while he may no longer be doing fieldwork in the traditional academic sense, make no mistake: he’s still practicing anthropology every day.
It’s in the way he watches a protest—not just for signs and slogans but for posture, tone, and body language. It’s in the way he interviews farmers—not just asking what they think but how they feel, how they frame their experiences, and what stories they tell themselves about what’s happening around them.
Anthropology gave Leonard the tools to spot patterns, decode symbols, and ask the second, better question. It also gave him the discipline to resist easy conclusions. “Nothing is simple,” he often implies in his writing—and that’s a profoundly anthropological stance.
The Radio Years
Before he became a Substack mainstay or a podcast provocateur, Bob spent years behind the mic as news director for KNIA/KRLS—a pair of commercial radio stations serving south-central Iowa.
At KNIA/KRLS, he didn’t just report the news. He shaped community conversations. He interviewed politicians, farmers, educators, protesters, and the occasional eccentric small-town legend. What made his approach distinct was what didn’tmake it on air. Leonard knew when to pause, when to listen, and when to let someone wander off-topic until the real story showed up.
That same intuitive rhythm now runs through his writing. A Leonard column doesn’t blare. It builds. He’s not rushing to the headline—he’s setting the stage, inviting you to sit down, and letting the story earn your attention. That’s the radio in him. The understanding that tone matters. That voice matters. That people remember how you said something long after they forget what you said.
Bussey: Home and Heartland
Bob and his wife Annie live in Bussey, Iowa, a town you might miss if you blink—population just a few hundred. But for Leonard, it has everything he needs: silence for thinking, woods for wandering, and proximity to the people and problems he writes about.
This isn’t a nostalgic postcard version of small-town America—it’s the real thing. Closed factories. Vanishing services. Resilient neighbors. Leonard feels the pulse of the policies he critiques from his perch in Marion County. When he writes about UPS pulling out of rural Iowa or refugee resettlement programs collapsing, it’s not theoretical. It’s personal. It’s his town. His home. His view from the ground floor of a changing country.
The Writers’ Collaborative (and the Dreaded F)
In the early days of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative, we held our first retreat in the back room of the Casino in Jefferson. I'd set up a flip chart and markers so members could share key moments from their personal and professional journeys.
Bob approached the task with a kind of fear I wasn’t expecting. When it was his turn, he admitted to having a lifelong phobia of writing in front of people—traced back to a teacher who once gave him an "F" for handwriting.
I said, “Sounds like a good column topic,” trying to lighten the mood. Without hesitation, Suzanne de Baca stood up, gently took the marker, and said, “You tell me what you want to put up here.”
And that, my friends, is collaboration: mutual support, respect, and a deep belief in each other’s voice. Bob Leonard shows up for everyone in our collaborative, his neighbors and the countless people he has collected through the years.
Marilynn Leonard and the Red F
Bob often returns to the wisdom of his mother, Marilynn Leonard, in his writing. In one unforgettable moment, young Bob brought home a report card with a big red “F.” Marilynn didn’t scold him. She said, “You probably had a reason. Do you want to talk about it?”
It wasn’t about excusing failure. It was about seeing the person. That act of grace became a blueprint for how Bob views the world: ask questions, assume humanity, listen first.
In another essay, Bob tells of Marilynn touting Iowa civil rights icon Edna Griffin during her quiet resistance when asked to move from the Katz Drug Store lunch counter. There is no headline—just presence. That kind of story doesn’t shout; it lingers.
A Journalist Who Still Believes in People
For all his righteous fire, Bob Leonard wears the soft edges of someone who hasn’t given up on people.
Even in his most political pieces, Leonard always returns to something personal—someone he met, something he saw, a memory sparked by a scent, a sound, or a quiet act of kindness.
He’s not just writing about Iowa. He’s writing about us.
Bob’s Essays
I’m fortunate to have been the object of his writing on occasion. It is an honor. Here is the first ‘letter’ he wrote me after attending the Okoboji Writers’ Retreat in 2022.
The most recent letter following his experience of OWR IV will appear in a book to be published this fall by
and Steve Semken. You can pick up your copy of the book at the retreat this fall. Learn more and enroll.We all need you to write now more than ever. I hope you agree. Check it out and subscribe to several of our members.
I am honored to be a founding member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. We have writers from around the state bringing you commentary desperately needed at this time.
Robert Leonard’s Substack is one of my favorites.
Soulful post about Robert Leonard. Thankyou Julie.