Holly Mendenhall gets asked almost monthly about wearing red to the press conference seven years ago when her husband, Bronco, was named BYU’s head football coach.

“Nobody would have thought a thing about it if Bronco hadn’t pointed it out when he spoke that day,” Holly says.

He retorts with a crooked smile, “I was just saying what everyone in the room was thinking.”

But Holly insists she should have been able to wear red to that December event — and any other time she chooses, with perhaps the exception of the week BYU plays the University of Utah.

“I love healthy rivalries, but the BYU-Utah one is over the top,” she says.

Although she still has red in her closet from their time at the University of New Mexico, Holly doesn’t buy red clothes for herself or her three sons — Cutter (12), Breaker (10) and Raeder (8).

“But that makes me mad at myself for letting other people dictate my choices,” Holly says. “Red is a great color, but other people make ridiculous comments.”

Holly isn’t one to hold back her opinions. She struggles a bit with the culture in Utah Valley. She believes many in the LDS faith marry before they are ready. She says Sundays are most definitely not a day of rest. And she wishes Bronco wouldn’t put her wooden spoons in the dishwasher.

But her spirited nature is part of what drew Bronco to her when they married in their 30s after a 10-year hiatus from their first go-around in a relationship.

“If Holly was not independent, I couldn’t be the coach at BYU,” Bronco says. “She is bright, articulate and absolutely strong-willed. She’s also loving, supportive and has a great listening ear. Without these qualities combined, my career at BYU would have been over at year two or three.”

Bronco and Holly stay in tune with each other on their weekly date — Wednesdays from noon to 1:30 — and a “correlation meeting” on Sundays to match their calendars.

“Being the head football coach doesn’t leave time during the day to take care of family matters,” Bronco says. “If Holly was calling every half hour asking me to run to the bank or coordinate a vacation, our football team wouldn’t be successful. The athletes need a high level of care, and this job requires a high level of organizational design. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for anything else.”

Holly’s ability to take care of “everything else,” comes from growing up in Montana, being raised by a mother “who would have made it across the pioneer trail while I would not,” and by having her own career and investment portfolio before becoming a coach’s wife. Her unpaid position as Mrs. Mendenhall is highly demanding and sometimes lonely.

“When Bronco hires a new coach, I say, ‘Have the wife call me,’” Holly says. “When I talk to her, I don’t sugarcoat things. I tell her she’ll have to be OK being the only mom at her son’s maturation program. She’ll be on the soccer sidelines alone. You have to be independent to be married to a coach.”

Holly used to pride her independent self on being able to fit all of her belongings in her car. But this spring, she moved her family of five from American Fork to their new custom home in Highland. Movers and moving trucks were involved, and Holly shook her head.

“I need to go to Africa and remind myself of what I really need and don’t need,” she says.

But in reality, Holly is still low maintenance. She doesn’t own mascara and didn’t purchase all new furniture for their home — she wanted to live there first and figure out what purchases (if any) need to be made.

Unexpected

The Mendenhalls moved to American Fork in 2003 when Bronco took the job as defensive coordinator under Gary Crowton. They were thrilled to live near Bronco’s family — and closer to Montana, where Holly’s mom resides.

“Nowhere in my scope of expectation did I think he would become the head coach,” Holly says.

Although they have loved this Utah County experience, Holly didn’t expect their “BYU chapter” to last this long.

“When we got married, I moved from Montana to Louisiana with him, and then we were off to New Mexico,” she says. “When we came here I was excited for another adventure. Most people think this is Bronco’s dream job, but he didn’t go to BYU as a student. I would be OK with going somewhere else — in fact, I’d love the challenge of something new. But Bronco loves his job and the opportunity to help young men on and off the field. But at some point people get tired of you — it sounds harsh, but it’s true. That’s the world of athletics — it’s about winning games and meeting expectations.”

First And Foundation

Although Holly isn’t shy about the difficulties of being married to a media magnet, she also feels profoundly grateful and wants her boys to feel the same.

“When you’ve been blessed, you have a responsibility,” Holly says. “It’s important to me that we teach our boys to give back. As a parent I want to make them aware of what they’ve been given.”

Holly went to Bronco with the idea of forming a foundation, which was originally the Fully Invested Foundation but is now known as the Holly and Bronco Mendenhall Foundation.

“Like any wife, I have to pick moments with my husband when he’s open to listening and absorbing,” Holly says. “When I pushed, he caught the vision. Once I had his support, doors started opening and things started happening.”

Two events are happening May 19. The Gridiron Rumble kicks off with a pancake breakfast and motorcycle ride with Bronco. The Cowboy Ball is held in a spacious Wallsburg barn filled with linen tablecloths and a sit-down dinner.
“Holly takes the complete lead on the foundation,” Bronco says.

