Columnist

Katy Lewis, later Katy Atkinson, was one of those citizen patriots who devoted virtually the whole of her adult life to political involvement. She died last week after a lengthy fight against brain cancer.

When I arrived at the Capitol in 1979, Katy was just off the Sheriff Scotty congressional campaign, when Republican Ed Scott lost narrowly to U.S. Rep. Tim Wirth in 1978. Katy was working for the House GOP caucus fresh from her graduation at Colorado College. She was a vivacious and attractive young woman who captured the attention of male lobbyists, legislators and the press. It was also a time of far more relaxed camaraderie at the Capitol. During the session, staff, legislators and lobbyists convened each afternoon and often late into the evening over libations at nearby watering holes. Lobbyists cleared the tabs, and a good time was enjoyed by all. Katy was often there — funny, smart and irreverent.

She attended the 1980 National Republican Convention as a Reagan supporter. The morning the president was shot, I found Katy and Freda Poundstone crying as I stepped off the Capitol elevator. The shots in Washington echoed the horrors of the ’60s, when assassination attempts had become seemingly routine. In 1983 Katy shocked the Capitol with her marriage to Randy Atkinson, lobbyist for the Colorado Firefighters. It was a match similar to the James Carville-Mary Matalin nuptials that left observers wondering, “How does that work?” Randy was as loyal a union man as could be found, but like many police and firefighters, he was otherwise a pretty conservative guy. He owned and used guns, wasn’t all that concerned about the environment and figured Democrats tended to waste tax dollars. His son and namesake recalls that his dad identified himself as “A small ‘d’ democrat.” Katy soon got into the business of managing Republican campaigns, sometimes successfully and occasionally not. But over the past 25 years, no Republican has run for Congress or statewide office in Colorado who hasn’t spent at least a day or two in conversation with Katy.

Katy Atkinson was an exemplar of the traditional, conservative business wing of the Republican Party — Republicans who still believe that government serves a purpose. Consequently, Katy began to take on clients, including the National Association for Mental Illness, nurses and other public-service providers requiring government support. For the past 15 years, she primarily managed campaigns for ballot questions and policy initiatives in preference to candidates. Political consultants from both parties frequently make this transition after one too many clients whose closets contain more skeletons than the Museum of Natural History. I worked with Katy on the 2005 Referendums C & D campaign to lift TABOR spending limits with the support of Republican Gov. Bill Owens.

Her son Randy, who quit his job in order to provide Katy’s hospice care the past few months, expressed his admiration of “her knack for earning a living while fighting for issues she cared about.” But, more importantly, he would like to have his mother remembered for her “humility and kindness” — qualities her friends see in Randy.

After moving downtown nearly 20 years ago, Katy renewed a lifelong interest in classical music, theater, opera and ballet. But her passion was the Denver Center for the Performing Arts, where she volunteered and participated in the Director’s Society. She is a producing partner for Shakespeare’s As You Like It, which opens this weekend. Artistic Director Kent Thompson, who was kind enough to serve as host of Katy’s memorial reception at the Denver Center, acknowledged her contributions, mentioning she had worked to bring All the Way, a biographical snapshot of LBJ’s presidency, from Broadway to Denver. “It didn’t bother Katy that Johnson was a Democrat,” he said. “She felt this story of imperfect people trying to do the right thing was a story Colorado audiences should see.” As I have written theater reviews for nearly 30 years, Katy and I would huddle occasionally to discuss a recent production and compare opinions. It was like a shared secret, since most politicians pay little attention to the arts in private, whatever they may say in public. Katy was also an outdoors aficionado who hiked Colorado’s peaks with a clan of likeminded girlfriends. Several hundred of her peers assembled at Trinity United Methodist on Broadway for Katy’s memorial service.

A bipartisan mix of political consultants, former officeholders, current legislators, fellow lobbyists and Katy’s clients turned out. Owens, former Congressman Tom Tancredo, CU President Bruce Benson and political consultants Eric Sondermann, Steve Welchert and Rick Reiter paid their respects. Delivering the homily, the Rev. Linda Marshall quoted Reinhold Niebuhr’s words, “Our capacity for justice makes democracy possible, but our capacity for injustice makes it necessary” — a fitting tribute to Katy’s life and work. A memorial fund for the performing arts has been created at the Denver Foundation in Katy’s name. The family selected the following quote from Leo Rosten for her memory card: “I cannot believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be honorable to be compassionate. It is, above all to matter: to count, to stand for something, to have it make some difference that you lived at all.” By that measure, Katy’s life was a resounding success. And, for myself, I’ve lost my “go-to” source of understanding for what Colorado Republicans are really up to.

Miller Hudson is a public affairs consultant and a former state legislator. He can be reached at mnhwriter@msn.com