[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 144 (Thursday, October 6, 1994)]
[House]
[Page H]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]


[Congressional Record: October 6, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]

 
                 TRIBUTE TO SENATOR GEORGE J. MITCHELL

  Mr. MICHEL. I am happy this morning, Mr. Speaker, to join my 
distinguished colleagues, the majority leader and the Speaker, in 
paying our tribute to the distinguished majority leader in the Senate, 
George Mitchell. There was a tremendous tribute dinner held in a nearby 
hotel last night for him, to which the Speaker, the majority leader, 
and I could not attend until after the President had spoken so 
eloquently for George Mitchell. That is the reason we take the time 
this morning to say what we would have said on that occasion.
  Two weeks ago, Mr. Speaker, at a similar event that was held in my 
honor for the benefit of my old alma mater, Bradley University, my wife 
and I were deeply moved by George Mitchell's most generous remarks 
relative to our stewardship and the cordiality of our relationship. I 
will tell you, when the Senator spoke that evening in that quiet, 
deliberate way of his, the only sound that could be heard in that huge 
banquet room was the sound of his voice, and how penetrating his 
remarks were.
  George Mitchell, if you are listening, you really touched our hearts, 
and both Corinne and I are deeply touched.
  The first thing I want to say is, thank you for your generosity, your 
eloquence, and yes, your friendship. Although we come from different 
parties and different areas of the country, George Mitchell and I share 
similar backgrounds. Our fathers were working men, and we are both sons 
of immigrants. My father was French and George's mother was Lebanese.
  I might just add here that my hometown in Peoria has long been 
blessed with the thriving, energetic community of Americans of Lebanese 
ancestry, one of the largest in the country. As I got to know George 
Mitchell, I recognized in him those attributes of hard work and quiet 
patriotism and love of community I have long admired in Lebanese-
Americans.
  Mr. Speaker, each of us, George Mitchell and I, have had the good 
fortune early in our careers to have the example of guidance of a great 
Senator. For George, it was Senator Muskie of Maine. For me, it was the 
late Senator Everett Dirksen of Illinois.
  As I say, Mr. Speaker, we have much in common. But candor compels me 
today to confess that we have one great unbridgeable difference. It is 
a difference bigger than that between Democrat and Republican, or 
liberal or conservative, or between the House and the other body.
  As most of you know, George Mitchell is an inveterate tennis player, 
while I have a devotion to golf; two different worlds, two different 
vocabularies, two different ways of life. It might even serve as a 
metaphor for politics in Washington. Tennis players serve, as do 
elected officials, and unlike golfers, they have to do a lot of moving 
from side to side, backwards and forward, as do all elected officials 
who want to remain elected officials.
  I guess, therefore, it can be said that anyone with George Mitchell's 
background as a judge is going to feel more comfortable on a court. 
With no disrespect to tennis players, George Mitchell and I would have 
an even better relationship if he were also a golfer.
  How often in leadership meetings, when we have reached an impasse on 
some piece of legislation, have I wanted to turn to him and say, 
``George, give me a Mulligan on this one. What about a gimmie on this 
provision? George, let's hit this one straight down the fairway.''
  However, alas, we do not share the same sports vocabulary, unless 
maybe it could be something having to do with baseball. We seem to lack 
a common language of familiar and comfortable cliches and maxims, the 
glue that binds so many of us together in Washington.
  However, George Mitchell speaks another language that I do understand 
perfectly, the language of civility in politics. It is a language of 
ideals, and the highest standard of personal deportment, of strong 
beliefs in his party, in his principles, and devotion to his country.
  It is a political vocabulary that can be very direct, cutting right 
to the bone, if the occasion demands, but it is also a language that 
has room in it for words like comity, friendship, and common decency, 
integrity, keeping your word, and honoring your commitments. I must say 
that we need to restore that great language of civility to politics, 
particularly in this town.
  In a great democracy like ours, political debates have to be sharp, 
critical, incisive, and sometimes very emotional, but they don't have 
to be mean. Yes, we can be political without getting personal, and we 
can question policies without questioning motives.

                              {time}  1016

  George Mitchell and I can be poles apart on the issues, but we would 
never let those differences erode the mutual respect and personal 
friendship we have for each other, and that is the way I like it. 
Leadership does have its ups and downs, but in either case, George 
Mitchell has always approached his responsibilities calmly, rationally, 
and with an air of coolness and dignity. He has worn the victory crown 
nobly and accepted his defeats gracefully.
  What better way can I salute my good friend and colleague, George 
Mitchell. I couldn't be leaving the Congress in better company. George, 
we wish you all the best in your retirement.
  Mr. Speaker, I am honored to be able to join the Speaker Tom Foley 
and majority leader Dick Gephardt in paying tribute to Senate majority 
leader George Mitchell, who will be retiring at the end of this 
session.
  We were all scheduled to pay tribute to him at a scholarship fund 
dinner last evening, but our busy schedule was such that we never got 
the chance to deliver our remarks in his presence. So I guess the next 
thing was to say a few words this morning, which we were so glad to do.
  But the most eloquent words spoken at the dinner were by Senator 
Mitchell himself. In a moving tribute to his parents, to a teacher who 
helped him, and to the life of public service, George Mitchell 
demonstrated the kind of insight and wisdom we need so much in public 
life.
  I therefore insert in the Record at this point remarks made by 
Senator George Mitchell at the George J. Mitchell Scholarship Fund 
Dinner, Washington DC, October 5, 1994.

 Remarks of Senate Majority Leader George J. Mitchell at the George J. 
                    Mitchell Scholarship Fund Dinner