She handled so many details of the complex event last year that she didn’t think through what her boys would wear until the day of — which meant they squeezed into outgrown cowboy boots. This year she’s hoping their strongest memory of the night won’t be blisters. She wants them to remember why they are raising money. The Mendenhalls are creating a grant system where families can apply for $1,000 to $10,000 for expenses such as a new wheelchair, a handicapped-accessible bathroom, or paying for a wife to return to school after losing her spouse.

“We can’t touch their medical expenses, but I like to call it ‘happy money,’” Holly says. “These people are in situations they didn’t plan on being in. We want to provide a little bit of support and let them know someone loves and cares about them. We want to make their daily existence more manageable.”

The Thursday’s Heroes program, also supported by the foundation, is a “make-a-wish” of sorts for Cougar fans facing challenges. The selected heroes come to football practice and hang with Bronco and his band of brothers.

Holly is also planning a “run to the Y” in October to raise foundation funds.

Mom’s the Word

Holly’s motherhood career began at age 32 with the birth of Cutter, and at first she wasn’t sure about the title of “stay-at-home” mom. She had owned her own adventure travel company in Montana and also spent time working at the Delta ticket counter — “anything to be in the travel industry,” Holly says.

“But the minute I held that baby, he was my deal,” she says. “For the past 12 years I’ve said no to a lot of things so I could be with my boys. Bronco is already gone so much — if I was also heavily involved, our children wouldn’t have anyone around. I want to capitalize on my time with them.”

In fact, Holly’s favorite time of day is the drive to and from school when they watch for the hawk they named “George” and talk soccer and scouts.

“We don’t listen to music or watch movies — we just visit,” she says.

After she watches their backpacks disappear into the school, she switches gears and tackles a list of projects — many related to the foundation. But in the afternoon motherhood takes center stage again, with its accompanying piano lessons, soccer practices, homework and boredom.

“I want my kids to experience boredom so they can learn how to make their own fun,” she says. “We don’t do computers or video games. Kids need time to play and they need fresh air.”

Holly’s parenting techniques are largely patterned after her own mother.

“It used to drive Bronco crazy that I talk to my mom every day,” Holly says. “But he realized it’s not negotiable. They broke the mold with my mom. At age 73, she can outdo me physically. She plays tennis and has won medals at the St. George Senior Games.”

Holly’s mother was born in Midway and married a man from Detroit who was doing his orthopedic residency at the University of Utah. They moved to Montana to raise their family. Holly’s mom was LDS and the children were baptized, but Holly is now the only member of her family who is active in organized religion.

“Because I wasn’t raised in a devoutly Mormon family, and because I didn’t go to BYU, I haven’t been a lifelong BYU fan,” Holly says. “My family members aren’t football fanatics and don’t get the mania of BYU football. They don’t give a rip if we win or lose — they want to know what I’m fixing for dinner.”

Football, Firesides and Family

When Bronco took on the role of head football coach with his characteristic intensity, he initially kept his home life and football life separate.

“But about year three, I realized my two worlds had to be the same if I wanted to sustain longevity in this career,” Bronco says.

Holly takes the boys out of school at noon the day before away games, and the family travels with the team. The team hosts firesides where Bronco and Holly speak and their sons participate in musical numbers.

When it’s game time, Holly is “happy to say that I’m a chicken and prefer to watch the game inside a box.”

“I don’t want to hear comments about players and coaches,” she says. “They are doing the best they can at any given moment. Most of these guys who blab on about what the coaches should be doing wouldn’t last a day in their position.”

Holly also keeps media out of her home to avoid hearing comments about Bronco’s livelihood.

“I refuse to contribute to an entity that one day thinks you’re amazing and the next day rips you to shreds,” she says. “I realize nobody is going to buy a newspaper that says everything is happy and good, but I don’t have to participate in that.”

Exceptions to the media ban? The family enjoys movies and Holly — yes, Holly — likes college football.

“Holly is actually a bigger football fan than I am,” Bronco says.

Football is a passion and a career for the outdoor-loving couple, but they don’t plan on their sons making a life on the gridiron. Cutter reads during games, but Breaker begs to play tackle football and makes playbooks to show to his dad.

“But he won’t play tackle until he can’t last another day without it,” Bronco says. “Preferably ninth grade.”

Holly puts the sport in perspective.

“As we drive toward LaVell Edwards Stadium and pass the BYU intramural fields, I tell the boys, ‘This is why you play sports — so when you get to college you’ll know how to play, which will help you stay healthy, have fun and make friends,’” she says. “We live the stressful world of college sports, but I don’t necessarily want that for my sons.”

Final score

BYU is fun and games, but it’s also serious for Holly, who often wants to “circle the wagons” around her family.

