[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 146 (2000), Part 18]
[Senate]
[Pages 26270-26271]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]


[[Page 26270]]

                          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 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.

[[Page 26271]]

       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 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 woman 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?

                          ____________________