Gov. Kirk Fordice: A Personal Recollection

A personal recollection of Kirk Fordice

By Jack Criss

Kirk Fordice was a fascinating man.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been five years since his death from cancer. Governor Fordice was the type of person that you would think might live forever. With his brashness, toughness and give ‘em hell attitude, he seemed immune to life’s slings and arrows. A car-wreck couldn’t kill him. Neither could a bout with prostate cancer. Nor could his battles with the Mississippi legislature!

Yet he didn’t win his final battle and I miss him. Not only the man himself but also the type of era he represented and lived through. Modern intellectuals often scoff at the Horatio Alger, rugged cowboy-type American icon of years past; but that’s really what Kirk Fordice was. If only we had more like him around today.

I was—and still am—Kirk Fordice’s authorized biographer. We worked closely for about two years on a manuscript and, one day, the book will see the light of day albeit in a different form than originally planned.

He was so pleased the day I called him, only months before he succumbed, to tell him the good news about a publishing contracting for Steel Will, the name I had given the Governor’s biography.

“That’s great news, Jack!” he yelled through the line. “I’m so proud of ya!” Barney and Gwen McKee of Quail Ridge Press had agreed to publish my proposed biography and I couldn’t wait to get the news to Governor Fordice. Especially after all of the rejection letters I had received.

One of those letters in particular really got under Governor Fordice’s craw. A man who Fordice knew well owned a conservative publishing house in Washington, DC called Regnery. The Governor had given large sums of money to this man for several of his political causes and had told me that I should really submit my proposal to this particular house. After a number of rejection letters from other houses around the country, I took the Governor’s suggestion and did just that.

To make a long story short, I finally received a letter from the big man’s secretary telling me that they simply were not interested in my proposal. If you remember anything about Kirk Fordice you can only imagine his reaction!

Well, after telling Governor Fordice that Barney and Gwen at Quail Ridge would publish the book, he couldn’t resist the following: “Jack, when the book comes out, let’s mail a copy to (the Regnery owner) with a note that says, “You can kiss our a__!” We both laughed out loud and I told him I though it was a good idea. (In fact, when the book is published, I think I will send that letter—in the Governor’s memory!)

Kirk Fordice and I didn’t see to eye to eye on everything. But he was, at heart, a classical liberal—as I am—and he believed very strongly in individual autonomy and responsibility and less government involvement in our lives. That’s what initially attracted me to this dark horse gubernatorial candidate from Vicksburg back in 1991.

I first met Kirk Fordice at a private fundraiser at someone’s house in Brandon, I forget now who’s exactly. A financial advisor friend had called and invited me saying that he thought I would really like this guy. I was 26 at the time and a fairly well known radio talk show host.

That night I met Fordice and was impressed with him. Being the youngest person in attendance (and hence the poorest), Fordice nevertheless took a long time with me discussing the finer points of his education plan. I made him promise me that night that, if he got elected, he would come on my talk show every single week (Ray Mabus, the incumbent at the time, would not be interviewed on talk radio in Jackson). He said he absolutely would do that.

I endorsed him on the air the next day. When Fordice made Mississippi history in November, 1991, he was—as promised—on my show the following week and with me every week until I left talk radio in March of 1992.

We communicated sparingly after those early days. I was beginning my career in business publishing and the Governor was hard at it in his new job. I did meet with him on a number of occasions, though, and he was always cordial, funny and friendly, more open and direct than any other political official I had ever dealt with.

Flash ahead to early 2002: I was living in Greenville, Mississippi working with the Delta Business Journal, and had not talked to Governor Fordice in a number of years. It occurred to me one day that someone needed to write his meteoric and explosive life story and that it should be me.

Governor Fordice did not use a computer, fax or voice mail, so I wrote and mailed him a letter. I remember writing that I knew someone would write his story and it would probably be a detractor, someone wanting to dish dirt and disparage the governor’s record. I asked his permission to be considered as his authorized biographer.

A few weeks later, I got a handwritten note from Fordice saying that he thought it was a great idea and that he would fly up to Cleveland (where my office was) to commence work. I was thrilled and couldn’t wait to see the Governor again and get started.

Over the next year and a half, Governor Fordice would fly his plane to the Cleveland airport next to Delta State University, and my friend, boss and mentor in publishing, Scott Coopwood, and I would meet him. Then I would spend hours interviewing the Governor, recording the talks, about his life, opinions, stories…everything and anything I needed for the book.

