Keith E. Meyer, RIP (1941-2026)

Keith E. Meyer, 84, formerly a longtime resident of Davenport, died Tuesday, February 17, 2026, with family at his side. Keith was known for many things in his life including a peaceful protester and activist city watchdog who eventually was elected a Davenport City Alderman.

[Publisher Note: Articles about Meyer published in the Reader previously are found here at this search result. Three of the dozens that stand out especially are, December 2016: Civic Forensics in Davenport Are a Bust, March 2013: Speed Bump Ahead: Police and County Attorney Moved Too Fast to Prosecute Keith Meyer, While a Jury Trial Proved Common Sense Can Prevail, February 2004: Playground Politics Again.]

Keith Edwin Meyer was born on August 6, 1941, in Woden, Iowa, a son of Edwin Henry and Eva Ruth (Valley) Meyer. He spent his early years in Woden before the family moved to Dows, Iowa. Keith graduated from Dows High School in 1959. He graduated from Wartburg College in 1963.

While working as a Social Service officer in Albia, he met and married Mary Josephine Cardenzana in 1965. They moved to Clarion, Iowa where Keith served as the Director of the Wright County Welfare office from 1966-1967. While in Clarion, Keith and Mary Jo welcomed a son, Shawn. Keith then attended Florida State University to earn his master’s degree in social work. While at Florida State he interned in Atlanta, Georgia and Tampa, Florida. In 1969, they moved to Davenport where Keith took a job at the Iowa Department of Social Services, and they welcomed their second son, Seth. Keith also ran a group home for juveniles at 1012 Marquette, on behalf of the Iowa Department of Social Services.

Political activism, a need to aid people, and a love of historical items were defining points of his life. He attended rallies, wrote opinion pieces, and held peaceful protests in all of the communities where he resided. Keith’s interest in politics and social issues led him to run for public office over three decades. His candidacy included Davenport School Board, Scott County Board of Supervisors, Alderman At-Large, and Mayor of Davenport. During this time, Keith ran Ten Twelve Marquette as a reception and bed and breakfast facility. Over the years, he added a vegetarian café and created Mississippi Book and Tea. 2003 was a busy year as Keith opened his winery, Black Lab Crossing, bottling his organic wine from his own raspberries. He also won the 3rd Ward Alderman seat in Davenport which he held for 2 terms. His last foray into politics was his second run for Mayor of Davenport in 2013.

Keith’s passions in life were easily identifiable when visiting his old house at 1012 Marquette Street. Visitors would be greeted by big black labs, or huskies, and offered a sample of his wine or homemade biscotti. His house was filled with antiques and books, typewriters and tables, art and unique décor. Outdoors there were peach, cherry, and apple trees, raspberry bushes, hostas, and interesting objects adorning the yard and patio. His love for the environment and outdoors led to the opportunity for Keith to host members of Greenpeace at his house for a short time. He spent days outside with his dogs, and nights reading or writing. Whether it was his book, poetry, or opinion pieces, Keith’s writing had his own voice.

Those left to honor his memory are his sons and daughters-in-law, Shawn (Kelly) Meyer, Bettendorf and Seth (Phousavanh Sengsavanh) Meyer, Columbia, Missouri; granddaughter, Josephine Meyer, Hutchinson, Minnesota; former wife, Mary Jo Weber, Long Grove; a brother, Dean (Kathy) Meyer, San Luis Obispo, California, and many nieces and nephews.

Keith was preceded in death by an infant daughter, his parents, and siblings: Evelyn (Larry-late) Johnson, and Betty (Arnis-late) Grundberg.

A time to gather and celebrate the life of Keith was held Saturday, February 28, 2026, at the Halligan-McCabe-DeVries Funeral Home, in Davenport, Iowa. Memorials may be made to Midwest Writing Center or Nahant Marsh.

Keith's Actions Spoke Louder Than Words

By Kelly Meyer

In 1986, when I was working at RIBCO, we had a new bar back start. His name was Shawn. Everyone said he was Keith Meyer’s son. Sheila and Joyce said ‘ you know Keith, everyone knows Keith. He’s the nicest guy. He would give you the shirt off his back’. They were right - and that shirt would have a story. How it was made of natural fibers, why it was interesting, where it came from. That was Keith. Natural fibers – cotton, linen, wool. Soft and broken in. And he was so much more. 

The first time I saw his house I was amazed. Who doesn’t love an old house from the 1880s. The architectural features, the layout. Natural wood, the staircase with that amazing statue. Even the back staircase that went to the kitchen. Such a fun place to explore – not only the rooms, but all of the interesting items in each room. There was the old billiard table on the main floor, a grand piano from the same era as the house, a huge clock with neon. The cabinets had old books from the 1800s and the hutches - interesting glassware Keith used for his parties. Then there were the items that really stuck out. A large mirror leaning on the stairs, a canoe, eventually a full-sized loom. He loved old typewriters and sewing machines and created the tea tables out of the sewing machine stands. There was a vault door he had set up as a table in what I liked to call the ballroom. And finally books. Shelves and shelves of books. Fiction, non-fiction. Mostly hardbacks. His love of books and writing evident everywhere in the house.

