Henry Payne McIntosh IV

Henry Payne McIntosh IV

Henry Payne McIntosh IV, known to family and friends simply as “Rip” lived a life defined by curiosity, exploration and deep devotion to the people and causes he loved. Although his journey took him from New Orleans to Monterey California and then to Palm Beach, he was most at home out West. Rip was a Montana man, a fly fisherman with a cast that was as much art as technique. Fishing wasn’t simply a hobby; it was about the connection to the land and the history of the American West. Beyond fishing, Rip was a cowboy at heart, full of grit, grace and a true old-world gentleman. His life is best characterized by the French phase which ended every correspondence which he wrote, “Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler”, which means Let the Good Times Roll.

Those who knew him best will remember his sharp mind, his generosity, and the steady, grounded presence he brought to his family and friends. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, on May 20, 1936, Rip was educated at Hawken School and Culver Military Academy before earning a Bachelor of Science degree from the School of Business Administration at Tulane University in 1960. But it was beyond the classroom where his intellectual curiosity truly flourished.

Over the course of his life, Rip pursued an extraordinary range of endeavors, including private investments, real estate development, home construction, computer programming, and philanthropy. He brought both creativity and discipline to his work, contributing to the development of the Uniform Chart of Accounts while serving on the Business Management Committee of the National Association of Home Builders. In 1965, a residential cost control and accounting system he designed for the IBM 402 Accounting Machine was published by IBM—a reflection of his forward-thinking approach long before such systems were commonplace.

A passionate conservationist, Rip dedicated much of his energy to Ducks Unlimited, Inc., where he served in numerous leadership roles, including Senior Vice President – Pacific Flyway, Senior Vice President – Sponsors, and Senior Vice President – Special Projects. He was the driving force behind several enduring initiatives, including the Artist-of-the-Year and Commemorative Shotgun programs, and was ultimately honored as a Trustee Emeritus and Sponsor In Perpetuity.

His commitment to conservation extended globally through his long service with the African Wildlife Foundation, where he served as Trustee from 1975 through 2004 and later as Chairman of the Board. Over more than three decades, he and his wife shared a love of Africa, embarking on numerous safaris that reflected both adventure and a deep respect for wildlife and natural habitats.

Rip’s philanthropic work touched many institutions. He served for years as Treasurer, Trustee, and committee chair at the Society of the Four Arts in Palm Beach, as well as Trustee and Treasurer of the Preservation Foundation of Palm Beach. His interests also extended westward, where he contributed to the Museum of the Rockies and the Buffalo Bill Center of the West, sharing his enthusiasm for history, conservation, and education.

Never one to shy away from civic engagement, Rip founded Citizens United for Sensible Planning (CUSP) in 2004 to advocate for preserving the character and quality of life in Palm Beach. Later, he became the voice behind Rip’s Newsletter, a widely read publication through which he shared his perspectives with a broad and loyal readership.

In 1958, Rip married Susan Dugué Riggs, the love of his life, and together they built a partnership that spanned more than six decades until her passing in 2022. Their life together was rich with shared passions, travel, and enduring friendships. He is survived by their three children—Constance Hanna McIntosh, Henry Payne McIntosh V, and Ashley Deflin McIntosh—and five grandchildren, who were a constant source of pride and joy.

After relocating from Pebble Beach to Palm Beach in 1980, Rip embraced his new community wholeheartedly. Through his involvement in the Bath and Tennis Club, the Everglades Club, and the Society of the Four Arts, he formed lasting friendships and became part of a community he cherished deeply.

Rip lived fully and unapologetically to the end. Surrounded by his family after learning of his illness, he faced his final days with clarity, peace, and characteristic resolve. When asked if there was anything left on his bucket list, he answered simply, “No, nothing. I’ve done it all and I have no regrets.” He passed away peacefully at home on April 27, surrounded by those he loved most.

Posted online on May 01, 2026

Published in Palm Beach Daily News

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Addendum: A Personal Reflection

By Jim Reynolds

May 4, 2026

For all the accomplishments and affiliations that defined Rip’s public life, there was another side to him that many readers of his Newsletter came to know well—quietly, consistently, and without fanfare.

He was a builder of people.

My own connection to Rip began almost by accident. For several years, I had been writing short essays—“musings”—and sending them along to friends and family. The feedback was always the same: “Jim, you need a bigger audience.” I nodded, appreciated the encouragement, and carried on as before.

Then one day, after reading Rip’s Newsletter for a couple of years, I decided—almost as an afterthought—to cc him on one of those pieces.

I promptly forgot about it.

The following week, I opened the Newsletter—and there it was. My essay. Sitting alongside writers I had been reading and admiring for years.

I was stunned.

I called my wife, Vicki, over and pointed at the screen. We both just stared at it. There was no buildup, no negotiation, no editorial back-and-forth. Rip had simply read it—and decided it belonged.

Aside from minor formatting changes to meet his high standards for presentation, he left the piece exactly as it was.

That told me everything.

From that point on, I began sending him work more regularly. Sometimes he was overwhelmed with submissions and would create what he jokingly called a “Reynolds Special Edition” just to get multiple essays out at once. Other times, I would hear from him directly:

“Pal, my Reynolds cupboard is bare. Do you have something I can put into the Friday edition?”

That was all the prompt I needed. I would get to work and send him the strongest piece I could assemble.

Somewhere along the way—maybe the second or third time he published me—I noticed he had placed my essay in the fourth slot. The final position, just before the closing Plato quote.

I liked that.

If you did your job well in that position, your piece lingered. It was the last thing the reader carried with them.

So I asked him, half-seriously, if he would consider placing me there going forward—the “Plato Position.”

He did.

And that is where my essays lived from then on.

Rip never tried to shape my voice or narrow my range. I would occasionally send him pieces that wandered well outside the political lane of the Newsletter. If something didn’t quite fit, he simply chose not to run it—no lectures, no corrections, no wasted time. It didn’t happen often.

Once in a while, he would forward reader comments—some of them puzzled, even baffled by what I had written. He enjoyed it. We laughed about it.

Over the course of about a year, our exchanges grew into something more than editorial. Not long, not frequent—but thoughtful. Efficient. We were both from the same school: say what needs to be said, then get back to work.

Earlier this year, Rip invited Vicki and me to visit him in West Palm Beach before the heat set in. We fully intended to go, but life intervened—medical schedules, the usual things.

We never made the trip.

I never had the chance to meet him in person. We never even spoke on the phone.

And yet, the connection was real.

Yesterday, I spoke with his daughter Ashley. In the middle of her family’s grief, she was gracious, warm, and generous with her time. I told her how much I admired her father—how much I respected him, not just as a publisher, but as a man.

I only wish I had told him that directly.

Rip was one of the few people I have known whom I would describe, without hesitation, as a truly outstanding human being. A great man. His encouragement—quiet, direct, and unforced—pushed me to become a better writer than I would have been otherwise.

He gave me a platform when he didn’t have to.
He trusted my voice when it was still forming.
He never tried to rein it in.

That is a rare gift.

What becomes of Rip’s Newsletter now is unknown.

But what he built—his voice, his standards, his trust in others—does not disappear.

It carries forward.

Laissez les bons temps rouler.