From Farm to Ministry to Public Service

Scudder Parker grew up on a dairy farm in the Northeast Kingdom, where he learned to fish, milk, hay, log, and, while having the run of the countryside, trust his instincts. As a young man, Scudder—like his father and grandfather before him—was ordained a minister in his community. He helped Vermonters in their homes, on their farms, and in his church on a daily basis for twenty years. Living in a rural community and helping provide for the needs of others fostered his independent vision and inspired him to dedicate his life to public service.

An Independent Leader

Scudder's deeply rooted values derive from his faith and his belief in justice. During his four terms as the first Democratic senator in sixty years from Caledonia County, Scudder earned enduring respect and a reputation as a resolute and responsive leader.



He went on to direct energy-efficiency and renewable-energy programs at the Vermont Department of Public Service. Scudder has two daughters, Katie and Emily. He lives in Middlesex with his wife, Susan Sussman. As governor, Scudder Parker will be a resourceful leader open to new ideas and firmly committed to Vermont families and broader prosperity for our state.

Growing Up—Field Work

My family moved to a farm in Danville, Vermont when I was nine years old. Farming taught me the value of hard work, good neighbors, and a strong community. Working the land also brought with it many rewards, including an enduring love of our fields and forests, and the immense satisfaction of a job well done.

When I was twelve, my father taught me how to mow hay with a team of horses. It was a difficult and even dangerous job, one that few farmers today with their tractors and New Holland mower-conditioners would wish to return to.


Scudder on the family farm in Danville

The mower was a simple device, made of two steel wheels which drove slicing, triangular blades on an eight-foot cutter bar. Operating the mower meant driving a team of horses. The difficult part came when you got to the end of a row and had to lift the long cutter bar up in order to make the turn.

With one hand reining a two-horse hitch in the middle of a turn, I had to reach down and pull the heavy cutter bar up out of the hay, its serrated blades flashing back and forth. The weight of the cutter bar was overbearing, and time after time I would drop the blades back into the snarl of wet, cut grass. Or if I was able to lift the bar to its upright and locked position, it was only by virtue of pulling against the reins, and turning the team around in an endless circle. Half the summer passed this way, and I would come back from the field tired, sore, and almost defeated.

Then one day it happened. I approached the turn, eyeing the lift lever on the cutter bar with determination. I spoke gently to the horses, preparing them for the turn. Waiting for just the right moment, I dove for the lever, poised in perfect balance against the reins. With all my might I pulled upward, watching the slashing teeth rise from the grass as I lifted the bar all the way up to the lock position. The team closed the turn, and we were perfectly positioned for the next row.

As a boy in the field mowing hay, I never could have anticipated that I would one day run for the office of governor. But it was there that I first became aware of my strength and resolve, my drive to succeed, and my confidence in handling complicated tasks. As governor, I will face difficult issues head-on. I will lead adeptly, and I will never back down.

A Minister to the Community

I served over two decades as a minister to my community. Out of twenty years' worth of memories, one early experience stands out. It was during my first year as a minister, when I was twenty-six years old. And it was the first time I was attending a family in the hospital, on the occasion of a terminal illness.

A member of my church had been diagnosed with cancer. His family was informed, but he had not yet been given the news from his doctor. The family was very anxious about sharing this information, and couldn't decide how, or whether, to tell their loved one something so terrible.

I asked to have some time alone with the man. After his family left the room, I asked him three questions:

How are you feeling?

What do you think is going on?

What would you like to know?

The man replied that he knew it was really bad, and we decided together that he should talk to his family about it. They came back into the room and, with only a few words, the man and his family shared both the sadness and reality of the moment.

I knew and loved the man myself, and it was a very sad moment for me, too. But I knew then that this was what I was supposed to be doing, that it was a gift to help people this way. Throughout my career as a minister, it often felt like my true job was to give people enough room and direction to go where they wanted to go. It wasn't about moralizing or placing pressure on anyone to do the right thing; it was about providing them with the space, confidence, and reassurance they needed to get to that place they might not have been able to reach on their own.

Public Service

• September 2004-June 2005: Vermont Businesses for Social Responsibility
• March 2003-September 2004: Independent Energy Consultant
• January 1990-February 2003: Director, Energy Efficiency Division,Vermont Department of Public Service
• January 1988-January 1990: Director, Community Planning Program, Woodbury College



• January 1981-January 1988: Vermont State Senator, Caledonia County
• 1969-1990: Ordained Minister
• 1983-1986: Co-chair, JOIN St. Johnsbury
• 1979-1981: Board Member, Northeast Kingdom Coalition For Children and Youth
• 1978-1981: Organizer, Emergency Food Shelf, St. Johnsbury
• 1977-1981: Organizer, Chair, Board Member, North Country Recycling
• 1974-1981: Director, Clergy and Laity Concerned, Boston Chapter
• 1965-1968: Union Theological Seminary: Masters in Divinity, cum laude
• 1961-1965: Williams College: B.A. in English Literature, magna cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa