Nevada’s former first lady Bonnie Bryan: Classy and genuine

Never did I hear a single negative word said about Big Bonnie, as Richard Bryan called her.

He wasn’t referring to her size — she was trim and fit. He was referring to Bonnie Bryan’s heart.

“She never wanted anyone to feel uncomfortable,” Bryan said after his wife’s death Aug. 30 at age 77. “She was totally unaffected. If she saw someone standing by themselves, she would go talk to them.”

During his 40-year political career as assemblyman, state senator, attorney general, governor and U.S. senator, Bonnie Bryan often was described as “Dick Bryan’s best asset.” And she was.

Sincere, high-energy and outgoing, she genuinely liked people, which was part of her magic as a politician’s wife and Nevada’s first lady from 1983 through 1988.

“Bonnie never changed. She was always the same whether she was married to Richard when he was a lawyer or a senator. She didn’t put on airs,” said Janice Allen, a neighbor who knew Bonnie ever since she joined the Junior League more than 40 years ago and who has known Richard Bryan since he was a child.

One sign of her class: She didn’t disrespect others. She kept her husband’s confidences.

Many times, her husband would credit her with raising their three children, all professionals, because he was gone so much. Richard Jr. became a doctor, Leslie an attorney and Blair a schoolteacher.

When she died, many cried, including me. I remembered her perpetual smile, that unforgettable laugh, her enthusiasm for life, her grace and that touch of mischievousness.

I saw her cry once, in 1999, when Bryan announced he would not seek a third term in the U.S. Senate. The junior senator was coming home to Nevada.

When Bonnie was a senator’s wife, Bryan said she was a favorite among Democratic fundraisers who organized events where senators and their wives schmoozed with major donors at high-end properties. “She was not high maintenance,” Bryan said. “Some of the wives complained about the size of the rooms or the views, that someone else had a bigger room or a better view,” he remembered. Not Bonnie Bryan.

I remember being with retired journalists Myram Borders and Chris Chrystal and seeing the Bryans at the Reno airport in 2014.

It was the first time I’d heard the story about why he first asked her out in 1958. He was running for student body president at the University of Nevada, Reno, and thought it would help him win if he asked out a sorority girl. Bonnie Fairchild was a Theta, so he asked her out and his popularity increased.

He won the race, he won the girl and he won a lifetime of love and treasured memories throughout their marriage of 54 years.

Borders went to UNR with both of them.

“Bonnie was a rare breed. No matter how difficult the situation, her public persona always was cool, pleasant and classy,” Borders wrote. “I remember seeing a woman approach Bonnie at a public gathering some years back. The woman was red with rage for some unknown reason. After a brief conversation with a smiling, pleasant Bonnie, the woman walked away a happy camper. What a talent. Bonnie always appeared to handle a heated situation like a trained psychiatrist.

“She had the same smile and calming persona whether working a black-tie event on the Strip or mingling with first nighters at the Mizpah Hotel in Tonopah. She was in my sights as a news reporter during her many decades in public life. She never stumbled,” Borders wrote.

Not many knew Bonnie had been treated for a rare form of leukemia for more than a year. That’s because she didn’t whine. She didn’t look for sympathy.

I knew, yet every time I saw her she was upbeat and positive and wanted to know how I was. That was her style. It wasn’t fake.

Two words were repeated again and again after Bonnie Bryan died.

Classy and genuine.

Jane Ann Morrison’s column runs Thursdays. Leave messages for her at 702-383-0275 or email jmorrison@reviewjournal.com. Find her on Twitter: @janeannmorrison