[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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