“We care about our dad and his well-being,” she says. “At the end of the day, it’s the five of us — these are the people I adore. In my world, family does come first — before church and before football. Life is about priorities.”

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Ye Old Artist
Eric has been accused — largely from himself — of being an old man in a younger man’s body. He loves the gray-haired crowd, and he relates to them as one of the few young folk artists in the country. His patriotism and love of old-fashioned family values led him to the folk style.
“I grew up in a patriotic and community-minded family,” he says. “We would go weed the park because my parents couldn’t imagine all 12 of us kids sitting still. That’s an older way of thinking, but I still carry that philosophy.”
He continues to admire the farming community — he raises chickens and peacocks on his property — and he says he doesn’t worry about competition coming up in the folk art or puzzle arena except for one scenario.
“As soon as a dairy farmer becomes a folk artist, I’m nervous,” he says. “Them are the hardest workers. What’s the difference between a dairy farmer and a guy in prison? The guy in prison doesn’t have to milk cows.”
Joking aside, hard work is a trait Eric admires, teaches and emulates. He tells his children that the world is not waiting for the smartest person — it’s waiting for the hardest worker.

Unwrapping Christmas
With a large and frugal family, Christmas expectations in Eric’s youth were minimal.
“I remember getting last year’s Christmas presents again — aren’t these the same wooden blocks from before? But this time Dad sanded them down!” he jokes.
He also remembers seeing his future wardrobe on his brothers.
“Hey, don’t mess up that shirt. It’s going to be mine!” he recalls. “We were 10 boys, and Christmas was about food.”
The big family had little room for art or art supplies.
“We had food, and that’s all we cared about,” he says. “If there was room for a picture on the wall, there was room for a shelf of bottled jam.”
He and his wife, Deb, like to “top” each other’s stories of growing up as the 10th children in two large families. Eric refers to them both as the “tithing child,” which was also a trait of Ben Franklin.
“The tithing or entitlement child back then was sent to the best schools and given great opportunities because his life was supposed to be a donation to society,” Eric says. “Anything Ben Franklin invented, he gave away.”
Although the Dowdles do keep a living to provide for their family, their abundance mentality has been good for business. When other artists utilize Dowdle Folk Art to print or distribute their art, there are no messy contracts.
“If we do a good job for you, then we hope you’ll stay,” Eric says. “If we don’t, good luck to you. I’ve made enough mistakes signing contracts in my life, that I don’t want to do that to other people.”

Home for the holidays
The 2011 holiday landscape at the Dowdles will be simple. When Eric and Deb aren’t out meeting the public and selling art and puzzles, they love to be together with their blended family.
“We like to create memories, and we often do it through staycations,” he says. The family eats together and plays together — and does puzzles together.
“It’s my research and development,” he says.
Another of Eric’s favorite traditions is getting together with his brothers and their families around Thanksgiving.
“Our extended family is full of good people and good kids, and it’s our favorite tradition to get together with them,” Eric says.

Path of painting
Eric’s own “folk art” of life involved living in Boise, Rexburg and Boston, the later being the genesis of his folk art career.
“On the East Coast, folk art is big,” he says. “But I was reluctant at first because I had been painting realism. I had grown up in a family where if art didn’t look like a photo, it wasn’t good art.”
Eric’s paintings aren’t photo-like or drawn to scale. And don’t call them cartoons either — that’s an insult to this artist that takes his “folks” seriously.
He’s also not one to insult other artists. Some of his local favorites include Michael Coleman, Ian Ramsay, Greg Olsen and James Christensen. These and other various signatures can be found in the corners of wall hangings in Eric’s home. For many years, Eric didn’t hang his own art. He displayed Michelangelo paintings, for example, to which a guest once pointed and said to Eric, “That’s your best piece right there.”
Eric says Utah Valley-ites may not recognize the glut of talented artists in our backyard.
“We’re all trying to make a living so we’re painting things people actually like,” he says. “We’re not trying to get deep into recesses of the mind. We’re appealing to the masses. Once you start to get weird, your audience will diminish.”
Unlike many artists, Eric is also complimentary of Thomas Kinkade.
“If you can’t say Kinkade’s pieces are great art, you are just jealous,” he says.
Eric’s staff teases him that if this art and puzzle gig falls to pieces, his new career could be stand-up comedy. His lively interaction keeps the corporate culture pieced together.
“Thanks for wearing that hat,” he tells a fellow Cougar fan as he walks through the warehouse.
When he introduces Ursula, he says, “Everyone needs an Ursula.”

