Nellie Jack, a mid-century Utah lawmaker, loved the west side, political underdogs and a 'lovely' baked potato lunch. 

• Kathleen McConnell
• Nellie Jack works at her desk in the Utah House of Representatives during her freshman term.

A sparsely populated coffee shop supplied an appropriate setting for the interview. In from the cold, clear December morning came Kathleen McConnell of Palo Alto, California, and her sister Maureen Hatch of South Jordan. These cordial, self-contained women had arrived to plumb their memories and share stories about their grandmother, Nellie Haynes Jack (1894-1978).

Between 1939 and 1974, Jack represented Salt Lake City's west side in local government, serving for 11 terms in the Utah House of Representatives, one term in the Utah Senate and a four-year term as County Recorder. During that time, she was a champion of labor rights, an advocate for the poor and a friend to both children and the elderly.

There is even a mini-park at the corner of Montgomery St. and Stewart St. in Salt Lake City that has carried her name since 1988.

And yet, Nellie Jack the person is likely unfamiliar to most. That's understandable, given the time that has steadily elapsed since both she and those who knew her have passed on.

Now that McConnell and Hatch think about it, they believe they are pretty much the last people left who personally knew their "Nellie" or "Nonnie" (but never "grandma," thank you very much). "We're kind of it," Hatch acknowledged.

And what they do remember of Jack was of a small, funny and feisty woman of the "Roosevelt Democrat" variety who dedicated her life to the benefit of the underdog and thrived in forging a connection with others.

"She loved people," McConnell said. "She was a member of so many organizations and would end up leading them. We used to tease her, asking, 'Where have you been to lunch today, Nellie?' She always used to say the same thing." And here, McConnell chuckled and did her best impression of Nellie's playful understated humor: "'And we had a wonderful lunch with a lovely baked potato.'"

Contained within this humorous and oft-repeated phrase exists a firm legacy of living life to its fullest.

As the sisters reminisced, the coffee shop grew more populated and the chill of the weather became less pronounced. It was as if their recollections of Nellie Jack were filling the establishment with greater warmth and attracting more people inside.

In an era of civic coldness and mounting isolation, the themes of Nellie's life stand as a needed tonic for a troubled present.

Fitting In, Leading Out

Born to James and Agnes Haynes in Nephi, Nellie Jack grew up with six siblings in the mining town of Eureka. Most of the Haynes children worked in the mines, the effects from which led them to early deaths.

"[Nellie] was short, slight, a girl and had red hair," McConnell wrote in a 2020 recollection. "She hated it when boys would tease her and call her Red. She soon figured out a solution to her problem," quoting Nellie herself: "I was fast so I would yell at the boys, chase them, and when I caught them, I beat them up."

Problem solved.

Educated in Eureka, she married railroad worker Clement Jack (1884-1953) in 1912, ultimately having three children. The family relocated to Salt Lake City in 1918, taking up longtime residence at a home that once stood at 458 S. 800 West. An extrovert, it was because of her newfound friends in Salt Lake City that Nellie Jack became politically active for the first time.

"They would go to these different [club] meetings," she recalled to an interviewer in 1976. "I had to stay home because I wasn't in with them. That's how I started to go. I thought, 'Well gosh, if they can belong, so can I.'"

Through the 1920s and '30s, death was a frequent visitor to the extended Haynes family. Four of Jack's siblings, her mother and even her own son all died from assorted causes during this period.

She subsequently threw herself into her community work for a multitude of organizations, including local literary clubs, the Democratic Women's Study Group and an auxiliary of the Order of Railway Conductors.

Little wonder that by the time the New Deal movement came along to such popularity in Utah, someone as active and vibrant as Nellie Jack would consider higher elected office. It was, after all, yet another way to live out her favorite saying: "I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or kindness I can show any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again."

• Courtesy photo
• West side newspaper coverage of Nellie Jack (center) and other Democratic lawmakers in 1974

For the People
When she won a seat in the Utah House of Representatives in 1939, Jack immediately set to work on causes in tune with her neighbors' needs on the west side.

She pushed for old age assistance, restitution for occupational disease, fair trade practices and standards for the dry cleaning industry, the beautification and improvement of the Jordan River and a partnership with the Salt Lake Women's Club to house an evicted widow and her disabled children.

"It was this kind of caring action that endeared Nellie to the citizens on the west side," McConnell wrote in her recollection. "They kept sending her back to represent them in the Legislature term after term."

An image of Jack's dedication emerges from memories that McConnell and Hatch can recall of their grandmother's frequent disappearances during family gatherings. After some time away on the phone, she would return to report that "So-and-so's son got laid off" or "So-and-so's son is in trouble, and I told them I'd get back to them."

"To Nellie, her constituents came first," McConnell said. "My father, who had very little use for politicians, said she was the only politician he had ever heard of who in no way profited one red cent from her office."

Indeed, rather than extorting power and wealth from her position, she often found herself providing a needed vocal opposition to controversial policy measures that affected the downtrodden—sometimes successfully, sometimes not.

In 1948, Jack led a 50-person delegation to the office of then-Gov. Herbert B. Maw to protest the proposed routing of Salt Lake City's first major highway through west side residential properties.

"We are definitely opposed to any construction project which will demolish homes, schools and other civic gains made on the west side," she told the Salt Lake Telegram. "We see no reason why the highway cannot be so placed as to avoid this mass destruction."

