A large man

guest commentary by Jack Moseley, award-winning columnist and former editor of the Southwest Times Record

In the classroom, in the mayor’s chair, in life in general, Ray Baker never lost the awe, wonder and the absolute delight of a child’s exuberance in discovering whatever Santa had left while he slept.

He knew life could be hard, but with love and kindness it also could be exciting and magnificent and caring and meaningful. Dare I suggest he wasn’t your typical politician; but he was as powerful a vote getter as I have ever seen.

Even when a tornado ripped through the heart of Fort Smith. “Mr. Baker” — as thousands of American history students he taught over more than two generations in this town always remembered him — he never stopped shouting his mantra: “We’re okay, and life is still worth living in Fort Smith, Arkansas.”

When he first ran for the city board of directors some 30 years ago, most of those kids for whom he had made history more than boring words on a printed page, voted for him, and so did their wives — even their children as they too reached voting age. “Mr. Baker” made history live by doing whatever it took to get and keep his students interested, even loudly ringing a bell and wearing a tri-cornered revolutionary soldier’s hat while warning that “the British are coming, the British are coming!”

Was it any wonder that he was named the best teacher in Arkansas and one of the best in America?

His detractors said he was silly and naïve. They just didn’t understand where Ray Baker was coming from. After all, he had been raised by his baseball playing father and hometown beauty queen mother to believe in “baseball, apple pie and Chevrolet.” YES, and every other hackneyed and cliché-worn description of the American dream. That dream was to be celebrated, and boy, Ray knew how to do that!

He largely was a stay-at-home mayor. He didn’t like flying or being wined and dined in either Little Rock or Washington. I remember flying with him to testify before a federal hearing in Fort Worth on the threatened closing of Fort Chaffee. We were maneuvering around some dark thunderheads that were spiting flashes of lightning. About once ever minute or so, Ray would inquire of our host, “And just how high up are we now?” I remember thinking, this guy is actually doing something that is terrifying to him for the town he loves. Brother, that’s real love.

And this man who was our mayor longer than any other individual LOVED doing the job the people elected him to do. He would declare a day in honor of somebody or some event at the drop of a suggestion. He mailed congratulatory letters and get well cards by the thousands. Day and night, Mayor Baker literally ran from one function to another to help the people of his town share both joys and sorrows, to present a single red rose, toss rose pedals over a crowd or read a proclamation.

Ray Baker knew his job and dedicated himself to doing it to the very best of his ability. Sure, he also used his veto power judiciously. Buildings were erected, roads paved, sidewalks and bike trials built, Lake Fort Smith expanded, libraries located in all sections of the city.

But only historians read cornerstones.

Ray Baker was a one-of-a-kind mayor. He took his job personally, emotionally, seriously. He saw and shared joys and sorrows, frustrations and accomplishments of the people who elected him again and again. He was not deterred by those who said he was not paying enough attention to the business community. After all, he was elected by the people who work for the business community, not the bosses.

Several months ago, I sat at a table with a tiny, 95-year-old woman during one of the mayor’s last public appearances. The event was his annual dinner honoring neighborhood improvement associations, Orchid Award winners and city employees who work with those organizations. Ray obviously was very weak and in a degree of pain. In the wake of a personal struggle with illness, he had lost the position he held and loved for a generation. He forced himself to jump up and down and one last time encourage the crowd to join him in shouting: “Life’s worth living in Fort Smith, Arkansas!”

Friday, as word of his death spread across the city, that same little, 95-year-old woman had her friend drive her to the city offices downtown to comfort the mayor’ s secretary. I think Ray would have been very proud that he made such an impact on that one life — and on the lives of thousands and thousands more he touched personally.

Well done, Mr. Mayor. Your legacy looms exceedingly large.