[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 43 (Wednesday, March 8, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S3674-S3677]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
TRIBUTE TO JOHN WHITE
Mr. DOLE. Madam President,
this past January, America lost a patriot, and many in the Senate
lost a friend with the passing of John White.
Several Members of Congress joined me attending memorial services for
John on January 31, here in Washington, DC.
It was a very moving ceremony, filled with stories of John's life in
and out of politics.
White House Counselor Mack McLarty obtained a transcript of the
services, and I believe that all those who knew John will enjoy the
memories it provides, and those who did not know John will learn more
about a remarkable public servant.
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the transcript be printed
in the Congressional Record.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
Services for John C. White, Tuesday, January 31, 1995, First Baptist
Church of the City of Washington, DC
Reverend Dr. Gladstone. We welcome you to this memorial
service for Mr. John C. White, and I welcome you on behalf of
this Church, of which they were members, and on behalf of
Mrs. White, his dear wife, and the members of the family.
Let us worship God. God is our refuge and strength, a very
present help in trouble. Though the earth change and the
mountains be removed, God will be with us and will not leave
us. Jesus said, ``I am the resurrection and the life. He who
believes in Me, though he dies yet shall he live, and whoever
lives and believes in Me shall never die.''
Let us pray. Great and marvelous are Your works, Lord God
almighty, just and true are Your ways, oh King of Saints. Who
shall not fear You, oh Lord, and glorify Your Name for You
only are holy, wherefore with your whole church both in
Heaven and on Earth. We worship and adore You, Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit. Ever one God, world without end. Oh Lord,
Jesus Christ, we do not ask for Your presence with us in this
service of remembrance, and gratitude and love. For you have
promised that where two or three are gathered together in
Your name, there You are in the midst. But we do ask You that
You would help us to recognize Your presence. Open our eyes
that we may know You. Melt our coldness so that we may love
You. Loosen our tongues that we may praise You. Take our
wills that we may commit them afresh to Your service. And may
go through this journey of life without fear and in great
confidence. And this we pray for Your love's sake. You taught
us when we pray to say together. Our Father, who art in
Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be
done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily
bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who
trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver
us from evil. For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the
Glory for ever and ever. Amen.
I want us now to listen to the Word of God as it comes to
us in the Scripture and in writings based on the Scripture.
We pray that this word may be a source of comfort and
inspiration as we face the future.
We begin with a writing from the book of Ecclesiastics. Let
us now sing the praises of famous men, the heroes of our
nation's history through whom the Lord established His renown
and revealed His majesty in each succeeding age. Some held
sway over kingdoms and made themselves a name by their
exploits. Others were sage counselors who spoke out with
prophetic power. Some led the people by their councils and by
their knowledge of the nation's law. Out of their fund of
wisdom they gave instruction. Some were composers of music or
writers of poetry. Others were endowed
with wealth and strength, living peacefully in their homes.
All these won fame in their own generation and were the
pride of their times. Some there are who had left their
names behind them, to be commemorated in story. There are
others who are unremembered. They are dead, and it is as
though they had never existed, as though they had never
been born or left children to succeed them. Not so our
forefathers. They were men of loyalty whose good deeds had
never been forgotten. Their prosperity is handed onto
their descendants and their inheritance to future
generations. Thanks to them their children are within the
covenant. The whole race of their descendants. Their line
will endure for all time and their fame will never be
blotted out. Their bodies are buried in peace, but their
name lives forever. Nations will recount their wisdom, and
God's people will sing their praises.
Psalm number 23: The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside
still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of
righteousness for His name's sake. Even though I walk through
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I fear no evil, for Thou
art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou
prepares a table for me in the presence of my enemies. Thou
anoints my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely goodness
and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I will
dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
John. Chapter XIV. The Words of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let
not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in
Me. In my Father's house there are many rooms. If it were not
so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for
you? And when I go to prepare a place for you, I will come
again and will take you to Myself, that where I am, you may
be also. ``And you know the way where I'm going,'' Thomas
said to Him, ``Lord, we do not know where You are going. How
can we know the way?'' Jesus said to him, ``I am the Way, and
the Truth, and the Life.