       I'm grateful to President Clinton, to my colleagues from 
     the Congress, and to all of you for your support for this 
     scholarship fund. This is as important to me as anything I've 
     done since I entered public service.
       Before I entered the Senate, I had the privilege of serving 
     as a Federal judge. In that position, I had great power. The 
     one I most enjoyed exercising was when I presided over what 
     are called naturalization ceremonies. They're citizenship 
     ceremonies. A group of people gathered before me in a federal 
     courtroom. They'd come from every part of the world. They'd 
     gone through the required procedures.
       Now in the final act, I administered to them the oath of 
     allegiance to the United States. And then I made them 
     Americans.
       It was always emotional for me because my mother was an 
     immigrant, my father the orphan son of immigrants. They had 
     no education and they lived hard lives. But because of their 
     efforts, and more importantly, because of the openness of 
     American society, I, their son, am today the Majority Leader 
     of the United States Senate.
       After every ceremony I spoke personally with each of the 
     new Americans. I asked where they came from, how they came, 
     why they came. Their stories were as different as their 
     countries of origin, but all were infused with a tangible and 
     inspiring love for this, the country of their choice.
       The answers of the new Americans to my question of why they 
     came were different. But a common theme ran through them. It 
     was best expressed by a young Asian man who replied, in slow, 
     broken English: ``I came because here in America everyone has 
     a chance.''
       A young man who'd been an American for five minutes summed 
     up the meaning of America in a single sentence. Here, 
     everyone has a chance.
       But in the twenty-first century, and the third century of 
     American history, everyone will not have a chance to succeed 
     unless they first have a chance to learn. The competition 
     will be fierce and unforgiving. Those who lack knowledge and 
     skill will not succeed.
       I consider myself to be especially fortunate. I had a 
     chance. I got an education.
       My mother spent her entire working life on the night shift 
     in textile mills. She was a woman of strength and substance, 
     the most influential person in my life. My father was a 
     laborer and a janitor. Like many in their generation, they 
     devoted their lives to providing for their children the 
     education they never had. They had a profound, perhaps even 
     exaggerated sense of the value of formal education. Although 
     they died without property or prominence, my parents had rich 
     and fulfilling lives by their standards--and mine.
       I experienced early in life the value of learning. I was 
     fifteen years old in my junior at High School, when I met an 
     English teacher named Elvira Whitten.
       She was elderly, intelligent and kind. One day she asked me 
     to come back to class after school. I did, not knowing what 
     to expect. She talked for a few minutes, then she asked me 
     what and how much I read. I told her the truth: I had never 
     read a book, other than what was required to move from one 
     grade in school to the next. She picked a book up off her 
     desk and handed it to me, and said she thought I would find 
     it interesting.
       She made it clear that I didn't have to read it, but she 
     asked if I would, for her, and, if I did, to come back and 
     tell her what I though of it. I agreed to read the book 
     because I respected her and knew that it would please her.
       That night, I got into bed, opened the book and began 
     reading.
       It was ``The Moon is Down'' a short novel by John Steinbeck 
     about a wartime military occupation--presumably the Nazi 
     occupation of Norway. I stayed up much of the nigh reading 
     it, and could hardly wait to tell Mrs. Whitten about it. She 
     smiled, handed me another book and said, ``I thought you'd 
     like it. Here's another one you might like.''
       It went that way for a few months, and then she gently 
     suggested that I start picking out my own books. I did so, 
     and felt the first stirring of self-worth. It was my exposure 
     to the world of books, to the excitement of knowledge, and it 
     was my first step to adulthood.
       I've often wondered what would have become of me if I had 
     not met Mrs. Whitten, or if she had not taken an interest in 
     me. I will always regret that before her death I never went 
     back to tell her what a difference she made in my life. This 
     is my way of doing so, and through her, all of the other 
     teachers who hold the wondrous power to open young minds and 
     inspire young lives.
       Earlier this year, when I announced that I would not seek 
     reelection, I received hundreds of requests from groups who 
     wanted to honor me in some way.
       I asked that all such offers be concentrated into this one 
     effort. The money raised tonight will be combined with the 
     remainder of my campaign fund to set up a scholarship 
     foundation to help needy and deserving students get a college 
     education.
       Nothing is more important to success in American life than 
     a good education. I believe that, because of my own 
     experience and because of what I expect to be the rising 
     demands of the next century.
       I once needed help and got it.
       Now, fate has provided me the opportunity to help others. 
     I'm grateful for that opportunity. And I'm grateful to you 
     for helping to make it possible.
       I've been proud to serve the people of Maine in the United 
     States Senate. It's a great honor, the greatest of my life. 
     But when the 104th Congress convenes in January, I will not 
     be there to take the oath of office as a United States 
     Senator.
       My decision not to seek reelection was based solely on my 
     personal concept of public service. I will miss the Senate. I 
     will miss my colleagues. Most of all, I will miss public 
     service.
       I've been in the private sector and then in the public 
     sector, and I'm now returning to the private sector. I take 
     nothing away from private life when I say that nothing can 
     ever give the deep and meaningful satisfaction that comes 
     from public service.
       Public service gives work a value and meaning greater than 
     mere personal ambition and private goals.
       Public service must be and is its own reward, for it does 
     not guarantee wealth, popularity, or respect.
       It's often frustrating. But when you do something that will 
     change the lives of people for better, then it's worth all 
     the frustrations.
       We are the most fortunate people ever to have lived, to be 
     Americans, citizens of the most free, the most open, the most 
     just society in human history. Ours is virtually the only 
     government in history dedicated to opening doors, not closing 
     them.
       In America today, I believe anyone can go as far and reach 
     as high as work, talent, and education allow. We can't 
     equalize effort or talent and we shouldn't. But we can 
     provide equal opportunity--the promise to everyone of a fair 
     chance to succeed.
       It's because of the promise of America that I was able to 
     become the Majority Leader of the United States Senate.
       Whatever new problems arise, whatever unforeseeable 
     challenges come, if we can keep that promise alive for our 
     children and theirs, America will never lose her way. For me, 
     that's the purpose of public service, its inspiration and 
     finally, its reward.
       Thank you for your support, your trust, and your 
     friendship.

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