Minnesota's 'relentless fighter for human rights' dies

Conrad Balfour led a fearless life.

The former Minnesota human rights commissioner challenged authority to fight for blacks, American Indians, prisoners and gays, even when he had to go against the very governor who appointed him.

The civil rights pioneer, author and teacher, who began his career as a Dale Carnegie self-improvement teacher in North Dakota, died Sunday in Minneapolis after a long battle with pancreatic cancer.

Balfour, who had retired to Castle Danger, Minn., was 79.

His books included 1974's "A Sack Full of Sun." Most recently, he had taught English for several years at North Hennepin Community College in Brooklyn Park and at the College of St. Scholastica in Duluth.

"He was a relentless fighter for human rights in Minnesota, and he did an excellent job," said Wheelock Whitney Jr., a Minneapolis philanthropist and longtime friend of Balfour. "He just came up with idea after idea."

Balfour grew up in Boston. In a 1974 Star Tribune commentary piece about Black History Week, he wrote intimately about his youth, during which he tried to pass for white.

"Every day of my life until well into the teens I went to bed wearing a stocking cap," he wrote. "Millions of black Americans were ashamed of frizzy hair."

From Boston, Balfour went to Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa, on a track scholarship. In the 1950s, he quit school to join the Air Force. Later, he became a Dale Carnegie instructor in North Dakota. In the 1960s, he moved to Minneapolis, where he worked with agencies to find jobs for black workers and was active in community affairs.

In 1970, Gov. Harold LeVander, a Republican, appointed Balfour human rights commissioner. He continued to serve past his official term because Gov. Wendell Anderson, who succeeded LeVander, had not yet appointed a replacement.

He frequently made headlines. In 1971, he stood before the Legislature and said he wasn't like other human rights commissioners regarded as "house niggers" and appointed mainly "to stop blacks from rioting."

Balfour explained that comment by saying that in his view, many commissioners were expected to be "someone who is not really meant to effect change" and to be a liaison to the black community "when something goes wrong."

His striking words followed disagreements with LeVander over issues of gay rights and treatment of prisoners.

Balfour's son, Bob Balfour of Minneapolis, said that after his father considered a lawsuit against the state over an incident in which American Indian inmates were beaten at Stillwater prison, a state senator told him he would "set him up for life" if he made the incident disappear quietly.

Balfour refused to stand down, his son said.

His controversial ways drew some ugly responses. When Bob Balfour was 10, he found two bullet holes below the window on the driver's side of the family car. Another time, his father entered a bar and a man shoved a gun into his abdomen and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun must have jammed.

"He never showed fear," his son said.

Balfour wasn't in office for very long, but he continued in public service.

During and after his stint as commissioner, he worked for the Urban Coalition in Minneapolis.

Retired Judge Frank Knoll said Balfour was articulate, nonthreatening and creative when it came to solving community problems.

"I wouldn't put any limits on Conrad Balfour," Knoll said. For instance, "he was willing to stand up for the rights of [gay] people when it wasn't a very popular thing to do."

He taught at North Hennepin Community College for many years, often singing, dancing and delivering emotional lectures in his Boston accent. Former student Glen Oglesby said Balfour seemed to embody many cultural backgrounds.

Balfour left behind 10 finished manuscripts, his son said. He wrote until he was too sick to move his fingers.

Knoll said he visited Balfour last month and read poetry by Robert Frost to him. He asked Balfour how he felt about dying.

"He told me, 'I'm feeling like I'm going down a river, and I don't know the river, but somebody's watching me.' He wasn't afraid."

In addition to his son, Balfour is survived by his daughters Sharon Jaskulke, Jeannine Balfour and Laura Balfour, all of Minneapolis; eight grandchildren, and his companion of 17 years, Janette Winters of Two Harbors, Minn. Services will be held at noon Friday at the Basilica in Minneapolis, with visitation at 11 a.m.

Courtney Blanchard • 612-673-4921