Rose Mofford, first woman to serve as Arizona governor, has died

• Arizona's 18th governor was 94
• Self-described as "Mother Mofford," she embraced Arizona

Rose Mofford, the scrappy softball player from Globe who would make history by becoming Arizona's first woman secretary of state and governor, has died. She was 94.

Mofford, who lived in the same central Phoenix home for 55 years, passed away Thursday morning at Gardiner Home, a Phoenix hospice.

She was moved to the hospice after an Aug. 31 fall at home, said Karen Scates, a close friend and longtime political associate.

“She was in good spirits yesterday. She went peacefully — that is all we can hope for,” Scates said.

The day before she died, Mofford had read the newspaper and snacked on lemon cakes and a vanilla milkshake, Scates said.

A lifelong Democrat with friends on both sides of the political aisle, Mofford was anything but vanilla.

On Thursday in a statement, President Barack Obama praised Mofford:

"In all, her career in public service spanned more than a half-century. It’s a story of tireless service, steady leadership, and a trailblazing spirit that inspired not only a state where three more women would eventually follow her in office, but an entire country. Rose showed us all what to do when somebody says we’re not good enough because of who we are — don’t believe it."

As secretary of state, Mofford took over the state's top office in 1988 after Gov. Evan Mecham was impeached for obstruction of justice and misuse of funds.

While Mofford made history as Arizona’s first female governor, her hairdo was equally legendary.

Well into old age, she continued to wear her trademark swirl of white hair piled high in a French roll that made her an easy caricature for political cartoonists, bobblehead makers and her own Christmas cards, and instantly recognizable as an Arizona icon.

She was the embodiment of old Arizona, where Republicans and Democrats could be civil and work together. She ran an efficient office and is credited with bringing stability to the state at a rough time with grace and wit.

"When the state desperately needed healing, she stepped in," recalled Athia Hardt, who served as Mofford's press aide when she was suddenly catapulted to the Governor's Office following Mecham's impeachment. She called herself "Mother Mofford," and fulfilled that role both as a stern parent, when needed, and as a caring individual, Hardt said.

Like many others, former Attorney General Terry Goddard said Mofford reflected a time when Arizona was smaller, more intimate and politically less acrimonious. With her passing, he said,  “A big part of Arizona got chipped away today.”

Mofford retired in 1991 after 51 years in state government, but never lost interest in state affairs. "As recently as a few months ago, she was still calling on my cellphone every so often when she saw something in the newspaper she didn't like or about something political," Hardt said.

Mofford will be cremated, followed by a private burial service. A celebration of life at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church in Phoenix will be announced later, friends said.

Roots, religion and a Rolodex

Mofford started in state government as a secretary, beginning right out of high school.

She lived in the same house near Central and Maryland avenues in Phoenix for more than 50 years, even during her three years as governor when her security detail thought she would be better off somewhere else.

It was her neighborhood, she insisted. Her Arizona. Her people. Her home number was listed, and always had been. She lived by simple rules.

“Let your word be your bond,” Mofford said often. “If you say you are going to do something, do it, and don’t make excuses.

Tributes to former Gov. Rose Mofford flow in on social media

“Be a good listener. Learn to listen and to listen to people’s suggestions. Learn from the people around you.

“And treat everyone with dignity.”

“I attribute my success in life to my roots, religion and my Rolodex. I have the best Rolodex in Arizona,” Mofford said in a 2010 interview.

The Rolodex was a real one, with little paper cards she flipped through to find phone numbers and addresses, not a spreadsheet on her computer.

She started building up that Rolodex with her first job in state government in 1940, eventually collecting 4,000 names and addresses in four green metal Rolodexes. By 2011, she was down to just two Rolodexes and about 2,000 cards.

Many would receive birthday and Christmas cards featuring caricatures of Mofford. Scates said Mofford would start typing names on Christmas card envelopes in October for roughly 3,000 friends and family members.

“People are dying, and I'm getting older, and things are changing,” she said in 2011. “Honey, you would be surprised by how many friends I've lost.”

And it was people Mofford most cherished: “Arizona may have its unparalleled sunsets, magnificent canyons and heart-stopping mountains, but it's the people who bring the state alive.”

Mofford's journey 

Mofford was an Arizona native. She was born and grew up in the small mining town of Globe, the youngest of six children — four girls and two boys. Her parents, John and Frances Perica, were naturalized immigrants from Austria. They taught their children to help others.

