by Cindy Marshall Hayden

Jim Marshall Is a Friend of Mine

By now, dear readers, you may have heard that my dad, Jim Marshall, my partner and the author of this column for nearly 20 years, died unexpectedly September 17, 2006, from complications related to Parkinson’s Disease.

Our family is grateful that he went quickly and did not suffer and that his wife, Janice Biga, my sister, Bonnie, and her husband, Jan, and special friends like Sally Brown, as well as Paul and I, had great times with Dad in the days immediately prior to his passing. Incredibly, this entire past year seems as if it were miraculously writing a last chapter for him. Bonnie and Jan frequently got Dad out on Skipper Sam II and he even got to pilot her once again. Many groups gave him special honors this year.

The night before he died, Dad and I had a delightful talk on the phone. As always, we counted our blessings for the past week - about the success of the publishing conference we had hosted, which he attended, about how proud we were of each other, how much we loved each other, that he felt “things were going so darn well” and that he thought he was “the luckiest guy in the world.”

Our family was not always at ease saying, “I love you,” but we have lost other members suddenly and learned the value of never leaving anything unsaid. Thankfully, I know that there was nothing left unsaid by any of us.

There have been many, many heartwarming words about Dad since his death. I thank everyone for their support and sharing. Our family has pulled closer, and our friends are here for us. It helps in this very sad time.

We grieve now by celebrating an amazing man. He lived an excellent and full 75 years, truly living every moment, every day. I’d like to tell you a lot more about him, but that would take a lifetime.

All my life, people have made a point of telling me that they “know Jim Marshall.” It has not been a surprise that, since his passing, we have heard from hundreds who called him a friend. So often, I’ve heard, “Jim Marshall is a friend of mine.”

I always knew Dad was special. Many of my high school chums would return from our annual canoe trips to the Boundary Waters asking to adopt him as a father. Those in other groups that he guided felt the same; we’ve received notes of sympathy from some of them. That people liked Dad so much has been a fact of life for me.

You know how kids take things for granted? Guilty. As I’ve thought about what to say here, as I’ve read the cards and notes and listened to friends and family talk about him, I have found myself really thinking about who he was - maybe for the first time.

I don’t have it all figured out by any means, but I’ve concluded that his personality was not derived from his folks but was made up of his important, deliberate choices as he dealt with his life experiences. He had some of life’s greatest experiences and opportunities, but he also had some of life’s toughest hands dealt to him. People would have understood if he had become negative with all he endured. But that was not my dad. Right to the end, though challenged by the unsteadiness brought on by his disease, he was as consistently positive and cheerful a person as he could be. I so admire his strength and his conviction that he was not going to let anything get him down.

Dad was born in 1931, and the near-poverty and rationing he experienced during the Depression and World War II left indelible marks. He turned that experience to his advantage. He was incredibly resourceful. He believed that he could do anything, and he did. He excelled at so many things. His curiosity and ability to retain information then to explain it in understandable words was legendary. He found great joy in connecting with people and would always share his knowledge in a helpful manner. He craved adventure and he loved toys. He believed that life should be fun and set aside time for fun every day.

Jim enjoyed the outdoors as owner of Chippewa Camping Outfitters.

Dad had a myriad of work experiences, having worked since he was 12 - a grocery bagger, an ambulance driver, a mechanic and the manager of a gas station. He married his high school sweetheart, my mother, Beverly Erickson, when they were 18. I was the eldest, followed by brother Randy and sister Bonnie within the first five years of their marriage. He had an innate curiosity and a spirit of entrepreneurship. The two of them supported each other in many endeavors, which included the U.S. Air Force, the sale of fallout shelters, Chippewa Camping Outfitters, as the first dealer for Ski-Doo snowmobiles, with Columbia Steel Castings, his attempted salvage of the SS America and their perennial boating. In 1976, my mother’s untimely death at age 45 was a severe blow to Dad. The shock of her death was traumatic for all of us, but it brought the family closer. Dad’s interminable spirit was not quashed.

He always looked for chances to help people. That’s how he became involved with the then Lake Superior Port Cities magazine in about 1981. We’ve told that story before, but the essence is that Dad was excited to see the beauty of the region showcased by photographer Tom Jesperson. He hated the negativity in Duluth caused by the economic downturn of the early ’80s and felt that local people needed to see that their glasses were half full of some pretty special water. He also believed in Tom’s partner, Patricia Campbell, and invested a relatively small amount of money to keep the struggling magazine afloat. He ultimately became the owner.

