Even those in southern New Hampshire who know the name might not quite understand the phenomenon that is Ray Burton, or why his announced retirement from the New Hampshire Executive Council this past weekend was such a big deal.

It’s not just that Burton is the longest serving Executive Councilor in state history, being first elected in 1978. The fact that he’s been approving state contracts and gubernatorial appointments since the Hugh Gallen administration tells only a small part of the story.

And never mind that he is a Republican and faithfully endorsed Republican candidates and causes. He understood that people wanted somebody who could get stuff done and party affiliation mattered much less to him than constituent service.

Burton himself hinted at the bigger picture in his statement announcing that liver cancer would prevent him from seeking another term. “I would also like to thank the 350 directors and commissioners I had the honor to work with over my years of public service,” he said.

Who else would keep track of a number like that?

But that was where Burton operated – at the subsurface of state government – bringing constituent problems to the attention of agency commissioners and bureau directors who were in a position to do something about them. Those commissioners and directors were the levers of government that Burton maneuvered to serve the people who elected him. He made no apologies for that, either. The people in government respected him for it and those who sent him to Concord year after year knew they had an advocate, even if Burton liked to joke that he was always running a couple of votes behind in his next (usually unopposed) election bid.

Ray Burton didn’t have more constituents than the other executive councilors, but his were more spread out, in a district that stretched from the Connecticut River to the borders of Maine and Canada. The northern half of the state was basically Burton Country, and he tended to it for the last 30-plus years like a dutiful shepherd.

Burton’s district includes some pretty remote places, where hunting, fishing, snowmobiling and camping are relatively big businesses, big businesses are relatively few, and it can be hard to scratch out a living.

But as Burton often told anyone who would listen, “There’ll be no forgetting the North Country and the people in District 1 while I’m around.”

It wasn’t just talk, either. He escorted – some might joke that “kidnapped” is a better word – the state’s commissioners and other government functionaries to meet the people who lived north of the notches, in the Pemigewasset Valley, the Lakes Region or the Connecticut River Valley. Burton’s “tours” were legendary, and he visited every one of his towns between elections.

A resident of the Connecticut River town of Bath, Burton saw part of his job as making sure that, when the time came to divvy up state services or appointments, his district got a fair piece of the pie. He usually delivered. The man knew every road, bridge and culvert in his district and kept close tabs on how the state doled out money to fix its roads.

But most of all, Ray Burton knew his people. His memory for names and relationships was encyclopedic and there was no telling where he’d show up: Church suppers, funerals, parades, high school football games, alumni reunions, selectmen’s meetings, or any sort of political gathering. If you went to a family reunion and Ray showed up, nobody was surprised. Heck, he was around more than most of your relatives anyway.

Burton knew his people but, more importantly, they knew him, and knew if they couldn’t call whichever governor happened to be sitting that day, they could always call Ray.

And for more than 30 years, the people in the northern half of the state have called Ray Burton a friend.

Even after he’s long gone from office, there will be no forgetting Ray Burton as long as the people of the North Country are still around.

Newsletter