Editor's Note: As part of The Blade's coverage of the National World War II Memorial dedication, Blade staff writer Mike Wilkinson and photographer Jeremy Wadsworth will accompany local veterans who are leaving Wednesday for Washington. Daily reports will be filed on their experiences, including stories Sunday from the formal dedication on the National Mall.

"That was part of my dad's charm,'' said his son Peter. "You always knew where he stood.''

Over the years, the Richfield Township trustee would complain about the Toledo Area Metroparks not helping to pay for township fire services to Secor Metropark. He railed against consideration of a nuclear waste dump in Riga Township, just over the Michigan line from his Berkey home.

In both cases, he won. The Metroparks started picking up its tab for fire and rescue services and Michigan dropped the Riga site idea.

Armed with a telephone, an electric typewriter, and a relentless will, Roger Durbin was always willing to fight for what he felt was right. In a world of squeaky wheels, he was one of the squeakiest.

And on one thing, he was relentless. For years he would tell anyone who would listen - fellow politicians, fellow veterans, Rotary clubs - about his dream: This nation should honor the sacrifice of his generation during World War II with a fitting monument in Washington.

"My dad wanted everybody to remember a time when the whole country was zeroing in on one project - winning the war,'' Pete Durbin said.

Because of his persistence, and because of the help of U.S. Rep. Marcy Kaptur (D., Toledo), much of the country will turn its focus on Saturday to Washington for the dedication of the $175 million National World War II Memorial on the National Mall.

How the rural mail carrier from a broken home became one of the central figures in the battle to build the memorial is no surprise to many in this area. They knew he was a man who, despite a lack of a formal education, had the smarts and know-how to get things done, regardless of how big or small.

"I think Roger Durbin was a patriot,'' Miss Kaptur said last week as the final preparations were made. "He was a man of deep feeling and of high intelligence, part of a generation that, because of world events, was never able to go on to college but should of. That was taken from them by world events. He persevered. He was dogged."

Roger Durbin was born in 1920 and grew up in rural Lucas County. His parents divorced before he entered school. He left Burnham High School in Sylvania before graduating and headed for the factory floor at Spicer Manufacturing Corp., the predecessor of Dana Corp.

He married Marian Sanderson, and she had their only child, Pete, before Roger joined the Army. He became a tank mechanic and fought in Europe.

His lack of a formal education put a chip on his shoulder. It also created a vast well of motivation for succeeding.

"Lots of people have ideas,'' his son said. "But most don't do anything with them.''

Roger Durbin wasn't like most people, though. From the moment he struck up a friendship with Miss Kaptur at a county trustees' meeting and fish fry in Jerusalem Township in 1987, he didn't offer just an idea. He offered his time and effort.

When they first met, he wanted to know why there wasn't a World War II memorial. After she said there was, thinking of the Iwo Jima memorial, he said that was just for the Marines.

It wasn't long before Miss Kaptur, who learned about the war from her own relatives, realized that Mr. Durbin was right - there wasn't a monument. And that, she said, was wrong. For more than 13 years until his death, they worked together: He wrote letters to every member of Congress; she tried to guide the necessary legislation through a minefield of obstacles.

In the end, the two succeeded, with help from a number of influential people, including former Sen. Bob Dole, the powerful Republican from Kansas, and actor Tom Hanks, who lent his high profile from his leading role in the World War II movie Saving Private Ryan to the effort to raise money for the memorial.

Regardless of who recalls Mr. Durbin, who died in 2000 just weeks after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, they use the same words to describe him: persistent, relentless, stubborn. A man who would not be deterred.

"He was one of the persons to give a job to who would carry it through,'' said Marylin Yoder, a Springfield Township trustee. She knew Mr. Durbin through the county township trustees' association that had held that now-famous meeting in Jerusalem Township years ago.

Over the years, she heard Mr. Durbin talk about a memorial - something that would affect far more than Richfield Township or even Lucas County.

"He talked about this memorial a lot,'' she said. "I wish he would have lived long enough to see it happen.''

One of those with whom he mentioned the memorial was another veteran of the war, Tony Pizza, the former Lucas County prosecutor. Mr. Pizza had helped Mr. Durbin in his dealings with the Metroparks, and it was Mr. Pizza who took the legal steps to fight the Riga waste site.

It was Mr. Pizza who suggested Mr. Durbin take his quest to Miss Kaptur. Although the idea of a memorial seemed simple and logical - 16.1 million men and women served in the military during the war, not counting the hardships endured on the homefront - it became another battle for the veteran, who survived the siege of Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge.

Mr. Durbin was the man for the job, and everyone knew it.

"He was never going to give up,'' Mr. Pizza said. That's not who Roger Durbin was.

Now, after so many years, the dedication is less than a week away. The marble and granite are set, the stars in place, the reflecting pool filled with water. On Saturday, a nation will remember, honor, and give tribute to the idea spawned by the mailman from Berkey with the upturned grin.

Yet the reality is just starting to settle in for many, including Mr. Durbin's granddaughter, Melissa Growden. Single and in her mid-20s when she was first appointed by President Clinton to the memorial's advisory board, she is now 35 and married. A few weeks ago, when she saw a photo of Miss Kaptur putting a wreath down at the memorial, she wept.

It is no longer just her grandfather's dream.

"This is really coming true. It's done,'' she said. "It's open.''

For everyone.

Contact Mike Wilkinson at mwilkinson@theblade.com or 419-724-6104.

First Published May 24, 2004, 1:34 p.m.