Bill Salisbury, prolific Minnesota political reporter, dies at 80

Over his roughly five decades reporting on Minnesota state politics, Bill Salisbury witnessed skin-tight elections, collective heartache and monumental social change. And he filed countless stories about what he uncovered with his signature blend of journalistic curiosity and directness.

You knew that a story written by Salisbury would be accurate and fair, filed on deadline and at the proper length, without commentary or fanfare.

“It was facts first, not much blah blah blah,” said St. Paul Pioneer Press editor Mike Burbach. “We journalists have a thousand ways to raise eyebrows, and they tend to be adjectives and adverbs, sometimes verbs. But Bill didn’t give into that. He played it straight.”

Minnesota journalists, particularly the special breed who dedicate most of their waking lives to covering the Legislature, are grieving the loss of their dean and one of Minnesota’s most decent newspapermen. Salisbury died Monday, a day after turning 80.

Well-mannered and respectful to his subjects, Salisbury was anything but naive. Des Moines Register Executive Editor Rachel Stassen-Berger said of her former colleague: “He knew not only where the bodies were buried, but who buried them and what kind of shovel was used.”

Salisbury often told young reporters that when interviewing politicians, he would ask himself, “How is this guy lying to me?”

Former Gov. Mark Dayton is a Democrat. Former Gov. Tim Pawlenty is a Republican. They see eye-to-eye when it comes to Salisbury’s legacy.

“He was an outstanding journalist and a wonderful human being,” said Dayton, who said Salisbury covered his various political pursuits for about 40 years. “I always knew I’d get a fair and accurate story from him. I know he was devoted to his profession and to his family.”

“Bill was an ‘old-school’ journalist in the best sense of the term,” Pawlenty said in an email. “He was a consummate professional dedicated to the mastery of his craft and the highest ethical standards including accuracy and fairness. He was also a very decent and wonderful person.”

Among the Capitol press corps, Salisbury was known for taking younger reporters under his wing. They observed his even-keeled steadiness when sources became combative. They took stock when he roamed the Capitol hallways, addressing legislators and others by their proper titles. The cordialities implied that they were not buddies, but he would treat them with respect. He still charged after the truth, as a reporter doing his job.

Former political reporter Dave Orrick remembers asking his mentor questions that few could answer, regarding everything from arcane procedural rules to elections in history that tilted the balance of power.

“He was the walking Wikipedia of Minnesota politics,” said Orrick, now an editor at the Minnesota Star Tribune. “Before there was ChatGPT, Google and a reliable Wikipedia, there was, ‘Hey Bill.’”

A self-described “political agnostic,” Salisbury told colleagues that his most memorable stories included covering the passing of the gay marriage bill in 2013, the historic announcement by 1984 presidential candidate Walter Mondale that he picked Geraldine Ferraro as his running mate, and the fatal plane crash that killed Sen. Paul Wellstone.

“It was a hard story to write because I had such strong personal feelings,” he said in a video referring to Wellstone’s death. “I missed him.”

It should be noted that Salisbury did fail spectacularly at one thing: retiring. Colleagues coordinated a big retirement sendoff for him in 2015.

“We should have known better,” said Stassen-Berger. “We invited governors and former governors, lawmakers and colleagues throughout the ages, and then he just went back to the Capitol. It became so much a part of him, not only his identity, but frankly the identity of the Minnesota Capitol. After all those years, he was almost necessary to keep it running.”

After his quasi-retirement, Salisbury continued writing for the Pioneer Press part time and remained prolific even despite numerous health setbacks. It seemed that he needed to be a reporter as much as democracy needed him.

Over the past decade, Salisbury experienced the death of his wife, Janet, followed by the death of his daughter, Rachael, and then his dog.

Salisbury carried a dry sense of humor and love of fine wine. He never forgot his roots in Belgrade, Minn., where his father owned and published the Belgrade Tribune, a weekly newspaper.

Between stories in St. Paul, the clean-cut Salisbury would get his hair trimmed every month in the basement of the State Office Building by his barber and longtime friend, Ken Kirkpatrick, of Capitol Barbers.

“I’ll never forget his smile when he came in, his grin,” Kirkpatrick said. “He’d always egg me on to get information out of me. I’d say, ‘You’re not getting it.’”

Kirkpatrick said the figures and personalities at the Capitol became Salisbury’s family. The barber visited his old friend last weekend, hoping to give him a haircut and beard trim. But Salisbury was too weak to sit up. He could not even eat a burger from Keys Cafe that Kirkpatrick picked up along the way, even though it smelled so good.

A few days ago, Burbach called Salisbury at the St. Paul care center where he was staying.

His longtime editor asked, “Bill, is there anything we can do for you?”

“You can start writing a short obituary,” Salisbury replied.

Salisbury wouldn’t approve of us fussing too much over him and certainly not extraneous words. But he’d hope we would listen to people whose political views differ from our own. He’d want us to see the “other” as our neighbors, as Minnesotans, as humans. Now more than ever, that simple legacy is worth holding in the light.