It’s August 26, and I’ve driven to the ranch of Helen Shoemaker and her husband, former State Representative Bob Shoemaker in a beautiful valley north of Cañon City to visit. Sunday, August 31 was Helen’s 90th birthday and Bob, her husband of 67 years, will be 90 next June.

Bob and I served together in the House of Representatives in the 1970s and he was a leader on prison issues, later serving on the Parole Board and eventually earning the Harry Tinsley Award for his dedication to corrections. He was a tough legislator who told you exactly what was on his mind but he was also a key consensus builder, often inviting other legislators to his Denver apartment for “steak and biscuits,” his highly effective way of building friendships and getting people to work together.

For me, corrections was a personal interest as a result of having been a Public Defender and criminal defense attorney. It certainly wasn’t a make-or-break issue in my relatively safe Democratic district in Adams County. Bob, however, had the much tougher job simultaneously fighting for the prison system that dominated his district, and also challenging its leadership to make administrative improvements and regain control of what seemed like continuing chaos. One of his goals was securing work for inmates, and he spent years developing one of the best prison industries programs in the country.

Sometimes his frustrations would boil over. I remember one morning before Second Reading when he said to me. “I’ve got my rope. You get your hockey stick. We’ll clean that place up.” He was referring to the latest disturbance at the penitentiary. I looked at him and thought, “Wow, he’s half serious!” He was the kind of legislator who never backed away from a tough situation.

In 1976, in desperation, Governor Dick Lamm formed an interim committee on corrections. Bob and I were on it and our first trip was to Texas where we saw an exceptional prison industries program with inmates repairing everything from shoes to school buses. We wondered why they were working so hard until we looked outside and saw the alternative — other less fortunate inmates chopping away at a huge pile of logs in the blazing sun, surrounded by guards on horseback with shotguns.

We also took a disastrous trip to Philadelphia, organized by the Office of State Planning and Budgeting. The plan was to visit a new prison that had been designed by a well-known prison architect. By coincidence, however, he had designed two prisons in towns with the same name, the new one in Virginia near Washington, D.C., and a much older one near Philadelphia. Obviously we wanted to go to Washington and see the new one. Finally we all left from Stapleton Airport on a Sunday afternoon, a cheerful mix of Republican and Democratic legislators. It was a pleasant trip until the pilot announced that we were preparing to land in Philadelphia, the wrong city. We Democrats decided to keep quiet and hope that the Republicans wouldn’t notice, especially Senator Ralph Cole from Arapahoe County who was a strong advocate for prison reform but no fan of Governor Lamm.

Unfortunately, the architect showed up the next morning with an astonished look on his face. “Why are you here?” he asked. “My new prison is in Virginia outside of Washington, D.C. That’s what I wanted to show you.”

Senator Cole exploded and demanded that OSP&B get him a flight home immediately. However, because of Bob and the friendships he had built up through his “steak and biscuits” program, two Republicans stuck with us — Jim Reeves and Cliff Dodge, defusing the potential of a huge election year political embarrassment. We then decided to rent cars and drive through Pennsylvania and across New Jersey to New York City to see a new jail there that might have some lessons for our problems back home.

While in route, we stopped in a small town for ice cream. As we were standing on the sidewalk enjoying the cones, a car full of tough looking characters passed by and one of them yelled at Bob, who was wearing his cowboy hat. “Hey, cowboy, where’s your horse?”

“I don’t have my horse,” Bob yelled back, “but I see a horse’s ass.”

The car jerked to a halt and I could immediately see the headlines in the Denver papers. “Colorado legislators in fist fight in small New Jersey town.”Fortunately these local toughs thought better than to challenge Bob and wecontinued on to New York City.

A few years later, I drove to Buena Vista to run in a 10 K. Shortly after the start, I heard a “clip-clop” sound behind me and turned to see a burro running along. Holding it with a rein was a man wearing a shirt that said, “Ken Chlouber for State Representative.” Immediately after the race, I called Bob to tell him that he had some competition.

“Aw, bulls—t,” he answered. “No one’s going to win my seat by running around the district with a jackass.” Unfortunately, Chlouber did win, but that didn’t stop Bob’s commitment to prison issues.

Now, fast forward to August 26, 2014, I’m in Bob and Helen’s kitchen, eating a slice of lemon pie that they’ve heated up and listening to Bob talk about legislators we served with. Jean Marks from Adams County, “quiet and brilliant.” Ruben Valdez, “a solid leader.” Dave Wattenburg, one of his closest friends. Then he shows me the dozens of arrowheads he and Helen have collected on the ranch as well as his collection of old rifles. This ranch has been in the family for over a century. In fact, as I’m about to leave Helen pulls out a photograph of her striking looking grandmother, Lizzie Chess on a horse named Old Prince, a photo taken in 1906 or 1908.

Happy birthday, Helen and best wishes, Bob. Thanks for all you’ve done for Colorado.

Morgan Smith is a former member of the Colorado House of Representatives and Commissioner of Agriculture. He writes frequently about the legislators, elected officials and public figures he served with in the 1970s. He can be reached at Morgan-smith@comcast.net.

See the September 5 print edition for full photo coverage.