Minnesotans of a certain age will note the passing of Roger Erickson with nostalgia and sadness (" 'CCO legend made mornings, snow days a joy," Nov. 1). It was a time before the worldwide internet, when hip urban kids who normally listened to AM radio top 40 hits on WDGY turned their radio dial to WCCO and listened patiently through farm reports to find out if their school was closed or starting late. Today, when you get text updates on severe weather and school closings, when radio and cable television talk-show flamethrowers feed red meat to an audience uninterested in other viewpoints than their own, and civility is for wusses; this child of the '60s misses the voice of a kind, jovial, perfect gentleman who could hold your rapt attention, even while reporting the price of corn and soybeans.
Benjamin Cherryhomes, Hastings
DENNIS BANKS, 1937-2017
Recalling the engaging humor and gravitas of a leader
Dennis Banks, who died Sunday, ("He fought for Indian rights," Oct. 31) was hired by Honeywell Human Resources in the late 1960s to assist with hiring Native Americans. He did a great job, including getting rides to and from work for the new employees, most of whom had just arrived from reservations. The program was a success until the economy went south and the "last hired, first fired" union rule took over and most of the Native Americans were laid off.
Dennis became a friend of everyone in my Honeywell department, corporate communications. During the American Indian Movement (AIM) occupation of Alcatraz, our department received a collect call from "Admiral Banks" at the island prison. We got a firsthand update on what was happening.
Dennis was a funny, smart, engaging man who did a lot to educate the general population about Native Americans and the devastation they faced from the U.S. government over the decades. Humanity was enriched by this singular man. He will be missed by people of all cultures.
Judy Ryan Haaversen, Minneapolis
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When I worked at Honeywell from 1965 to 1974, one of my assignments was to assist Dennis Banks and other leaders in the American Indian Movement in the recruitment of Native Americans for possible employment at Honeywell. While Dennis always showed a naturally grim visage as his public face, he had a great sense of humor. Once, when we attended together a regional meeting of personnel recruiters in Oklahoma City, at a Hilton hotel, just before a dinner meeting, Dennis summoned me to his room. He was wearing his full head-to-toe feathered regalia and other Native garb.
"What," he asked me with a mischievous smile, "do you think the reaction will be when I walk down that winding staircase to the dining room?"
I soon found out. The dining room and adjacent bar went silent. The hotel manager eased over to Dennis and asked, "May I help you, sir?" "Yes, I'll have a [whatever drink he ordered] and so will my brother," meaning me, an ordinary business suit. "Of course, sir, and these will be on the house." Dennis winked at me, and it was all I could do to keep from bursting out laughing. Dennis kept his cool.