Tom worked for Stan at the newspaper office for many years before joining Wellstone.
Here's what Minnesota Public Radio said at the time:
Pax Christi Catholic Church in Eden Prairie was the site of a memorial service for Tom Lapic, who was known to many as Paul Wellstone's right hand man. Lapic, 49, had worked with the senator for nearly 10 years. Two weeks ago, he quit his job as deputy director in the Senate office to join Wellstone for the final hectic weeks of the campaign.Those who spoke said Wellstone wanted Lapic with him every step of the way, because Lapic's tranquil demeanor steadied Wellstone.
"He had the ability to be in command and yet be in the background. He was a very calming influence," said Lapic's friend, Chaska police chief Scott Knight. "He was one of the most unflappable individuals, and that was all on top of a very, very sincere foundation. He genuinely cared about people and issues. And when he took interest in someone -- and that was just about everyone he met -- it was from his heart."
Knight was one of more than 20 people who came to the microphone near the altar of the church to talk about Lapic. Coworkers described a man who would tell his office mates that they didn't have to worry -- he'd worry for them.
They also called him a great writer who wrote many of Wellstone's speeches, and they talked about his ethics.
Here's what Stan wrote for the Southwest newspapers.
By Stan Rolfsrud
General Manager
During the past week, eloquent leaders and others have praised U.S. Senator Paul Wellstone for his decency, his “bone-deep devotion to political engagement and service.” They’ve called him a sincere and good man, whose principles led him in life, one who cared deeply about and worked tirelessly for the people of Minnesota. They said he’s a believer, an ordinary guy, a passionate fighter for the underdog.
Add gentle, supportive and soft-spoken and you’ve also described his loyal aide, Tom Lapic, who died with him.
We know this about Tom because he worked for this newspaper company. He was a columnist, an editor and an administrative assistant during his four-year association. He was a problem solver, a fixer, a reliable “go to” guy.
An unabashed liberal who once studied to be a priest, Tom relished his role as the counterpoint to our conservative columnists. Bleeding heart, pointy-headed, and idealist were labels he wore with pride and a grin. But Tom didn’t just write it, he believed what he was writing and lived that way.
Tom prized a collection of dusty typewriters as well as a vintage Ford Mustang. He took his pride and joy out of storage in the early 90s and obtained a set of classic car plates. He discovered that the cost of the plates was significantly less than for an ordinary vehicle even though he intended to use it regularly on the highways. In his mind, he, and others like him, enjoyed an unfair tax advantage. To the astonishment and dismay of some readers, he argued persuasively for a change to the law.
Although Tom served for a brief time as editor of the Chanhassen Villager, he much preferred support roles. He didn’t need a title, he loved to pitch in to help and support others. This he did with great energy, tackling special projects, filling in where needed – reporter, receptionist, computer hacker, network administrator, hand-holder – anything to move the organization forward. Mostly, he wanted to be close to the action. Bright and flexible, his biggest demand was that life be interesting.
Generous enough, he loved being thought of as cheap, in a Jack Benny sort of way. And he was full of surprises, this seminarian, ex-chimney sweep, this junk-food vegetarian. When I mentioned I was taking up golf, he said he’d teach me. Who would guess he knew anything about the game? But teach he did. Turns out he had played daily as a youth in New Ulm. His first lesson: Don’t ever buy a bag of tees. You can always find a perfectly good discarded one if you look sharp in the tee box. That way, he explained with a wink in his whimsical self-parody of values, you can be cheap and recycle too.
Tom’s feet bothered him a lot but that didn’t keep him from exercising. We walked together around Staring Lake often, trying to think big thoughts and solve our small problems. One spring day Tom confided that he’d been invited to join Paul Wellstone’s regular staff and wondered about the right thing to do. Wellstone had been campaigning the previous summer and Tom had spent some time with him then, but I was surprised he had gotten so close to the organization. I shouldn’t have been.