I “retired” at age 34 from the telephone company, and we determined to grow the magazine business. Our first major purchase was a digital typesetter and, at the open house launching that business in 1985, he met Janice Biga. It was love at first sight, and they were together ever after. Ironically, Jan’s daughter Tracy was the first intern at the magazine four years earlier, but Dad and Jan had never met before.

They married in 1991 and my brother, Randy, was best man. Randy’s unexpected death from a heart attack in 1993 when he was 41 left an even bigger hole in our hearts, especially Dad’s. Randy was his best friend and buddy. Randy also worked in the mining industry. Dad was never the same after this - his smile and cheerfulness returned eventually, but we knew how deeply he missed his only son and best friend. We take solace that Dad is now reunited with Mom and Randy, our grandparents and our childhood pets.

The magazine was a great playground for Dad. He wrote his first stories for Port Cities prior to becoming a part owner. He thrived on finding subject matter for this column and for the occasional feature. He loved giving copies of the magazine to strangers so they would subscribe. He did everything he could to help us grow. He loved sharing his experiences and knowledge with our growing base of readers. Because he lived in magazine logo shirts, readers in surprising places like the airport in Seattle often recognized him.

COURTESY UMD CED The University of Minnesota-Duluth Center for Economic Development honored Jim Marshall (seated), Paul Hayden and Cindy Hayden with the Labovitz Lifetime Achievement Award this year.

Marge Smith, who has been with the magazine for more than 20 years, fondly recalls his daily visits to the office when he’d call out, “It’s just big old adorable me!” Then he would go on to praise everyone in the office. “It’s so fun being proud of you” was his constant refrain.

Most people don’t realize that he never took any salary but reinvested everything into our company to grow it (though he did not turn down the tax breaks in the years that we lost money). His support was unwavering no matter how well we did.

Dad faced more adversity as his wife, Janice, coped with cancer. He supported her through her successful recovery because he, quite simply, adored her.

During the past three years, his health declined faster than any of us could imagine. Until he had cataract surgery and a knee replaced when he was nearly 70, he had never spent a night in the hospital. Further health issues caused more hospital and recovery time. To see him change and his memory, strength and vitality diminish was painful.

He fought the good fight, never, ever giving up. If anything, he became more cheerful and let go of little things that might have once bothered him. Janice saw to it that he was given all the tools, support and exercise needed to work toward recovery.

His attitude that things were good and getting better has been an inspiration. His willingness to embarrass people with praise is well known. But his greatest strength, in my mind, was to inspire us to be all that we can be, to give 110 percent to any worthwhile endeavor and to help people believe that they can do anything they set out to do. He demonstrated that strength every day.

Dad truly listened to people. His “go for it” approach encouraged more people than I can count. Many young folk got a hand up and summer work along with his praise. Countless people have told me that he helped to find jobs for them, their spouses or kids. He encouraged others to return to school to study what they loved for better employment and satisfaction. Every one of these people has repeated that phrase, “Jim Marshall is a friend of mine.”

From the notes we’ve received, this feeling is universal. Through his writings, Jim managed to convey to his readers the extent of his enthusiasm and knowledge of the lake. He’s left mighty big shoes to fill with this column - an issue with which we have wrestled as he needed to focus on maintaining his physical strength instead of writing. Editor Konnie LeMay has done a tremendous job helping Jim to continue the column. She suggested subjects or interviewed Jim to learn his knowledge or thoughts about a topic, then edited to keep his style. She even incorporated his works from years ago, making them timely so that his last two columns about the America grew from his original writing. I commend her outstanding work in so many ways, but she excelled when she worked with Jim.

This past year, as we talked about the heritage of his column, Dad said that communicating with readers was as important to him as anything he’s done recently. Dad was excited that his son-in-law Jan wrote the column in our previous issue; he appreciated being relieved of the pressure to write. Jan’s debut was excellent, and I’m pleased even though Dad’s passing two days before the magazine mailed makes it bittersweet to read. Little did we know a transition was starting when that issue went to press.

In the first month since Dad’s death, we’ve reached a few important decisions: Dad’s boat, Skipper Sam II, will be at its familiar dock next summer, Dad’s name will remain on the masthead of this magazine as long as we own it and “Lake Superior Journal” will continue with guest authors for the near future.

There isn’t enough room here to tell all of Jim Marshall’s achievements. You’ve read of some in his column, but there’s oh so much more behind the man. We hope that you, too, celebrate his remarkable life with us. He’s inspired what we do here and will always be in the spirit of this magazine. The next time you gaze at that Big Lake, remember Jim Marshall, the man with the vision, and try to capture the inspiration that fueled his spirit.

Then even if you never met him, you, too, can say, “Jim Marshall is a friend of mine.”

Feedback: cmh@lakesuperior.com 

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