[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 21 (Thursday, February 2, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S1972-S1974]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                   THE RETIREMENT OF RICHARD COLLINS

  Mr. INOUYE. Mr. President, on January 31, Richard Collins of the 
staff of the Senate Appropriations Committee retired. Mr. Collins has 
served the committee and the Senate for the past 20 years. It has been 
my pleasure to have worked closely with Richard throughout that period. 
Richard served as the clerk and staff director of the two subcommittees 
I had the fortune to chair in the 1980's and 1990's, Foreign Operations 
and Defense.
  In each of these positions Richard has served me and the Senate 
professionally and faithfully. I will miss his knowledge and counsel in 
the days and years ahead. I can take some solace knowing that Richard 
plans to remain in the Washington, DC, area. And, I know we shall call 
upon him often to provide the type of guidance that we have counted 
upon for the past 20 years.
  Last Thursday night, the friends of Richard Collins gathered to wish 
him a farewell and happy retirement. On that occasion, Richard spoke 
eloquently about his career in the Senate, his many and varied 
experiences, and what it meant to him to be a staff member for this 
body. He spoke of his affection and reverence for the institution, the 
relationship between Members and their staff and the importance of 
staff in the operation of the Senate. I know that many of my colleagues 
were in attendance that evening and had the good fortune to hear this 
gentleman's farewell remarks, but I believe the 
[[Page S1973]] words and thoughts should be shared with all my 
colleagues. Therefore, today I have risen to place Mr. Collins' address 
in the Record.
  Mr. President, there are some 5,000 congressional staff members 
serving the House and Senate. They are bright, hard working, and 
virtuous. Richard Collins has been one of the finest for many years. 
The Senate will miss him.
  I ask unanimous consent that the text of Richard Collins' address be 
included in the Record.
  There being no objection, the address was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                          Farewell My Friends

       My friends, I am pleased and honored that all of you have 
     come here to share in this celebration, this farewell. As you 
     may well understand, in the twilight of my career in the 
     Senate, I am tempted to delay the end of the day, to speak at 
     length and to try to reach each of you with a shared memory, 
     a common experience, a touch of friendship.
       I will not do that now; it does not seem necessary. The 
     memories will linger, and try to as we might, our experiences 
     can never be relived as fully as we would wish (but we have 
     had them); and, in any event, you know, already, that you are 
     my friends. I will take but a brief moment, then, to burnish 
     those memories and to express my deep appreciation to you and 
     to those with whom and for whom I have worked.
       First, I will say that I yield to no one in my love and 
     respect for the institution that I have tried to serve for 
     the past two decades. In my time here I have learned that the 
     Senate--the Congress--is, indeed, a reflection of the 
     American people. Now and then there may be a whiff of 
     scandal, of human frailty, but I think of greater importance 
     and of more lasting significance is the courage and heroism 
     of those who rise every day and strive to do what is right 
     for America and her people. I, and you, each of you, have 
     been privileged to be a part of that. For this, we should be 
     eternally grateful.
       This is no easy task, this coping with daily life. Chekhov 
     said, ``Any idiot can face a crisis--it's this day-to-day 
     living that wears you out.'' He may have had something there.
       It's true, as I have contemplated my retirement and the 
     onset of a new career, I have asked myself, do you have the 
     energy and resolve to start again?
       Ubetcha!
       I find myself remembering the advice of the American 
     philosopher and baseball player, Leroy Robert Paige. Among 
     the sayings of the great ``Satchel'' Paige perhaps the best 
     known is, ``Don't look back. Something might be gaining on 
     you.'' My favorite, however, is his dismissal of those who 
     put too much weight of the chronology of age. He said, ``How 
     old would you be, if your didn't know how old that you was?''
       I am not worn out nor weary; I know that I will age, but I 
     am not going to grow old. I look forward to new challenges 
     and I will seek new ways to serve. I intend to set sail 
     again.
       I am deeply, profoundly, honored to have known and worked 
     with Senator Inouye, Senator Hatfield, Senator Stevens, and 
     Senator Byrd--all my chairmen, all my leaders, all my 
     mentors, and friends.
       There are many others, some of whom are still in the Senate 
     and some of whom are gone. I remember them all. John Stennis, 
     Lawton Chiles, Jake Garn, Tom Eagleton, Malcolm Wallop--so 
     many more who are no longer in the Senate. Barbara Mikulski, 
     Chris Dodd, Joe Lieberman, Don Nickles, Pete Dominici, Judge 
     Heflin, and many others who still serve.
       I have so many special memories--few have listened to the 
     hopes of Peace Corps volunteers in the distant reaches of 
     Africa as they spoke of bringing water for the first time to 
     humble villages; few have met and wept for the children in 
     refugee camps on the Cambodian border; few have stood with 
     Senators Inouye and Stevens and Nunn and Warner in the desert 
     of Saudi Arabia and listened to the proud declarations of our 
     soldiers who accepted and fulfilled America's responsibility 
     in the world--few have been shot down in a helicopter over 
     Central America with Bennett Johnston and lived to hear him 
     tell the tale--both harrowing experiences, I assure you.
       I have done these things. I have seen much. I have spent 
     the night in palaces and in truck stops. I have slept under 
     the sea and on the desert. I have been with kings and 
     vagabonds.
       In my career, I traveled widely and learned a great deal--
     how precious our democracy is, how much we are linked with 
     the world, how freedom and justice and human rights are 
     indivisible. John Donne was right when he wrote, ``No man is 
     an island *** any man's death diminishes me, because I am 
     involved in mankind.'' I believe my experiences, my travel to 
     foreign lands and in strange cultures, seasoned my academic 
     learning and enabled me to bring prudent judgment to my work 
     in the Senate. I believe the same is true for Senators. 
     Foreign travel, exposure to other cultures and other 
     governments should not be ridiculed; it ought to be required 
     of those who would seek to make America's way in the world.
       Over the years, I learned from the humility and courage of 
     others. I remember the resolve of Robert Byrd when he quoted, 
     not Shakespeare, not a history of the English people, but 
     William Ernest Henley's poem ``Invictus.''

