History doesn’t have to be “oldy, moldy” of at least a century or so ago.

It is premature to settle on any course of action which will determine the future of one of Gallatin’s landmarks. It is likely, however, to become a home for some community use — perhaps housing a better city hall while providing a larger and convenient public meeting space. There’s been talk to include a community museum in a portion of the revitalization project.

If so, then a reminder of what might be appropriately included occurred this past week. One of Gallatin’s favorite sons passed away Thursday at his home in Missoula, MT, but never far from his roots in Daviess County, MO.

The life of former U.S. Sen. Conrad Burns, 81, is now history. He was an auctioneer, broadcaster, county commissioner, football referee, livestock fieldman, a military veteran, a husband and father of a son and daughter — and Montana’s 19th United States Senator, the first Republican to hold that office in more than 35 years.

So, if a community museum becomes reality, surely “Connie” will take his place among political leaders that once called Gallatin home — alongside U.S. Speaker of the House J.W. Alexander and Missouri Governor A.M. Dockery.

In one respect, the Burns story is all too familiar for our times. Connie was born on a small farm near Gallatin, attended the country day school of Pleasant Grove, and graduated from GHS in 1952. He attended ag classes at MU before enlisting in the Marine Corps … and he left his hometown to seek career opportunities elsewhere, rising to national political prominence through fame from radio and television endeavors in Montana and Wyoming.

I recall meeting the Senator only once. I sat across the table from him at a rather uneventful Rotary Club luncheon at McDonald Tea Room. On that day he seemed tired and subdued, and I tried to respect his obvious need for some private space. This memory is quite the opposite of his public persona.

In 1990 a press release prepared by Bryce Dustman (a Daviess Countian serving on the Senator’s staff), chronicled how Connie was known as a humorous speaker. He readily poked fun at himself to show how politicians shouldn’t take themselves too seriously. “We all do dumb things 15 minutes a day,” the Senator quipped. “The key is not to go over your quota!”

That was Connie’s way. People liked his folksy manner. He had been elected Yellowstone County Commissioner only two years before winning his Senate seat. For 18 years he served as U.S. Senator and he became a powerful lawmaker. But he never strayed far from his roots.

Shortly after being elected, Burns told the capital press, “It was only a matter of bigger zeroes” separating his old Yellowstone County budget and the $1 trillion federal one (the difference was actually six zeroes).

Prone to chewing tobacco and occasionally picking his teeth with his pocket knife, Burns stuck out in the Senate. But on his first day in the U.S. Senate, Connie vowed: “I’ll never take a chew under the Capitol dome” and he never needed the brass spittoons on the Senate floor as he joined the “world’s most exclusive club.”

Another political favorite son of Gallatin, Phil Tate, likewise shares a couple of personal memories. One, in particular, describes how this man from Gallatin came to consider becoming a U.S. Senator from Montana:

“I remember in 1986, when I was running the first time for the Missouri House, Connie was visiting his folks in Gallatin and sat down by me at Rotary.  He explained to me that the Republican Party in Montana had approached him to run for the U.S. Senate and had committed a million dollars in campaign funds to finance the campaign.

“Thinking in terms of Missouri, I asked, ‘Where are you going to get another $1 to $2 million to finance the campaign?’

“He explained to me that one million would run a state-wide campaign in Montana because he lived in Yellowstone County and had great name recognition being a County Commissioner there and there was only one other media market in the state. He pretty well had it figured out, and he was right.”

But Phil’s favorite Connie Burns story has more to do with family. Connie’s father, Russell, was an outspoken Daviess County cattle producer (Black Angus, and he’d let you know it). On the 180-acre farm just four miles northwest of town, Connie learned the work ethic and life’s other lessons from hard-working parents (his father and mother regained the family farm after losing the farm during the Great Depression).

Once Connie entered politics, we can only speculate about how family talks over the kitchen table played out. This anecdote, which occurred sometime at the beginning of Connie’ first term on the national political scene, which Phil shares, reveals much:

“On the day of his swearing in ceremony, Mary Francis, his proud mother, was asked by a USA Today reporter, ‘Mrs. Burns, did you ever think that your son would grow up to be a United States Senator?’ To which Mary Francis, who had been a past chair of the Daviess County Democratic Committee replied, “No… and I never thought he would grow up to be a Republican.’

Phil notes how the reporter loved that quote and carried it in their issue covering Connie’s swearing in ceremony.