Once a dear friend of mine, Jeff, had been there for a party. He said he was at a party at a cool old house, and there was a canoe hanging there. I said – oh, you were at Keith’s house – 1012 Marquette. Sometimes it seemed as if 1012 and Keith had their identities fully intertwined. 

When you think of Keith, you likely think of when the dogs would greet you as you came up that winding driveway. His dogs were true companions and he loved spending time with them outdoors. He would take them everywhere. His first big black lab, Tiabi, even was at our wedding rehearsal. We were in the church, and she was just hanging outside under the big tree. She wouldn’t ever go too far in a situation like that, even downtown with lots of traffic. Then came Shagon. Then the first husky – Shabbonee. He loved the Indian names for those dogs, but also let his political awareness show with them. Keith performed peaceful protests and one way was naming his new puppy after the Girl Scout camp that was to be sold and developed into housing. He believed in the value of the outdoors over tearing that down for housing. His last husky’s name spoke for itself – Justice. His dogs were so much a part of his life he named the winery and wines after them. 

One of my favorite peaceful protest stories about Keith is when he brought attention to the old Gas and Electric building downtown by weaving paper in the architecture. He really didn’t like old buildings with interesting architecture being torn down. The result was the Quad City Times letters from the building on Brady Street making their way into his yard. When the Parker building was being remodeled, 1012 ended up with doors, closets, and even doorknobs with the P on them. Shortly before he died, Keith told one of his nurses that he actually liked solving complex social issues and interesting architecture. His dedication to preserving that architecture over the years proves the truth of that statement.

When you walk through my house, you see the results of Keith’s love of old, quality items. A claw footed stool we all use regularly. My kitchen and dining room tables. The antique desk he brought me shortly after we bought our first house. My favorite being the Stickley rocker he picked up. Josie was rocked in that chair, and I still sit in it every day. He kept his eye out for items he loved that worked in our house. 

Had you told me, when Josie was born, that Keith would be at my house almost daily, I would never have believed it. He was never one to speak about his feelings, but he showed his love through actions. While I was on maternity leave, he visited regularly. He would come over and say, I think I’ll mow your lawn and end up staying for dinner. He loved that little girl. When she was just over a year, there had been a long hot, humid spell at the end of July and early August. Typical Iowa weather. 1012 didn’t have any air conditioning, and the high ceilings did help keep things cool. One Friday, the humidity broke, and while it was still hot, it didn’t feel oppressive. Keith wanted Josie to spend the day with him, so Shawn took her over there on his way to work. He called me and asked me to drop off diapers because Keith needed them. I went by to bring some things. Josie was having the time of her life. Keith had dragged an old 60s style playpen out of the attic so she could nap there. She was covered in dirt and playing with the dogs. I went to change her diaper and saw that Keith had made due with what he had on hand until I brought some. On her, he had put a terrycloth tea towel and used a bread bag for plastic pants. A bread bag. It worked! 

One cold winter day we had stopped by to see how he was doing. Keith had put a Franklin stove into the bar area and used that for heat so he didn’t have to run the boiler as much. We were visiting, seeing his new puppy, Moki. All of a sudden, he bends the top off the stove, takes out a ceramic bowl from it, offers it to me and asks…baked apple? So typically Keith. 

When he had opened the Vegetarian café in 1991, one of my favorite stories was a guest he had visit. Keith had been up at one if his absolute favorite places to be. Greatest Grains. He was at the little café there and had met a person we would all recognize, but he did not. I can actually picture how it went in my head. He would be chatting with her, and ask ‘ what do you do?’ She was an actress in town filming a movie called “An American Love” . Naturally he invited her to check out his Vegetarian Café and that is how on a Friday night in 1991 Brooke Shields had dinner at 1012. Only Keith. 

