[Congressional Record Volume 145, Number 152 (Tuesday, November 2, 1999)]
[Senate]
[Pages S13619-S13621]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                             WALTER PAYTON

  Mr. LOTT. Mr. President, Walter Payton was the pride of Columbia, MS. 
He died all too early this past Monday at the age of 45 years--too 
young for a person of such integrity, ability, and generosity.
  The Clarion Ledger newspaper of my home State this morning wrote a 
magnificent article about him. It said Walter Payton amazed his 
Mississippi teammates with his kindness almost as often as he dazzled 
them with his ability. They tell of a man who studied audiology in 
college after playing high school football with a deaf friend. That 
told a lot about the early life of this outstanding young man, and it 
is the kind of life he lived until his final day this past Monday.
  Surprisingly, the man who would become a great football player did 
not even try out for football until his junior year in high school, 
choosing instead to play drums in the high school band. But he learned 
the game of football as fast as he could run, and long

[[Page S13620]]

before the Nation had heard of the Chicago Bear named ``Sweetness,'' 
Mississippians were cheering a Jefferson High superhero they called 
``Spiderman'' and a Jackson State Tiger known as Walter.
  His 3,563 yards rushing at Jackson State University was one of nine 
school records he set, and he scored a college career total of 66 
touchdowns. At Jackson State, in 1973, he led the Nation in scoring 
with 160 points, and his 464 career points set an NCAA record. But 
Jackson State was a Division 1-AA school, and Walter did not get the 
same attention as players from some of the bigger, well-known colleges. 
Still, the Bears knew a caliber player when they saw one, and they knew 
about some of the other famous Mississippians who had preceded him, so 
they drafted him fourth in the overall draft in 1975.
  In his first NFL game in 1975, he rushed eight times for a total of 
zero yards. But that did not tell the story of what was to come. The 
Bears did not give up on him, and Walter Payton didn't give up on 
himself. He worked as hard in Chicago as he had in Mississippi. By the 
end of his rookie year, he had started seven games and rushed for 679 
yards and seven touchdowns. The next year he had the first of what 
would be 10 1,000-yard seasons, rushing for 1,390 yards and 13 
touchdowns.
  NFL coaches termed him the ``complete football player.'' Just last 
night, I saw Mike Ditka saying he was the best, most complete football 
player he had ever seen. He bested Jim Brown's longstanding rushing 
record of 12,312 yards in 1984.
  But he also was more than just a football player. He worked to help 
mankind. He created the Halas/Payton Foundation to assist Chicago 
inner-city youth in completing their education. He believed in 
nurturing young people through education and inspiration, and he knew 
that the rewards of sports came in the challenges he set for himself, 
what he learned about himself, and what he accomplished as part of a 
team.
  Walter Payton's light shown brighter earlier than many people his 
age. That is why his passing on Monday was even more difficult to take. 
At his induction in the NFL Football Hall of Fame in July 1993, he 
asked his son Jarrett to be the first son to present his father for 
induction into the Football Hall of Fame. His son said:
  ``Not only is he a great athlete, he's a role model--he's my role 
model.''
  Drummer, NCAA champion, college Hall of Famer, Pro Football All Star, 
NFL Hall of Famer, ``Sweetness.''
  Role model to his son and millions of other Jarretts, that is the 
title Walter Payton would most cherish as his legacy.
  Mr. COCHRAN. Mr. President, will the Senator yield a moment to me?
  Mr. LOTT. I will be delighted to yield to my colleague from 
Mississippi.
  Mr. COCHRAN. Mr. President, I join my distinguished colleague in 
advising the Senate that today our State of Mississippi, mourns with a 
heavy heart, the passing of Walter Payton, who died yesterday.
  His accomplishments on the football field at Jackson State University 
and at Soldiers Field in Chicago as a member of the Chicago Bears are 
well known to all of us. He was the greatest running back in the 
history of football.
  He reflected a great deal of credit on our State not only because he 
was a great football player but because of his personality, his 
generosity, and his kindness to his family and friends. I know he would 
often fly members of his family and friends--including a member of my 
staff, Barbara Rooks, who is a close friend of the Payton family--to 
Chicago for football games. He was devoted to his mother, Mrs. Aylene 
Payton and his sister Pamela and he was very close to his brother 
Eddie, who was a great football payer too as a well as a professional 
golfer. Eddie Payton also coached the Jackson State University golf 
team to the national championship.
  The family is well respected in so many ways. I could go on for a 
long time and tell you more about his mother and what a dear lady she 
is and the exemplary community spirit of all the members of Walter 
Payton's family.
  I extend to his wife Connie and their children Jarrett and Brittney 
my deepest sympathies. The articles in the New York Times today 
describe well his remarkable career, and they include accolades from 
fellow players, coaches, and friends. I ask unanimous consent that 
these articles on the life and career of Walter Payton along with his 
biography as an Enshrinee of the Pro Football Hall of Fame be printed 
in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                [From the Clarion Ledger, Nov. 2, 1999]

