Plenty to miss about Mickelson politics

Today is 33 years since the Mickelson plane crash. On the way back from a meeting with John Morrell & Co. packing plant officials in Cincinnati, the plane went down at an Iowa farm on a Monday afternoon. Lost were South Dakota Gov. George Mickelson, two state pilots and five men who made up a large portion of the state’s economic development expertise. 
At the time, I was the editor of the daily newspaper in Pierre. Recalling what life was like in 1993 serves as a reminder of what was lost, not only in that plane crash but also what we’ve lost in the last 30 years.
Talk all you want to about cynical journalists, but Tuesday’s newspapers were full of a big story that no one working in South Dakota journalism ever wanted to print. Those newspapers are different today than they were 33 years ago, hollowed out by corporate malfeasance, the internet, social media and the pandemic.
In 1993, newspapers were so fat with staff that some of the state’s larger dailies had reporters assigned full-time to cover government in Pierre. Those were reporters whose names many people will still recognize: Terry Woster, Kevin Woster, Bob Mercer. I’m not sure if The Associated Press even has a presence in South Dakota anymore. Back then, it had two veteran reporters stationed in Pierre: Chet Brokaw and Joe Kafka. 
At a time when this tragedy made South Dakotans hungry for news, readers across the state benefited from the breadth of knowledge and the empathy that these reporters brought to their writing. They persevered, even though there was no easy way to chronicle the pain of their friends and neighbors. 
Looking back at the weeks after the crash and its first anniversary with the unveiling of the Fighting Stallions memorial, I recall a job well done by journalists who really wanted nothing to do with what was probably the biggest story of their lives. All of them would have been happier if Mickelson’s plane had landed safely in Pierre and their April days had been filled with reporting on the minutia of government policy and the pettiness of political squabbles.
Just as journalism has felt the effects of time, so have politics and politicians. Gov. Mickelson was, after all, literally a giant among elected officials. The challenges during his tenure are much like the work that still goes on today — trying to improve education, promoting health care reform, dealing with water issues. Mickelson had a vision for the way the state should approach economic development, proposing a temporary increase in the state sales tax to provide money for the Revolving Economic Development and Initiative Fund. 
The state’s financial role in economic development was a topic of debate during this year’s legislative session. Those critics who like to throw around words like “cronyism” and “corporate welfare” should be reminded that Mickelson’s vision has led to more than three decades of success at attracting new business and industry to South Dakota. 
Lawmakers these days are eager to take a pass on trying to solve the challenges on the state’s Native American reservations. They like to think that those are federal, rather than state, problems. In 1990, Mickelson declared a Year of Reconciliation while he sought to improve relations with tribes. No South Dakota leader since Mickelson has had the drive to make that kind of commitment. Relations with the tribes have lapsed so badly that at one point, Gov. Kristi Noem found herself banned from all nine of the state’s reservations. 
It’s not the haze created by the passage of time nor nostalgia for the past that makes the 1990s seem better. It’s a fact that we were all better off when the state’s newspapers were robust and the public was well-informed. It’s a fact that George Mickelson was an honorable, decent man — characteristics that are too often missing in today’s politicians. Years after the plane crash, there’s still plenty for us to mourn.