And finally, I want to read a passage from a book, which to
so many people is next to The Bible, John Bunyon's ``Pilgrims
Progress.'' And I think that you'll agree that, as you listen
to it, it describes this good man, this servant of this
nation whom we remember today. It is the passing of Mr.
Valiant for truth. After this it was known abroad that Mr.
Valiant for truth was taken with a summons by the same post
as the other and had this for a token that the summons was
true. That his pitcher was broken at the fountain. When he
understood it, he called for his friends and told them of it.
Then said he, ``I am going to my father's. And though with
great difficulty I got hither yet how I do not repent me of
all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword
I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage. And
courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars
I carry with me to be a witness for me that I have fought
his battles who now will be my rewarder. When the day that
he must go hence must come, many accompanied him to the
riverside into which as he went into he said, ``Death,
where is thy sting?'' And as he went down deeper, he said,
``Grave, where is thy victory?'' So he passed over, and
all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. Thanks
be to God.
Thomas F. (Mack) McLarty III. As a young state legislator
well over twenty five years ago now, I had my first occasion
to meet John White when a group of us from a neighboring
state to that rather large state to our west traveled to
Austin, Texas. I was struck with Commissioner White's
understanding of his job, the depth of his thinking, the
commitment to public service. But as a young legislator at 23
I was even more struck by his thoughtfulness, his ability.
Despite great pride and love for his state, he didn't brag on
it too much in our presence, and even said a few nice things
about Arkansas. We stayed in touch and some years later
serving under another distinguished chairman, Bob Strauss, I
had the occasion to spend considerable time with Commissioner
White. I benefited again from his wisdom and his counsel, but
continued to be influenced by his thoughtfulness, his ability
and his example.
When Donna and I moved to Washington, just over two years
now, no one was more gracious than Nellie and John White to
us. I continued to be influenced by his example and his
thoughtfulness. As has been written, politics and party are
both poorer for his passing. Commissioner, Secretary,
Chairman
[[Page S3675]] John white leaves a rich legacy and an
enduring example.
Another young man from Arkansas met Commissioner White
about two or three years after I had. He also was struck by
those qualities and characteristics that I noted, but was in
a little bit more of a hectic time in a national campaign
working with Bob Armstrong for Senator George McGovern. He,
too, stayed in close touch with John White over the years and
was influenced by his wisdom, his counsel, by his ability,
and by his example. He writes to the family and friends of
John C. White:
``A patriot, a wise counselor, a truly honorable man, John
White consistently displayed the best of the American spirit.
His decency, determination, and humor are models for all of
us who are working to move our nation forward and to improve
our people's lives. I was lucky to know John and benefit from
his advice for many years and I will miss him. His life's
work is an inspiration to all of us in public life and we
will always be grateful for his extraordinary efforts to help
make our government and our country better. His legacy of
leadership and compassion will serve as a guiding force
for generations to come. Hillary and I extend our deepest
sympathy to you. You are in our thoughts and in our
prayers.'' Signed, Bill Clinton.
John White leaves a rich legacy and an enduring example.
Honorable Robert Strauss. Most of you, friends of John
White's, are also friends of mine and well aware of the fact
that I enjoy speaking, but this is one time remarks don't
come very easy. I suspect that John knows we're here. I
suspect he's looking on, and I further suspect that, if he
could communicate, he would say, ``Strauss, would you ever
have believed that a distinguished group like this would
gather in a memorial service for me?'' And in keeping with
our typical conversation I suspect that I would reply, ``No,
White, you know I carried you a long way for no more talent
than you have.'' And that would be in keeping with most of
our conversations. So much has been written and so much has
been said about John in such a good taste, so marvelously
done that I certainly don't want to try to say much for fear
of being too repetitive. But John would have loved to know
that you were all here. He had tremendous personal pride and,
like all of us, vain. He had his share of vanity. Not too
much, just about right. And he would be very pleased if he
were here today. John and I, as most of you know, had lunch a
couple of times a week. Had lunch at Duke Zeibert's, who I
see here today. I used to say to White every now and then,
``You know this food at Duke's is gonna kill you, John.'' And
sure enough, it did.
John White was an old fashioned fellow with old fashioned
values, and we liked to talk about them. He had values that
don't show up too often in the political marketplace,
particularly here in this community. But he never varied from
them, and no matter what his troubles were, he was never
self-indulgent, and he never felt sorry for himself. He
enjoyed living every day. He had pride in himself. He had
tremendous pride in Nellie and all the rest of his family.
I remember planning the 1976 Convention. John called me
from Austin and said, ``Strauss, Nellie wants to be on the
platform committee.'' And said, ``Can you put her on there?''
And he said, ``You said you know you have a vote there.'' And
I said, ``Well, that's what I'm looking for.'' All of you
remember the Democratic Party in the 1970's. You needed votes
if you were trying to get anywhere, and so we put Nellie on
the platform committee, and I'll never forget the platform
committee had deliberated quite a few days, maybe a few
weeks, and I called White or I saw him in town, I don't
remember which, and I said, ``Damn, White, that Nellie's
tough.'' He said, ``What do you mean?'' I said, ``Well, she
wants to prove everyday that I don't own her and you don't
own her.''
And he told me of the guaranteed vote I had; ``Well, she's
never voted against you, has she?'' I said, ``No, but why
she makes me work for every one of them so hard?''
Well, and so it is that we are here today. It was just a
couple of months ago that Vera Marie who is also here today
called John and said, ``John, we're having a birthday party
for Bob. It's his birthday, last October 19, and I hope you
can make it.'' He said, ``Well, I have a date, but I'll break
it. I'll break it.'' And then he said, ``You know, Vera, we
may not get to go to many more of these.'' I know John was
thinking that he would be here and I wouldn't and it worked
the other way.
Last Friday we were in Austin for John's funeral service,
and it was a lovely service, and a mob of people were there,
and they had such a pride in John and in his life, and the
Reverend Jesse Jackson spoke. And he spoke eloquently, and
beautifully, and tastefully, and the crowd was moved by every
word he said. And as he finished, he did something that
startled me, something that I had never seen done before. But
I enjoyed that. I enjoyed it. And I know Nellie did, so I'll
do it what the Reverend Jackson did. I'll ask each of you:
Join me in a round of applause for John White. He earned it.
Thank you.
Senator Robert Dole. Nellie and members of the family. When
Tip O'Neill looked back at his political career, he said one
of the best pieces of advice he ever received was from the
legendary Boston mayor, James Curley. Curley once told him,
he said, ``Son, it's nice to be important. But remember, it's
more important to be nice.'' And I suppose that anyone
looking to life of John C. White, he would say that he was
important. And the news stories about John's passing listed
the official and unofficial positions in which he served
during a very remarkable career. But I believe the lasting
legacy of John White is he knew that important titles and
spacious offices are only temporary. He knew, as Mayor Curley
said when it's said and done, it's more important to be nice.
And I think during each and every day of John's sixteen years
in this city, he proved that Harry Truman was wrong when he
said, ``if you want a friend in Washington, buy a dog.'' And
I am just one of the countless men and women who learned over
the years--as a Republican I might say--``Just needed a
friend? Call John White.''
I remember my first meeting with John White. It was in
1977. Senate Agriculture Committee. Senator McGovern was
there. It was a rather raucous hearing--we used to have those
in the Senate. But I was very impressed with Commissioner
White, who was about to become Deputy Secretary of
Agriculture, and I remember seconding his nomination, which I
think surprised him and surprised maybe some of my
colleagues, because it didn't take me long to learn that,
realize that America would be well served
with John's decency, and honesty, and integrity, and above
all, just a lot of good common sense. A few days after
John passed away I saw a survey that said, ``one of the
things that makes Americans most angry is people in
positions of power who say one thing and do another.'' And
I thought that probably John would agree with that
statement, for in his life he was a man of his word,
regardless of politics. He was a man of his word. And if
you read Washington's Sunday Post, an excellent piece by
Mark Shields, in which he wrote, ``John White didn't bob
or weave or hedge or trim. If he was with you, you always
knew it.'' And when it came to politics, John didn't bob
or weave. He was a Democrat through and through. But he
always knew that being a partisan was far less important
than being a patriot. And no doubt about it, John was a
patriot. He loved Texas. He loved America. He loved his
family. And few served them better.
At the beginning of his first inaugural address in 1953, my
political hero, Dwight Eisenhower, led America in prayer. And
while the words may be Ike's, the sentiments expressed are
also undeniably those of John White, and I quote, ``May
cooperation be the mutual aim of those who, under the
concepts of our Constitution, hold a different political
face. So it all may work for the good of our beloved country
and Thy Glory. Amen.'' End of quote. Thank you.
Honorable Bob Armstrong. When I talked to Nellie, she said,
``I'd like to have somebody up there that just knew him as a
friend.'' And John C. and I were friends. Over a long period
of time, we were thrown together because we did politics
together. We were thrown together because we liked to do a
lot of the same things. We had an office arrangement where he
happened to be above my office in a building and we could see
each other every day and I really loved this man. You know,
he came from an interesting part of Texas. It was a part
where rain was important, and people's lives and their
fortunes were governed in the old days by how much it rained.
It was a strip of Texas that produced products like Sam
Rayburn, and Lyndon Johnson, and John Nance Garner, and Ann
Richards, and Bob Strauss, and Webb, and Bedacek and Dobie,
and John C. White.
And as John C. said in one of these quotes in the program,
he couldn't wait to get out. But it still had a profound
effect on him and the kind of person that he was. He always
had fun. One of the poems that he liked, kind of harked back
to his upbringing. It was by Carlos Ashley, who when they
moved the inauguration into the House chamber, because it had
started a cloud burst, stood there and looked out and wrote,
``Oh the glamour and the clamor that attend affairs of state
seem to fascinate the rabble and to some folks seem just
great. But when the final scale is balanced in the field of
loss and gain there's not one inauguration's worth a good,
slow, two-inch rain.'' And those were John's sentiments
about pomp and circumstance and what real values were. He
always had fun, his advice was always sound, and he was
always an unflagging and an unequivocal friend. First
example of advice he gave to me: I was two years elected
in a state which was pretty topsy-turvy and he'd been
there for eight or ten years and George McGovern became
our nominee, not the most popular person to be a nominee
for the Democratic Party in Texas.
I went to John's house one afternoon and, as was always the
case there was the New York Times and The Washington Post on
the coffee table, because he loved to find out and know what
was going on, and he said, ``Armstrong, they need us. We
really need to help them.'' I said, ``Well, it's probably
gonna be political suicide, but if you say that's what we
need to do, John, let's do it.'' And so he and I started on
that endeavor. Never always pleasant. Not with much chance.
Again as Mark Shields pointed out, but you knew it had to be
done, and he told you, ``let's do it,'' and so we did. His
advice turned out to be pretty good. I never had an opponent
for the next ten years. But you couldn't have convinced me of
that when I started that out with him that day. And he also
told me that it didn't make much difference whether it was
popular or not as long as it was the right thing to do.
You know, Nellie said, ``I want you to tell them the story
about the limo because you
[[Page S3676]] always had a good time.'' And I said,
``Nellie, in church?'' And she said, ``Yeah, in church.'' But
I'm going to get to that in a minute. I think that most of
what we did that was fun had to do with campaigning, but the
times that I remember the most were the things that we just
did together. We'd leave the office and go over to Memorial
Stadium and we would run, because we thought that was good
for us. And frequently there would be coeds on that running
track, and some of them just lying out there in the sun. And
John White developed what he called ``the slow run.'' And he
was still running, but it was awful slow when we went by and
watched them.
Bruce Babbitt told me the other day that he thought that I
was the product of a misspent adulthood. And I want to tell
you that John White was a major contributor to that
condition. I remember after he'd been there for about fifteen
years, he said, ``You know, I've got this office where I can
just do it with my eyes closed.'' And he said, ``One thing I
started doing there for a little while was I'd get to the
office about 7:00 or 7:30,'' (and he was just the proper
amount of devious about this), ``and at 10:00 o'clock I was
on the golf course, I was back at 4:00 and I would stay and
make calls until about 7:00 at night, and people would think
I was the hardest working public employee they'd ever seen;
in at 7:30 and out at 7:00.'' And he always enjoyed those
kinds of times when we
would get out. When he got up here and I'd come to see him
he introduced me to golf at Congressional in the leaves,
in the fall. And we never did have partners. We'd just
ride together and he talked to me about his dad and I
talked to him about mine and how we hated them, because
they made us do chores and made us be disciplined when we
didn't want to be. But they also taught us what was right
and what was wrong, and they also got real smart, our dads
did, when we went away to college. And when we came back
they were a lot smarter than they were when we went. But I
guess the things that I remember the most was that he
always bragged on Nellie, and he always said, ``You know,
it's just amazing to me how Linda and Nellie put up with
us.'' And that they do. And he always talked about his
kids, and he talked about how wonderful they were. If I
had one wish right now, I wish that you could have heard
what his children had to say about him in Austin, because
John R. and Ed were just absolutely perfect; (that) was
the term I used about their dad and their relationship.
Well, I'll tell you about the limo. We weren't used to
riding in them, but we were in Houston and we went down to
some kind of a meeting and on our way back on the road. It
was very hot in Houston, as it can be, and we were riding
along there, kind of embarrassed that we were in a limo, and
it was air-conditioned, and there came along a `57 Chevrolet
with about five to six kids in it, and they pulled up
alongside and looked over there at these guys riding in that
air-conditioned limo, and they gave what I would call the
``Texas hot weather hand signal,'' that people give to people
in a limo. And John was sort of appalled by this and I said,
``Just think about it as them giving us a hand, one finger at
a time.'' And he always liked that and used that. Sometimes,
good things come out of bad ones.
I guess he understood about money and how important it was
in politics, and his favorite story was about the time that
Speaker Rayburn woke up one day and found out that the money
from cotton had not come to Washington, and Roosevelt was in
his fourth election. He had a new guy named Harry Truman
replacing John Nance Garner and the cotton money hadn't
gotten in, but, as they did in those days, they sent a fellow
up with a satchel with the money in cash, and he got to Union
Station and the money was burning a hole in his pocket, and
he didn't know what to do, but what he did was he went over
and said, ``Where's the Democratic headquarters?'' And they
said, ``It is over right next to the Senate.'' And sure
enough, there was a small headquarters over there that they
had set up for Senator Truman, because he could just go there
and kind of do what he needed to do and nobody ever came to
it. And so, Mr. Jackson, who
had the money, walked in and he said, ``Here's the cotton
money.'' And Harry Truman looked at it and it was a lot of
money, and nobody had ever done that. And he got back on
the train. He went back to Austin. They said, ``What did
you do with the money?'' He said, ``I gave it to the
headquarters.'' They said, ``Which one?'' He said, ``Harry
Truman's.'' They said, ``You, fool. That's not the right
headquarters. You gave it to the wrong person.'' One year
later, Mr. Jackson had his own desk in the White House, in
the Truman White House, where he could do all the business
that he wanted to do. And John White thought that was
simple justice, and he loved to tell that story.
He gave me one other piece of advice. He said, ``You really
ought to come up here.'' He said, ``You'll love it,'' and,
``They need you.'' The last thing was superfluous. He always
had that ability to flatter you, just a little bit. They
didn't need me, but he'd say ``They need you.'' But you could
always kind of believe in it if John C. told you that. But he
loved this city, and he loved the people, and he loved the
power, and he loved the system. But he didn't love the power
as an end in itself. He loved the fact that people could use
that power for good if they were the right kind of office
holders and if they used it wisely.
I used to ask him when he was going back. And he wouldn't
ever answer me directly. He just kind of looked off in the
distance maybe and say that he really had a lot of friends
here in Washington. And in a way, that was an answer. And so,
I had a great time knowing him. I always said that a
conversation with John White was like a drink of cold water
from a hill country spring on a hot day. He was always
refreshing and he was always sustaining.
Let us pray. John C. is with You now, God. Thanks from all
of us for letting us have him for a while. Amend.
Mr. Jack Nelson. Bob Strauss said that, uh, John White
would have loved to have seen you all here today and I know
he would have looking out over this crowd. You know what John
White would've really loved? He would've loved the Reverend
Jesse Jackson preaching his funeral in the rotunda of the
Texas State capital and Bob Dole eulogizing him at a memorial
at the First Baptist Church here. He would have really loved
that.
Most of you were not at John's funeral, but as one of many
of his reporter friends, I want to report just briefly on
what a moving and extraordinarily unusual funeral service it
was. It was a sad--but I must say a magic--moment. Jesse
Jackson, in a flowing, white robe, conducted the service in a
packed rotunda. The first funeral service ever held there.
The Texas Democratic establishment turned out in force: Ann
Richards, Jim Wright, Bob Strauss, Lloyd Bentsen, and many
others--and they came from all over Texas and from all over
the country. His family and friends spoke movingly of John as
father, grandfather, business associate, politician and
friend, and in his eulogy, Jesse Jackson made a point that's
central of John's life: He was one of the few white men who
had the courage to take the political risk to bring equal
justice to Texas and the South. ``Look around you,'' said
Jackson, ``Look around you at the black and the brown faces
among all the white faces. Thirty years ago you wouldn't have
seen that, and you can see it now because of John C. White.''
And then Jesse did what Bob Strauss said startled him, and
then I must say sort of surprised me. He said, ``Everyone
should express themselves,'' and calls for the applause and
it rang out throughout the capital. And I gotta tell you, it
made us all feel a lot better. Jesse said, ``When we go to
the state cemetery for the burial you'll see `1924 dash 1995'
on John's tombstone.'' He said, ``Well the year he was born,
1924, means nothing. We don't have anything to do with when
we are born and come into this world. And 1995 doesn't mean
anything either. We don't have anything to do with when we
leave. It's the dash that counts.'' And Jesse touched on a
long and impressive list of what John did with that dash.
You know, John told me more than once--and like Robert
Strauss, I went out to lunch frequently with John White;
maybe not twice a week, but an awful lot of times. John told
me more than once, ``God, I love this town, but I wish it
hadn't gotten so mean.'' And I thought that said a lot about
John. He did love Washington, and he did love the political
game, and he played a key role in it. But Washington never
changed him. He was never mean, and he despised the kind of
personal attacks aimed at destroying political careers that
has become so commonplace here. He always said the way he saw
Washington was that it wasn't so much made up of Democrats
and Republicans as it was of real people and jackasses. John
had a lot of friends on both sides. Real people, of course.
He did have an extraordinary relationship with the press.
And I thought it was appropriate that you got two reporters
here among the political figures who are eulogizing him. He
was a source for many reporters, and some of them are in the
audience here. For me it was like having another reporter in
the bureau. I could call him up and say, ``John, have you
heard so and so?,'' and he then might, say, either, ``Give me
some information,'' or he'd say, ``Well, I don't know a lot
about that, but let me make a few calls.'' Reporters saw him
as much more than a news source. He was our friend. In most
cases, he was a close friend, and certainly in my case, he
was first and foremost.
Men sometimes have a hard time sharing their innermost
thoughts and feelings, but I could do that with John. He
could do that with me. And when John asked, ``How you
doing?,'' it wasn't a routine greeting. He really wanted to
know how you were doing. He was concerned if you had a
problem. He always wanted to know if he could help. He was
reassuring, too. He would tell you that he had similar
problems. ``Not to worry, things will work out alright.'' He
used to say that people he liked most were those who would
stand by their friends and their commitments and who never
forgot where they came from. John certainly never forgot
where he came from. He took pride in his humble beginnings
and he stood by his friends through thick and thin, even when
that caused him more than a little trouble. When a Republican
friend most of us knows was hit by a criminal charge, John
concluded that the criminal charge was unfair, and he not
only stood by his friend, but he helped raise funds for his
defense. And he made a point of being seen at lunch with him
at popular Washington restaurants such as Duke's. Later, of
course, the friend was exonerated. John didn't tear down
people. He built them up. He was proud of his friends and his
family. He talked with pride of Nellie and her
[[Page S3677]] work in Romania. He was proud of his children
and grandchildren, and he often talked of them.
Nellie has asked me to share with John's friends the letter
she received, a personal letter. It says, ``I'm glad we had a
chance to talk. I'll never forget the first time I met John
back in 1972. He had such a great balance of common sense and
compassion with an energy, and I was elated when he became
the DNC chair, and I am grateful for all he has given to our
party and our country since. All of us who know John are
better for the experience and all of us will miss him. I know
you will miss him most of all, and I hope the memory of your
great years together and the love and support of your friends
will help to sustain you. Hillary and I send you our thoughts
and prayers. Sincerely, Bill''
You know, it's hard to avoid all the cliches when
remembering John, because in his case they're all so true.
His word was his bond. He would give you the shirt off his
back. He did light up a room when he walked in. And I'm proud
to call him a friend. He's a friend we'll all miss, but we'll
remember, I think, with deep affection.
Mr. Jim Wooten. Here's a good rule for reporters: Don't be
pals with pols. It doesn't mean that you can't enjoy their
company, once in a while. It doesn't mean you can't have
lunch with them, once in a while. It doesn't mean you can't
like them, once in a while. It just means there needs to be
some proper distance in space between us and them. Between
those of us who cover the news and those who make it. Because
the
closer you get, the less you see. So if you want to see
clearly, don't get too close. Don't be pals with pols.
This is a very good rule for all reporters.
Sometimes, though, he was a pol, wasn't he? You could tell
that, because of the pure pleasure he derived from telling
the political story. And not only that, from listening to
them. To yours. To Strauss's (now there's a real test). And
to mine, too. I don't think I ever told my political stories
to better listeners that John C. Even if he knew they weren't
exactly true (and what political story ever is). Even if he
heard them before, he'd sit there and listen and help you
along, and encourage you, and chuckle you, and then give a
big rip of a laugh, and then he'd say, ``I knew some old boys
like that.'' And off he'd ride on some wonderful jaunt down
the trails of his remarkable life. For John C., a good story
was like a pair of boots: the more you worn them, the more
comfortable they were. I loved his story about how much he
grew in the eyes of Lyndon once he'd introduced him to
Nellie. I loved listening to him. His voice for me was like
the distant bell of a country church, always reminding me of
home. And he said once, ``Well, pal, they have fewer voters
in Alabama, but I expect we come out about even on mules and
fools.''
He was a pol, wasn't he? You could tell that because he
made it look so easy. Whether he was managing an unmanageable
national convention or untying some devilish knot in the
party, or settling some bloody internecine squabble or just
working the tables at Duke's--he made it look easy. And
politics never is. Not in this town, and not in Texas. And
especially not for a man who felt about his party the way
most men feel about their mothers. It was where he came from,
and who he was. He was his party's son, and he would, by God,
wear its name as proudly as he wore his own. White, John C.,
Democrat, Yellow-Dog. And in five separate decades, in the
stormy politics of Texas and America, those were John C.'s
unimpeachable credentials. When governor Shivers defected to
Ike, John C. backed Adlai. When the preacher said,
``Catholics oughtn't be president,'' John C. was a Kennedy
man. When herds of Texas democrats stampeded over to
Goldwater and Nixon, John C. stood straight up for L.B.J. and
Humphrey. ``Hubert Umphrey'' as he called him--and McGovern,
too. Over the years in campaign after campaign, from Carter
through Clinton, through the sunshine and the rain, he rode
that same old horse. And he was as tall in the saddle when he
finally got off as when he first got on.
This is important to remember about John C. Not that he was
blind to his party's warts or deaf to its bologna, but rather
that he loved it for its promise. Not that he was indifferent
to its foolishness or insensitive to its folly, but rather
that he was committed to its possibilities.
John C. was the most hard-headed, down-to-earth, practical,
realistic, commonsense dreamer I ever knew. That was his
strength and the source of his stamina. This fierce embrace
of an imperfect party as the perfect political expression of
the ideas and ideals that he cherished. Others might stray or
waffle or wander or waiver; John C. always danced with the
girl who brung him. He was a pol wasn't he? You can see that
in the respect that other pols had for him; even if he
wouldn't give a dime to their party. You can see that here
today, look around. And you can hear it too, in the unspoken
affirmations of everybody who ever knew him or worked with
him or worked against him, that here was one politician who
gave politics a good name.
Years ago over lunch at Duke's, he was scolding me for my
appearance; ``Listen pal,'' he said, ``you ain't a newspaper
man no more--you've got to get yourself some clothes. You
need more than one suit and tie. Hell, I'll loan you the
money!'' And that progressed into us listing the real friends
we had, the genuine pals, people who might even lend us
money, folks in whom we could place our complete trust. John
C. had too many to count, he said, which was true, look
around, and I had too few to mention and now one less. He was
a pol and he was a pal.
We argued about a lot of things over the years, but there
was one thing we agreed on and that was that we were both
literary critics. And that we had found and read and reread
the great American novel. A rough and tumble saga about two
Texas rangers who went off up to Montana, far far away from
Lonesome Dove. How he loved that book, how I did too and we'd
recite from it over lunch. Especially, its last few pages:
``mortally wounded and down to his last, few breaths,
Augustus McCray looked up at his long time pal and partner
Captain Caw and he whispered, `My God, Woodrow, it was quite
a party.''' My God, chairman, it was quite a party.
Reverend Dr. Gladstone. We have listened with gratitude,
with admiration, and with hope. Charles Haddon Spurgeon, the
Victorian Baptist preacher said of William Ewart Gladstone,
four times Prime Minister of Britain, he said, ``We believe
in no man's infallibility, but it is restful to believe in
one man's integrity. Let us pray. Eternal God before who's
face the generations rise and fall. Beneath who's will and
within who's patience the story of our lives is told. In this
memorial service, for your servant John, we lift up our
hearts in gratitude, we thank you for his character. We know
that this is the true wealth of life. We may be festooned
with the whole haberdashery of success and yet go to our
graves castaways. We thank you that we heard Senator Dole say
that while it is nice to be important, it is more important
to be nice. And so we thank you for the decency, the
integrity, and the loyalty of your servant John. We thank you
his commitment to the political affairs of this nation. We
thank you for all those who are ready to walk the lonely
places of leadership, to become vulnerable to criticism,
abuse, misrepresentation and public failure and yet who
believes they are called to do this for love of country and
party. For his commitment to his president, his party, and to
the whole nation we give you thanks. And we thank you for his
enjoyment of his family. For his dear wife, Nellie, for his
children, whom he admired so much, for his sister and for his
grandchildren. We remember them all now tenderly and commit
them to your loving care. And we pray that as they sigh for
the touch of a vanished hand and the sound of a voice that is
still, they may know your living presence. And we thank you
for our Lord Jesus Christ who has defeated death and brought
life and immortality to light. We thank you that we can say
he is not here but he is risen again until we meet in your
presence. So bless each one of us here members of the family
friends and colleagues and keep us at it and with it and for
it until our work is done our course is run and on your kind
arms we fall. And this we pray through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Will the congregation stand for the blessing and the
benediction and remain standing while the family and speakers
leave.
Go forth on your journey, Christian soul. Go in the
strengths of God and may He bring you at last to the land of
Promise, the Country of the Great King. The grace of our Lord
Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the
Holy Spirit be with us all ever more. Amen.
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