[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 200 (Friday, December 15, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S18735-S18736]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                    NORDY HOFFMANN--A GREAT AMERICAN

  Mr. BYRD. Mr. President, the December 13, 1995, edition of the Hill 
included an article written by Ron Martinson paying special tribute to 
F. Nordhoff Hoffmann. It is a fine piece that captures perfectly the 
man we all know as Nordy. Mr. Martinson takes us through the various 
and varied stages of Nordy's life revealing a remarkable example of one 
person's contribution to his family, his college, his colleagues and 
his country.
  I have known Nordy for many years. His service to this institution, 
most notably as Sergeant at Arms, is well-known and remains a standard 
to which all who fill that position are compared. While Nordy's tenure 
in the Senate was as a Democrat, his ability to transcend party and 
politics was extraordinary and one pattern I often wish was emulated 
more regularly. Nordy's empathy for everyone from Senators to staff was 
truly uncommon. To put it simply Nordy, throughout his life, has always 
been a caring individual and an excellent role model. It has been 
sometime since I have seen Nordy, and I am deeply saddened by news of 
his ill health, but I wanted to take this opportunity to call attention 
to this article and to let Nordy know I am thinking of him and I wish 
him well.
  Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the Hill article be 
printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the ordered to be printed in the Record, as 
follows:

                     [From The Hill, Dec. 13, 1995]

   Nordy Hoffmann--Ailing Former Senate Sergeant at Arms Was a Giant 
                      Figure With A Heart To Match

                           (By Ron Martinson)