“It was a wonderful place to grow up. It was about population 12,000, and you knew everybody, and the teachers, the principal and everybody knew you, so if you got in trouble, your parents knew it before you got home,” Mofford said in an interview in 2011.

“You never locked your car. You never locked your house. People were always welcome. Christmas was always big. And if someone died, people would make cakes or fried chicken, and you would be there for them.”

At Globe High School, she won a national typing contest and was the first girl to serve as class president. At 17, she was picked to play first base for the Arizona Cantaloupe Queens in an exhibition game at New York's Madison Square Garden.

She heeded her father’s advice not to accept an offer to join a professional softball team and graduated as valedictorian in 1940.

After graduation, Mofford went to work as secretary to state Treasurer Joe Hunt, her first in a series of state jobs that would span five decades. She was just 18. Her salary was $125 a month.

Our View: Rose Mofford was an Arizona original

Two years later, Hunt became a member of the state Tax Commission — the precursor to today’s Department of Revenue — and Mofford went with him.

She was promoted to executive secretary for the entire commission in 1947, but six years later, she encountered the wrath of the overt male chauvinism of the 1950s. She was removed, as commission member Thad Moore explained, because the commission "felt it was better to have a man in that particular job."

Mofford chuckled when asked about that anecdote at age 89. She quipped, “He likely would have felt it was better to have a man in the particular job of governor, too.”

Mofford landed on her feet. She was the business manager of Arizona Highways magazine for two years and then served as assistant secretary of state under Wesley Bolin.

"Let's face it," the late Gov. Sam Goddard once said of that period, "she ran the place."

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​Mofford also greased the wheels for her friends.

Former U.S. Sen. Dennis DeConcini said when he was Goddard’s chief of staff, Mofford would make calls on his behalf to staff members at the state Legislature. After she vouched for him, it opened plenty of doors, DeConcini said.

“She had such a strong history of knowing people who came and went through state agencies, the Legislature, the Governor’s Office, the House, the Senate,” DeConcini said. “She was always kind and nice, and always willing to help you.”

When Gov. Raul Castro resigned in 1977 to become ambassador to Argentina, he was succeeded by Bolin, who in turn appointed Mofford to serve the remainder of his term.

Bolin died of a heart attack less than six months later, but because Mofford had been appointed, not elected, the office went to then-Attorney General Bruce Babbitt.

Mofford ran for secretary of state in 1978, 1982 and 1986 and won each time by large margins. When Mecham was removed from office in April 1988, Mofford became governor.

Mofford was noted for being punctual, answering her own phone and replying directly to her mail.

As she had been when she was secretary of state, Mofford was accessible almost to a fault. She regularly handed out watches with her caricature on the dial to people she met.

A Phoenix sports complex, where girls play softball nearly every weekend, is named for her, as well as streets in Globe and Phoenix and a cocktail at the Valley Bar in downtown Phoenix. And, of course, she’s a member of the Arizona Softball Hall of Fame.

She also was well-known for her quick one-liners and sense of humor. She could dish it out and take it.

Baseball great Joe Garagiola Sr., a longtime friend who died in March, regularly teased Mofford about her hair.

“When she would greet my dad, he would say: ‘Rose Mofford, you are the only person who gets her hair done at Dairy Queen.’ That would never fail to get a big laugh with Dad,” said Joe Garagiola Jr., a former general manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks.

In 1989, when Esquire magazine named her one of the "50 Women We Love," Mofford, observing that she was in the company of the likes of Geena Davis and Madonna, quipped, "You know, I think I weighed more when I was born than some of these women today."

The Democratic governor faced the challenges of a hefty state deficit, the collapse of the real-estate market and voters’ rejection of a referendum to create a paid Martin Luther King Jr. holiday, which took Arizona out of contention to host the 1993 Super Bowl.

Mofford pressed for higher bonding limits for rural highways and helped promote statewide economic development. She also helped develop a funding mechanism to keep Major League Baseball's Cactus League in Arizona.

Garagiola Jr. credits Mofford with saving spring training in Arizona. During her tenure as governor, there were eight teams training in Arizona and some were looking to bolt to Florida. Today, 15 teams train in metro Phoenix.

Ever the sports fan, Mofford watched the Arizona Cardinals on Sunday night with friends.

She was most proud of her efforts on behalf of education, the elderly, people with disabilities and children.