When Keith started growing raspberries in mass, he was frustrated how much breakage there was. People at the Farmer’s Market liked perfectly shaped raspberries not broken ones. And all I can say is there is nothing more fun to do in the heat of summer near the 4th of July than being dressed in long pants and jeans to harvest berries. I do think Josie ate more than her weight. The raspberries breaking led to the wine making which was a whole chapter in Keith’s life. If you ever visited him during that time, you would see the glass carboys everywhere. The process to get AFT approval for the sale of wine is laborious and long, but Keith finally got it. That fall, he was campaigning for 3rd Ward Alderman. We were all downtown at the Halloween parade. Candidates couldn’t walk in the parade but he decided to walk among the crowd with Josie handing out candy to the spectators. I think he was the most establishment he had ever been in his life when he operated a winery and became a Davenport City Council Member. My absolute favorite parade memory with Keith was that same year at the Festival of Trees Parade. He didn’t have a good dog leash, so brough Shabonee down using a belt as a leash. Keith always found a way to make something work. Shawn, Josie, and I had brought Sassy with us. She absolutely LOVED Keith and going to visit him. We are having a good time watching the parade. The dogs were especially attentive to Keith during the parade. Finally the truth comes out. Keith said…’I wanted to make sure Shabonee didn’t want to wander away. I have bacon in my pocket.’ Keith was never a dull moment. 

After closing the winery and dealing with the roof at 1012, Keith got sick and had to have an extended medical stay. We were so grateful that he did finally get better after a winding road. In 2015, we made the decision to bring him to live at our house. It was the best decision we could have made. He had the quiet he liked during the day. We had family dinner together every night. Shawn is an excellent cook and Keith thrived. He also got his sweet tooth back and enjoyed cookies, coffee ice cream, and pumpkin pie. Best of all for him, Tiabi 2 and Justice were at my house with our dog, Cricket. We housed them for him and dogs always made him feel better. To contribute, Keith decided it was his job to walk the dogs. My entire neighborhood got to watch Keith walk his way into health and strength. Everyone kept an eye on him for us. He took each dog around the block 3 times. He did this 3 times a day. What he didn’t know was that he was walking 9 miles a day doing this. It was a game change. Then he got cataract surgery, and was able to drive again. Got a little car and really was the Keith we all knew and loved for so long. You should have seen him out there. Leaf blowing in the fall. Snow blowing in the winter. He was a true partner to Shawn as they did those things together. He was a built-in dog nanny so if we were gone, we didn’t have to worry. He got to support Josie at school activities and extra-curriculars. He especially liked to see her dance programs. When she went to Iowa State, he was proud, especially of her being in the Marching Band because he loved watching Cyclone Football and Basketball. Keith was proud that both Shawn and Seth were Iowa State Grads. We flew the flag, and he always kept an eye out for Iowa State gear at his favorite thrift shops. 

Keith loved being outdoors and Shawn’s cousins Mike and Julie graciously allowed him to stay at their lake house so he could be near water and a beautiful park where he ran his dog. When he got sick, it was clear that he had to come back here to live with us before needing added care. Once the Alzheimer’s diagnosis was made, we understood he wasn’t going to get back to his health level as he had before. It was a struggle for Keith, because he innately knew something was wrong, but it couldn’t be fixed. During his last very healthy moments Shawn and Seth were both able to see him as he had been. For that I am extremely grateful. He told Shawn how much he appreciated living with us over the years. Keith lived a unique life and was on his own path. At the end, he was very peaceful and had no pain. Nor was he alone. 

We also want to thank those who helped during this time. Gwen Tombergs and the team at LivWell Seniors. The staff at Better Living in Walcott, and St. Croix Hospice. He continued to touch these lives as they aided him. Thanks to the team here at Halligan-McCabe-DeVries. Finally, to all of our family and friends for the support. We love you all and appreciate you. 

Publisher Note: 

Here is a short story Keith submitted to the Reader's first ever Short Fiction Contest in 2003, which placed in the top 15 of 86 entries. Results of the Reader's Short-Fiction Contest. 

Left 
Keith Meyer, Davenport 

Jerry Larkin worked with his hands and had a lot of gloves. Like everyone, Jerry occasionally lost gloves, but only left-hand ones. He searched his drawer in much the same way a person keeps going down into their pocket in search of lost keys. No lefties. 

At a sale Jerry bought a basket full of used gloves with two thumbs that could fit either hand. One thumb was tucked in. In a couple of weeks Jerry began taking the thumbs out of the right-hand gloves. 

One night, drinking beer with his friend, Ronald Means. Jerry brought up his experience with losing left-hand gloves. "That's funny," said Ronald. "I lose right-hand ones. We should trade." 

Suzy Littlesmith knew Jerry Larkin but had never met Ronald Means until the three of them ran into each other at Saddle Up, a country western bar with a rodeo bull. 

"How's the left hand?" asked Ronald as he sat his beer down, got on the bull, and gripped with his right-hand glove. 

"What are you talking about?" asked Jerry. 

"The gloves. The gloves we traded. Is it working out okay?" Ronald folded back as the coins kicked in. 

"What's with you guys?" demanded Suzy, probably because she was trying to decide which direction to move. 

Ronald picked himself off the floor and explained. Suzy left and went home with a guy nicknamed Straight.  

Every time I lose a glove I think of this story but it doesn't help a bit.