Susan K. Malloy

Funeral service for Susan will be held at 11:00 a.m. on Tuesday, April 9, 2019, at Mitchell Family Funeral Home with Pastor Greg Ellcey officiating. Public visitation will be held from 5:00-7:00 p.m. on Monday, April 8, 2019, at Mitchell Family Funeral Home where Susan’s friends will be present to greet friends. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be directed in Susan’s name to the Marshalltown Public Library, located at: 105 W. Boone St., Marshalltown, IA 50158. For further information or to send a condolence please visit www.mitchellfh.com or call (641) 844-1234. Mitchell Family Funeral Home is caring for Susan and her family.

Susan was fearless, whether staring down a 10-foot putt, strapping into a cockpit or putting her name on a ballot.

After serving for 14 years on the Marshalltown Planning and Zoning Commission, she ran for city council in 2001 at the urging of then-Mayor Floyd Harthun. Susan defeated an incumbent by 20 votes. While on the council, she successfully pushed for a bond referendum to finance the current Marshalltown Public Library. As president of Friends of the Library, Susan work with others to guide the project from fundraising to construction in 2008. Susan was also instrumental in Marshalltown joining the Main Street Program and helped install hanging flower pots and iron litter bins along Main Street.

Susan earned a degree in medical technology from Iowa and later in life a master’s of public administration from Iowa State. She used her management philosophy of “hire good people and get out of their way” to turn around the Central Iowa Art Association and Church United in Compassion and Concern. She was also president of the local chapter of the American Association of University Women and gift shop manager at Marshalltown Medical and Surgical Center. The shop’s revenues tripled during her tenure, thanks to Susan realizing that a certain stuffed animal (Beanie Babies) was about to become a big hit.

Susan was also treasurer of the Marshalltown Assistance League and a member of the Hawthrone Club, but her most beloved organization was a mid-life sorority she formed with her adopted sisters: Fran, Mary, Jonna, Joy, Sandy, Kirstan, Lana, Marge and Jennie named Omicron Lambda Delta (OLD).

Travelling was another pursuit Susan enjoyed. She visited 49 states (darn you, Hawaii) and 17 countries. Many of her expeditions were spent bird watching with her friends. She kept a journal of the more than 400 species she’d seen.

Susan won the Elmwood Country Club women’s championship in 1977, 1989 and 1990. Her first trophy run was highlighted by 10 putts on the back nine of the final day. She was on a team — the Elmwood Ducks — that won the the American Cancer Society state golf tournament. The team advanced to the national tournament at the Doral Country Club in Florida. Susan played the famous “Blue Monster” course, so-named for its many lakes, but a favorite family photo shows her bedeviled by another hazard — Susan, mid-swing, surrounded by a sprawling bunker of white sand.

Susan grew up on West Main, two blocks from her elementary school, Franklin and a few more from the erstwhile Central High School, from which she graduated in 1960. In the backyard of that house, her brother, Jim, once trapped a snake in a laundry basket but was too scared to do anything with it. Young Susan calmly reached in, grabbed the snake and successfully relocated it. And she was never afraid of heights, either, often causing consternation in her husband, Pat, who likes to joke “I don’t even like being this tall.” One time, Susan was painting the peak of her house on Merritt Road, with a leg on each side of the pitched roof, leaning over the edge to touch up a corner. A frantic neighbor called Pat. “Tell her to get down, we can’t stand watching her!”

In 1979, Susan became a pilot, taking short runs in a Piper Cub from the Marshalltown Airport. Wanting to show off her skills, she brought her son, Mike, along. Sadly, the young man was beset by motion sickness and laid on the seat while Susan said “Look, there’s your school!”

Susan’s memory failed in her final years, leaving it to friends and family to remember her accomplished life on her behalf.