       P. Nordhoff Hoffmann, known to generations of Notre Dame 
     alumni and members of Congress as ``Nordy,' was convening his 
     first department head meeting as Senate sergeant at arms in 
     January 1976.
       With the directors of a dozen service organizations under 
     his jurisdiction dutifully assembled, Nordy opened the 
     meeting with characteristic directness; ``Some of you guys 
     probably think that because Nordy Hoffmann is 67 years old, 
     he won't be around in this job for very long. Well, let me 
     tell you something--my grandfather lived to be 92, so get 
     that out of your damn heads right now.''
       Hoffmann, who will turn 86 next Tuesday, is seriously ill 
     with cancer. But to anyone who knew him during a lifetime of 
     successes earned by determination and a sense of destiny, he 
     was one of the most remarkable and unforgettable 
     personalities who ever walked the corridors of Capitol Hill.
       A huge hulk of a man whose massive frame carried more than 
     300 pounds before his illness, Nordy's thundering voice could 
     intimidate the most intrepid soul. But underneath was a 
     gentle spirit and big heart that earned Nordy legions of 
     devoted friends.
       A native of Seattle, Nordy first achieved distinction as an 
     All-American right guard on Knute Rockne's 1929 and 1930 
     Notre Dame championship football teams. He had never played 
     the game before Rockne spotted him on campus one day and 
     ordered him to report to practice. He graduated from Notre 
     Dame Law School in 1933 and after several years as assistant 
     coach at his alma mater and a semi-pro football player, he 
     saw service as a World War II Navy officer in the Pacific.
       After the war, Nordy was tapped by Philip Murray, president 
     of the United Steelworkers Union, to become the union's 
     legislative director in Washington, a position that quickly 
     immersed him in national Democratic politics. For the next 20 
     years, he was in the thick of every major labor battle on 
     Capitol Hill, from Taft-Hartley to minimum wage to Medicare.
       Nordy received a rare tribute in 1963 when then-Vice 
     President Lyndon Johnson singled him out during a speech at a 
     Democratic dinner and roared, ``Nordy Hoffmann knows what I'm 
     talking about because he and Phil Murray and I were fighting 
     for these things way back when. We didn't win but we didn't 
     stop trying because Nordy Hoffmann's not a quitter, and 
     neither am I!''
       In 1967, Sen. Edmund Muskie (D-Maine) prevailed upon Nordy 
     to become executive director of the Democratic Senatorial 
     Campaign Committee, and 10 years later, in January 1976, the 
     Democratic majority picked him to succeed William H. Wannall 
     as Senate sergeant at arms.
       It took Nordy about two minutes after being sworn in to put 
     his ``Let's get it done and help the people'' management 
     style into full gear. He engaged everyone in the process, 
     seeking advice from people from senators to janitors about 
     how to make his office more open, productive and helpful.
       As Nordy's administrative assistant and the token 
     Republican in his office, I always found him exceptionally 
     open to ideas, including that of putting a ``welcome'' sign 
     on the door. He was also color blind, as he brought his 
     longtime assistant Barbara Towles with him and made her his 
     executive secretary. She was the first black person to hold 
     this position in the Sergeant at Arms Office.
       Nordy was genuinely focused on being a good steward of the 
     resources entrusted to him, and he looked for and found many 
     ways to save money, improve services and steamline 
     operations. But all of those things were only tools to help 
     him achieve his most important goal, which was to provide 
     service for others.
       In a town where people often dispense favors and return 
     phone calls based upon the recipient's ability to 
     reciprocate, Nordy would give his shirt to the first person 
     who asked without expecting anything in return. Once, a 
     friend of mine who was working for a junior Republican 
     congressman asked if I knew of any job opportunities for 
     Republicans on the Senate side as his niece was looking for 
     work.
       When I suggested he talk to Nordy, he couldn't believe that 
     Nordy would even see him. Not only did Nordy talk to him, but 
     he found the aide's niece a job. That former aide is now a 
     Republican congressman from New York.
       Nothing underscores the universal affection for Nordy 
     better than the time he was recommended for induction into 
     the national collegiate football Hall of Fame. An ad hoc 
     committee headed by Don Womack, former superintendent of the 
     Senate Press Gallery, was formed to collect testimonial 
     letters on Nordy's behalf to the judges considering Nordy's 
     nomination.
       When I looked at the folder containing copies of the 
     letters that were presented to Nordy as a keepsake, I 
     discovered personally signed letters from Presidents Carter 
     and Ford and Vice Presidents Mondale and Rockefeller, along 
     with those from every one of the 100 senators. Needless to 
     say, Nordy was elected to the Hall of Fame.
       But Nordy wasn't just a hero to sports enthusiasts or 
     powerful politicians. Once, when a maid asked me if I could 
     do something about the dirty, dilapidated maids' lounge in 
     the basement of the Capitol, I walked into Nordy's office and 
     stood in front of his desk.
       ``Nordy, you consider yourself to be a humane employer, 
     don't you?'' I declared. He looked at me with a quizzical 
     expression, and as I described what I'd seen, he spun around 
     on his chair and began punching buttons on his phone with his 
     sausage-like fingers.
       He gave Tom Ward, the chief engineer in charge of 
     maintenance at the Capitol, an earful about the disgraceful 
     working conditions of his maids, and within two days, Ward 
     had dispatched a team of painters and plasterers to convert 
     the maids' lounge into a clean, pleasant place, making Nordy 
     a hero forever to the maids.
       Nordy's legendary kindness didn't stop at the doors of the 
     Capitol. He and his wife Joanne opened their Potomac, Md., 
     home and 

[[Page S18736]]
     swimming pool to retarded children. Nordy also raised staggering 
     amounts of money for cancer research as a member of the board 
     of the Vince Lombardi Cancer Center at Georgetown University 
     Hospital.
       Following the Republican takeover of the Senate in 1981 
     Nordy left the Senate to open his own consulting firm, but he 
     continued as an informal advisor and friend to people both on 
     and off the Hill. When I stopped by his office several years 
     ago, he had just finished ``putting the tap'' on a lobbyist 
     friend for a donation for his annual Thanksgiving project.
       Nordy used the money to buy turkeys, which he then had a 
     Senate chef cook for him. On Thanksgiving Day, he picked up 
     the birds and delivered them to homeless shelters in the 
     area. He did this for years without telling any of his 
     friends and associates.
       On my last visit with Nordy several months ago, before he 
     entered the hospital for treatment of his illness, I saw the 
     sign that sat prominently on his desk. It read, ``Never 
     complain about getting old. It is a privilege denied to 
     many.''
       Nordy Hoffmann has always acted on this advice and has 
     lived every moment to the fullest with the purpose of serving 
     others. That service continued until very recently when his 
     declining health forced him to end it. But his legion of 
     friends and admirers know that he was always a real friend in 
     a town where real friends are truly rare.

                          ____________________