In praise of the honest life of Jack Mink (01/25/06)

Every conversation was an education.

At least that's the way it seems in retrospect.

Time has a way of burnishing these things, so it's probably an exaggeration to say “every conversation.”

But it sure seems that way.

I remember meeting with Jack Mink in his office when he was mayor of Dunkirk. It was a tiny space, not much bigger than a closet, tucked down a hall at the back of what is now the Dunkirk Police Station.

In those days, as I recall, it was not only the police station but home to every municipal office in Dunkirk.

Upstairs, if you followed the narrow, winding staircase, you'd find the blank-slate of a room where the city council met on Monday nights and city court met on Wednesdays.

But Jack's office was downstairs in the back. And if the title of mayor sounded impressive, the office was another story, as humble as one of Jack's old sweaters.

I remember stopping by to visit — interview is too formal a term — whenever I was in Dunkirk filling in at The News and Sun.

We'd talk about the challenges facing the community. We'd share concerns about worrisome trends. We'd trade bits of Portland-Dunkirk gossip.

But every time we talked, I think I learned something.

Sometimes it would be in what Jack had to say.

Once, after I'd rambled on about the importance of the county acting as a single community of 20,000 people when it came to issues of economic development, he had nodded quietly.

Then, with no hint of vinegar in his tone, he had acknowledged the positives of county unity but had added, “I still notice that the road from Portland to Dunkirk is longer than the road from Dunkirk to Portland.” His point was clear: He'd been expected to come to the county seat but had trouble getting folks from the county seat to come to the second-largest town in the county.

Sometimes it would be in what Jack didn't say.

The gossip was never the nasty sort. He took no pleasure in the shortcomings of others. Instead, he wanted to know what his counterpart, Jim Luginbill, in those days mayor of Portland, was up to.

But mostly it was in the way he lived.

All of us like to believe we live our lives according to a set of convictions.

The reality is that most of us shade it now and then. We cut corners. We disappoint ourselves and others. We fall short.

With Jack, what he believed is what you got.

He lived his faith. He lived his principles.

It was an honest life, and higher praise cannot be found.[[In-content Ad]]