Evolution
When Eric began holding a paint brush full time, he admits he would spend two months on a piece. That’s when he learned why artists are described as “starving.”
“Nobody wants to be involved in a business with the word ‘starving’ attached to it,” he says.
His key to turning the coins was to churn out the paintings at a faster rate. He now completes about 30 a year.
“I would love to spend more time on a piece — maybe that would help me be less critical of my own work,” Eric says. “Unfortunately artists can be critical of tiny flaws.”
But Eric has learned that’s not a trait you want to take home.
“You can’t walk in the house where everything is totally clean except one book on the floor and notice the one imperfection,” he says. “Nobody likes that.”

Sensory overload
Deb describes her husband as sensory.
“He needs to taste it, feel it, smell it,” she says.
Which is why he can’t paint a city after flipping through a picture book at the Orem library. He needs to fly there, sleep there, eat there and talk there. And talk. And talk.
“He talks to everyone,” Deb says.
For the sake of all involved, Eric often goes alone on research trips.
“I do what the tourists do,” he says. “I ride the Maid of the Mist. I go to the Imax. I ask people what they are enjoying. In many ways I feel like a reporter.”
Eric brings sights and sounds to his painting studio, too. His favorite sounds? David Lanz, the Mormon Channel and sports radio.
“I used to listen to political radio shows or regular radio music, but now I’m an old guy and I like classical music and stories about the LDS Church abroad. The Mormon Channel is my favorite channel, and it’s not even close. “

Profit and prophet
One of Eric’s life highlights was spending a family home evening with the late LDS President Gordon B. Hinckley. The two connected after Eric painted and presented President Hinckley with “All Nations Flow Unto It,” which was commissioned by Zions Bank and the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce. Eric incorporated the church leader’s life story — as well as the growth of the religion and the Utah landscape — into the painting.
“I wondered where someone who is given so many gifts would put yet another item. In the closet? The bathroom? But he hung my painting above the couch. Maybe he took it down after we left,” Eric quips. “But I could give an entire talk on our evening together.”
President Hinckley suggested Eric make a puzzle out of his painting, and Eric asked, “Make a profit on the prophet?” He was given the green light “as long as I paid my tithing,” and the puzzle is now available at
dowdlefolkart.com.

For U and You and BYU
One of Eric’s current canvases is based on the football-crazed culture along the Wasatch Front. Fans can purchase some of Eric’s dabs by sending in a photo of themselves cheering the Cougars or the Utes. The finished product with hundreds of mini-commissions throughout the stands will be ready early next year.
Eric is spending much more time on the BYU and Utah paintings than his usual 1 1/2 to 2 weeks.
“The crowd needs to be detailed — it needs to look like Aunt Rhoda or Uncle Joe,” he says.
(Learn more about commissioning Eric to include you at dowdlefolkart.com.)

Coming to America
Eric’s loyalty to BYU is only rivaled by his patriotism for America. One of his dreams is to build a Mount Vernon replica as his corporate headquarters in Utah County. It will be a celebration of folk art, America, the founding fathers and agriculture. It will also be a reception center and gathering place.
“I love picturing the future of our business in a building that was instrumental in the history of our country,” he says.
Eric does his part to strengthen America and her economy. This year, all of his puzzles are manufactured in the United States — Indiana, to be exact.
The stateside manufacturer came within 15 cents of his bid from China, and that price differential was worth it for him to add to the economy of the country he loves.

PAINT BY NUMBER
Eric, who named his goat “Art” and has been spotted at Kneaders with the animal, adds personality and color to walls, puzzle tables and conversation. And there’s more to come. He recently started researching a Mardi Gras painting and watched a film on the festivities.
“I watched 10 minutes and had to call my bishop,” he laughs. “I’ll be doing a G-rated version.”
Eric’s feel-good depictions have pieced together a successful career for him as well as hours of enjoyment for art lovers, puzzle-doers and travelers who appreciate his folksy brush with reality.

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Tale of two houses
For the past two years, Gary and Jeanette have called the second floor of the mansion home as they host dignitaries and tourists on the first and third floors.
But they still consider Utah County their home base and return each weekend — and sometimes more often. Jeanette doesn’t sleep at the governor’s mansion if Gary is out of town.
Having a foot in both worlds comes with a few frustrations — groceries are often in “the other refrigerator.”
“I pack a suitcase going both ways,” Jeanette says. “It doesn’t matter what I do, things always end up crossing and I only have part of an outfit somewhere or jewelry in the opposite place.”