Tom took the path to Washington and then to the senator’s office in St. Paul. He never set out to serve two full terms, but like his boss, the job must have grown on him. Tom was clearly where he wanted to be, solving problems, supporting constituents, staying close to the action. During the brief conversations I had with the senator during those years, we didn’t talk politics. He’d just light up and joyfully relate his latest Lapic story. The senator had clearly come to rely heavily on the steady judgment, clear thinking and loyal support of this kind and gentle man. None of us are surprised.
We’re proud to have known these hopeful dreamers, these believers in the best of America, whose greatest achievements are to be found in the happiness of others. And now that they’re gone and can’t do it anymore, we’re all going to have to try harder to help each other.
General Manager
During the past week, eloquent leaders and others have praised U.S. Senator Paul Wellstone for his decency, his “bone-deep devotion to political engagement and service.” They’ve called him a sincere and good man, whose principles led him in life, one who cared deeply about and worked tirelessly for the people of Minnesota. They said he’s a believer, an ordinary guy, a passionate fighter for the underdog.
Add gentle, supportive and soft-spoken and you’ve also described his loyal aide, Tom Lapic, who died with him.
We know this about Tom because he worked for this newspaper company. He was a columnist, an editor and an administrative assistant during his four-year association. He was a problem solver, a fixer, a reliable “go to” guy.
An unabashed liberal who once studied to be a priest, Tom relished his role as the counterpoint to our conservative columnists. Bleeding heart, pointy-headed, and idealist were labels he wore with pride and a grin. But Tom didn’t just write it, he believed what he was writing and lived that way.
Tom prized a collection of dusty typewriters as well as a vintage Ford Mustang. He took his pride and joy out of storage in the early 90s and obtained a set of classic car plates. He discovered that the cost of the plates was significantly less than for an ordinary vehicle even though he intended to use it regularly on the highways. In his mind, he, and others like him, enjoyed an unfair tax advantage. To the astonishment and dismay of some readers, he argued persuasively for a change to the law.
Although Tom served for a brief time as editor of the Chanhassen Villager, he much preferred support roles. He didn’t need a title, he loved to pitch in to help and support others. This he did with great energy, tackling special projects, filling in where needed – reporter, receptionist, computer hacker, network administrator, hand-holder – anything to move the organization forward. Mostly, he wanted to be close to the action. Bright and flexible, his biggest demand was that life be interesting.
Generous enough, he loved being thought of as cheap, in a Jack Benny sort of way. And he was full of surprises, this seminarian, ex-chimney sweep, this junk-food vegetarian. When I mentioned I was taking up golf, he said he’d teach me. Who would guess he knew anything about the game? But teach he did. Turns out he had played daily as a youth in New Ulm. His first lesson: Don’t ever buy a bag of tees. You can always find a perfectly good discarded one if you look sharp in the tee box. That way, he explained with a wink in his whimsical self-parody of values, you can be cheap and recycle too.
Tom’s feet bothered him a lot but that didn’t keep him from exercising. We walked together around Staring Lake often, trying to think big thoughts and solve our small problems. One spring day Tom confided that he’d been invited to join Paul Wellstone’s regular staff and wondered about the right thing to do. Wellstone had been campaigning the previous summer and Tom had spent some time with him then, but I was surprised he had gotten so close to the organization. I shouldn’t have been.
Tom took the path to Washington and then to the senator’s office in St. Paul. He never set out to serve two full terms, but like his boss, the job must have grown on him. Tom was clearly where he wanted to be, solving problems, supporting constituents, staying close to the action. During the brief conversations I had with the senator during those years, we didn’t talk politics. He’d just light up and joyfully relate his latest Lapic story. The senator had clearly come to rely heavily on the steady judgment, clear thinking and loyal support of this kind and gentle man. None of us are surprised.
We’re proud to have known these hopeful dreamers, these believers in the best of America, whose greatest achievements are to be found in the happiness of others. And now that they’re gone and can’t do it anymore, we’re all going to have to try harder to help each other.
Kathleen voted for Paul Wellstone whenever she could... and she told him so when this photo was taken at the Eden Prairie News office in 1998.