Farewell to two giants
San Benito County became a less interesting place over the last
few days.
John O’Brien, a friend, an opponent, a master story-teller and
humorist, died. His passing was marked by hundreds who attended his
funeral Mass. Ruth Kesler, a former county supervisor who never
shied away from the spotlight or a good fight, died not long
before.
Farewell to two giants
San Benito County became a less interesting place over the last few days.
John O’Brien, a friend, an opponent, a master story-teller and humorist, died. His passing was marked by hundreds who attended his funeral Mass. Ruth Kesler, a former county supervisor who never shied away from the spotlight or a good fight, died not long before.
I don’t remember a time when I did not know John O’Brien. Our families got together all year long, and it wouldn’t have been Christmas without a few hours together. John and his wife, Carol, gladly tolerated us splashing around in their pool each summer.
After returning to Hollister to see if I liked newspapering well enough to stay with it for a while, I got to know John O’Brien not as a father figure but as a community leader.
When we were kids, John was district attorney. As his partner of 46 years, Frank Borelli, recalled, after the two of them left the D.A.’s office they entered private practice together, sometimes defending the same people they’d once worked to put in jail.
By the time I returned to town, John was comfortable in his seat at the end of the Hollister City Council dais. He never objected to his nickname – the sixth councilman.
O’Brien would dispense legal advice at the drop of a hat, but he seldom stopped there. John grew up in Hollister, and cared passionately about it. When he knew the best course, he was only too happy to navigate with a few well-chosen opinions of his own.
John understood that the best attorneys are those who determine what needs to be done and then find a way to make it legal, even when the letter of the law might suggest otherwise to the uninitiated.
John was a born litigator. He loved to construct a good argument even when he was not on the clock, and he won far more fights than he lost.
Not long after he joined me as city editor at the Free Lance, Wayne Norton encountered John for the first time. Norton, a man of strongly held opinions himself, came back to the office raging about some disagreement of which he had come out on the short end. It was his first encounter with John.
After listening to Norton vent for a while, Herman Wrede sauntered over and said, “Wayne, I feel I must tell you that the city attorney and Mr. Paxton are related.”
And he was right. Through a series of marriages and connections I cannot begin to understand, I’m proud to say that John and I are very distantly related.
As soon as Norton calmed down, I explained something John understood better than I ever will. In a small community, one has to learn that it is possible to retain respect for a person even when we disagree with vehemence.
When Norton learned of John’s death this week, he sent me an e-mail to say that he had grown to really like the guy in spite of, or perhaps because of, their frequent sparring.
And that’s the essence of John. I don’t know anyone who did not like him. From judges to tradesmen, they were all friends. He entered rooms with a roar, and got a friendly roar in response.
One year, I sat at a city council meeting that fell on March 17. St. Patrick’s Day was one of John’s favorite holidays, one that allowed him to play his Irish card to the hilt. John’s entrance, and his get-up, complete with a trademark green hat, brought proceedings to a halt for many minutes.
I never enjoyed the same friendship with Ruth Kesler that I had with John. For one thing, I didn’t get to know her until adulthood. I liked John. I admired Ruth, even when at times she seemed to work so hard to keep me from liking her.
In many ways, John O’Brien and Ruth Kesler could not have been more different. John was a man of fierce intellect. Kesler prized her intuition above her intellect. O’Brien was loud with an inescapable laugh. Kesler never lost a soft accent that betrayed her roots in Dixie.
John’s life was public in every sense. He would tell anyone who would listen how he felt and he loved a crowded room like nobody else. Kesler spent more and more time at her sprawling San Juan Canyon home as the years slid by. She always believed there were secrets a lady deserved to keep, most especially her age.
As a supervisor, Kesler accomplished much. But the battle people will best remember her for is one she lost.
When Granite Rock Co. announced that it wanted to put the non-marketable byproducts from its Aromas quarry into three nearby canyons via a colossal conveyor system, the community was riven.
People chose sides and a pitched battle grew in intensity. Death threats were made and careers ruined.
In the end, Granite got what it wanted, the community was not destroyed and business continued. But Kesler tried until the end to stop the project.
Finally, she lost a vote before the Board of Supervisors, 4-1.
Even as small as San Benito County is, supervisors who seem to be coming up on the short end of a vote will often trade it for a favor-to-be-claimed later. Ruth would rather lose and be right than compromise her beliefs.
But she did not always lose. Kesler was justifiably proud of the pathway created as one of the most beautiful links in the DeAnza National Historic Trail. The Old Stage Road was also the link between Salinas and San Juan Bautista in the 19th Century. It had been gated, and it was an attractive place to dump trash or dream up other ways to break the law.
Kesler wanted it open for walkers, cyclists and equestrians. Again, the neighbors organized to fight her. More people would only bring more problems. Kesler disagreed, reasoning that people would police each other’s behavior if the trail was opened.
Kesler was right, and today there is almost always a line of parked cars and trucks with horse trailers as people transit the Gabilan Range over the same track used 150 years ago. As a testament to her skill as a politician, the trail was rendered passable and continues to be maintained through the efforts of her former opponent, Granite Rock Co.
In her way, Kesler was nearly as forceful as O’Brien. Her sorghum sweet voice on the phone could only mean one thing. She had just drawn a bead on you for a favor, and “no” would not be the answer.
“Honey, I’ve got just a little somethin’ I’d like you to do for me,” she would often begin, then revealing a great big something you’d just been ordered to do.
Every generation reveals its own crop of scoundrels, leaders, hangers-on and characters.
I cannot ever remember having to say “good-bye” to two people who were greater leaders and characters in the same week. I hope I never have to do it again.