You’re hired!
Being Utah’s First Lady comes without a job description or a paycheck — unless you count the $1 every other year that the state pays.
Each woman (or husband, in the case of Gov. Olene Walker) can determine her level of involvement as spouse to the governor.
“When I first got in I had a lot of requests to sit on boards and represent organizations,” Jeanette says. “People would ask what my initiative was. I would say, ‘When I see it, it will feel right.’”
Jeanette began to be drawn to issues relating to children, parenting, families and reading. As owner of the Kids Connection in Orem for 23 years, Jeanette had a front-row seat to parenting,
“I saw a lot of moms and dads struggling,” Jeanette says. “Their child would be out of control, and they wouldn’t know how to handle the situation.”
Jeanette learned from her parents — and from her kids — that being friends first and parents second is a third-rate approach to raising a family.
“Parents worry if they discipline their children, they won’t love them,” Jeanette says. “But kids crave boundaries. I want to help parents gain power. Kids are up against so much in today’s world, and parents need to be extra vigilant.”
On May 24, Jeanette announced her initiative, Uplift Utah Families, at the Salt Lake Bees game.
“Our organization believes that to have a strong viable state, we must have strong viable families,” she says.

Single-handed mom
Jeanette’s own parenting journey includes having six kids within 12 years and a husband in real estate. Translation? Jeanette felt like a single mother at times. But she didn’t sit around making a honey-do list for Gary.
“My parents are do-it-yourselfers, and I am also very independent,” she says. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as a repairman until I was 12 and I saw a man messing with the washing machine at a friend’s house.”
Gary saw this side of Jeanette from their first date. When Gary pulled up, she had a Corvair up on blocks while she was putting in a carburetor kit.
“Jeanette takes great pride in not needing repairmen when it comes to plumbing, sheetrock, landscaping and cars,” Gary says. “She’s always got seven or eight projects going at once. She’s a go-go-go girl — but not a go-go girl.”

Springing from Springville
Daughter Kimberli Cahoon describes her mom as the most unique First Lady the state has ever known.
“She’s just Jeanette Herbert from Springville, Utah,” Kimberli says.
Those small-town roots gave Jeanette big confidence for her life ahead.
“Springville was a wonderful place to grow up — small town Americana,” she says.
Jeanette’s dad managed the JCPenney in town, and she remembers him walking across the street to SOS Drug Company and visiting with other businessmen. She went with him and they would pull up a stool and have an ice cream.
Jeanette also loved living in Art City for the inspiration derived from the moniker and the Monets. She took her high school art class in the basement of the Springville Art Museum, and her art education prepared her for this chapter.
“We have so much artwork here at the mansion, and that’s one reason I love living here so much,” she says.
Jeanette may be from a small town, but she’s comfortable in the big city.
“She is very independent, and I don’t worry about her at all,” Gary says. “I don’t spend time making sure she’s comfortable in this role. She’s always anxiously engaged in good causes.”
Kimberli says her dad is the hardest worker she’s ever known, but even he has a hard time keeping up with Jeanette.
“She is 61, and she keeps picking up her pace,” Kimberli says.
Gary describes a conversation he had with Jeanette about a trip to Hawaii.
“I want to go and just relax,” he told her. “Will you let me do that or will you need to be on the go the whole time we’re there?”
Jeanette considered bringing along a daughter to go see the sites with her while Gary took his downtime. In the end, Gary and Jeanette met in the middle.

Princess dreams
Jeanette clearly remembers pretending to be a princess and thinking about growing up and living in a castle.
“Who would have thought I’d end up living in the governor’s mansion?” she says. “It feels surreal to this day. It is a real honor to be here and to represent the state.”
Jeanette’s “princess life” began in Preston, Idaho. Shortly after her birth, her family moved to Pocatello and then Milford, Utah. When Jeanette was 5, the family put down roots in Springville.
Jeanette developed a strong work ethic and later worked at the Orem State Bank (where Key Bank is now on State Street) as the first driveup window teller in Utah County. Gary had recently returned from his LDS mission and came into the bank where he talked to one of Jeanette’s co-workers. He asked her to line him up with Jeanette.
“Afterwards the girl came over to talk to me about Gary, and I looked out the window just in time to see him drive off,” Jeanette says. “He was driving a brand new 1968 GTO. And I thought, ‘If that’s his car, I’ll go out with him.’”
They started dating, and a month later she learned he had been driving his uncle’s car.
“But I was already hooked,” she says.
Their relationship pattern was set on their first date when Gary tossed Jeanette the newspaper and told her to pick a romantic show for them to see. He still depends on Jeanette to help make decisions.
The two dated for six months before Gary was drafted into the army. The Herberts got married amidst his basic training and national guard duties.

For better or for worse
Gary and Jeanette Herbert celebrate their 41st anniversary this month — a patriotic month for a patriotic couple.
“Some newlyweds don’t have the commitment it takes to make marriage work,” she says. “You’re going to find out that your spouse squeezes the toothpaste wrong and does quirky things that get under your skin, but you’ve got to talk about it and stay committed.”
In fact, Gary says it’s Jeanette who squeezes from the top.
“She resolved that issue by starting to buy us each our own tubes,” Gary says.
Jeanette says marital conflicts can also arise because of a problem child, which is another impetus for her to plan a conference on families.
“Every marriage has times when things are strained, but you have to hang in there through the tough times,” she says. “We’ve been married over 40 years, and we’re so comfortable with each other. It pays off to stay together, and most people find they are very compatible if they choose to see it that way.”

