By Kenny Byrd
“Hey Berrr!”
When James approached and threw his arm around you to huddle for discussion and uttered that, it was special. You instantly became a friend, confidant, conspirator, a crony with James to fight the next battle for social justice — or maybe he just had a new barbecue joint in mind.
In the early 1990s, a self-appointed cabal of the Southern Baptist Convention had fired my mother, Joyce Byrd, and Sunday School Board President Lloyd Elder for essentially not reading the Bible the way the fundamentalists demanded it. In addition, Elder had been a vote with James in the SBC battles. Thus, in 1995, as I graduated college, I wanted nothing to do with the Southern Baptist hierarchy or any
Baptist anything for that matter.
However, I was ambitious and wanted to land in D.C. My parents said I should go work for Baptist legend James Dunn — “he stood up to the same guys that fired your mom. He’s not like any Baptist you’ve ever met.” They were right.
It only took one day of working for James to want to follow him anywhere. Funny, illuminating, unfiltered, and led by example. In the same breath in which he commiserated against the failures of the church and government, he also instilled an inspirational hope and belief that religion and government could solve the injustices of the day. It was James’ purifying inhale and exhale throughout the time I knew him.
After my internship, he hired me full-time, but clarified he couldn’t pay me much. “Don’t worry,” he said, “stick with me and I’ll teach you how to live on that thing we laugh is your salary.” From there, James took me to the U.S. Senate cafeteria for Senate bean soup — they don’t charge extra for onions and jalapeños on top from the salad bar. He was more than just a good steward of the BJC’s budget. Larry Chesser and I laughed (and metaphorically cried) on more than one occasion when we heard James in his office telling an elderly donor by phone, “No, no — don’t give us that much money. We just need $100 this time.” He never asked for more than absolutely needed.
Among our duties, Chesser and I edited James’ “Reflections” column in Report from the Capital — a little like putting a Band-Aid on a fire hydrant. Also during those years, I attended and covered as a journalist five State of the Union addresses, the impeachment hearings, the Bush v. Gore Supreme Court arguments and an array of famous newsmakers and events. But still, the most historic event I ever witnessed was James trying to figure out “this new e-damn-mail!”
When he took staff to events and introduced us, he bragged on us so much that we didn’t even know who he was talking about. He ran into the director of the CIA one day in a hallway with me and pointedly stated to John Deutch, “Here’s Kenny — he wrote the story that exposed your group wrongfully using missionaries in foreign countries.” I wasn’t the first, but it didn’t matter. He was a boss in name, but a friend and mentor first to all who worked with him.
After I left the BJC to attend law school, James and I stayed in touch. A few years ago, I met him for lunch near Wake Forest and explained I was suing Big Tobacco on behalf of injured smokers who began smoking as teenagers in the 1940s and 50s. He was more than proud and knew the daunting nature of the task and quipped, “That could lead a man to drink, …[he paused] and CUSS!” From time to time, an envelope would appear at my office with news clippings exposing various lies from Big Tobacco. In his well-known handwriting, he would write big notes such as “Even Ralph Reed didn’t think of this one!” I loved him. And then the letters slowly stopped. And on July 4, our big, bright Baptist light went out. He’s Dunn, as he said, but let us all make sure his legacy continues.
Kenny Byrd is a former BJC intern, BJC associate director of communications, and Washington bureau chief for Associated Baptist Press. He is an attorney in Nashville, Tennessee.
From the July/August 2015 Report from the Capital. Click here to read the next story.
BJC Executive Director Brent Walker and former staff member Larry Chesser also wrote tributes to James Dunn for this edition of Report from the Capital.
