[Congressional Record Volume 143, Number 12 (Tuesday, February 4, 1997)]
[Senate]
[Pages S927-S928]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                     TRIBUTE TO ANNE DIBBLE JORDAN

  Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, it is easy for both elected officials and 
commenters to refer to all knowledge as residing outside the beltway.
  It has been my experience that some of the greatest wealth of 
knowledge, experience, and ability represented in this country is 
inside the beltway. Rarely enough does that talent get recognized.
  An exception, is the recognition in the Washington Post of the 
extraordinary talent of Anne Dibble Jordan. Mrs. Jordan was the cochair 
of the last Presidential inaugural of the 20th century.
  It is my privilege to know this extraordinary woman and her noted 
husband, Vernon Jordan. Anne Jordan is one of those people who makes it 
possible for Washington and our Government to present a face worth 
seeing by the rest of the world. In fact for those who have come to 
know her, it is hard to think of anything she could not achieve.
   Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the text of the article 
be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the article was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

               [From the Washington Post, Jan. 18, 1997]

The Woman Behind the Curtain--Monday Is Ann Jordan's Big Day--You Won't 
                         Even Know She's There

                          (By Roxanne Roberts)

       It's the middle of a news conference at the Foreign Press 
     Center. Ann Dibble Jordan and Terry McAuliffe, the chairmen 
     of the Presidential Inaugural Committee sit on a stage 
     briefing dozens of reporters from around the world about the 
     seemingly endless list of celebratory events.
       McAuliffe pops off with enthusiastic sound bites, jumping 
     in to answer virtually every question. Jordan sits quietly, 
     carefully offering written remarks. If there were an award 
     for the inaugural chairman with the lowest possible profile, 
     Jordan would win--hands down.
       Her face is dominated by her red-framed glasses. She wears 
     simple gold jewelry, a plain black dress and carriers an 
     inexpensive Le Sportsac purse.
       ``I hate interviews. I hate publicity,'' she says later. 
     ``My husband tells me I'm the most private person he knows.''
       Herein lies the intriguing contradiction of Ann Jordan: a 
     very private person who lives a very public life. Her husband 
     is the much-respected and much-feared lawyer Vernon Jordan, 
     power broker extraordinaire. The Jordans are on the A-list of 
     every Washington social event, serve on numerous corporate 
     and charitable boards, and count a vast number of powerful 
     people as friends--including the president and first lady. 
     Indeed, Vernon Jordan is a favorite golfing buddy of Bill 
     Clinton; the couples are so close they had Christmas Eve 
     dinner together.
       Shortly after the election, Clinton picked up the telephone 
     and called Ann Jordan. ``I need your help,'' said the 
     president, who asked that she accept the unpaid co-
     chairmanship. It was an offer she couldn't refuse.
       ``I didn't think I'd be doing all of this, I tell you,'' 
     she says. ``I thought I'd just be a worker. But I had worked 
     in the previous inaugural, and I'd seen a lot of the things 
     that probably would be helpful in doing this.''
       Jordan, 62, came aboard just before Thanksgiving, with an 
     eye to creating a structure that was ``open and honest.'' 
     This year, there are no fund-raising responsibilities, so the 
     job of chairman is primarily one of oversight: meetings every 
     morning to go over all the plans, defining goals, and signing 
     off on major decisions and expenditures. When a final 
     decision had to be made, said committee members, it was often 
     Jordan whose judgment carried the day.
       And there are also news conferences--Jordan's least 
     favorite part of the job.
       ``She doesn't crave the limilight,'' says co-chairman 
     McAuliffe. ``She's just been a joy to work with. She and I 
     have not had one disagreement in the past two months.''
       ``I am absolutely, totally impressed and in awe of her,'' 
     says Harold Ickes, who is coordinating inaugural plans from 
     the White House. ``It is not unusual for someone of her 
     social position to take the job and be sort of honorary about 
     it, sweeping in and out. She does not throw her weight 
     around, although--God knows--she knows everyone in

[[Page S928]]

     Washington and can get anyone on the phone at the drop of a 
     hat.''
       Of course, in Washington one expects the customary 
     compliments from colleagues. But the genuine exuberance for 
     Jordan goes beyond the predictable.
       Jordan describes herself as ``quite low-key . . . I know 
     what my limits are.'' She doesn't mention the gala with 
     Princess Diana or her vacations on Martha's Vineyard with the 
     Clintons. She doesn't bring up the dinner at her home four 
     years ago--the president-elect's first Washington party--or 
     the fact that she sent cyclamens to all her neighbors 
     apologizing for any inconvenience it may have caused.
       Her official biography for the inauguration is three short 
     paragraphs.
       ``She's raised in the old school,'' says events planner 
     Carolyn Peachey, a close friend. ``Your name is in the 
     newspaper three times: born, married, died.''
       Hillary Rodham Clinton calls her ``a woman of many 
     talents.'' Jordan's work on the inaugural committee, says the 
     first lady, highlights her ``wonderful'' organizational and 
     management skills. ``What I think I like most about her is 
     her warm friendship, coupled with her marvelous sense of 
     humor.''
       Vernon Jordan is not in the habit of discussing his 
     personal life with the press. But he is downright effusive 
     when it comes to his wife of 10 years.
       ``She's smart, independent, caring, loyal,'' he says. ``She 
     is my best friend in the world.'' The suggestion that she is 
     shy produces Jordan's famed booming laugh. ``She's not shy at 
     all. She just keeps her own counsel. And she is in many ways 
     a very private person, which is one of her more admirable 
     qualities.''
       Nonetheless, it is difficult to be an entirely private 
     person if one happens to be married to one of the most 
     influential--and socially gregarious--men in the city. It is 
     ``just nonsense,'' says Jordan, to even suggest that his wife 
     was asked to chair the inauguration because of his friendship 
     with the first couple.
       ``I think she did this out of a sense of duty and 
     responsibility,'' he says. ``She loves to make things work 
     right. And it's an honor, and I think she views it that 
     way.''
       There is, in fact, a long history of public service in her 
     life. She was born in Tuskegee, Ala., one of five children of 
     a surgeon who ran the only hospital in the city that treated 
     black patients.
       Jordan attended prep school and then went to Vassar, where 
     she was one of four black students. She was so fair-skinned 
     that she had to tell classmates she was black. ``You didn't 
     want to have a conversation where you had to get up and walk 
     out,'' she says. ``Once you say it, you don't have to tell 
     many more. It goes around quickly.''
       She took graduate courses in social work at the University 
     of Chicago and later taught there and served as head of 
     social services at the university's medical center. She 
     married, had four children and divorced 11 years later. She 
     stayed in Chicago, working full time and raising her 
     children. ``I was used to running my own life,'' she says.
       That life was shaken by the 1981 death of a daughter in a 
     car accident. ``I think it makes you just stop and relive 
     your life,'' says Jordan. ``I mean, you think about your life 
     and what's important, and it changes it.''
       Her other children--now in their thirties--were grown when 
     she married Vernon in 1986. They had met years earlier 
     while both were working with the Urban League. His first 
     wife, Shirley, died of multiple sclerosis in 1985.
       ``What I like best about him is when we sit down to talk--
     he's very interested,'' she says. ``And he's fun to be with. 
     He's totally unpredictable.''
       And Vernon Jordan says, ``When I want to get it straight, I 
     talk to Ann.''
       And then he adds the one-liner of every clever husband: 
     ``The fact is that I married up.''
       Her new husband brought to the marriage the lifestyle of a 
     wealthy, powerful man in this town. ``It was sort of nice to 
     enjoy the free time of living in Washington,'' she says. ``It 
     also allowed me to pursue a lot of my own interests. I was 
     very busy. And Vernon is a very--to say the least--he's 
     fun.''
       Being married to Jordan also brought invitations to every 
     important social event in Washington, including the state 
     dinner for South African President Nelson Mandela. ``It was 
     one of the great thrills of my life,'' she says. Mandela told 
     her ``a very funny story about his life after he got out of 
     prison. . . . I'm certainly grateful for those kinds of 
     opportunities.''
       Aside from inaugural duties, Jordan's time these days is 
     devoted to her five grandchildren (all under 5 years old), 
     volunteering in the White House social office and serving on 
     various boards: WETA, Sasha Bruce Youthworks, the Kennedy 
     Center and the Child Welfare League of America.
       She has settled into her life in the nation's capital, but 
     her affection for Chicago is such that she travels there as 
     often as once a month. ``It's a wonderful city and people 
     don't realize it.'' Washington, she says, ``is a wonderful 
     city of live in. I mean for living purposes, it's very easy 
     to get around, the weather's wonderful, and very interesting 
     people here.''
       It was Jordan who pushed to include residents of Washington 
     in more inaugural activities. She is most excited about the 
     public events on the Mall, and she was instrumental in 
     bringing ``King,'' the musical tribute to Martin Luther King 
     Jr., to the celebration.
       ``I love the fact that it can be open,'' she says. ``Not 
     only just free events, but very well done free events.'' She 
     hopes to find time to drop by the children's tent for the 
     storytellers: ``My grandchildren want to see it.''
       Jordan doesn't mention the glamour of the inaugural balls. 
     She'll attend five or six, wearing a dress that she's had a 
     long time. ``I wear it every year to the Kennedy Center,'' 
     she says. ``It's a black velvet dress that has--I don't know 
     what you'd call 'em, not rhinestones but sort of sparkly'' 
     decor on the shoulders. ``I love the dress.''
       On that night, her husband says simply that he'll be doing 
     ``whatever she says.''
       And afterward, instead of all the exclusive after-ball 
     parties, you might see the inaugural chairman celebrating at 
     . . . McDonald's.
       ``That's my favorite,'' she says. ``A Quarter-Pounder 
     without cheese. Then they have to cook it fresh. We're there 
     all the time.''

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