We are family
Although the Herberts have seen the world as they represent Utah, they are still largely focused on home sweet home and family sweet family.
“You don’t need an exotic vacation to enjoy family time,” Jeanette says. “Studies show kids choose not to drink or smoke because they want parental approval. Parents matter. Families matter.”
Jeanette serves up parenting along with meat and rolls every Sunday evening at her Orem home, and her six kids and 13 grandkids are all invited.
“Family is what life is about,” she says. “If you have a close family, you’ve got it made. It doesn’t matter how much money you have or if you are famous.”
Gary says Jeanette is a top-notch mother, but she’s an “all-world, first-team grandma. I mean all-world!”
She sews Halloween costumes for her grandchildren and baby blessing outfits for the little ones.
“I’m always making some kind of craft,” she says. “ I love it.”
She also loves attending as many games and recitals as possible, which is why she starts her schedule by putting in the “big rocks” of family — and golf.

Fore!
Jeanette golfs at Hobble Creek Golf Course every Tuesday with friends.
“It’s important to keep balance in life,” she says. “I enjoy that time when I set aside my other worries and concerns.”
Except for the worry of hitting a tiny golf ball.
“I shouldn’t love anything about golf,” she says. “It’s the most frustrating sport. You hit one good shot and then it might be 10 more shots before you can do that again. But I like to see the improvement from the last time I played.”
Jeanette’s love affair with Hobble Creek began before she hit double digits. Her father would come home from work and take her to the course with him. Sometimes they didn’t finish nine holes before the sun went down, but they enjoyed the evening breeze and the time together as they were the last ones on the green.
“Hobble Creek is my course,” Jeanette says.
Jeanette took up golf with earnest when she sold her Orem child-care center a few years ago and planned to quietly focus on grandchildren and home improvement projects.
But Gary’s political aspirations changed her game. Gary put together a bid for governor in 2004 before stepping out and joining Jon Huntsman’s ticket as lieutenant governor. The two won big that November. Then in 2009, Huntsman left the state to be an ambassador in China, which put Gary in the top seat. Gary was re-elected in 2010.

Politics as usual
Although Jeanette has no legislative power, she feels a responsibility to understand the issues.
“I need to relate to Gary and the emotions he’s going through,” she says. “Our whole family has become very politically involved. A lot of the conversations around the table are about state and national issues. I read all the newspapers, but I generally avoid the blogs — they are too negative.”
Jeanette considers herself a “Fox News person,” but she seeks out the other side to round out her knowledge. The only TV she takes time to watch is recorded programming — such as “Dancing With The Stars” — so she can zoom through the commercials.

Public figure
Although the Herberts get recognized and consequently stopped whenever they go out in public, they don’t let it limit their behavior. But being out and about takes longer than it used to.
“People come up and usually say they appreciate what we are doing,” Jeanette says. “We are both people persons — is that how you say that in plural? We like talking to people. Gary is usually the last one to leave the room, and I’m pulling on his coat tails. That’s one of his good qualities. He enjoys hearing people’s issues.”
Being a public figure and living in the governor’s mansion caught small-town Jeanette by surprise, but the depth of Utah’s greatness did not. As a volunteer herself, she’s well aware of how Utah earns its distinction of being the No. 1 state for volunteerism.
“And that’s a badge we wear with honor,” she says.

Women’s work
Jeanette’s mother was a housewife and didn’t work a day. Jeanette never aspired to be a working mother either. But in the late 1970s and early 1980s, interest rates were high and home purchases were low. Soon after she had her sixth child, she and her Realtor husband realized a second income might be necessary.
“I decided to build a child-care center so I could take my kids to work with me,” Jeanette says.
She was usually at home when the children left for school and back home again when the backpacks returned. Her children grew up and held jobs at the center.
“I became so attached to the children,” she says. “We were open so long that people who had been there as kids were bringing their own babies back in. It was hard to walk away.”
Owning a day-care center forced Jeanette to organize her time and work closely with all types of personalities.
“In addition to my business, being a mother prepared me for this more than any other career could have,” she says.
Jeanette is an optimistic person who looks forward to the future and hopes her grandchildren take notice.
“I want them to realize there is a lot of good out there if they have the right attitude,” she says.

Joke’s on you
Jeanette is serious about parenting and dead serious about grandparenting, but she is quick to laugh and find the humor in life.
On April Fool’s Day, she called her husband and told him Donald Trump had figured out Obama wasn’t born in the U.S. and had found proof. Hours later he called back saying his staff couldn’t find out more about her news. She reminded him what day it was.
“I love joking around,” she says. “I like informal occasions more than formal occasions.”