     In the fell clutch of circumstance
       I have not winced nor cried aloud.
     Under the bludgeoning of chance
       My head is bloody, but unbowed.

       Chairman Byrd read that poem on the floor the day after the 
     Democrats lost control of the Senate in 1980. He inspired us 
     to carry on.
       I remember the grace and charity of Chairman Hatfield, when 
     he called all of the appropriations staff together after that 
     election and thanked us--winners and losers--for the work we 
     had done and would still do. We felt like soldiers at 
     Gettysburg listening to Lincoln as he praised the sacrifices 
     of men on both sides of that terrible battle.
       Throughout these 20 years and more, throughout it all, my 
     liege, foremost among those I have sought to serve, has been 
     Dan Inouye of Hawaii. He is a man of great courage and 
     integrity; a man who has suffered much, achieved much, and 
     has heard both the thunder of applause and the whisper of 
     unfair and unjust accusation--and he is a man who has always 
     risen to renew his service to his country, to the Senate, and 
     to the people of Hawaii.
       Some of you know of my recent match with prostate cancer--
     it's OK now, all is well. But, let me say that the example of 
     Dan Inouye, this man of strength and courage was the compass 
     by which I guided my behavior as I went through that 
     difficult passage. No honor has ever meant as much to me as 
     hearing him call me friend.
       Well now, Senator Inouye once told me about the zori mochi. 
     He said, in ancient Japan, when the Emperor went out for an 
     evening, among his retinue was one man who sounded a gong to 
     alert others that the Emperor was coming. Another carried a 
     latern to light the way. The lowliest of all was the zori 
     mochi whose responsibility--when the Emperior removed his 
     sandals to enter a household--was to clutch them to his 
     breast to keep them warm for the Emperor's return. His sole 
     object in life was the comfort of the Emperor. The story was 
     not lost on me.
       Another man, from whom I also learned a great deal, 
     expressed this concept a little more directly. Bill Jordan 
     once told me, ``Collins I brought you here to hold the ladder 
     steady while I climb to success; if I ever catch you with 
     your foot on the bottom rung * * *'' Well, I don't think he 
     meant it that strongly, but as someone once remarked, the 
     difference between Bill and Richard is that sometimes when 
     he's kidding, Richard's kidding.
       Many, many others have taught me along the way:
       Senator Stevens: ``There is no education in the second kick 
     of a mule.''
       Senator Chiles: (Explaining why, during a late night 
     session, he supported a favored colleague on what I regarded 
     as a dumb amendment) ``Richard, sometimes you have to bet on 
     the jockeys and not the horses.''
       And then there is another wise man, who shall remain 
     anonymous, who once told me: ``It is easier to get 
     forgiveness, than it is to get permission.'' (Libby and 
     Julia, you can forget that.)
       I carried these expressions and others with me throughout 
     my Senate career as though they were amulets in a medicine 
     bag to be pulled out as needed and rubbed for luck or to ward 
     off evil. I've used them with many of you, sometimes--often--
     not giving credit to those who originated them.
       Now, I have spoken about the legendary zori mochi and about 
     service to Senators and the Senate and believe me I do trust 
     in and have followed that ethic. My colleagues and I adhere 
     to the ethic that service to Senators and to the Senate is 
     our purpose in being here. We are proud to be on the staff of 
     the United States Senate.
       Pat Leahy is fond of saying that Senators are merely a 
     constitutional impediment to the full authority of staff. I 
     know he's kidding. I am certain he would agree that staff are 
     important. I think they are essential to the operation of the 
     Senate.
       It happens that some people attribute all success, all good 