Mofford's popularity was high, but it waned in late 1989 amid questions about her commutation of two killers' sentences.

In early 1990, she announced she would not run for re-election at the end of her term. Mofford was more comfortable with administrative tasks than partisan politics.

At a news conference back then, Mofford said she wanted to get out from under the intense public pressure so she could visit lifelong friends around the state.

“I’ve served Arizona long and hard, and I think I’ve done an outstanding job for 50 years,” a misty-eyed Mofford said then. “I feel this one I have to call for Rosie.”

Later she would say that she served as governor out of a sense of duty — her state needed her. Supporters and detractors agreed that she handled her time in office with grace and wit.

"What she did was reinvest the system with dignity and honor,” former state Senate Democratic leader Alfredo Gutierrez said when Mofford left office in 1991.

Dennis Mecham, son of the late governor, called her an Arizona icon in a 2010 interview.

“She became governor pretty much by accident, but we have a lot of love for Rose Mofford,” Mecham said at the time.

Her busy retirement

In retirement, Mofford continued to help the people of the state she loved.

She had a particular soft spot for children, though she never had any of her own. She married T.R. "Lefty" Mofford, a captain with the Phoenix Police Department, in 1957, and they divorced after a decade.

But Mofford often told people to call her “Mother Mofford.” She considered herself the mother of every Arizonan, she said.

Even after Mofford retired, a few times every month a child would call her at home for help with a report for school.

“Go ahead and ask,” Mofford would tell any caller. “I'm listening.”

She started a scholarship in her name at Globe High. She promoted sports. And she worked with former state lawmaker Leo Corbet, a heart-transplant recipient, to help people with state health insurance get organ transplants.

“Don’t take your organs to heaven!” she would tell people. “We need them here!”

Until she turned 91, Mofford collected, washed and sorted donated clothes and delivered them to shelters. She regularly visited care homes for the elderly.

“If we all took one person, we would never have poverty. I don't mean with money but with love, care and attention and listening to what they have to say,” Mofford said.

She liked the satisfaction of knowing that she could help at least one person: “If I help more than one, I have a star in my crown and I'm going to heaven sure as hell.”

Mofford said her greatest asset was her hands.

“I have to tell you. Mine are not attractive. They are large. They're strong, wrinkled, yet so gentle and capable and always there to help others,” Mofford said, holding out both hands for examination.

“Look at the things that you have done with your hands. You applaud people and pick children up with those hands. You write letters when somebody dies. You sew buttons back on your clothes.

“You put things right with your hands. If I had one wish left, it would be to continue to use my hands for years to come to help someone in a beneficial way.”

Her style and sense of humor

Mofford’s close friend, DeAnna Parkhurst, was the one behind that iconic hair. Like clockwork, every Saturday morning at 7 a.m., Mofford would settle into the swivel chair in front of the mirror at De’s International Hairport in Phoenix for a wash and set.

Parkhurst started doing Mofford’s hair when she was secretary of state. It was shorter then and had to grow a bit before Parkhurst could pull it into a bun held in place by a hairnet with tiny pearls on it. By the time Mofford was governor, her hair was long enough to twist up into the now-famous French roll. At 90, when loose, it fell almost to her waist.

When something went wrong, Parkhurst said, Mofford was the first to ask, “What can I do to help?” And then she did it, whatever it was.

“When you have someone like her in your life, you think God must have sent her because she's that nice of a person,” Parkhurst said.

Mofford could always make her laugh.

“If you don't have humor, you can't have anything,” Mofford often said. “It helps you through difficult times. You can't always look on the dull side. People would rather laugh than cry.”

In fact, even when the former governor was asked to speak at friends’ funerals, Mofford told funny tales: “People don't want to cry. They want to remember the happy times.”

Mofford ate lunch often at her favorite restaurant, Sierra Bonita Grill in central Phoenix, where a corner booth is marked with a plaque memorializing her status as Arizona's 18th chief executive.

She regularly let her soup grow cold while she chatted with passers-by. During an interview there in 2011, Mofford said she had no regrets about her life: “Everything that I have done in my life I have enjoyed.”

“She is a loss for all of us,” said Scates, her close friend. “She is really the personification of what public service is all about. She served early and often in her life.”

Reach the reporter at 602-444-8614 or karina.bland@arizonarepublic.com. Includes information from Republic archives. Republic reporter Mary Jo Pitzl contributed to this article.