Donald Ray Kennard: A Legacy of Integrity

Country Living in the City Column by Woody Jenkins

CENTRAL — At a time when scores of public officials in Louisiana were arrested and convicted of public bribery and then sent to prison, there were some who were hard-working and honest.

One of the most respected was Rep. Donald Ray Kennard, who represented East Baton Rouge Parish and Central for 32 years in the Louisiana House.

He served for 11,680 days, listened to thousands of hours of debate, spoke hundreds of times, and cast more than 25,000 record votes.  Yet, in all that time, there was never the slightest question about his honesty or integrity.

I had the pleasure of serving with him from 1976 to 2000.

Donald Ray Kennard truly was a role model for those who aspire to serve in public office.

His legislative accomplishments were many, but his love of people and his service to the community — and indeed to the entire state — were even greater.

As his Central High classmate, Jerry Alford, said, “As long as there’s a Central, there should be a place of honor for Donald Ray Kennard.”

That is very true, and all of the accolades of Donald Ray Kennard are well-deserved.  But, in a sense, this is only half the story.

There is someone else who deserves at least one-half the credit for everything that Donald Ray accomplished in his legislative career.  That person is Mona Kennard.

Mona was born Mona Norris.  She grew up in North Baton Rouge and attended Istrouma High School.  She and Donald Ray met at the LSU Rodeo in 1960.  They were married on April 21, 1962.

Mona graduated from Our Lady of Lake nursing school and worked at Wyandotte Chemical and Exxon as refinery nurse.

Donald Ray and Mona have two daughters — Robin and Stacy — and four grandchildren.

It was a big family decision to run for the legislature, and Mona supported Donald Ray at every step of the way.  In his first legislative session, Donald Ray had to vote on the Right to Work bill, and he and his family were subjected to death threats.

Mona kept little Robin and Stacy at home for weeks in order to keep them out of harm’s way.  Sheriff’s deputies patrolled outside the house.  Years later, Donald Ray confided in Robin and Stacy that a contract had been issued on his life.  Robin said, “During those days, there was a tension in the house that you could feel.”

My family experienced the same kind of things.  During the Right to Work debate, someone shot through our front windows.

Over the years, Mona Kennard held down the home front, taking care of the family’s finances and raising the girls.  Every kindness that Donald Ray did for anyone was possible only because Mona was there, taking care of first things first.

Mona and I went on a mission trip together in 1984 to the jungles of La Mosquitia of eastern Honduras.  It was an extraordinarily difficult time.  More than 75,000 Miskito Indians had fled persecution by the Sandinistas in Nicaragua and were living in great deprivation in the jungles.

On one of our medical sweeps, a mother brought her baby to Mona.  The child was nine days old and had not been able to nurse since birth.  He looked like a skeleton — a 90-year-old man the size of a tiny baby.

“Take my baby, save my baby!” the Miskito woman pleaded.  Six of her nine children had already died.

No medical facility in Honduras could save this baby.  So, defying the advice of other team members, Mona and I decided to try to get the child to the United States and an advanced medical facility.  We were in the jungles 200 miles from anywhere with an undocumented illegal alien.  But where there’s a will there’s a way.  We got a plane to fly to Tegucigalpa and convinced the United States Embassy under President Reagan to drop all formalities and legal requirements to allow this baby into the U.S. for emergency care.  With fervent prayer, all the barriers fell and a document was issued within 24 hours, allowing tiny “Filo” to come to the United States.

Dr. Richard Nei-

meyer provided medical care in Pennsylvania, and Filo miraculously survived.

We found a foster mother, Claire Sharp, an attorney in Shreveport, to care for Filo until he was ready to go back to Honduras.  But when Filo was ready, his Miskito parents refused him.  “Why would you save this baby and then bring him back here where we cannot feed him and he will die?” they asked.

Claire offered to adopt Filo but that seemed impossible.  She would have to go to Honduras, establish residence, and live there for six months in order to qualify.  She did all of that and adopted Filo — the “littlest Miskito.”

Filo Sharp is now a student at the University of Louisiana-Monroe, where he plays in the marching band.  He’s a proud American.

And he’s another one of Mona Kennard’s many accomplishments.

Mona told me Sunday night, “Donald Ray was such a compassionate, caring person.  He loved his family.  He loved Central.  And he loved his fellow man.  He did things for the right reasons.  Donald Ray knew we don’t live forever, and he lived his life that way.”

Mona said she and Donald Ray spent three weeks at their place at Maggie Valley, NC, and then a week before his death, Donald Ray wanted to come home.  “He told me, ‘Mona, I’ve had such a wonderful life.  If I never do another thing, it’s been a full life.  I’ve seen and done so much.  Living in Central.  Sports.  LSU.  My family.  The legislature.’”

Many people in Central — and across Louisiana — owe a lot to Donald Ray and to Mona Kennard.