     works to Senators alone. I do not fully agree. Perhaps the 
     best way to explain my view is to recall a story my 
     grandfather--a swamp Yankee farmer from Connecticut--once 
     told me. His name was Everett Thompson. One day he was out in 
     one of his fields, tilling the soil. The rock walls which 
     surrounded the land which had been cleared of trees and stone 
     gave testimony to the hard work he had put into the farm. On 
     this day, a circuit preacher came riding up, saw my 
     grandfather and said, ``Why Mister Thompson, this is a 
     wonderful farm which the Lord and you have made.'' My 
     grandfather took out his large red farmer's handkerchief, 
     wiped his brow, and said, ``Maybe so, but you should have 
     seen it when the Lord had it by himself.''
       I do think staff is important. I think the sacrifices which 
     we ask of the young who come to work here places a great 
     responsibility on us, Senators and senior staff alike, to 
     ensure that their dedication to the principles of democracy 
     and representative government is nourished and strengthened. 
     There will be partisan battles, to be sure. But we must also 
     remind them, by our example and by our counsel, of the 
     greatness of this institution.
       That greatness, I fear, is sometimes lost in the thickets 
     of procedure. Reconciliation has in recent years come to 
     denote that onerous process by which the faulty spending 
     estimates of the budget committees are matched to the faulty 
     revenue estimates of the CBO. 
     [[Page S1974]] To me, another kind of reconciliation has 
     always been the wonder of this place. How to effect peaceful 
     social change? How to reconcile the views of a Paul Wellstone 
     with those of a John McCain, giving each a fair hearing and 
     then moving to decide what is best for democracy, best for 
     America. That is the Senate I revere.
       It is of surpassing importance that the Senate recruit, 
     reward, and recognize its staff. We must have the best; we 
     must pay them competitive wages; we must acknowledge their 
     contribution to the legislative process.
       All of this talk about limited terms--if they are enacted, 
     power will flow to the staff as the source of memory and 
     knowledge; if staff is cut too far; special interest groups 
     will become the source of information and power. We can and 
     should reduce staff; but we must be careful; they have become 
     a key part of the process.
       I am not too worried about all of this. Staff has been a 
     part of Government for thousands of years. I know, because 
     just the other day I read in the Bible, ``And Joseph leaned 
     on his staff, and he died.''
       My friends, I have gone on too long. I could have spared 
     you all of this by reading a few lines of poetry. I have 
     found poetry--the distillation of human emotion and 
     experience--to be a great source of comfort, insight, and 
     inspiration over the years. The poem which best sums up who I 
     am--at this stage in my life--is Tennyson's ``Ulysses.'' I 
     will leave you with a few fragments from this great work.

     Much have I seen and known; cities of men
     And manners, climates, councils, governments * * *

     I am a part of all that I have met;
     Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
     Gleems that untravelled world, whose margin fades
     For ever and for ever when I move.

     How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
     To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

     Some work of noble note, may yet be done

     Tis not too late to seek a newer world

     Though much is taken, much abides; and though
     We are not now that strength which in old days
     Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
     One equal temper of heroic hearts,
     Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
     To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

       Thank you my friends. Thank you for your friendship, your 
     counsel, your encouragement. Thank you for your work, which 
     made mine worthy.
     

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