Bob McNair used to chuckle about political figures who published books about themselves and took credit for any number of things, rightly or wrongly.
"Look at this," he would say, holding up such a book, "It's nothing but 'I did this, and I did that ...'"
Unfortunately for history, Bob McNair rarely took credit for anything. He was a Gary Cooper-style public figure who wasn't comfortable promoting either himself or his accomplishments.
As a result, he never became known as the "Education Governor," although he instituted major reforms, including state-level kindergartens, to usher in the era of desegregated public schools. He never became known as the "Economic Development Governor," although he initiated the state's worldwide industrial recruitment program and made the recommendation that led to the creation of the Parks, Recreation and Tourism department.
He never became known as the "Higher Education Governor," although he fostered broad improvements in the state's college and university system, including the creation of Francis Marion University at Florence. He never became known as the "Civil Rights Governor," although he integrated many of the state's boards and commissions and oversaw the peaceful desegregation of the state's entire public school system.
Part of the reason was his own selfless style and personality. Another, perhaps bigger, reason was the absolute delight he gained from putting together coalitions and sometimes-improbable combinations of people to get things done. He relished the idea of things like interagency councils, task forces and work groups and liked nothing better than forming alliances with legislative leaders for common goals. He didn't lose a lot of sleep over who got to be the boss in the governmental hierarchy and his favorite pronoun was "we."
Bob McNair believed in government and its capacity to get good things done, and rejected the notion of attacking public service and its bureaucracies as a self-serving political ploy. He felt that within an economically poor state like South Carolina, only government could provide certain services to much of the population. He also had a high regard for the men and women who served in public sector, and he considered himself one of them.
For all that, he was a publicly shy man who worked best in small groups where there was negotiating room. In Bob McNair's world, there wasn't much talk about who was "right" or "wrong." Conversations were more likely to center on solving problems. He loved to compromise, and he would tell people, "We have three options: there is your way, my way, and the best way."
He was, in fact, never one to impose his opinions and beliefs on others. Although he was a lifelong and devoted member of the Baptist Church, he once told a statewide conference of Baptists, in supporting a controversial proposal to change liquor laws, "I am one of you. But I am not just the governor of the Baptists. I am the governor of all the people of the state."
While he was highly visible and active in public life, Bob McNair was an intensely private man who kept his emotions to himself. It was not in his nature to celebrate triumphs, no matter how significant, nor was it in his nature to display public grief over setbacks and tragedies, no matter how deeply he may have felt. As time went along, it also became increasingly clear that there was a deeply human personal side of Bob McNair and he spent much of his latter years attending to the health and medical needs of ailing family members.
In his final years, he retired with his wife Josephine to the Berkeley County home where he was raised, a plantation which he simply called "The Farm," and which he managed with the special care and attention his father and mother had given the same land decades earlier. It was his only permanent home, his final resting place, and -- as it turned out -- the only thing he ever bragged about.
Philip G. Grose is author of the book, "South Carolina at the Brink: Bob McNair and the Politics of Civil Rights," and served on the executive staffs of Gov. McNair and Gov. John C. West. He is a research fellow at the Institute for Southern Studies at the University of South Carolina and a senior consultant to the Executive Institute of the State Budget and Control Board.