Premier Partners
Healthcare Academy overlooks the city of Henderson. A homely, handmade sign showing the letters “HDD” leans into a window of this 114-year-old Historical Register site at the corner of Eighth and Minnesota. The sign faces Eighth Street, so most passersby driving up steep Minnesota Street hill never see it. Since “HDD” is no longer the company’s name, the sign, if seen, really wouldn’t help most first-time visitors anyway.
Ideas flow from Mary and Wayne Dankert like newsprint off a high-speed printing press. Watch them go. The ideas flow because the two have so many percolating about in their constantly churning minds—so many ideas printing and collating, printing and collating, so many, one, two, three, four. And the ideas leaving make room for more.
A Menard’s employee seven years ago sold Glen Taylor a lawn mower.
An elderly man saw Glen Taylor purchasing flowers at Hilltop Florist.
A married couple saw him eating lunch at The Peddler.
A hunter saw him bringing a deer into Vernon Center Market.
A girl in a sundress is drawing a picture of herself on a four-sided easel set up in a shady spot—but she needs help with the nose. A little boy in a floppy hat and saggy shorts lifts a chubby leg and climbs into a sand box. At the far end of the playground, several more small children take turns banging melodically on a metal trash can lid mounted strategically on the chain link fence.
Welcome to Pamella Willard’s world.
On the surface it seems she should be. She is Vice President and General Counsel of Boston Scientific’s cardiovascular division, and as such works inside the pulsating heart of a $5.6 billion publicly traded corporation (NYSE: BSX). Boston Scientific has 16,000 employees worldwide—with a hearty 3,000 in Plymouth and Maple Grove, Minn., including Lance, helping manufacture, develop and market lifesaving medical devices.
Primarily, she serves as an in-house attorney. The medical device she personally helped launch in 2004, the complicated sounding TAXUS® Express2™ Paclitaxel-Eluting Coronary Stent System, has been offering genuine hope for millions of Americans with blocked heart arteries. Earlier this year, Boston Scientific announced the millionth sale and implantation of that particular stent, nearly doubling the corporation’s revenue.
Lester Zwach, whose name rhymes with hawk, has razor-sharp vision like one.
Though not Minnesota’s best sporting clay shooter, Zwach can in ten squeezes of a 12-gauge shotgun obliterate from fifty yards out nine out of ten sporting clays—very good by any definition. Besides shooting sporting clays, he enjoys guiding Midwest hunting enthusiasts in search of pheasants over the ridges and through the woods of 800 scenic acres near New Ulm.
A young girl’s thoughts on paper.
That’s what started it, really, little poems and journal entries written by Kimberly Rinehart as a teenager in her Mankato home. As kids do with their creative output, she gave hers as gifts to her mom and dad, Forrest and Georgia Rettmer.
“Mamma always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get,” drawled Forrest Gump in the movie bearing his name. If so, life has been a box of chocolates for Orthopaedic & Fracture Clinic senior partner Dr. R. Wynn Kearney, Jr.
For one, not all his surgeries are alike. Some especially require his crystal-clear vision—like the wrist operation at right—to check detail. Others need his vise-like grip for handling an orthopedic saw. Wynn Kearney can perform any number of orthopedic surgeries.
Late one evening in 1975, 28-year-old Jerry Clark had his moneybag in hand and was last to leave his business near Ceylon, Minn., C’s Gay Paree Ballroom. Two men wearing ski masks suddenly approached him in the dimly lit parking lot.
“Give me your money!” the taller one shouted, elbowing forward, a barrel-like bulge protruding from his coat pocket.
