Rose Mofford’s story: A headstone shows how the state’s first female governor loved Arizona.
The new marker on former Gov. Rose Mofford’s grave at St. Francis Catholic Cemetery in Phoenix tells the story of the state’s first female governor and her love of Arizona.
In the middle of the marker, unveiled during a private ceremony Friday morning, is her favorite caricature, depicting her with her trademark swirl of white hair piled high in a French roll and wearing a toga and angel wings atop the copper Capitol dome.
On either side of the caricature are pictures of two of her favorite moments as governor, meeting Pope John Paul in 1987 and Sister Teresa in 1989.
And on either side of those pictures are portraits of Mofford as a young woman, her then-red hair brushed back from her face, and as governor, in a suit and long strand of pearls. The same smile plays on her lips in both.
Carved into the background of the marker is the Grand Canyon and a large saguaro cactus, symbols of the state she loved.
Her good friend and cartoonist Sherman Goodrich drew the caricature for her Christmas card in 1988. Mofford, who had been secretary of state, had taken over the top office after Gov. Evan Mecham was impeached for obstruction of justice and misuse of funds.
Mofford had received so many requests for that card that she had 7,000 more printed. She had typed the names and addresses on the envelopes herself on an IBM electric typewriter, and her security detail had licked all the stamps.
She joked later that she had worried that they might all quit.
They didn’t.
A place with her family
Mofford was 94 when she died Sept.
Her family and friends had held a public memorial service last Oct. 30 at the Orpheum Theatre in Phoenix. Thousands of people attended, including six Arizona governors.
She had been buried Sept. 28 in a private service attended by 30 family members and close friends. The temporary grave marker was a rectangle of polished burnt-sienna granite, marked with her name, “GOVERNOR ROSE P. MOFFORD,” “1922-2016,” and “ARIZONA’S FIRST LADY.” Engraved on each side of the gravestone was a white cross and a rose.
The new one that replaced it on Friday is down a grassy footpath not far from the driveway and open to the public during the cemetery’s regular hours.
A dozen steps away is a shared grave marker for her parents — John Perica Sr., 1889-1954, and Frances Perica, 18921970 — and her sister, Mary Perica, 19182004.
A few steps back toward Mofford’s grave is her brother, John Perica Jr., 1916-1961.
A governor and her Rolodexes
It was already hot on Friday morning when the Rev. Daniel Sullivan addressed the dozen or so friends and family at the small service to unveil the new grave marker.
Sullivan spoke of the three things most important to Mofford — her roots, her religion and her Rolodex. She had said it so often that the people gathered said those words along with him, chuckling.
Mofford had started building her Rolodex listings during her first job in state government in 1940, eventually collecting 4,000 names and addresses in four heavy, green metal card files.
On the cards, she kept people’s names, phone numbers and addresses as well as other notes — birthdays, names of parents and pets, special dates — and whether or not she had received a Christmas card.
The Rolodexes were cremated with Mofford.
“So all those secrets have gone up to heaven with her,” Sullivan said. Everyone laughed.
She was proud of those files because they represented her connections to people, her longtime friend Karen Scates said.
‘... you belonged to her’
When Mofford attended events, she would be the last one to leave, making sure she met everyone who wanted to meet her and signing autographs.
After Mofford retired, she told people to call her “Mother Mofford,” even though she had never had any children of her own. She had married once, in 1957,
“Rose truly was one of a kind,” said Charles Stegall, who was Mofford’s longtime attorney and friend.
She excelled at everything she did, from sports to scholastics, government service to volunteerism.
He read from her State of the State address in 1991:
“My only hope is that history will show that I did the job I was asked to do, and that I did it with honesty, integrity, a sense of humor, and with a real commitment to this state I love so much.”
Twenty-six years later, Stegall thinks it is safe to say those words are true. He included them on her grave marker.
“Thank you, Rose, for being you,” he said. “We love you, Rose.”
Friends for 70 years