Politics as usual
As much as Jeanette prefers jeans and family, a life in politics is a life in the spotlight. Many lunches and dinners are spent at catered tables, although the couple often craves a simple bowl of cereal for dinner. (The night before our interview, Gary came home and happily poured himself a bowl of Cheerios.)
The Herberts rub shoulders with Utah’s elite, including a close friendship with both the Romneys and Huntsmans.
“We supported Romney in the last election, and we thought the Huntsmans were also supporting Romney,” Jeanette says. “So it was awkward for us when the Huntmans put their support behind McCain. We have friendships and relationships with both couples, so we’ll likely stay neutral. I just hope they don’t beat up on each other too badly, which can happen in a contested Primary.”
Jeanette knows something about taking a beating. The 2010 campaign season was smattered with headlines questioning the governor’s integrity.
“At times we wondered if it was worth it. What were we doing this for? It was actually our kids who kept us in the race,” Jeanette says.
At one of the traditional Sunday night dinners, the adult children passionately persuaded their parents to stay in through the hard times.
“They told us we were there for a reason and to hang in there,” Jeanette says.
They knew their children had been well-taught, and they listened.
“You have to know what is right and stand tall, and when you do that everything works out in the end,” Jeanette says. “My skin has gotten thicker. Neither one of us takes offense when offense wasn’t intended.”
Sometimes offense is intended, which is when Jeanette and Gary lean on each other.
“We help each other through situations,” she says. “As a spouse sometimes I’m defensive of him and I want to punch somebody’s lights out, but it’s important to stand above it and see things through. This journey will end at some point, and we want to have done the most with this chapter of our lives.”

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Playing in the pros (and cons)
Vern’s weight room growing up was throwing milk cans around a farm in Idaho, and that work ethic took him straight to the top of the sport he loved. Vern played pro from 1950 to 1967 during what he describes as “the golden age of baseball.”
He also raised six kids (Vance is #3) while playing 16 years as a pitcher for the Pittsburgh Pirates.
Vern’s stories read like a history book. For example, he was asked to pitch a game on two days rest against Hank Aaron’s Milwaukee team at home in Pittsburgh. At the end of nine innings, it was tied 2-2. Vern stayed in. Twelve innings. Fifteen innings. The coach wanted to pull Vern.
“After pitching this long, let me win or lose this thing,” Vern remembers saying.
After 18 innings, Vern was pulled and went in to shower while he listened on the radio as the reliever pitcher won the game. In today’s sport, a pitcher gives five or six quality innings and then a reliever is called in.
“I’d have a hard time pitching today. I don’t like the idea of somebody else coming in and determining whether we win or lose,” Vern says. “I’d be in the doghouse of my manager all the time for asking to stay in.”
Vern played baseball before major leagues meant major salaries. A rookie today makes more in a signing bonus than Vern did in his whole career.
“It was fun when baseball was a game,” Vern says. “Now it’s a business. Back then we had the reserve clause that held us to our ball club until we were traded or sold. Our team stayed together for a good length of time and matured together. That’s why we are so close even today. And that’s why the fans back in Pittsburgh relate to us more than any other team. They knew who was going to be out on the field every year. People loved that.”
People also love Vern’s generosity.
He brings donuts and chocolate milk to the baseball team — and the women’s basketball team — before they leave for road trips.
“He has always put other people first,” Vance says. “He has set an example of kindness, integrity and honesty.”
Vern as been called the LDS pioneer of baseball and was known as “Deacon” to his teammates, opposing players and umpires.
“At the time I was an elder in the LDS Church, but nobody knows what an elder is, but they do know what a deacon is. And the name stuck,” Vern says.
Vern says his post-game interviews always ended up discussing his faith and religion. Even during the World Series, Vern was referred to as the Mormon boy from Idaho. The Catholic sisters were big fans.
“It was a pretty site to see 10,000 wearing black and white habits in the stands,” he says. “And they would come to the dugout and holler, ‘Deacon, come here!’ So I would visit with them for a few minutes.”
Vern says he knows he wasn’t the best pitcher in the world, but he made the best use of the talent he did have.
“As a result, I had some success,” he says. “I wanted to succeed as bad as anybody. When people asked about my faith, I wanted them to respect me enough to listen to what I had to say.”
One person Vern didn’t want to listen to and follow was Babe Ruth. When Vern met the home run legend, Babe was holding a beer and had an unlit cigarette in his mouth.
“I’m not a Babe Ruth fan. He could have done so much more with his influence. I had a lot more respect for Lou Gehrig,” Vern says. “Lou showed humility.”
Vern showed his own humility when he was asked to endorse Marlboro cigarettes and turned it down faster than he could throw a fastball.
“Young people admire and respect ball players, particularly in Pittsburgh,” Vern says. “Kids do exactly what players do, and I had been outspoken against cigarettes to my teammates. Plus, I wasn’t going to endorse something I didn’t personally use.”
He did endorse hard work and sports with his children, who saw varying levels of success. Vance had a stand-out career as a BYU baseball player before being drafted to the Pirates, the same team his father pitched for.
“I didn’t have anything to do with his signing,” Vern says. “He had to make it on his own, which he did.”
Vance played pro from 1978-1991.
His father often reminded him how important it is “to keep your nose clean.” The media spotlight — especially on Mormon athletes — finds flaws both on and off the field.
The two former boys of summer are now dads and grandpas (and in Vern’s case, a great-grandpa), which means baseball takes a distant back seat.