The highway was then rerouted.

On the other hand, there was the matter of two 1969 liquor control bills signed into law that created a maze of stringent hurdles for licensing, proliferated the sale of mini-bottles and created a state enforcement division to keep watch over liquor-selling businesses.

"It stinks," she told an interviewer of the legislation. "It is a legal monstrosity, the Governor never should have signed it! He [himself] questioned its legality on 75 separate points!"

Or take the vice laws that were considered for Utah's local sex workers in the late '60s.

Having listened to an endless amount of rather sanctimonious debates on the chamber floor regarding the women in question, Jack didn't shy away from making her own thoughts known.

"Those girls have been hounded from pillar to post," she told her colleagues. "Put them in a clean house, license them and provide proper medical attention. They are going to continue making their living that way anyway. They make between $600 and $700 dollars a week. Why, there are Cadillacs parked there night and day. Don't print the names of the girls in the paper. Print the names of the men who go there!"

• Courtesy photo

Finding a Way
Serving in the House from 1939-49 and 1953-55, Jack jumped over to a term in the Utah Senate from 1957-59, served as County Recorder and then returned to the House from 1967-74.

As a lawmaker, she championed improved lighting and "tot-lot" playgrounds for the west side, pushed for better school lunches and teacher salaries and sought the funding of a silicosis hospital program, a pool for Jordan Park and no-fare county bus service. She was also a proponent of the Equal Rights Amendment and, in an assist to her friend Sunday Anderson, worked toward the creation of a senior citizens center at 868 W. 900 South.

While some of the above efforts were realized at the time, other initiatives remain unfulfilled, even today. Still, Jack did not appear to be dispirited by such developments.

McConnell can vividly remember what Jack would say to her after various setbacks on the hill: "Honey, we're just not there yet. But we'll get there."

"She didn't take it personally," McConnell observed, "they were just things left to be done."

While Jack loved to tend to her rose garden, it was interactions with her neighbors and fellow Utahns that gave her life a continued purpose and supplied it with renewed vigor.

"I've lived there [on the west side] since 1918 and everyone knows me," she told the UPI news service in 1972 about her low-income and working class constituency. "They're my people and I love them."

Retiring in 1974, Jack remained engaged with her local clubs and appreciated the honors that various organizations bestowed upon her. She died on June 27, 1978—her birthday.

Obviously, much has changed in Utah and abroad since Nellie Jack's lifetime, both for good and for ill. McConnell and Hatch are of the opinion that Jack would be "appalled" at the state of today's political and social conditions.

But they added that it would not dampen her resolve to get involved in any event.

"She had an optimistic quality that was kind of like, 'let's just find a way,'" McConnell said. "She would focus locally. Although she had a national presence in her heyday, she would be focused on Utah issues."

Stronger Together

Women are still underrepresented within the spectrum of Utah's elected offices, and there are even some resources available today that were not around when Jack got her start. An annual mentorship program, for instance, operates through a collaboration between Utah Women Run and the Women's Leadership Institute to foster networking and guidance for those considering political office (utahwomenrun.org).

Going beyond even this narrow aspect of Nellie Jack's legacy is a more universal one; namely, her relationships and connections with her community following much personal tragedy.

She got involved in clubs and organizations, devoted herself to her neighbors and gained valuable insights that perennially informed her work as a public official. One may find similar inspiration and drive through the many mutual aid groups, food banks, churches, charities, council meetings, political chapters and advocacy organizations that keep our vast and weary communities going.

Food for thought is one columnist's estimation of Nellie Jack from 1953: "Mrs. Jack is one of those amazing women who is never too rushed to say 'Yes' when someone calls upon her to do a good turn for a person or project in her community."

Or consider this observation from a state party interviewer circa 1969: "There is the feeling that Nellie's deep involvement with life and humanity have been repaid by endowing her with more stamina, energy and intensity."

This is all tempered by the limitations and capacities we each possess, of course, but they do warrant contemplation. A 2023 advisory by the U.S. Surgeon General noted that Americans are currently experiencing an "epidemic" of loneliness, which affects biological and psychological behaviors and significantly increases disease, illness and early mortality to a greater degree than even smoking, alcohol or physical inactivity.

Failing to foster social connection, we stand to continue "to splinter and divide until we can no longer stand as a community or a country," wrote Dr. Vivek H. Murthy in the advisory. "Instead of coming together to take on the great challenges before us, we will further retreat to our corners—angry, sick, and alone."

The advisory included six primary recommendations for the country: 1. strengthen social infrastructure in local communities; 2. enact pro-connection public policies; 3. mobilize the health sector; 4. reform digital environments; 5. deepen our knowledge through awareness/research; and 6. build a culture of connection.

Relationships "are just as essential to our well-being as the air we breathe and the food we eat," the advisory states. It is a world, the report continues, "where we respect and value one another, where we look out for one another, and where we create opportunities to uplift one another. A world where our highs are higher because we celebrate them together; where our lows are more manageable because we respond to them together; and where our recovery is faster because we grieve and rebuild together."

McConnell and Hatch believe we can learn from the example of people like Nellie Jack, and live life to its fullest together. In their estimation, Nellie's was "a life well lived" although Nellie herself was never "one for a lot of adoration," so it's probably best to give her the final word on the subject.

"Be alert to give service," went one of Nellie's favorite maxims. "What counts most in life is what we do for others."