The passing this week of Ira Mills marks the loss of a sharp mind, a steady hand, and a man who believed in getting things right. His most recent role as V.I. Tax Assessor was just one part of a long and distinguished career, but for those of us who had the privilege of working with him, he will be remembered for much more than his title.
I knew Mr. Mills as a kid growing up – but I truly got to know him as a young reporter, less than a month out of college with a writing degree, when he was director of the Office of Management and Budget. In a profession where clarity is often in short supply, he stood out. There was no spin, no obfuscation – just a deep respect for facts and a willingness to ensure the media had them straight.
It might seem strange to say in today’s world, but Ira Mills came from an era when information mattered. He understood that accuracy was not just a courtesy but a necessity, especially when dealing with the numbers that shaped the territory’s future.
In 2005, I was handed my first big budget book – it was blue, over 500 pages – and I sat in a Public Finance Authority meeting chaired by the late Gov. Charles Turnbull. The board was debating an appropriation but didn’t have a copy of the budget on hand. Without hesitation, Mr. Mills turned to the room and said, “Pancham has one.” The day before, he had taken the time to walk me through exactly how the budget was laid out, ensuring I understood its structure before it was debated. I handed my copy to the governor, and Mr. Mills chuckled, saying, “This is why it always pays to work with the media.”
It was a small moment, but it spoke volumes about the kind of professional he was – accessible, patient, and committed. In an age now where public trust in journalism is constantly undermined, his respect for the role of the press stands out even more.
His candor was especially evident during budget season at the Senate. In 2006, while some officials danced around the numbers, Mr. Mills was clear: if the money wasn’t there, it shouldn’t be appropriated. He explained – sometimes to exasperated lawmakers – that agencies often failed to request funds after being notified they were available, and he encouraged senators to ensure their appropriations were actually utilized. His straightforwardness reminded me of Karen Andrews, the former chief negotiator, who famously refused to sit at the bargaining table without the funds to back an agreement. Like her, Mr. Mills understood that financial reality couldn’t be negotiated away.
For all the budget debates and finance meetings, what I will remember most about Mr. Mills is his willingness to teach. I am grateful for his patience, his integrity, and the example he set in public service.
The Source offers its deepest condolences to his family and all those who knew and respected him. The Virgin Islands has lost a steady voice of reason – one that, in these times, feels even more irreplaceable.
