Hearts are heavy throughout Clark County after Thursday’s passing of two influential and beloved pillars of our community. In age, they were separated by 10 years. In occupation, they were separated by the proverbial wall that divides the news reporter from the newsmaker. But in many other ways, Tom Koenninger and Bill Fromhold were kindred spirits.
These were two straight-shooters with colossal credibility. I knew both men well enough to know that each would be proud to be compared to the other. That’s why, even through the heartache, this is one of the easiest columns to write.
Koenninger was a retired newspaperman when he died at age 78. Fromhold was a retired legislator when he died at age 68. But beyond journalism and politics, each man left a legacy of community service, particularly in public education. Their contributions are too numerous to mention here, but I will gladly take this opportunity to describe their similarities.
Two years before I moved to the Northwest, I read “Undaunted Courage” by Stephen Ambrose, and a spark of interest in Lewis and Clark history became a blaze. I researched the L&C expedition in books, maps and online accounts, but something was missing in my new hobby. In 2003 I moved to Vancouver and met Tom Koenninger, a more advanced amateur historian than I was, and a man who quickly became my L&C guru.
When we discussed newspapering, Tom would advise: “Remember, it’s not about you. It’s about your readers.” But more frequently we discussed our abiding interest in Lewis and Clark. We often would howl with laughter. Once, we were lamenting the fact that our wives somehow lacked a full appreciation of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. I told him about the time I got lost driving to Yakima, and my wife chirped, “Nice shortcut, Meri.” She has repeated this derision more than once, and I always reply with feigned anger, “I told you before, don’t call me Mary.” Tom chuckled at my story and nodded sympathetically. Having Tom as a friend for seven years gave me the equivalent of a master’s degree in L&C history.
It’s not about the servant
Each time I interviewed Bill Fromhold, whether on politics or education, he would subtly extricate himself from the spotlight. Even when I asked Bill about himself, within a few words his answer had detoured to the need to foster teamwork in the Legislature, or the greater need to help students and teachers. Fromhold’s attitude reminded me of Koenninger’s advice on leadership: It’s not about the servant. It’s about those who are served.
Fromhold, like Koenninger, was a successful leader because he knew that the loudest people in the room are not always the smartest. Each man listened as enthusiastically as he spoke.
On painful occasions such as today, when we must bid final farewells to friends, we are prone to think back on last conversations, and in both of these cases, my memories are clear.
The last words Fromhold spoke to me were about the need to improve all schools, but particularly learning experiences for students at the highest and lowest ends of the grading scale. For the most gifted students, Fromhold and his wife, Marcia, worked diligently toward increasing the number of Advanced Placement classes in high schools across the state. They knew that helping good students reach even higher not only makes good sense education-wise, it’s the best way to boost business and stimulate the economy.
And for students with the lowest grades, Bill and Marcia worked tirelessly in the halls of the Capitol and the boardrooms of school administration buildings to reduce dropout rates and expand job-training programs.
As for Koenninger, the last words he spoke to me were in a parking lot after lunch as I was about to drive back to the office: “Don’t get lost, Meri.” And I snarled obligingly, “I told you before, don’t call me Mary.” Then we laughed robustly and waved goodbye.
I don’t know which of these two heroes I’m going miss the most. Time will tell. But as each man would tell me, “It’s not about you.” It’s about embracing and nurturing the gifts that both men have left for all of us.
John Laird is The Columbian’s editorial page editor. His column of personal opinion appears each Sunday. Reach him at john.laird@columbian.com.