Another take on that same story, penned by Bob Minzesheimer, USA Today, attributes this quote to Mary Francis “That Democratic raising helped him a bit … but I told him, ‘Don’t ask me to vote for (George W.) Bush.'” Minzesheimer reported that Burns didn’t… “even senators listen to their mothers.”

There’re many more “Connie” stories, of course, more insightful than a mere obituary. Sometimes his comments preceded apologies. He had been quoted at times saying inappropriate remarks about African Americans and Native Americans, women and people from the Middle East.

His comments to a wildfire crew fighting a fire near Billings in 2006, in which he told them they’d done a poor job, hurt him politically.

No doubt political pundits also will point to 2006 when Connie mounted his final campaign for the Senate. He was hit hard by his opponent, Sen. Jon Tester, for his relationship with lobbyist Jack Abramoff, who was convicted of conspiring to bribe public officials, among other things. Burns did return $150,000 in contributions from Abramoff, clients and friends … and he later lost the election by 3,562 votes. Eventually, he was exonerated. He took a lobbying job with Gage Business Consulting in Washington, D.C.

Stories about this man could go on and on. And maybe they should … in some appropriate way in a community museum here in Gallatin.

I suggest we’d be wise to display the people and things that matter to us, more recent history than just the oldy, moldy. If we connect the dots from our roots here to what our finest — our kids — are giving to this world both here and elsewhere, I believe interest in our stories will reach far beyond the local.

Every community has its history, but nobody has what’s distinctly ours. If we choose to revitalize the cupola/grocery building, it should be a source of community pride — a celebration of who we are. We’ve got many, many stories to tell.

Including stories like Connie’s.

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Here are some comments by Conrad Burns during his 1994 campaign for the U.S. Senate, as written by Charles S. Johnson, State Bureau Chief for the Billings Gazette

“If you think health care is expensive now, wait until it’s free.” — quoted by  P.J. O’Rourke in Rolling Stone magazine

“Everybody ought to go broke once. It’s a terrible thing to say, but it’s a wonderful learning experience.”

“We haven’t changed any, and we ain’t going to change. We’re way too old.”

“Bureaucrats can make a lot of bad decisions, but they still get a check.”

“I don’t know how people who provide wealth are bad people.” (about the logging, mining and agricultural industries)

“As long as we’re not in session, the country feels pretty good, and we can’t damage ’em.” (about Congress)

“Great. I’ll educate a doctor; I won’t educate a lawyer.” (after his daughter told him she intended to go to law school instead of medical school; she eventually went to medical school)

“As far as growing up and what you did in life, I think that’s worth more than a PhD.”

“I was just squeezing the oil out of that desk. I was just shaking. Al Simpson (the Wyoming senator) said he was, too, on his first speech. He said, ‘If you weren’t like that, a lot of folks would be worrying about you.'” (about his first speech in the U.S. Senate, which was about Montana’s statehood Centennial)

— On how he enjoyed refereeing Class C football as much as Class AA, A, B and Frontier Conference football games: “In Fromberg on Friday afternoon, it’s those kids’ Super Bowl.”

“He’s not quite big enough, but he sure is slow.” (about how he was described as a high school football player for the Gallatin Bulldogs)

“Just remember that. That’s what you’re worth. You’re not worth any more or any less than $25.” (what his father, Russell Burns, said when showing Conrad Burns the $25 check he wrote to the doctor to deliver the future senator)

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The following is taken from the online edition of the Missoulian of Missoula, MT, posted April 30, 2016:

The “Metra,” as the facility is known, would be a fitting place for Burns’ service, friend and former chief of staff Dwight Mackay said Thursday evening.

Burns was instrumental in creating some of the mainstay events at MetraPark, including the Northern International Livestock Expo and the Montana Agri-Trade Exposition, both of which draw thousands of visitors to MetraPark each year.

The arena was the site of one of Burn’s favorite anecdotes concerning President Ronald Reagan. In August 1982, Reagan rode a horse-drawn stagecoach into Rimrock Auto Arena.

Making his way down a rope line of local dignitaries, the President reached out his hand to Conrad Burns.

“I said, ‘No, s–,’ ” Burns recalled.

Reagan looked at his entourage and said “Boys, we are in Montana.”

Six years later, Burns was challenging for the seat of Democratic incumbent Sen. John Melcher. Reagan had made himself available for photographs at the White House with Republican candidates who thought a picture with the president would help their chances.

Burns made the trip for the photo. When he was ushered into the Oval office, unsure Reagan would remember him, Burns extended his hand.

“I said, ‘Mr. President, I’m Conrad Burns,” Burns recalled. “And he said, ‘No. s–.’ ”