A less colorful place without Gatewood

For as long as I can remember, Gatewood Galbraith was one of the liveliest figures in Lexington, or anywhere for that matter. We didn't know each other well, but we knew each other and he never failed to speak, often spotting me before I saw him. We were formally introduced by a mutual friend in about 1980 when I was working at KET. When told what I do he gave me that big grin and said, "Oh, one of Len Press' communist cronies!" (Press was the director of the agency at the time.) I knew I liked him that second.

Whether or not you agreed with Gatewood, he commanded your respect. True to form with any lawyer, he often asked questions to which he already knew the answer, but never to bait you - it was to hear what you had to say in case you knew something he didn't. He truly wanted to know your opinion and even suffered fools with admirable good nature.

I was walking south on Limestone one Saturday afternoon as he was going north in that red Mercedes wagon. I waved and he stopped and asked if I wanted a ride. A bit puzzled, I asked, "Are you going my way?" Again, he flashed his trademark giant, toothy grin and said, "I didn't say I was going to take you where you wanted to go, I asked if you wanted a ride." Then came that booming laugh and off he went with that long arm of his high and waving as he left. You had to love the guy.

Kentucky will be a less colorful and more staid place without him. Few are the politicians who have his courage, verve and wit. He was the blue sport coat at a formal affair, the Einstein hair in a room full of crewcuts. He was bold, erudite, and genuinely kind. He displayed his contrarian views as badge, not a flag waved in your face, and wanted nothing more than for people to understand that character was crucial to government, and also sorely lacking, and that we must take care of those who need help taking care of themselves. He did his best to improve Kentucky.

God bless you, Gatewood. You made this a much better place to live.