It’s hard for me to being to tell about all the fun we had during those visits. Yes, I said “fun”. Probably the most misunderstood and publicly maligned government officials in our state’s history, Kirk Fordice was not only one of the most well-read and smart men I’d ever known, he was also one of the funniest.

When we’d get through with our interviews, Scott, or my wife, Natalie, and I, would take Fordice out to eat at some of the Delta “hotspots”. Over many glasses of Scotch, he would regale us with stories for hours and I would laugh so hard my face would hurt! Along with his own stories he would also often talk about his favorite David Letterman moments, a show he never missed. It was during these relaxed, intimate dinners that I felt I really got close to Kirk Fordice and got to know the man behind the Clarion-Ledger myth, as it were.

While he could be outrageously funny, Fordice could also flash that famous anger on a moment’s turn. I recall once, sitting in Belazars’ Restaurant just outside of Cleveland, I had made the mistake of interrupting Governor Fordice as he relayed he story. When I finished talking he sat perfectly still, jaw clenched, and said, without looking at me: “Jack, don’t EVER interrupt me again.”

Needless to say, I never did.

Then, once after a late night of interviewing, Governor Fordice, Natalie and I along with two other guests, made our way to KC’s restaurant in Cleveland. Walking in, we noticed a crowd of folks eating and drinking in the bar. However, our maitre ‘d informed us that they were “closed” for the evening. This miffed me more than a little so I asked for the owner. I knew him and I thought that, certainly, he would allow the former Governor and his guests in for dinner.

“No,” he told us. “We’ve already turned off the grill.” I was incredulous and so was Fordice as well we should have been. He let out a few choice works (and I did too, if I recall) and we left.

Then, though, there was the charm. Scott and I took Governor Fordice to Crawdad’s, in Merigold, for dinner one evening. As we were nursing our cocktails waiting for dinner, former Democratic Representative Charlie Capps came walking in. As soon as Fordice saw him, he called out, and the two met each other in an embrace. Scott and I could only exchange knowing looks as these old political warhorses proceeded to reminisce and tell stories.

Governor Fordice was also the perfect gentleman. He would make my little girl, Dagny, laugh out loud and was always quick with a joke with anyone he met. As a former businessman, he treated everyone the same. Whether meeting a laborer or a CEO, Fordice always presented the same face. He was genuine. Like or him or not, he was who he was.

The other side of Kirk Fordice that so intrigued me was him intellect and grasp of history. I had the honor of going through his home library several times and it was loaded with historical tomes, philosophy volumes, political tracts…a veritable cornucopia of knowledge. I was impressed to see all the notes he made in the margins of these books, evidence of the time and effort spent with them. His was not a library for show…it was one for use.

The last time I saw Governor Fordice was at a dinner at the Edison-Walthall Hotel in downtown Jackson celebrating our book contract. Natalie and I, Barney and Gwen McKee, and the hotel owner and Fordice friend, Earl Gaylor had a wonderful evening together, celebrating, laughing and discussing current events.

Governor Fordice’s hero, Ronald Reagan, had just died and that was on his mind. He was very upset that Governor Barbour had not invited him to the funeral. I recall his sadness when discussing this and the passing of the man he himself idolized.

We all knew there had been some health problems. Fordice spoke freely, that night at the Walthall, in fact, of some tests that had been run. However, I found out how bad things really were along with everyone else in Mississippi when I saw the Clarion-Ledger cover story. I immediately picked up the phone and called him to see what I could do and if we could meet again. I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end.

The cancer had evidently hit and hit hard. It was a strain for Governor Fordice to talk to me. I wished him well and he asked me to come see him. We would talk only once more before he died. I never did get out to his Madison home to visit. Perhaps I was scared to see what I knew I would see. I had heard reports from Jim Ingram and others about his condition and I put off going to see him. Now I wish I hadn’t.

I knew, for example, that he was not eating. Earl Gaylor would have meals cooked at the Edison delivered to the Governor’s house only, I was told, to have Fordice feed them to his beloved dog, Lance. He just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—eat.

His funeral—in downtown Jackson at the First Baptist Church—was one of the most touching displays I have ever witnesses and I admit to shedding a few tears. The tough, grizzled, bigger-than-life Republican was gone…and was so my friend and father figure.

In June of 2005 I ran my first marathon with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training in San Diego, California. I had chosen Kirk Fordice as the person I was dedicating my race to due to his fatal battle. During the six hours-plus it took me to finish, I would occasionally look down on my left wrist to read the band that bore his name.

I will get around to finishing his book one day. I honesty don’t know when. The governor’s family has not communicated with me about it so it will be done in a different style that what we had originally planned. It will be published, though. And what a story it will be.