Filling the family roster
Vern was slated to pitch the second game in a Fourth of July 1962 doubleheader when he got a call that VaNita was headed to the hospital to deliver their youngest son.
He pitched a 7-0 shutout. The last play of the game was when Norm Larker popped-up a fly ball and catcher Smoky Burgess caught it. Vern says Norm turned to him and said, “Now go home and read your Bible.”
Vern went home to something more important — his newest son. Vern and VaNita have never retired from their position as parents. Vance and his siblings continue to turn to their mom and dad for support and advice.
For example, Vance got thrown his toughest parenting pitch 24 years ago when his then-4-year-old daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
At the prime of his major league career, Vance was struggling between two priorities: providing temporally for his family and providing emotionally.
Both sets of parents lent their shoulders. Toward the end of Vance’s season with the Montreal Expos, they let him go home and play general manager for his wife and daughter.
“That was an amazing example of an employer letting me put family first,” Vance says.
This daughter is now 28 and holds down two jobs despite challenges. Vance now sees this experience as spring training in his early parenting career.
“Nothing was more important than being there for my daughter and wife,” he says. “This helped us grow as a family and see a bigger picture. Up until that time, I had been focused on progressing my baseball career.”

Like father, like son, like son
Vern was an assistant coach at BYU under Glen Tuckett when Vance came out for the team as a freshman. They told Vance he would clearly have to be the best player at his position or he’d have to wait his turn.
“It turned out he was the best player at his position, so I didn’t worry,” Vern says. “He was always in the right spot at the right time. But it’s a little bit of pressure for a dad to coach his son.”
Now Vance is the coaching father while his sons line up for the Cougars.
His son Tim played third base for three years. Andrew is on this year’s squad as an infielder, and Adam will return to the team after finishing an LDS mission in Zimbabwe later this summer.
“It can be stressful to watch your own sons play because you want them to do well,” Vance says. “You want every hop to be a good hop. You don’t want them to strike out. In the end, baseball is a game of averages. And my boys have been around baseball their entire lives, so they have baseball common sense.”

Father knows best
Although Vance and Vern are close on and off the mound, Vance credits his mother with being the stability factor when he was growing up.
“During my dad’s playing days, I was around my mother more than my father,” Vance says. “Even though she’s a small woman, whatever she said went. And our respect for her has never diminished.”
When Vern retired from professional baseball, his father role intensified.
“He became a guidance counselor for me,” Vance says. “He was my coach here at BYU, and he helped me progress through my college days and into my pro career. He always continued to throw batting practice to me. And who better than a Cy Young winner to throw BP?”
But it is Vern’s off-the-field tosses that Vance appreciates most.
“He is a tremendous example of integrity and honesty,” Vance says. “Even with all the notoriety he got being one of the best pitchers in the 1960s, he always lived and acted like he was a normal guy.”
To this day, Vern will get out of his seat to snag a foul ball.
“Some of my guys complain about getting foul balls, but nothing is beneath my dad,” Vance says.

BYU by Law
Vance says there is an identifiable absence when his 81-year-old father isn’t in the stands to watch Cougar baseball.
Vern regularly watches practice, and he’s at nearly every home game and many away contests. Being in the stands to watch Vance’s team take the field is one of Vern’s top priorities.
“If he’s not at a game, there must be something pretty important going on,” Vance says.
Vern has also become a regular face at BYU women’s basketball games. When he missed a few of their games this past winter for a knee replacement, the players asked, “Where’s Coach Law?”
He’s still known as “coach” by many — and the only title he loves more than that is “father.”
The father-son duo wishes more people understood the beauty of baseball.
“There are subtle conflicts that go on between the hitter and pitcher,” Vance says. “Some people think it’s slow moving, but when people understand baseball they see it is an exciting game of strategy.”
Baseball is also a team sport — at times you sacrifice your own stats for the good of the ball club. It’s also a game where failure is expected. The best players fail seven out of 10 times offensively and still keep coming up to bat.
Sounds a bit like fatherhood.

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