August 2020
Prospect Hill Cemetery is a walk through Omaha’s history. Marble headstones bear familiar names, including Levi Carter and Sorensen. Hitchcock, Hanscom and, of course, Buffett. They remind us of libraries, streets and parks. Kountze, Hummel and Redick read like a turn-of-the-century phone book bearing testimony to those whose memories rest forgotten until the next meeting of the historical society.
Today the rich name hospital wings, endow laboratories and build athletic facilities. This sense of duty to give back makes Omaha special. But citizenship extends beyond philanthropy. It includes public service.
“Like the fool I am and I’ll always be. I’ve got a dream. They can change their minds but they can’t change me.” (Jim Croce, I got a Name)
Within sight but beyond our vision, public servants contribute to our quality of life. Their goal is not to be honored by street names but because they believe they can make a difference. Last spring, many leaned into the TV scroll because they couldn’t believe their eyes. After 28 years, the public service career of County Board President Clare Duda came to an end. There were no parades or fanfares, just a late-night phone call between two men trading places and wishing the other well. It was a quiet end to a dignified career in public service.
Perhaps quiet is a misnomer. To know Duda is to know a laugh that explodes outward, filling the room, a smile that never fades, and the humble warmth of a man comfortable in his skin.
“I’ve got a name. And I carry it with me like my daddy did. But I’m livin’ the dream that he kept hid.”
To write this column, I did what any gumshoe would do. I asked his wife. “Clare was inspired by his father and the idea that serving in public should be taken with a statesmanship approach,” Gayle told me.
Recently the County Board took up a debate on affirmative action. When Commissioner Marc Kraft was unable to attend, Clare chose to vote his interests. “It just felt like it was the right thing to do.” It wasn’t about winning the moment, or appealing to a partisan peanut gallery; it was about a relationship and trust. “I wanted to respect Marc’s wishes that the conversation continue,” said Duda. Respect between a Republican and a Democrat in 2020? How 20th century.
“I think Clare’s most proud of working on the Douglas County Health Center,” Gayle said. “It’s a safe place where 250 people can all home. It’s important to Clare that the public be involved: that they know it’s theirs.”
Duda wanted to help people who could never make a campaign contribution live out their lives with dignity and respect. Oh, that is so last century.
Perhaps the real jewel of Duda’s career was the development of the Aksarben area. “It meant jobs” said Gayle. From First Data and UNO to the Kiewit Center to retail, restaurants and movies, “the Ak Sar Ben development was something Clare worked very hard to help make happen.”
What about the book deal, the cushy job and cashing in? “Nope!” she exclaimed, “that’s it. We’re done.” Wait, what about Clare’s 44 years with the Ponca Hills Volunteer Fire Department? “Clare started at PHVFD straight out of college in 1976. I don’t see him ever giving that up.” That Duda is a real 20th century guy.
The honorable are among us. The silent doer who attends the PTA, who slows to let you merge, or holds the door. They are the Democrat across the street who gives blood regularly, the Republican at work who serves her church or the registered independent coaching Little League. You want respect? Be respectful. Be like Duda.
“I’ve got a song. And I carry it with me and I sing it loud. If it gets me nowhere, I’ll go there proud.”
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