Opinion: Monument, history meant nothing to kids

Talk about it

The students slowly circled the statue. They looked at the two bronze horses battling for supremacy. Do you know what this statue means, their teacher asked? Silence. Finally, one of the students hazarded a guess: It must have something to do with horses or horse racing. The teacher offered a hint. There were eight plaques at the base and one was for George S. Mickelson, the state’s 28th governor. More silence. Finally, the teacher explained that the Fighting Stallions Memorial in Pierre is a tribute to Mickelson and seven other South Dakotans who were killed in a plane crash on April 19, 1993. In addition to Mickelson, three South Dakota business leaders and four state employees died in the accident, and their faces and a brief bio appear at the base of the memorial.

Angus Anson, general manager and chief executive of Northern States Power-South Dakota; David Birkeland, president & CEO of First Bank of South Dakota; Roger Hainje, president, Sioux Falls Development Foundation; Roland Dolly, commissioner, Governor’s Office of Economic Development; Ron Reed, commissioner, Governor’s Office of Energy Policy; Ron Becker, program manager/chief pilot of South Dakota Aviation Services; and David Hansen, state pilot of South Dakota, were killed in the crash at a farm near Dubuque, Iowa.

The students shrugged when they were told of the monument’s meaning. It meant nothing to them, and several made jokes and talked about scratching or defacing the memorial as they walked around it.

Then they moved on. The teacher had tried to impart a lesson and seemed to have failed.

I was sitting on a bench by the memorial as the students passed by it earlier this month. I witnessed their lack of interest in one of the most tragic days in South Dakota history.

Of course, these were high school kids and the horrific event happened before they were born or when they were just infants.

But what struck me was their complete lack of interest blended with disrespect for the men who were memorialized. I don’t mean to be too harsh, but it was a sad glimpse of the careless ignorance of youth.

The bronze sculpture is a larger version of a mahogany carving created in 1935 by Korczak Ziolkowski, who came up with the idea of the massive Crazy Horse Memorial near Custer.

“The sculpture was selected because it symbolically represents South Dakota’s struggle to overcome adversity, desire for achievement and courage to believe in the future,” according to a dedication on the memorial. “It is a tribute to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.”

Like most South Dakotans who were alive that spring day, the tragic events are all too clear to me.

I was living in Oregon then but was home to help my father, who was headed to Sioux Falls the next day for surgery. We watched the news develop during the day until it became painfully apparent what had happened.

The nation’s attention was elsewhere, since the federal government sent tanks and armed men into the Branch Davidian compound near Waco, Texas, ending a 51-day standoff.

Cult leader David Koresh decided to die rather than surrender. Koresh took 75 of his disciples with him in an explosive final event complete with gunfire, crumbling walls and cryptic biblical references. It was all captured live on TV during the morning and afternoon.

The South Dakota plane crash didn’t become news until mid-afternoon. While it was the top story in our state, it received scant mention in national news reports.

Mickelson and the seven men who died with him were on a mission to save jobs at the John Morrell plant in Sioux Falls. Mickelson, the son of a governor, was just 52.

He promoted understanding between American Indians and whites, pushed for proper funding for education and crossed party lines with ease. His political future was bright.

He was a friendly, low-key man who liked to drive around in an old pickup. Mickelson stopped at local cafes for coffee and conversation and had a quick smile and a handshake for anyone who wanted to talk with him.

George S. Mickelson was, in the best tradition of South Dakota politicians, a man of the people. That’s something those kids, and all South Dakotans, should remember.

Tags: tom lawrence, opinion, columns, updates