| Peninsula leader Jack Downer dies at 81
By NANCY BUTTERFIELD Observer correspondent OCEAN PARK — From Chinook to Oysterville,
Jack Downer touched the lives of people on the Peninsula, frequently behind
the scenes. Downer died Tuesday morning at his home after a battle with
cancer.
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| Sometimes a love letter writes itself,
and so many of us love Jack Downer so, and bear him so much respect, that
this column — which purports to record the sorrow that runs through me
and dissolves so many people — cannot seem overstated or silly.
Even on this terrible day … the day I learned of the death of Jack, Ocean Park businessman and revered community leader … he obtrudes. His voice, mannerisms, quizzical expressions, and blunt observations make him a hard man to keep quiet. All day, I’ve shared the sad news with many who love him — some tearfully, some guardedly … most of them long-time friends in various stages of repair. Because it’s always difficult to believe that extremely vital people can die, how could I tell someone of the passing of the man we wanted to live forever? I felt verbally infirm, spewing out a euphemistic softness Jack wouldn’t have liked. Jack, who spent 34 years on our Peninsula, lived to serve others — making the weak strong — a rather specialized form of blood transfusion. He pursued a passionate purpose he believed in so strongly that his spirit infected others — lifting them. Few escaped it. Eighty-one-year-old Jack had deficiencies, to be sure. He was sometimes wrong and occasionally cantankerous. But he was usually the right man. And the only question was whether the other fellows were capable of being tuned to Jack’s vibrations. Jack had a thing that is as good as, and sometimes better than, knowledge. He had a sort of natural drive in the right direction, plus a solid respect for the work, ideas and opinions of others. He was often like a boat being driven at the mercy of some internal squalls. But instead of fearing the weather, he preferred to challenge the wind itself, trying to make it blow more softly and kindly, maybe improving its direction. Jack set up targets, sometimes pounding himself to pieces trying to hit them squarely in the middle. He was outspoken and passionate about subjects close to his heart … county policies, septic systems, safe streets, or school improvements. Jack would latch onto an issue, do his homework, talk it up, write letters, make calls, and push for change, despite weighty opposition. His opponents often succumbed before the force of his ridicule, regret, and common sense. He seemed to relish badgering people “in the know” to fess up. And I think he quietly savored serving as our change agent … stirring up the pot. Of course, not everyone liked Jack. Some people cordially disliked him. Some were amused but not impressed. And then there are the ones I saw on the day Jack died … the ones who loved him … the fortunate ones who had him for a friend — people he looked after and who looked after him — the ones who worked close enough to him to cross over the barrier reef of noisy shallows that sometimes surrounded him. To be close to Jack was to inhabit a rewarding, relatively tranquil, and utterly trustworthy anchorage. In a sense, my world died a little when Jack died. Jack was a wet nurse to my world — holding the earth close — doing things that weren’t always necessary, but often helpful. You could usually spot Jack at meetings, parades, or festivals, manning information booths, or picking up litter along Vernon Avenue or in front of his store. Three years ago, I interviewed Jack for a feature story I wrote about Jack’s Country Store … asking him about his continuing involvement with the business. Jack told me how he liked to talk with customers, roam about the store, and sweep the parking lot. “After all,” he told me, “I don’t think anybody should be exempt from the housekeeping.” That remark characterizes the Jack Downer we’ll all treasure. Jack had a great impulse to “do good” … when do-gooders are often taken lightly. Enjoying challenges to improve our little piece of the earth, Jack had an elephantine, enduring impact on us, representing life the way only a few others do. His memory will endure like a wilt-proof flower. With much love in my heart, I say “God bless you, Jack.” And “Thank you.” I’ll send up a prayer and hoist a martini (his favorite drink) in your honor. You will be profoundly missed. But I’m so heartbroken, diminished, and angry. With all due deference to the divine, I say, “Forgive me Lord — but I can’t suppress my sorrow. Damn you for taking him from us!” Contact Observer correspondent Robert Brake at poobear@pacifier.com. |
| We wish to express gratitude to the
many friends and customers who extended their good wishes, prayers, and
help to our dad, Jack Downer, in the past two months. Because his cancer
attacked so quickly, he could not accept visitors or thank you personally.
But he enjoyed every card and every expression of love and support from
you and appreciated them all.
In the days before his passing, our father specifically requested that his memorial be a private and simple graveside service, with only our family members in attendance. It was not that he intended to slight any friend, but only that he was modest by nature. In Jack’s words, he wanted “no hoopla.” All of you who know him will understand. Your acts of kindness were hoopla enough. Our father lived an amazing life. Born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa on Dec. 17, 1921, his full name was John David Downer. His parents were native Iowans. His college career at Iowa State University was interrupted by World War II. He became a fighter pilot for the U.S. Army Air Corps and rose to the rank of captain. Dad walked away from his first plane crash while learning emergency landing techniques, a lesson that years later saved two lives while he was piloting a civilian craft over Klamath Falls. During the war he survived a second plane crash as well as countless enemy attempts from the ground and from the air to shoot him down. After the war, Jack joined an Army buddy at the University of Washington, where he graduated with a degree in physics. A college friend helped him find him a job bucking logs for Weyerhaeuser in Southwest Washington. While working in the woods, he spent weekends at the Monticello Hotel in Longview, where he met the hotel restaurant’s head hostess, Lucille Smith. She became his wife and best friend of 53 years. The company saw enough potential in him that in 1954, it sent him to Yale University for postgraduate study before assigning him the task of inventorying its timber holdings in the Willapa Hills in anticipation of building a pulp mill at Cosmopolis. His employment with Weyerhaeuser turned into an executive career, including his being in charge of the company’s plywood plant and both sawmills in Longview. On May 23, 1969, after 22 years of service with Weyerhaeuser, Jack was fired. He and Lucille quickly assessed their career options and by Aug. 1, 1969 went into debt to buy Henrichsen’s Grocery, a tiny store in Ocean Park. They renamed it Jack’s Country Store and borrowed more money to expand the store twice in 1970. There were dark days in that first year when a competitor opened and business declined. Jack underwent difficult back surgery, and it was doubtful that the store would survive. But Jack’s motto that “no problem is insurmountable” simply meant that he and Lucille would work relentlessly. The store expanded again in 1971, 1974, 1977, 1979, 1980, 1981, 1985, 1993 and 1999, and it thrived. Jack believed in public service of all kinds. He joined and later presided over the Ocean Park Chamber of Commerce. A lifelong Republican, in 1976 he ran for Pacific County Commissioner. Although he lost to the incumbent, he won more votes in the county than any other GOP candidate, including President Gerald Ford. Jack later joined the Ilwaco/Long Beach Kiwanis Club, serving as its president for a time. Jack was elected to, and later presided over, the Ocean Beach School Board. He remained politically active until the very end. As a child, our father was taught the respect for nature. Perhaps his attraction to working in the woods for Weyerhaeuser reflected his love for the outdoors. He became an avid steelhead fisherman and taught each of us, one by one, to fish, and to share his contempt for waste. We “young ‘uns” decided about ten years ago that we would teach Dad to fish for sturgeon, but he soon reminded us of who was master of the art. He joined us for the last time in February of this year. The cancer that claimed him had a worthy opponent. Jack fought the disease courageously and with all his might. In lieu of flowers, remembrances may be sent to the Ocean Beach Education Foundation. We are proud and grateful to be his sons. John Downer, Jr. Tom Downer Dan Downer Jeff Downer |
Original Obituary from Chinook Observer Beginning of current article on Life of Jack Downer  End of current article on Life of Jack Downer  |