What a Hero Looks Like
Hurrying to the airport in his limousine, Joe Foss, Republican governor of South Dakota, pulled to a hard stop when he saw a nine-year-old newspaper boy take a fall from his bicycle in the middle of the highway.
I was that boy.
Balancing fifty to a hundred newspapers on a bike was a challenge, and when I hit a rut, I crashed onto the pavement and newspapers scattered across the highway. I looked up to see a black limousine fast approaching and coming straight at me. Heart racing, scared, and embarrassed, I scrambled to get out of harm’s way. As the limousine screeched to a halt, I spotted the license plate with the number “1”—immediately I knew this was the official limousine of the South Dakota governor.
To my amazement, Governor Joe Foss pulled to the side of the road, stepped out of the limousine, and dressed in a business suit started picking up newspapers.
I knew little about this man or his political views. I did not know Joe Foss had been a Wildcat Fighter Pilot in World War II, leading a band of fearless pilots who became known as “Joe’s Flying Circus,” shooting down seventy-two planes in the fight for Guadalcanal. I did not know Joe was a national hero with twenty-six personal aerial victories against the Japanese—equaling the record set by Eddie Rickenbacker in World War I. I did not know Joe Foss had been shot down in the waters off Malaita Island and went under with his plane, gulped salt water, nearly drowned before freeing himself, and then fought off sharks before being rescued. I did not know Joe Foss had received the Bronze Star, the Silver Star, the Purple Heart; nor did I know that President Franklin Roosevelt had presented Joe with the highest award for valor in military action, the Congressional Medal of Honor. I did not know he lived out his faith in the public arena as governor and later as the first commissioner of the American Football League.
Another thing I did not know about Joe Foss was that in 1941, Joe was the Officer of the Day, in charge of base security at Pensacola, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Defending this strategic air base, Joe Foss rode around the perimeter of the base, defending against would-be Japanese invaders, utilizing the only transportation available . . . a bicycle.
Was this on his mind as he saw me take a bicycle spill in the middle of the airport highway? When Joe Foss offered, “Let me help pick up you papers,” and began chasing newspapers scattered across the road, I was in awe. Without fanfare—no cheering crowds, no medals, and no bands playing on the highway to the airport—Joe, the governor with a state to manage and a plane to catch, took a few minutes to help a kid with a skinned knee. A politician par excellence—may God increase their numbers.
True greatness. Joe was my hero.
Pastor Dave Beckwith
From “What a Hero Looks Like,” Republican’s Soul, (Deerfield Beach, FL 33442-8190: Health Communications, Inc., 2008), p. 3-4.
© 2008 Dave Beckwith
I was that boy.
Balancing fifty to a hundred newspapers on a bike was a challenge, and when I hit a rut, I crashed onto the pavement and newspapers scattered across the highway. I looked up to see a black limousine fast approaching and coming straight at me. Heart racing, scared, and embarrassed, I scrambled to get out of harm’s way. As the limousine screeched to a halt, I spotted the license plate with the number “1”—immediately I knew this was the official limousine of the South Dakota governor.
To my amazement, Governor Joe Foss pulled to the side of the road, stepped out of the limousine, and dressed in a business suit started picking up newspapers.
I knew little about this man or his political views. I did not know Joe Foss had been a Wildcat Fighter Pilot in World War II, leading a band of fearless pilots who became known as “Joe’s Flying Circus,” shooting down seventy-two planes in the fight for Guadalcanal. I did not know Joe was a national hero with twenty-six personal aerial victories against the Japanese—equaling the record set by Eddie Rickenbacker in World War I. I did not know Joe Foss had been shot down in the waters off Malaita Island and went under with his plane, gulped salt water, nearly drowned before freeing himself, and then fought off sharks before being rescued. I did not know Joe Foss had received the Bronze Star, the Silver Star, the Purple Heart; nor did I know that President Franklin Roosevelt had presented Joe with the highest award for valor in military action, the Congressional Medal of Honor. I did not know he lived out his faith in the public arena as governor and later as the first commissioner of the American Football League.
Another thing I did not know about Joe Foss was that in 1941, Joe was the Officer of the Day, in charge of base security at Pensacola, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Defending this strategic air base, Joe Foss rode around the perimeter of the base, defending against would-be Japanese invaders, utilizing the only transportation available . . . a bicycle.
Was this on his mind as he saw me take a bicycle spill in the middle of the airport highway? When Joe Foss offered, “Let me help pick up you papers,” and began chasing newspapers scattered across the road, I was in awe. Without fanfare—no cheering crowds, no medals, and no bands playing on the highway to the airport—Joe, the governor with a state to manage and a plane to catch, took a few minutes to help a kid with a skinned knee. A politician par excellence—may God increase their numbers.
True greatness. Joe was my hero.
Pastor Dave Beckwith
From “What a Hero Looks Like,” Republican’s Soul, (Deerfield Beach, FL 33442-8190: Health Communications, Inc., 2008), p. 3-4.
© 2008 Dave Beckwith
