The Gates of Time

This morning on my way to work, as I often do, I passed the Oklahoma City National Memorial on its eastern side. Normally, around the beginning of a business day, there are a few stragglers and sightseers about, but for the most part, the Memorial is always pretty quiet when I pass.

This morning, though, it was mobbed. From the looks of things, it appeared a seniors’ bus tour or two had stopped for the morning, as a throng of Boomer-age travelers filled the sidewalk between me and the Gates of Time. And for such a large crowd, there was a hushed quality of the scene: Many stood, staring, into what once had been an unspeakable scene of violence. Others took pictures. A few whispered to each other, but no one made much noise.

Something about it struck me, and I felt a bubble of sadness rise up through my torso and into my throat. My eyes and nose burned, and soon, I was wiping tears. There’s something about that space that brings all the sad parts of human nature and history to the forefront for people—man’s inhumanity to man, as the saying goes. But it’s also a site of hope and community, and all those emotions get swimming around together, and the effect is quiet. Big—so, so big—but quiet.

Louisa McCune was editor-in-chief at *Oklahoma Today* from 1997 to 2011. Photograph by Charlie Neuenschwander

Strange to say, but I felt more like an Oklahoma Citian at that moment than I ever have. To see these out-of-towners looking into what rightfully can be called the heart of our community—it touched me.

Then, I thought about Louisa. Who could I explain this feeling to that would really get it? I wondered. Louisa would.

If you follow us on social media—or follow the Oklahoma City news—it’s likely you know that Louisa McCune,Oklahoma Today’s editor from 1997 to 2011, passed away this past weekend at age fifty-four. Since leaving the magazine, Louisa had been serving as executive director of the Kirkpatrick Foundation, a role in which she did a tremendous amount of good—and in which I was lucky to cross her path a number of times.

I never worked at Oklahoma Today with Louisa—her departure in 2011 created the opening that I took when my first editor and mentor, Steffie Corcoran, moved into the editor-in-chief role. But Louisa’s presence has always loomed large over Oklahoma Today, her fourteen-year editorship not only growing the magazine’s national profile and reputation but also bringing the behind-the-scenes world of the magazine in line with journalistic practices from the publications where Louisa had cut her teeth in New York: George, Mirabella, Harper’s, to name a few.

When Louisa founded ArtDesk magazine through the Kirkpatrick Foundation, she naturally tapped Oklahoma Today’s genius art director, Steven Walker, as a creative partner, and this brought her back into the Oklahoma Today orbit. Over the years, we’ve had quite a few excellent conversations at Steve’s office spanning everything from journalistic ethics to how much we hated it when Taylor Hawkins died. She always complimented the magazine, always encouraged me to take bold creative swings, always cheerlead and supported. I wish I’d been clearer about how appreciated it was.

Louisa McCune’s first issue of *Oklahoma Today*, the January/February 1998 edition

I’ll have more to say about Louisa in my editor’s letter in our November/December issue (our September issue, on its way to subscribers now, was already in print when we heard the news) but for now, I’ll point you toward this wonderful piece by Steve Lackmeyer at the Oklahoman, which contains a long and inspiring list of really incredible accomplishments that only scratch the surface of who Louisa was.

I’m so glad I got to know Louisa, and I so deeply regret that I didn’t work harder to know her more—though this is true of every person I’ve known and lost. I think about her sons, her legacy, her state—all lesser without her. I think about this weird job we’ve both had of telling Oklahoma’s story, of curating this bimonthly bit of the historic record and helping people love this place a little more. I wish Louisa’d been in my passenger seat this morning, looking out at that sidewalk crowded with people, shoulder to shoulder to gaze into this place where sorrow and love, pain and joy, confusion and clarity all sit, quietly, together.

Written By

Nathan Gunter

A sixth-generation Oklahoman, Weatherford native, and Westmoore High School graduate, Nathan Gunter is the magazine's editor-in-chief. When he's not editor-in-chiefing, Nate enjoys live music, running, working out, gaming, cooking, and random road trips with no particular destination in mind. He holds degrees from Wake Forest University and the University of Oklahoma. He learned how to perform poetry from Maya Angelou; how to appreciate Italian art from Terisio Pignatti; comedy writing from Doug Marlette; how to make coconut cream pie from his great-grandma; and how not to approach farm dogs from trial and error. A seminary dropout, he lives just off Route 66 in Oklahoma City.