Funeral services for Ronald J. “Red” McManus, 68, of Reliance, SD will be Tuesday, September 10, 2013, at 10:00 am at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Reliance with burial in St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery at Reliance. Visitation will begin Monday at 5:00 pm with a scripture service at 7:00 pm at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Reliance.
Ronald John “Red” McManus followed his triplet sisters Sheila and Sharon in birth on February 25, 1945, at Mitchell, SD to William John and Bertha Rose (Lippens) McManus. He attended school in Reliance and graduated from Reliance High School in 1963. On November 23, 1963, Ronald was united in marriage to his high school sweetheart, Ruth Ann Cosgrove, at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Reliance. From this union came four children: Donnie, Gina, Sherry, and Jessica.
Working for Walt Berg Construction, Farmer’s Union Oil Company, NAPA Auto Store, as Mayor of Reliance since 1970, and as a farmer on his parent’s home place, Red never had time to “burn daylight.” He took pride in his service done with the Reliance Volunteer Fire Department, Knights of Columbus, RACD, and the Greater Lyman Foundation. In addition, he was a 4H Leader, Boy Scout Leader, Curator for the Reliance Museum, promoter of the 2013 Scavenger’s Journey, and caretaker of St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery in Reliance. He was the go-to man for most anyone around, even strangers who he whole-heartedly welcomed into his home during storms and I-90 breakdowns. He recognized the value in things everyone else had given up on: furniture, cars, pickups, tractors, bicycles, houses, small towns, and people. Being a repairman was a natural gift. Red enjoyed learning and commemorating local history, farming with Allis Chalmers, hunting with family, laughing at a good joke (especially his own), and supporting his community of Reliance. His greatest joy was spending time with his grandchildren. He had an amazing ability to mix all of these “loves” together to enjoy at once, usually with a video camera in one hand.
Ronald passed away on September 5, 2013, at Sanford Medical Center in Chamberlain at the age of 68 years. Gratefully sharing his life are his wife Ruth Ann of Reliance; son Donnie McManus and Melinda of Reliance; three daughters Gina McManus of Chamberlain; Sherry Lulf and Dale of Reliance; and Jessica McManus and Eric Sazue of Reliance; two brothers Bernie McManus and LaCinda of Belleville, MI and Larry McManus and LaDonna of Pukwana; two sisters Sheila Pederson and Dwain of Omaha, NE and Sharon Forthum and Larry of Battle Creek, IA; and 14 grandchildren. Preceding him in death were his father, mother, and an infant brother.
Frances Stallman (King) (1957)
Funeral services for Ronald J. “Red” McManus, 68, of Reliance, SD will be Tuesday, September 10, 2013, at 10:00 am at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Reliance with burial in St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery at Reliance. Visitation will begin Monday at 5:00 pm with a scripture service at 7:00 pm at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Reliance
Goodbye to cousin Red, with song, tears, shotgun blasts
Never have I heard a more haunting funeral song than the muttering of Red’s old Allis-Chalmers tractor as it idled by itself a hundred yards from his grave.
Unless, of course, it was the soul-fetching Gregorian melody of In Paradisum, sung in Latin by an Indonesian Catholic priest from the Sacred Heart Order as he knelt before Red’s casket in St. Mary’s Church in Reliance.
And then there was the graveside shotgun salute that came last, with a mix of laughter and tears, by 15 or 20 of Red’s family and friends there in St. Mary’s Cemetery north of town, with the always-magical Medicine Butte looming in the distance.
Red McManus went out with a bang and an antiphon, not just a whimper, although there was some soft whimpering, too.
He deserved all three, my cousin Red did. And we gave them to him on Tuesday, five days after his sudden death from a heart attack at 68.
When I learned of his passing the previous Thursday evening as I stepped into my brother’s living room in Sioux Falls, I staggered slightly, as if the floor had suddenly shifted short of level.
Then I sat on my brother’s couch and wept.
Sixty eight is always too young in today’s medical age. But it seemed ridiculously early for that fun-loving Irishman and his surprisingly tender ways.
The youngest of five children - just barely the youngest, since he was edged out by two sisters in a triplet birth - of a smooth-dancing, fiddle-playing farmer named Bill, my mother’s brother, and a stately beauty named Bertha, Ronald John “Red” McManus inherited his father’s ability to make all who knew him feel a bit better about their world.
Married young to a sweet local girl named Ruth Ann, Red went about the business of living a simple life in a profoundly honest and meaningful way.
He worked construction. He ran the Reliance co-op for many, many years. He sold vehicle parts at NAPA in Chamberlain.
He also worked with his siblings to preserve the family farm just west of Reliance as a tribute to their parents and as an autumn - as in pheasant-hunting season - chapel of outdoor worship for family and friends.
Along the way he and Ruth Ann raised four kids and fell madly in love with one grandchild after another. They also worked at the church. They helped people in need. They promoted their town and their county, and worked to preserve the history of each. They tended the cemetery.
And Red was serving his 43rd year as mayor of Reliance when the end came.
If the people around town seemed a bit bewildered at the funeral, they had cause. I had never known Reliance without Red. Neither had most of them. What would their town be now? Who would step in where Red’s willing feet had always stood?
Coming into the church, people glanced up at the Reliance Fire Department truck parked nearby, with a firefighter’s coat marked “Red” hanging on the side. They paused, They spoke softly. They shook their heads and walked slowly on.
Out at the cemetery, they saw his beloved Allis-Chalmers. It was left to idle out there alone in the grass, with Red’s blaze-orange McManus Family Farms cap on its left fender, facing an open grave not far from where his folks and mine lie buried.
Those who knew Red understood that that there were two kinds of tractors in his world: Allis-Chalmers and those that should be.
They smiled at that, as I did.
After the graveside service, I walked over and stood by that tractor, put out my hand and felt its warm, shivering side, inhaled its oily breath and finally climbed up into Red’s seat.
That’s where I sat with my hands on the wheel and said goodbye to my cousin, as his tractor sang its farewell song.