Politics and the Indianapolis Pacers brought Karen Freeman and Carmen Wilson together 26 years ago.
Next month, the couple marks their 25th anniversary. Their union has been an atypical one with the Gary mayor gaining national stature, while her husband remains happily in the background.
For Wilson, 69, the path to becoming Gary’s “first dude” was a rambling one that started in Peoria, Ill., where he graduated from high school. His dream of completing college ended when the Army drafted him and sent him to Vietnam.
Wilson left behind a wife and two kids, a boy and a girl. By the time he returned to Fort Harrison in Indianapolis at the end of his second tour, Wilson found himself divorced and looking for a new start. He finished his degree and began working as a veterans job counselor. He later became state deputy director of Veterans Affairs under then Gov. Evan Bayh.
One day, a Lake County politician introduced him to a young attorney named Karen Freeman, who was director of the Indiana Civil Rights Commission. They became friends, with Wilson hitting up his future wife for fundraising tickets on behalf of Bayh and other Democrats.
“His method of selling tickets was to get us to sell them,” Freeman-Wilson remembered. “He shocked me one day with an invitation to a Pacers game.”
Guilt played a role in the first date.
“I felt a little bad that I was always asking her to sell something, so instead I invited her to the Pacer game,” Wilson said.
That first date led to other outings, mostly fundraisers.
“We both had a political life. Normally, not a lot of girls I knew wanted to go to fundraisers,” said Wilson, who enjoyed the analytical side of politics.
Freeman-Wilson remembered her husband’s marriage proposal.
“We had been dating for maybe 11 months, and he just said: ‘Do you want to get married?'”
Shortly after their February wedding in 1991, Freeman-Wilson’s political star began rising like a well-propelled three-point shot. For Carmen Wilson, it was somewhat of a different arc. He was 14 years older than his new wife and already had older children.
The couple’s only child brought them closer and brought new adventures for Wilson as a father.
A year after daughter Jordan arrived on Valentine’s Day in 1994, Bayh tapped Freeman-Wilson as Gary City Court judge. The couple, who lived in Indianapolis, settled in Gary to raise their daughter, who’s now a 21-year-old student at Howard University.
Carmen Wilson manned the Gary homefront in 2000, when Freeman-Wilson was appointed state attorney general and moved back to Indianapolis.
Wilson stood by Jordan, who was 6, when her mom was sworn in by Gov. Frank O’Bannon. As Freeman-Wilson began reciting the oath, Jordan repeated it, too.
“Two people were sworn in that day,” Wilson said.
Meanwhile, a month after his wife became attorney general, Gary mayor Scott King appointed Wilson to head the Gary Sanitary District. The appointment raised eyebrows because of Wilson’s political connections and lack of experience in sanitary district matters. King denied it was a political favor.
The family shuttled back and forth while Freeman-Wilson was attorney general, but their separation didn’t last long.
She suffered a stinging defeat to Republican Steve Carter, a Lowell native, in the 2000 election and left office in 2001. Undaunted, Freeman-Wilson came back home with sights on City Hall.
Wilson abruptly resigned from the sanitary district in 2002, amid speculation that his wife planned to challenge King in the 2003 mayoral primary. Freeman-Wilson did run, but King won the primary and re-election.
That ended Wilson’s foray into local politics, but his desire to help veterans lingered.
His experience in Vietnam is never far from his mind, he said.
“I had seen things in Vietnam and the potential for man’s inhumanity to man. I wanted to do something about it. If you ever needed faith, that would be the time,” Wilson said.
“If there was a word to best suit him, it would just be ‘genuine,'” said Pastor Mose Carter of True Worship Christian Center in Merrillville. “He doesn’t put on airs. I’ve seen him inspire so many people to step out and seek their dreams.”
Many of their friends and associates aren’t surprised the couple are about to mark their silver anniversary.
“It was a good match. They complement each other,” said close friend and political ally Mike Brown, a fellow Democrat who serves as Lake County clerk. “He’s the quiet one; he makes sure things go well for his wife. If you don’t mention who he is, you probably don’t know. He’s never made an issue of it.”
Brown said Wilson is comfortable in his own skin.
“He likes the quiet road he has. He respects his wife and her leadership skills and the things she’s doing, and that’s what a real man does,” Brown said.
Freeman-Wilson disputes the “quiet” adjective. She says her husband has a gift of gab that their daughter has inherited. “At some point, I’m done talking,” she said.
Former press secretary Chelsea Whittington said Wilson stayed in his wife’s corner after decades of heart-wrenching election defeats and gratifying victories.
“For every loss she suffered, he was there for her, too,” said Whittington, who said Wilson doesn’t hang out at City Hall.
“He is really supportive but he has no ambition to be the mayor and tell her how to do her job,” Whittington said.
Wilson, who’s a grandfather from his first marriage, now works as a community outreach specialist for a high school internship program called Jobs for America’s Graduates. He places high school students in paid internships to give them workplace experience.
Despite his wife’s hectic schedule, the couple keep Sundays for each other.
They usually attend church together, then head to a movie or host friends and family. Wilson says he does most of the cooking and has developed expertise in chicken and fish “because they’re quick.”
Wilson has no regrets about life in his wife’s shadow. “Spouses all have their own personalities … like Hillary and Bill,” he chuckled.
“When I married Karen, I never thought she’d be Donna Reed.”
Twitter @ccwriterPT
