The Family Man

Mike Helm grew up playing in the fields of the Nebraska-Kansas border.

And when he says his parents’ farm was on the state line, he means on the line. “When Dad was driving down the road, we kids would argue about who was in Nebraska and who was in Kansas by where we sat in the car,” he recalls.

His childhood home stands empty now, but as Helm walks the ground, the memories are vivid. This is where he once milked cows, played ball in the pasture, rode neighbors’ horses and sledded off the barn roof into snowdrifts.

This stretch of country is also where Helm learned to appreciate what it means to belong to a community. On Saturday nights, families gathered to visit and watch a movie shown on the side of a building. One farmer’s work was his neighbor’s, too; the men would help each other dehorn and vaccinate cattle, for instance, while the women made a meal to share.

“It was a good way to live,” Helm says.

As Nebraska’s family farms disappear, local American Legion posts – never all that big – see the towns around them shrinking. They’re often the heart of what’s left. But when there’s something to celebrate – such as Helm’s campaign to become the state’s first national commander since 1967 – a community still comes together. In June, Legionnaires, Auxiliary and Legion Riders drove from hours away to pack an event at Jack Helt Post 313 in Lebanon, Helm’s post home.

“People were there who aren’t even part of the Legion family, but they’re friends and backers of Mike,” says Ray Haag, a past post commander who has known Helm since he was a boy. “You can’t imagine how proud we are of him. He’s one of us.”

‘Those were last year’s dues’ Elected to the Legion’s highest office at the 96th National Convention in Charlotte, N.C., in August, Helm became a leader early on. At the local and state level, he has served as post, county and district commander, and was Nebraska’s first Vietnam-era veteran to be department commander. Helm is also a past national vice commander, and served as chairman of the National Veterans Affairs & Rehabilitation and Foreign Relations commissions.

His 43 years of membership began at a farm sale, where Harold Blakely, then Post 313’s adjutant, asked Helm if he planned to join The American Legion now that he was out of the Army. “Of course,” he answered. “It’s my dad’s Legion.” He paid $5, and Blakely said, “Next month we’ll have a meeting. You come to it.”
At the meeting, Helm was voted adjutant.

“He can’t be adjutant,” Blakely piped up. “He’s not a member.” Confused, Helm said, “Harold, I paid my dues to you down at Joe Crocker’s farm sale. Remember?” Blakely responded, “Yeah, you did, but those were last year’s dues.”

Helm chuckles when he tells the story. “I gave him another $5, and within a month I had two years of continuous membership.”

In the beginning, he saw the Legion as more recreation than responsibility. Then Wayne Davis – another friend and Helm’s mentor – pulled him aside and encouraged him to think bigger. “What you’re doing is fine,” he said. “You like what’s going on. You’re a good member. But you have the capacity to do more, and if you’re going to, you’ll have to leave some of this behind.”

At that point, Helm says, he got serious about doing the Legion’s work.

“As you get involved in our programs, you become more concerned about different issues,” he says. “All of a sudden you’re talking about national security and VA benefits. You already have those concerns personally, and the Legion helps you have a say about them.”

Helm also sees the Legion as an opportunity for veterans to fulfill promises they made to each other in uniform.

“Didn’t you ever tell your buddy, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you’?” he says. “Even after you’re out, it may not be that particular person you’re helping, but it’s another veteran.”

Planes and postal routes Helm’s father, John, was an Army mechanic in France during World War II. His three older brothers served in Vietnam. When Helm received his draft notice, though, troops were coming home, not going. He went through basic and advanced infantry training at Fort Lewis, Wash., then to Fort Bragg, N.C., for jump school. He served with the 82nd Airborne and earned his Ranger tab in 1972.

“I enjoyed the military,” Helm says. “I liked getting up early in the morning, doing push-ups, jumping out of airplanes – all that stuff.”

He stayed in for three years before returning home to help his parents run the farm. In his free time, he and a buddy traveled all over Nebraska going to American Legion meetings, “whether we had any business there or not. We just thought it was fun.” That same friend was helping him harvest milo one day when they came in for lunch and found a newspaper on the table, with a listing for a post office test circled.

“Well, look here, Mikey,” his friend joked.

“I think your mom’s trying to give you a hint!”

Someone else landed that clerk job, but the postmaster asked Helm if he’d be the emergency sub for the rural mail carrier. Eventually he was offered the full-time position, delivering mail out of Norcatur, Kan., where he lives. When he retired in 2013 after 33 years, he had 220 customers on his route and was driving 120 miles a day.

Helm’s wife, Debbie, was working in the nearby village of Danbury when they first met in the mid-’80s.

“Us old bachelor boys, we checked out the new schoolteachers,” he says. “I took her out a few times, and at Christmas I brought her a rose. And she said, ‘I’d better tell you, I don’t think I’ll be here too long. I’ll probably be going back to North Dakota.’ Strike one. Then she said, ‘I’m not going to marry a farmer.’ I was a farmer. Strike two. ‘And I’m not really interested in marrying anybody from Kansas.’ Strike three. I said, ‘OK, see you later.’”

But you can’t thwart destiny. A few years later, Helm went to see his niece’s school program, and he and Debbie reconnected. She smiles when she remembers how he won her over. “I went to Kearney with a friend of mine for an education workshop, and we were stuck there because of a blizzard,” she says. “Mike found out where I was staying and called both nights to ask how I was doing. My friend’s husband didn’t call her at all. She was kind of impressed by that.”

They married the next April, and have four sons and a daughter.

“I sometimes tell her, ‘You know, if you had paid attention to me when I first brought you that rose, we’d be through with kids by now,’” he says, laughing.

Helm didn’t push his children toward the military, but three of of the five have continued the family’s tradition of service: Aaron and his wife, Robie, are graduates of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., and are currently serving with the 1-44 Air Defense Artillery Battalion in Kuwait; Jacob is a senior at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colo.; and Matthew is a sophomore at Kansas State University (KSU) enrolled in Army ROTC. Rebecca and her husband, Jaron, are KSU graduates and live in San Antonio. The Helms’ youngest, Timothy, is a senior at Decatur Community High School in Oberlin, Kan.

All the way to the top Walking through the Indianola, Neb., cemetery, Helm points out his relatives’ graves. His grandfather, Clarence Sughroue, was a soldier in World War I. His uncle, Stanley Sughroue, was a sailor during the Korean War. Another uncle, Kenneth Sughroue, served with the 504th Bomb Group in World War II. He doesn’t have to say a word; he’s clearly proud of his heritage.

Helm’s father was laid to rest here in 2004. They spent a lot of time farming together, long after Helm’s seven brothers and sisters had left home, and were close. “I look back at when we’d have an argument or get mad and throw hay bales back and forth at each other, and I even enjoyed those times because they were times I had with my dad,” he says. “Good or bad, they were still good.”

Helm’s mother, Helen, is 92 and living at a nursing home in Oberlin. When he was a mail carrier, he’d drop by every day after his route to check on her. You’ll still see him there on Tuesdays, helping with bingo. On the wall of her room, surrounded by photos of her children and grandchildren, is a brochure announcing Helm’s candidacy for national commander.

“We’re glad she’s here to see it,” says Helm’s oldest brother, Jim, who served with the 5th Special Forces in Vietnam. “Over the years, I’ve seen how Mike became enamored of the Legion. It’s worthwhile. You feel you’re accomplishing something. The family’s happy that he’s made it all the way to the top.”

Now that Helm’s there, what would he like to accomplish? In short, with the 100th anniversary on the horizon, he wants to grow the American Legion Family in a big way, with each organization – the Legion, the Auxiliary, the Sons – trying to boost membership across the board.

“Together, we’ve got well over 3 million now,” Helm says. “By this time next year, I’d like to be looking at 4 million members.” To get there, teamwork will be key, he says. For example, if a post and a squadron reach 100 percent but the Auxiliary unit is three members away from its goal, “let’s help them get their three members. By doing that, we’re going to lift each other up.”

And instead of promoting a specific American Legion program, Helm has set a goal of raising a combined $4 million for the organization’s charities. Donors can give to Operation Comfort Warriors, the National Emergency Fund, Temporary Financial Assistance, the Legacy Scholarship Fund, the Child Welfare Foundation or another cause and have it counted toward the grand total.

“By focusing the entire American Legion family on one goal, we end up with 4 million members, 4 million dollars,” he says. “I think we can do it.”

TOP TEN THINGS YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT MIKE HELM
10 He’s a big fan of the classic TV series “Murder, She Wrote” and “Columbo.”
9 He proposed to his wife, Debbie, at the Nebraska Legion’s Mid-Winter Conference in Grand Island.
8 You won’t find him on a golf course. He doesn’t play.
7 He attended three years of seminary in Pittsburgh, intending to become a priest.
6 He’s a morning person and wishes the rest of the world was, too. “People who don’t want to get up need to go to bed earlier.”
5 At Christmastime, the people on his mail route often left him candy or baked goods in their mailboxes. After devouring some peanut brittle he thought was for him, he opened an attached card and realized he’d eaten his parents’ gift to their neighbors.
4 They didn’t know each other at the time, but in his Army Ranger class photo, Helm is standing near another future American Legion national commander, John Brieden (2003-2004).
3 After smoking for 20 years, he quit cold turkey. On Dec. 31, 1987, he threw his cigarettes on the dashboard of his car and hasn’t smoked since.
2 One of his cousins is Air Force Lt. Danny Thomas, a POW/MIA whose plane disappeared 15 miles inside Laos in 1971.
1 He has no regrets. “Everything that’s happened to me is more than I expected.”

Matt Grills is managing editor of The American Legion Magazine.