GRAND MARAIS – There was undoubtedly coffee involved when Rhonda Silence left her home in the middle of the night, drove several miles to town in her pajamas, and announced on the local radio station that a bad thunderstorm was moving over the North Shore and Boundary Waters region.
“Who did you think would be listening at 2:30 a.m.?” some of the staff at WTIP radio asked her the next day.
“I didn’t care,” Rhonda said. “I just wanted to let folks know what was going on.”
Rhonda Silence, 68, passed away at her home Saturday, Aug. 16. Known for her dedication to local journalism, Rhonda was also a mother, grandmother, and respected community member.
When it came to sharing local news, Rhonda was the embodiment of a community journalist. She would press her sources for information, sometimes unrelentingly so, but did it with diplomacy. She once waited to phone a source from city hall until after 7 p.m. in the likelihood that he was eating supper with his family at the time she originally wanted to place the call. At the same time, she was fearless, but respectful, in her process of collecting and sharing local news.
Before she retired from WTIP in 2022, Rhonda served as editor of the community newspaper in Cook County for 16 years, first for the Cook County Star and then for the Cook County News-Herald after the two local papers merged. Silence came to the role of editor serendipitously, she once said, having started her professional writing career as a correspondent, with no journalism training. Before that Silence worked a variety of jobs over the span of two decades as she traveled with her military husband, the late Chuck Silence. She was a customer service representative, secretary, medical records clerk, and library aide. Whatever the position, Rhonda found a way to incorporate writing into her job description, she liked to say.
Rhonda wrote a weekly column for many years titled Unorganized Territory. The column typically was a space for Rhonda to share amusing and lighthearted stories about things like holiday shopping or other PG-rated tales of living in “The Coolest Small Town in America.” Other times, though, Rhonda wrote about her association with and passion for the local ATV club. Local environmentalists – of which there was and continues to be no shortage of in the Grand Marais area – often took issue with Rhonda’s promotion of motorized use on the local trails. Rhonda had a platform with the column, and in media, and she was not afraid to write about things she was passionate about. She was also not timid when it came to being interviewed. The Star Tribune and Minnesota Public Radio interviewed Rhonda about snowmobile and ATV trails over the years, and Rhonda was not shy about sharing that she was the editor of the local newspaper at the time.
Rhonda grew up in Grand Marais, moved away for 20-plus years and worked a variety of jobs before returning to Cook County in 1995. She worked for a stint at Arrowhead Electric Cooperative near Lutsen before she started at the local paper. After that, she took the leap to the news department at WTIP in October 2016.
Deb Benedict, the former station manager at WTIP, called me Monday morning this week, just a couple of days after Rhonda passed away. Deb and I reminisced about how we “stole Rhonda” away from the local newspaper in an attempt to bolster our news department at the radio station. And bolster it we did. Rhonda added local credibility and years of experience covering city, county, and all manner of local issues. Bringing Rhonda on board also meant we had to keep more coffee on hand. A lot of coffee. Cupboards full.
Truth be told, Rhonda confided in Deb and me that one reason she left the newspaper is because they were not meeting her standards for how much coffee the publishers should provide for the staff. Don’t go cheap on the coffee, Rhonda told us back in 2016. After she took the job, we always kept enough coffee on hand to fuel any given army on any given day.
Beyond covering local news and riding her ATV, Rhonda volunteered with Girl Scouts and the Cook County ATV Club. I once asked her what she liked about living in a small little town like Grand Marais and she said she mostly enjoyed spending time with her husband, kids, five grandkids and two dogs. So be it. A modest life, even when things aren’t so simple beyond the public eye. Rhonda’s health issues were a struggle for her during the final years of her life. Leukemia. A weakened immune system. Issues with her circulatory system. I would ask how Rhonda was doing the past few years and often was greeted with some version of “the best I can, given the circumstances.” The death of her mother, followed by the loss of Chuck, made her weakened physical state all the more difficult to navigate. And through it all, she almost never complained. You keep at it…that’s how Rhonda took on life. Over the past 10 months, our correspondence dwindled from weekly updates where we’d chat about local news to periodic texts. After early July, I hadn’t heard from Rhonda. I knew she was hurting.
I see Rhonda’s father, Richard Bockovich, walking occasionally on County Road 7 just west of town. His blue shirt and cap usually give him away, along with a reflector vest he sometimes wears. You can see him coming as you approach, and I always swing wide whenever possible to give him space. Rhonda’s father has seen some things the past few years. Some hard things that don’t show up in obituaries or pamphlets at someone’s funeral. Thanks to Rhonda and her family, Richard has seen some wonderful things too, over the years. Rhonda, her father, and some of the grandkids played mini golf this summer together. It was a family outing and one of the grandkids went home with the best score that day.
I wonder what Richard thinks about on those walks along the road that cuts the steep hillside above the big lake. I hope, on the good days, he’s thinking about having a cup of coffee when he gets home. That’s what Rhonda would have done. That’s the way she did things.
Joe Friedrichs is a freelance writer who lives near Grand Marais. He worked with Rhonda Silence for nearly 10 years in their varying roles sharing local news and information.