[Congressional Record Volume 154, Number 155 (Saturday, September 27, 2008)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E2065-E2066]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




    HONORING THE LIFE AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF JOHN ``JACK'' PATRICK 
                               GILLESPIE

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. JOE BARTON

                                of texas

                    in the house of representatives

                       Friday, September 26, 2008

  Mr. BARTON of Texas. Madam Speaker, today, I rise today to honor the 
life and accomplishments of the late Jack Gillespie. This American, 
immigrant, veteran, and patriot passed away on April 17th, 2008. Today 
would have been his 87th birthday and, in his honor, I would like to 
submit for the record the eulogy his son Ed read at his funeral on 
April 22nd of this year.

       In November 1929, young John Patrick Gillespie--called Sean 
     at the time--left his home by the Eanybeg stream at the base 
     of Carnaween Mountain to head into Donegal Town with his 
     mother and brothers and sisters.
       He was beginning a journey to a new life in a wonderful 
     place where he would find happiness, achieve glory, and 
     eventually discover waiting for him there the woman he was 
     meant to be one with.
       By the time he came to be called ``Jack'' in his new 
     country, he had figured out what success in America required.
       He may have read some tips on board the Lititia, the 
     steamer on which he spent two

[[Page E2066]]

     weeks crossing from Ireland to Ellis Island. Many of the 
     boats that sailed that route posted in their galleys a notice 
     with the heading, ``Advice to Irish Emigrants.''
       The posting included these words: ``In America, a man's 
     success must altogether rest with himself--it will depend on 
     his industry, sobriety, diligence and virtue . . . and he may 
     rationally expect to raise himself in the world by his 
     labour.''
       People who met Jack Gillespie quickly realized that their 
     friend or coworker or fellow soldier was extremely diligent, 
     very industrious, generally virtuous and--most of the time 
     sober. And he certainly wasn't afraid of labor.
       His high school sweetheart Conny Carroll noticed something 
     else about him--something other pretty lasses tended to 
     notice too. He was a strikingly handsome man.
       She wrote to him regularly during the war, and clipped 
     newspaper articles on the progress of the 28th Infantry--the 
     famed and feared ``bloody buckets''--and kept the clips in a 
     scrap book.
       Sergeant John Patrick Gillespie fought for the cause of 
     freedom. He fought for the honor of his country. And though 
     he never fought for the sake of glory, at war's end he was 
     draped in it.
       After landing in France, his Company L was among the first 
     to confront the hedgerows that made a patchwork of the French 
     countryside. His commanding officers spent days hunkered down 
     trying to figure out how to advance over the thick, eight-
     foot-high lines of brush that separated them from an enemy 
     whose size and strength they had no way of knowing.
       Eventually a frustrated, impatient Sergeant Gillespie 
     carved toeholds into the knotted hedgerow and told his 
     lieutenant to listen for him after he went over the top.
       When this fearless soldier dropped to the ground on the 
     other side, he began firing his weapon to find--nobody firing 
     back. Sixty years later, when asked what he did to get his 
     Bronze Star, he laughingly said, ``Nothing, really.''
       Of course, it wasn't for nothing. Nor was his subsequent 
     Silver Star for Valor in Combat, earned saving a wounded 
     platoon mate, or the Purple Heart for the bullets that ripped 
     through both his legs in the Hurtgen Forest.
       He was a successful salesman and a savvy entrepreneur 
     willing to take risks--but calculated ones. He said he never 
     took a chance in business unless he assessed better-than-60 
     percent odds for success. And he won a lot more often than he 
     lost.
       He was an opinion leader in his community. Bobby Kennedy 
     was once asked how his brother Jack won the Democratic 
     nomination in 1960. He said that when other campaigns went in 
     to organize a town, they'd ask, ``Who's the Mayor?'' or 
     ``Who's the county party chairman,'' or ``who's the Chamber 
     of Commerce President?'' And we always asked, ``Who's the man 
     to see?''
       For a long time in this community, Jack Gillespie was the 
     man to see.
       What he cared most about was his family--his wife and 
     children.
       He was a devoted husband. As a father, he was a 
     disciplinarian who gave the greatest gift you can give your 
     children: unconditional love.
       And sage advice. If Jack Gillespie said ``that's a good 
     house,'' you should buy it. If he said ``you can't trust that 
     guy,'' you couldn't. If he said ``you ought to marry that 
     girl,'' you ought to.
       Because of the guidance and advice he gave to me, I have 
     been able to give guidance and advice to Congressmen, 
     Senators, governors, Supreme Court Justices, prime ministers 
     and, yes, the President of the United States of America.
       Remarkable men and women, all. Yet I never felt intimidated 
     in their presence.
       You see, the most remarkable man I've ever known lies 
     before us here today.
       John Patrick Gillespie has left home again--on a journey to 
     a new life in a wonderful place, where he will find happiness 
     and achieve eternal glory. And waiting for him there, the 
     woman he was meant to be one with.
       Farewell, poor immigrant.
       Farewell, successful businessman.
       Farewell, brave soldier.
       Farewell, loving husband, son, brother, uncle, grandfather, 
     and friend.
       Farewell, Dad.

                          ____________________