                From College In Mississippi To Champion

                         (By William C. Rhoden)

       The news that Walter Payton died yesterday at his home in a 
     suburb of Chicago came not so much as a shock but as a 
     sorrowful, piercing spike. We were prepared last February by 
     the shock of seeing the once robust Payton looking gaunt and 
     frail as he announced that he suffered from a rare liver 
     disease. Now we mourn a family's loss of a father and 
     husband, and the industry's loss of a great athlete. I mourn 
     the loss of a shared past, life petals that peel away each 
     time someone contemporary dies.
       I was not close to Walter Payton, but rather attached to 
     him.
       We first met 28 years ago this month, on Nov. 13, 1971. 
     This was the sort of one-on-one introduction that defensive 
     backs dread and outstanding running backs love. We met at the 
     10-yard line in Mississippi Memorial Stadium.
       This was before Payton became Sweetness; before he became a 
     Chicago Bear; before we were paid for plying our particular 
     crafts. We met in the rarefied atmosphere of black college 
     football. He was a freshman at Jackson State University in 
     Mississippi; I was a senior at Morgan State in Baltimore. 
     This was an inter-sectional game between once-beaten, once-
     tied opponents. We had beaten Jackson State a year earlier at 
     R.F.K. Stadium in Washington, and now it was our turn to go 
     to the Deep South, deeper than I'd ever been. I was intrigued 
     by Mississippi, the state so tied to civil rights history. 
     All our coach kept talking about was that these Southern boys 
     were still fighting the Civil War: the South thought it was 
     better than the North, he said, and when it came to football, 
     felt it was heartier, better and tougher.
       Jackson State had a great football legacy: Willie 
     Richardson, Gloster Richardson, Verlon Biggs, Harold Jackson, 
     Richard Caster, Lem Barney. This particular year it had 
     Jerome Barkum, later a wide receiver with the Jets, Robert 
     Brazile, later a linebacker with the Oilers, and Eddie 
     Payton, Walter's older brother, who became a great N.F.L. 
     punt returner and then a professional golfer. Walter began 
     the year unknown, playing behind his brother. By November he 
     was still playing behind his brother but was Jackson State's 
     secret weapon.
       My recollection of the game is reduced to one poignant 
     frame--that first meeting at the 10-yard line. A sweep with 
     Payton slicing past the line, over the linebackers and 
     finally into the secondary. There was Payton, there was me; I 
     hit him and felt solid contact, then felt Payton bounce back 
     to the outside for a touchdown. What I remember thinking at 
     the moment was that this guy had great balance, gyroscopic 
     balance. He was nearly horizontal, legs still churning. 
     Payton was rushing toward the National Football League; I was 
     headed toward journalism, not doing such a good job of 
     tackling but recording the moment.
       Years later in Chicago I teased him about Morgan State's 
     victory in 1970. Payton reminded me that we had won that game 
     when he was still in high school.
       Payton represents so much to so many. He carried the banner 
     of black college football to an unprecedented level. To one 
     extent or another we all carried a burden of proof. One 
     success reflected well on the group. Individual success was 
     group success, even if the player went to a different 
     institution. Such as when Grambling sent eight players to the 
     N.F.L. one season, or now when Mike Strahan, who played at 
     Texas Southern, runs in the winning touchdown. Payton was an 
     object of such pride. His success felt good and warm.
       He held so many N.F.L. records. He set the career record 
     for rushing yards, 16,726; for career attempts, 3,838; for 
     rushing yards in a game, 275; for seasons with 1,000 or more 
     yards, 10. He broke Jim Brown's N.F.L. career rushing mark, 
     12,312 yards, in Chicago on Oct. 7, 1984, the same day he 
     broke Brown's mark of 58 100-yard rushing games.
       A large part of Payton's legacy is made up of numbers. 
     Yesterday, Robert Hughes, the Jackson State head coach, was 
     an assistant coach in 1971, said that what Payton meant went 
     beyond the numbers. ``What's most memorable to me is when he 
     started getting on a roll and started after Jim Brown's 
     record,'' Hughes said. ``Brown was the greatest running back 
     of all time. He didn't come from a predominantly black 
     school; he's from Syracuse. When Walter came in from a little 
     school in Mississippi to top all that, that's what made it 
     great.''
       Walter Payton, with the aggressive, elusive style that was 
     formed at Jackson State. The N.F.L.'s career rushing leader. 
     The runner who led Chicago to its only Super Bowl victory. 
     Dead so young, at 45.
                                  ____


                [From the New York Times, Nov. 2, 1999]

             Football Remembers Payton, the Ultimate Player

                           (By Mike Freeman)

       Late yesterday afternoon each National Football League team 
     received an e-mail

[[Page S13621]]

     message from the Chicago Bears. Many executives knew what it 
     said before they read it: Walter Payton, one of the best ever 
     to play running back, had died.
       For the past several days it has been rumored that Payton 
     had taken a turn for the worse, so the league was braced for 
     the news. Still, the announcement that Payton had succumbed 
     to bile-duct cancer at 45 rocked and deeply saddened the 
     world of professional football.
       ``His attitude for life, you wanted to be around him,'' 
     said Mike Singletary, a close friend who played with Payton 
     from 1981 to 1987 on the Bears. Singletary read Scripture at 
     Payton's side on the morning of his death.
       ``He was the kind of individual if you were down he would 
     not let you stay down,'' Singletary said.
       Commissioner Paul Tagliabue said the N.F.L. family was 
     devastated by the loss of Payton. Tagliabue called him ``one 
     of the greatest players in the history of the sport.''
       ``The tremendous grace and dignity he displayed in his 
     final months reminded us again why `Sweetness' was the 
     perfect nickname for Watler Payton,'' he said in a statement.
       In his 13 seasons with Chicago, Payton rushed for 16,726 
     yards on 3,838 carries, still both N.F.L. records. One of 
     Payton's most impressive feats was that he played in 189 of 
     190 games from 1975, his first season, until his retirement 
     in 1987. For someone with Payton's style to participate and 
     dominate in that many games--he enjoyed plowing into 
     defenders and rarely ran out of bounds to avoid a tackle--is 
     remarkable.
       ``He is the best football player I've ever seen,'' said 
     Saints Coach Mike Ditka, who coached Payton for six seasons 
     with Chicago.
       Ditka added: ``At all positions, he's the best I've ever 
     seen. There are better runners than Walter, but he's the best 
     football player I ever saw. To me, that's the ultimate 
     compliment.''
       What always amazed Payton's opponents was his combination 
     of grace and power. Payton once ran over half dozen players 
     from the Kansas City Chiefs, and on more than one occasion he 
     sprinted by speedy defensive backs.
       It did not take long for the N.F.L. to see that Payton was 
     special. In 1977, his third season, Payton, standing 5 feet 
     10\1/2\ inches and weighing 204 pounds, was voted the 
     league's most valuable player after one of the best rushing 
     seasons in league history. He ran for 1,852 yards and 14 
     touchdowns. His 5.5 yard a carry that season was a career 
     best and against Minnesota that season he ran for 275 yards, 
     a single-game record that still stands.
       ``I remember always watching him and thinking, `How did he 
     just make that run?' '' Giants General Manager Ernie Accorsi 
     said. ``He was just a great player.
       Accorsi echoed the sentiments of others that Payton may not 
     have had the natural gift of running back Barry Sanders or 
     the athleticism of Jim Brown, but that he made the most of 
     what he had.
       ``I think Jim Brown is in a class by himself,'' Accorsi 
     said. ``And then there are other great players right behind 
     him like Walter Payton.''
       Payton was known as much for his kindness off the field as 
     his prowess on it. He was involved with a number of charities 
     during and after his N.F.L. career, and although he valued 
     his privacy he was known for his kindness to people in the 
     league whom he did not know.
       Accorsi saw Payton at the 1976 Pro Bowl, and even though it 
     was one of the first times the two had met, Payton told 
     Accorsi, ``I hope God blesses you.''
       ``When some guys say stuff like that, you wonder if it is 
     phony,'' Accorsi said, ``but not with him. You could tell he 
     was very genuine.''
       Bears fans in Chicago felt the same way, which is why 
     reaction to his death was swift and universal.
       ``He to me is ranked with Joe DiMaggio in baseball--he was 
     the epitome of class,'' said Hank Oettinger, a native of 
     Chicago who was watching coverage of Payton's death at a bar 
     on the city's North Side. ``The man was such a gentleman, and 
     he would show it on the football field.''
       Several fans broke down crying yesterday as they called 
     into Chicago television sports talk show and told of their 
     thoughts on Payton.
       Asked what made Payton special, Ditka said: ``It would have 
     to be being Walter Payton. He was so good for the team. He 
     was the biggest practical joker and he kept everyone loose. 
     And he led by example on the field. He was the complete 
     player. He did everything. He was the greatest runner, but he 
     was also probably the best looking back you ever saw.''

  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Illinois.
  Mr. DURBIN. Mr. President, I thank my colleagues from the State of 
Mississippi who are justifiably proud of Walter Payton. His home State 
of Mississippi can look to Walter Payton with great pride. There is a 
great deal of sadness in my home State of Illinois, particularly in the 
city of Chicago, with the passing of Walter Payton at the age of 45.
  Later today, I will enter into the Record a statement of tribute to 
Mr. Payton, but I did not want to miss this opportunity this morning to 
mention several things about what Walter Payton meant to Chicago and 
Illinois.
  He was more than a Hall of Fame football player. He ran for a record 
16,726 yards in a 13-year career, one of those years shortened by a 
strike, and yet he established a record which probably will be 
difficult to challenge or surpass at any time in the near future.
  The one thing that was most amazing about Walter Payton was not the 
fact he was such a great rusher, with his hand on the football and 
making moves which no one could understand how he pulled off, but after 
being tackled and down on the ground, hit as hard as could be, he would 
reach over and pull up the tackler and help him back on his feet.
  He was always a sportsman, always a gentleman, always someone you 
could admire, not just for athletic prowess but for the fact he was a 
good human being.
  I had the good fortune this last Fourth of July to meet his wife and 
son. They are equally fine people. His son, late in his high school 
career, in his junior year, decided to try out for football. The apple 
does not fall far from the tree; he became a standout at Saint Viator 
in the Chicago suburb of Arlington Heights and now is playing at the 
University of Miami. I am sure he will have a good career of his own.
  With the passing of a man such as Walter Payton, we have lost a great 
model in football and in life--the way he conducted himself as one of 
the most famous football players of all time.
  The last point I will make is, toward the end of his life when 
announcing he faced this fatal illness, he made a plea across America 
to take organ donation seriously. He needed a liver transplant at one 
point in his recuperation. It could have made a difference. It did not 
happen.
  I do not know the medical details as to his passing, but Walter 
Payton's message in his final months is one we should take to heart as 
we remember him, not just from those fuzzy clips of his NFL career but 
because he reminded us, even as he was facing his last great game in 
life, that each and every one of us has the opportunity to pass the 
ball to someone who can carry it forward in organ donation, and the 
Nation's commitment to that cause would be a great tribute to him.
  I yield the floor.

                          ____________________