[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 148 (Tuesday, December 5, 2000)]
[Senate]
[Pages S11555-S11557]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
PARK RINARD MEMORIAL
Mr. HARKIN. I should like to take a few moments today to honor the
life of a great Iowan and a great American--a man who dedicated many
years of his life in service to the people of Iowa and our nation--our
friend Park Rinard.
It's been said that on the day John F. Kennedy died, a tailor in New
York put a sign on the door of his shop that read, ``Closed Due to a
Death in the Family.''
Well, that's how I felt when I heard that Park had passed away, like
we had had a death in our family.
Unfortunately, I was unable to attend Park's funeral. It was held
during the week before election day, and I had
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committed to campaign for Al Gore and other Democratic candidates in
Iowa.
I felt awful that I would be missing the service, and I thought about
taking the day off to attend it.
But then it occurred to me--by hitting the road and working to get
good Iowa Democrats elected, I was paying my respects just the way Park
would have wanted.
Park Rinard was a legend in Iowa Democratic politics. He began his
political career back in 1957 as an aide to Governor Herschel Loveless.
He then befriended a rough-hewn, young, Iowa truck driver who had a
beef with the state's trucking policies. Park persuaded this
disgruntled fellow--a man by the name of Harold Hughes--to join the
Democratic party and run for office. The rest, as they say, is history,
and Hughes later referred to Park as his tutor in government.
Park went on to advise Senator John Culver, Congressman Neal Smith,
and many others who have made their mark on our Nation.
Mr. President, when I think back on Park's career, I'm reminded of
something that Adlai Stevenson once said: ``Every age needs men who
will redeem the time by living with a vision of things that are to
be.'' That's a perfect description of Park Rinard.
Like my hero, Hubert Humphrey, Park believed that ``. . . the moral
test of government is how that government treats those who are in the
dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the
elderly; and those who are in the shadows of life--the sick, the needy
. . .'' And Park had a vision of government big enough and bold enough
to encompass all of them.
He envisioned a government that trusted citizens--that believed in
their strength and capacity to learn, work and serve a government that
would invest in people and leave the potential of no citizen untapped.
Through his work with Governor Hughes, Park transformed that vision
into the wave of progressive legislation that characterized the
``Golden Age'' of Iowa politics.
During these years, Park helped establish Iowa's community college
system, create the Iowa Civil Rights Commission, and appoint the first
black state judge in Iowa. He worked to grant home rule for cities,
increase spending for schools, and abolish the death penalty. And he
successfully convinced Governor Hughes to oppose the Vietnam war. These
achievements were Park's proudest legacies, and some of his most
enduring.
But Park also had a vision for America--a vision which he spent the
remainder of his career fighting for in Congress. He believed deeply in
expanding women's rights, and he was a strong supporter of the equal
rights amendment long before it penetrated the popular consciousness.
He also spoke passionately about ending discrimination against gay
Americans, long before many others.
But make no mistake about it, Park wasn't a knee-jerk liberal, not by
a long shot. He just believed in a fundamental, basic, golden rule kind
of fairness. That was his moral compass, and he steadfastly followed
where it led. It is therefore unsurprising that Park had such disdain
for polls and focus groups. For Park, politics wasn't about pandering
and spin, it was about leadership and telling the truth.
And tell the truth he did. No matter whom he was speaking with, Park
Rinard did not mince words. He was once asked by a hostile audience how
his boss could even consider supporting food stamps for union strikers.
Park simply replied, ``hungry people are hungry people.''
A gifted speechwriter, Park wielded the written word as forcefully as
the spoken. He spent hours pecking away at his old manual typewriter,
massaging policy into poetry often finishing a speech at the last
possible moment, sometimes just minutes before his boss was scheduled
to deliver it.
Park never hesitated to use his gift for strong language to stand up
to his bosses--some of whom were nearly twice his size--when he thought
they were wrong.
Park once told a fellow staffer, ``Remember, you might work for one
particular Senator, but your paycheck is from the Senate of the United
States, and every employee of the Senate works for the people of
America.'' That was Park's ultimate loyalty--to the people his bosses
served. When Park stood up to his bosses, he was standing up for the
American people.
And perhaps most extraordinary in this city that's seen its share of
egos and ambition is that Park worked his magic entirely behind the
scenes, happy to slip through back doors and pound out details in back
rooms. Park felt that, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once noted, ``There is no
limit to what can be accomplished if it doesn't matter who gets the
credit.'' He never cared who got the applause and the pat on the back
for his own hard work. He just cared about doing right.
Park was fundamentally humble. He spent a lot of time among giants--
Governors, Presidential candidates, great political leaders--but his
ego never swelled to match. Park believed, as the saying goes, that
``you don't have to be who's who to know what's what.''
He was as comfortable lending a hand to a lost tourist, saying a kind
word to a new intern, or shooting the breeze with a cafeteria employee
as he was chewing out a Senator whom he felt had gone awry. There were
no small people with Park Rinard.
All people mattered to Park--and his family mattered most of all. He
was a devoted husband to his wife Phyllis, a proud father to his
children Judy, David and Grant, and a doting grandfather to his
grandson David Bayard. Their generosity in sharing him is appreciated
by all of us enriched by his life.
The poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once wrote that ``Lives of great
men all remind us we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave
behind us footprints on the sands of time.'' Park was a great man. And
he left lasting footprints on the political landscape of Iowa and
America.
Today, in part because of the foundation he laid, Iowa leads the
nation in education and literacy, and it's ranked as one of the top ten
states to raise a child. And today, because of the dialogues he helped
begin, the idea of banning discrimination against women and minorities
or passing hate crimes laws no longer seems novel, but natural.
These are Park Rinard's footprints--echoes from a golden time in our
history when this slight, softspoken man made it his mission to create
a more humane world for the most vulnerable among us.
With his words and ideas, both written and spoken, Park Rinard
appealed to the best in those he worked for and stood for nothing less.
We are lucky that so many great men and women heeded his call and
made good on his dreams.
I ask unanimous consent to have printed in the Record a copy of the
eulogy read by Senator John Culver at Park Rinard's funeral.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
Eulogy for Park Rinard
(By John C. Culver, November 3, 2000)
I am very honored that the family has asked me to say a few
words today in memory of Park and in celebration of his
remarkable life. He dearly loved his wife Phyllis for fifty-
five years and deeply revered her knowledge of and passion
for the arts. He took great pride in daughter Judy's work at
the National Geographic and Smithsonian as a writer, and, of
course, his grandson David Bayard. Son Jeff's career at the
Library of Congress and the Smithsonian gave him enormous
satisfaction. Park and Phyllis' devotion to their son Grant
during his life was inspiring to all.
On behalf of everyone here, I want to sincerely thank the
Rinard family for sharing Park who so greatly enriched each
of our lives.
Senator Harold Hughes once described Park Rinard as ``a
quiet, peaceful man with a core of steel and a ``heart of
gold.'' He also said, ``Park was the toughest man he ever
met.''
When he worked for us Harold Hughes and I were both over
6'2" tall and unfortunately usually over 250 lbs. It was also
falsely rumored that on occasion we could be somewhat
intimidating. Harold and I had one other thing in common. We
were both scared to death of Park--who was only half our
size. I am convinced that what we respected was Parks'
integrity and what we feared was that we would fail to live
up to his expectations.
Park believed that being a good politician required one to
lead and educate public opinion and not just to reflect it.
Park always said that one of his primary responsibilities was
to tell the elected officials he served what they didn't want
to hear. Theoretically I agreed with him. However, there were
times, I have to confess, that I found his zeal
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in carrying out this duty a bit excessive. But certainly his
good judgment and candor served me well as I know it did
Hershel Loveless, Harold Hughes, Bonnie Campbell, Neal Smith
and countless others both in and out of public office.
As many of you know, Park had been secretary, friend, and
companion to Iowa artist Grant Wood, who reportedly Latinized
his name and called him Parkus. Several original Wood
paintings graced Park's small office in Capitol Hill.
Among the many roles Park played for Wood was to model for
some of his paintings. Apparently, on one occasion, he
actually posed as George Washington. Now Park was a wonderful
man and Grant Wood was a brilliant artist. But somehow that
particular collaboration never survived to replace Gilbert
Stuart's famous portrait of the Nation's first President.
Park was responsible for the transformation of Grant Wood
from a shy individual, who avoided public speaking, into the
national spokesman for Regionalism as a significant American
Art Movement. When Grant Wood died, Park was there. He
promised Wood that he would look after Grant's sister, Nan,
which he did for the rest of her life. Nan's last
conversation with Park was when he called to tell her that
the U.S. Postmaster General had approved use of a Grant Wood
painting for a postage stamp. The image of the stamp was
Young Corn and Park said, ``The painting represented Iowa as
a state that nurtures its young people that they may grow to
their full potential.''
Park was a beloved figure because he treated everyone--
regardless of their status in life--with genuine warmth and
kindness. Once in a while, I couldn't find him, and someone
would track him down in the Senate office basement, where he
was providing personal counseling to one of the cafeteria
workers. His son Jeff reminded him that his supportive
advice, was often, ``Don't lose your nerve.''
Over the years, Park befriended an elderly women named Ann,
who operated a small newsstand where he would buy his
newspapers each evening. One day Ann was upset because she
had not received her New York Times delivery. Park was
distressed because this would be a significant economic blow
to her modest income. A group of wealthy N.Y. businessmen
were coming that day to Washington to attend a conference
Hughes was sponsoring on Vietnam. Park immediately called
them and ordered them to bring a large bundle of New York
Times newspapers with them. Thanks to Park, Ann did not lose
a single sale that day!
Park loved to play tennis and he enjoyed cooking but his
real passion was his garden. He was particularly proud of his
blueberries and would bring boxes of them into the office and
the staff would eat them out of paper cups on their desks
during the day. One day Ed Campbell got a call from the
Fairfax Hospital that Park would be late to work because he
had been in an automobile accident. Ed rushed to the hospital
where he found Park with a gash over his eye. Park explained
that a newspaper flew onto his windshield and blinded him and
his car hit a telephone pole. Ed said, ``Park's only concern
was that he could not deliver his prized blueberries and
tomatoes to the office as they were now splattered all over
the interior of his car.''
One of the worst-kept secrets in the 1960's was that Park
was Governor Hughes' right hand man, even through he held no
official portfolio in state government, and was actually
working with the Iowa League of Municipalities. Park operated
not from a desk at the state House but downtown from a booth
in King Ying Low's restaurant. The establishment didn't have
a liquor license. Whenever I occasionally joined Park there
for lunch, the proprietor, Park's close Chinese American
friend, Louie Lejon, would inquire, ``Mr. Rinard, your
usual?'' Park would respond, ``That would be fine.'' I
noticed that Park's ``usual'' somehow never smelled quite
like the tea the rest of us were drinking out of our tea
cups. When Park agreed to join me in the Senate, I inherited
what was undoubtedly the largest Asian immigration caseload
in the U.S. Congress. There must have been at least 550
Chinese immigrants certified to work in King Ying Low's Des
Moines restaurant during my Senate term alone.
Park Rinard was the intellectual god-father of Iowa's
progressive agenda for a half-century, and those years with
Governor Hughes were really the ``Golden Age.'' It was a time
when: Community colleges were established; the Iowa Civil
Rights Commission created; home rule for cities granted;
state spending for schools, prisons, and welfare increased;
the first black state judge appointed; and the death penalty
abolished.
It is worthy of note that Iowa's State Government has not
taken the life of even one person since Park involved himself
in Iowa politics.
Decades later Park remained at the forefront of enlightened
political thinking. He strongly advocated an Equal Rights
Amendment to the Constitution for women. He surprised younger
members of my Senate staff over 20 years ago by accurately
predicting that the next significant civil rights challenge
would be to overcome discrimination against gay Americans.
Bonnie Campbell once remarked that Park was so completely
centered and certain in his liberalism that he knew instantly
the proper position on an issue because of his ``fundamental
sense of fairness,'' while the rest of us had to at least
think about it.
Growing up in Northern Iowa over four score years ago Park
acquired values he would never abandon: common sense,
cooperation, love of the land, sincerity, compassion,
civility and justice.
These values formed the underpinning of his political
philosophy: phrases like ``the milk of human kindness,''
``the least of these'' and describing something as being
``clear as the noon whistle at Ida Grove.'' These phrases all
slipped easily into his own speech patterns and the language
he crafted for those in public life.
Many of us here today recall Park, smoking his pipe, while
hunched over his ancient Olympia typewriter pecking out those
many speeches. Park was a most gifted writer. However, unlike
Federal Express he was reluctant to guarantee a precise
arrival time for the finished speech draft. On more than one
occasion, this led to serious staff anxiety and a near
nervous breakdown for the person expected to deliver the
prepared remarks at a particular event.
In 1968 at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago
Harold Hughes was to place Eugene McCarthy's name in
nomination. Park was in a Des Moines Hotel room where he was
supposed to be writing Hughes' speech. Ed Campbell called
Park and told him to put the speech on a plane. This was a
time, of course, which predated the era of fax machines and
e-mail. As zero hour approached, Hughes asked Ed ``Where the
hell is the speech?'' Ed called Park. Park said ``he was
working on it and would send it by Western Union.'' Ed
frantically got a room beneath the podium and with a
technician arranged to have the speech pages put on a
teleprompter as they arrived over the wire. Hughes was called
to the Convention podium with no text and had to ad lib his
opening before the first page arrived and was put on the
teleprompter. Hughes literally gave the speech in Chicago
while Park wrote it in Des Moines. At what appeared to be the
conclusion Hughes turned to Ed and, putting his hand over the
mike, asked in a stage whisper, ``Is that the end?'' It was,
and Gene McCarthy's name was thereby officially placed in
nomination as the Democratic Party candidate for President of
the United States.
I know Park was not pleased with the condition of American
Politics in recent years where mechanics have overwhelmed the
issues. Park thought the dialogue had grown sterile and he
had little interest in pollsters and consultants. However, he
had an abiding faith in democracy and believed that
politicians who speak to the best in their constituencies
will draw it out. He did his best to make sure that we office
holders did just that.
Whatever Governor Herschel Loveless, Governor and Senator
Harold Hughes, Attorney General Bonnie Campbell, Congressman
Neal Smith and I were able to collectively contribute in our
public service careers was, in no small park, made possible
because of Park Rinard. Park was truly an ``Iowa Original.''
He uniquely sensed the soul of the state he selflessly served
and loved for a life time. His legacy will endure for
generations and Iowans will enjoy more opportunities and have
a better life because of Park Rinard. What greater reward
does life afford?
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