Roxanne
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Roxanne
Roxanne.
If you are from Iowa, odds are you know I am writing about Roxanne Conlin. Roxanne Conlin, the former US Attorney. Roxanne Conlin, who ran for governor. Roxanne Conlin, who headed the American Trial Lawyers Association. Roxanne Conlin, candidate for US Senate.
Her resume is beyond impressive. Her essence, even more so.
I read her latest biography, a comprehensive tome by history professor William Fredericks, published September 2020 by Business Publications Corporation. It is a well-researched work about her accomplishments with lots of footnotes, and I'm glad it exists. It does reference her difficult childhood, the driving force behind this champion for domestic violence survivors, and her insistence on justice for all.
One thing I'd like to add to the biography, Roxanne Conlin is hilarious.
Those of us feminist pioneers looked up to Roxanne for guidance in the 1960s and 1980s. We weren't sure how to adapt as we assumed roles that men had previously held.
It was rare for a woman to become a lawyer when Roxanne entered Drake law school in the 1960s. There is no handbook for rewriting cultural norms.
"I started to swear, thinking it would help me fit in," said Conlin. "Then I realized there was nothing I could do to fit in, so I gave it up. I just decided to be who I was, and that's what I've been ever since.
"Back then, we all wrestled with what it means to be a feminist; besides the political stuff - equal rights - it also meant you could do whatever the hell you want," she said. "I like beautiful nails; I dye my hair and shave my legs."
Roxanne was the first person I called after being hired as a talk show host on WHO radio in 1982. I was terrified and thought if I surrounded myself with powerful women, maybe - just maybe - it would rub off on me. I invited her to a potluck that included eight other women. The evening was magical as each shared their stories of trying to fit in and rewrite cultural expectations in the workplace. The potluck would become a decades-long tradition, including the reason this column is called a potluck.
Only once did Roxanne bring a dish to the potlucks. It was the first one held after she lost her gubernatorial race in 1982. Lemon cake, I believe. She unveiled her creation at the table with the pride of a cat delivering a mouse to a loved one.
"I baked!" she exclaimed.
Otherwise, Roxanne would bring wine or nothing but herself to the potlucks, which was more than enough.
Roxanne Conlin would have been an outstanding governor. Even though, as she adds, it would likely only be for one term.
Because of Roxanne, I came to think it must be a feminist thing to drink wine over lunch.
Roxanne was the first woman to hold several prominent roles, including being president of the American Trial Lawyers Association. She spoke to a Journalism and Women gathering I attended in Taos, New Mexico. I can't remember the date, but it was before she quit drinking in June of 1992.
I bought a big jug of Gallo. Roxanne came to the motel room I shared with a colleague; we sat on the floor, where she held court. At one point, I went to bed and occasionally woke up to hear the conversations still going. It became 1 a.m., and she had a speech to give at 9 a.m.
At the appointed hour, there she was, giving a robust attack on so-called tort reform to a room full of journalists. There was no hint of Gallo.
Roxanne has been there for me so many times. She wanted us all to have 'babies, lots and lots of babies,' so when my son was born, she knit him a little blue sweater.
I was three years into my job as a talk radio host when a new program director swept in who was known to say 'broads don't belong in broadcasting!" He decided to change my job from helming a three-hour call-in show to producing three-minute segments on such things as household hints.
I quit, devastated.
There's nothing quite like public humiliation. Household hints? Was he serious? Me?
Roxanne was furious. She declared: "It's time to march!"
She gathered a gaggle of women; they made placards featuring household hints (What's for dinner? Make a reservation!). They marched around the WHO studio building, banging pots and pans and demanding to speak to management.
I watched from my parked car, both amused and mortified, but proud of their support. Even philanthropist Louise Noun was there in the cold, with her tufts of white hair sticking out under a winter hat. There was Louise, banging a wooden spoon on a pan.
I wish Iowa voters could have known this side of Roxanne. Political handlers didn't want you to know she doodles when she's in trial (it doesn't seem very serious). Or that she has an entire bedroom in her mansion called 'the kitten room' to house the hundreds of foster kittens she and her husband James care for in support of the Animal Rescue League.
Roxanne's addictive personality thrives on eBay. When she collects things, if something appears on an eBay auction that she doesn't have, she wants it. And if Roxanne wants something, well, step aside. She collected 'perfume solids,' music boxes, and furnished much of her Southern Hills home with antiques purchased from eBay.
I used the word 'collected' in the past tense because she's in a de-acquisition stage of life, she says. We'll see how that works out.
I've gone through many chapters with Roxanne - getting married, becoming a mother, getting divorced, and various career moves. She's been there for so many of us.
We are now at the stage of life when friends our age are dying. At age 77, Roxanne has decided to continue the practice of law for ten more years.
During the pandemic, she created a bucket list of experiences she still wants to have. She's booked a trip to the Galapagos with her daughter this summer. Other items on her list include a trip to Antarctica, sky diving, a ride on a hot air balloon, riding a motorcycle, and a snowmobile.
She crossed off getting a tattoo from the list.
As for Iowa politics:
"I am so discouraged; so frustrated," said Conlin. "This can't be my Iowa. I've been thinking about traveling around the state and asking people about their lives. We tend to talk to people who think like us. I think it's our responsibility to find out what is going on.
"Let's go together."
Ok. Sure. I've been thinking along the same lines—road trip. Look out Lyon County, here we come.
The title of her biography is "Unstoppable: The Nine Lives of Roxanne Barton Conlin."
I'm betting she has more lives to live.
If she dies (and, if anyone is going to live forever, it’s going to be Roxanne) she wants the Lee Ann Womack country song, 'I Hope You Dance,' played at her funeral.
Excerpted lyrics…
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
And wonder where those years have gone.
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance,
Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin',
Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin',
Don't let some Hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
And wonder where those years have gone.)
An admirer from afar.
So show us the tattoo already! Great column, Julie! Thanks for the pictures. Your writing always has a marvelous flow and great heart to it.