I wasn't surprised at the news that Ed McNamara had passed away. After all, he was 79 years old, had undergone a quadruple bypass and suffered from lymphoma.

But I felt a real sense of hurt, because "Mac" was one of the giants of Michigan politics and somebody I've known for more than 40 years.

Ed McNamara was already on the Livonia City Council when I started my newspaper
career back in 1965. I wrote the editorial in the Livonia Observer in 1970 that endorsed him in his upset victory against incumbent Livonia Mayor Harvey Moelke.

Mac once said, "There's no greater honor than to be mayor of your hometown."

He was right, and during his 16 years as mayor, he took Livonia from a struggling suburb whose most notable feature was a race track to one of the most thriving cities in Michigan.

When he won the race for Wayne County executive in 1986, I couldn't have been more pleased. Most people don't remember — or don't want to remember — what Wayne County was like back in the 1980s. Broke. Disorganized. Badly managed. Largely corrupt. An embarrassment to the entire state.

McNamara put Michigan's biggest county back on track. He fixed the budget mess,
balancing the books for 13 straight years. He led the effort to save the Rouge River, once indistinguishable from a sewer, and he drove the negotiations that led to the building of Comerica Park and Ford Field in downtown Detroit.

He also was the prime mover in building the gleaming new McNamara terminal that has made Detroit Metropolitan Airport one of the very best in the country.

Great achievements, all.

But as I reflect on Mac's career, I'm drawn to less obvious parts of his legacy that are, in fact, more important.

First, people. Possibly because they tend to think mostly about themselves, most political powers never develop a farm team. Ed McNamara recognized and promoted a group of able men and women who will serve Michigan for many years to come.

He launched the careers of Jennifer Granholm, once Wayne County Corporation counsel, then Michigan attorney general and now governor; Mike Duggan, former Wayne County prosecutor and now CEO of tge Detroit Medical Center; Saul Green, former U.S. attorney; and Freman Hendrix, the former deputy mayor for Dennis Archer who was defeated last November by another McNamara protege, Kwame Kilpatrick.

Some might call McNamara a kingmaker. I prefer to think of him as a very rare politician who recognized that one of the primary obligations of a good political boss is to find, recruit, motivate and protect a cadre of able people who can continue his work.

McNamara had a good eye for talent, and what was most unusual for a traditional and proudly Irish politician of his generation, his team was diverse: men and women, white and black, urban and suburban. His style was down-to-earth and unassuming. He was never one to read, let alone believe, in his own press releases.

His first question was always, "How do we get this done?" and he then went after his goals with energy and creativity and passion. He had a quick temper, and his quarrels — repeatedly and memorably with the UAW and Detroit Mayor Coleman Young — were legendary.

In that context, I've always felt the Detroit newspapers were unfair to McNamara, constantly criticizing him for money-raising improprieties that eventually led to trouble with the law. He was never shy about raising money, in large part because he recognized the only way you got things done in rough-and-tumble Wayne County politics was to have a stash bigger than anybody else's.

I remember calling him at home at 3 p.m. one summer afternoon in 1970 from Grand
Rapids, where gubernatorial candidate Sander Levin was trying to decide who to pick as his running mate.

"If you want to be the nominee for lieutenant governor, you'd better get up here as quickly as you can," I told him.

"Don't know if I want to do that," he said. "I want to talk to Lucille (his wife). I'll call you back."

Within 10 minutes he called back and was in Grand Rapids in two hours. John O'Meara, now a federal judge, and I spent two hours grilling him in a stuffy room in the old Pantlind Hotel. He passed — and brought his own Irish wit to a narrowly losing campaign.

Along with Gov. John Engler, Ed McNamara was Michigan's most capable and powerful politician in recent memory. He created a machine, but the machine got done what needed to be done. He was a kingmaker, but his people have turned out to be able and far-seeing. He was personally down-to-earth, but his vision was far-reaching.

I'm sorry he's gone. We sure need people like him today.

For 40 years, Phil Powers columns appeared regularly in his Michigan newspapers, winning many state and national awards. An entrepreneur, former Regent of the University of Michigan, Vice Chair of the Michigan Economic Development Corporation and founder of the Center For Michigan, he brings long-time experience in business, economics, politics, public policy and education.