Oct. 18, 2024

The day I met Sen. Tim Johnson was, without exaggeration, one of the biggest moments of my young life at the time.

It was a Saturday. I was a junior in college who’d spent all of four weeks in the state of South Dakota for the first time ever, and I’d just earned the first assignment that would allow me to appear on-air as a television reporter.

It would have been memorable no matter what the topic, but this particular story involved a day with Johnson; his state director, Sharon Boysen, who would go on to become a great friend of mine; and the smallest plane I’d ever boarded.

We were headed to Bonesteel, a town of approximately 250 people, by way of the Gregory Municipal Airport, where if memory serves we touched down on a gravel air strip.

I was wearing an early 2000s power suit for the occasion because after all this was my first time on air, hauling a camera and tripod that felt as though they rivaled my own weight.

We were there for a reason decades in the making. Johnson was about to visit a widow, Frances Schochenmaier, and present her with military honors owed to her late husband, Herman.

I’m not sure how long we were scheduled to talk with her, but I suspect we went over time.

I remember Johnson patiently waiting as I attempted to get the gear in place and make sure the audience could at least see and hear his interview, despite my lackluster photography ability.

But it’s what happened when the camera was turned off that shows the most about the late senator, who was laid to rest today at age 77.  He passed away nearly 24 years to the day from when Schochenmaier made us lunch — egg salad sandwiches — and he sat there eating and talking with her for I’m sure longer than planned.

Her husband had served in the Army beginning in 1942, supporting in the infantry in northern France, the Rhineland, central Europe and at Utah Beach in Normandy.

Truthfully, I only remember Johnson presenting military medals that day. It wasn’t until today, as I confirmed information about the couple, that I learned a special law was passed by the 106th Congress weeks after the meeting I witnessed between the senator and the widow.

It provided $60,567.58 in compensation “for the erroneous underpayment to Herman Schochenmaier, husband of Frances Schochenmaier, during the period from September 1945 to March 1995, of compensation and other benefits relating to a service-connected disability incurred by Herman Schochenmaier during military service in World War II,” according to the records I found.

I suspect Johnson and his team had a bit to do with making this happen. In my years of political reporting, that team’s constituent service stood out — and I have no doubt their leader set the tone and culture for an office that delivered for more South Dakotans than I’m sure anyone ever realized.

When you think about it, that’s what government is supposed to be about. Leaders working for us. Service over self. A genuine desire to move a city, a state, a country forward and leave it better for the future regardless of personal acclaim or gain.

Johnson was not one to seek out media attention for his efforts. He was much more at ease one-on-one as I watched him that first day I met him than in front of a big crowd. But he listened, and then he served.

I remember many conversations with him and former Mayor Dave Munson, when I served as the mayor’s chief of staff, about the needs of Sioux Falls. He’d come in and hear from our department directors about road projects, public safety and community priorities, and then he’d actually find ways for the government to help.

Thanks to the joint effort between Johnson and Sen. John Thune, the city was able to commit to relocating the downtown rail yard, which we’re now seeing will fundamentally transform that part of Sioux Falls.

When we didn’t know how we’d preserve the Orpheum Theater, it was Johnson who came up with a federal grant to help us jump-start a restoration.

And there are so many other examples, from large-scale transportation projects to individual efforts like I witnessed in Bonesteel.

It seems fitting today to say thank you to Johnson for his service and to the team who helped make it all happen.

About a month or so after that very first story, I received an unexpected delivery from a U.S. Senate office: A photo of Johnson, Schochenmaier and me that became my commemoration of that memorable day.

It was the sort of extra effort from extraordinarily busy people that reflects a lot about how Johnson served, one of many experiences that made my first impression of the senator become my lasting one.