[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 146 (2000), Part 18]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 27303-27304]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



EXPRESSING SORROW OF THE HOUSE AT THE DEATH OF THE HONORABLE JULIAN C. 
         DIXON, MEMBER OF CONGRESS FROM THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA

                                 ______
                                 

                               speech of

                         HON. HOWARD L. BERMAN

                             of california

                    in the house of representatives

                        Friday, December 8, 2000

  Mr. BERMAN. Mr. Speaker, on Wednesday I had the unwelcome honor of 
participating in the funeral service for our beloved late colleague, 
Julian Dixon. I submit the remarks I made therein the Record.

       It is said that grief and mourning are in reality selfish 
     emotions, because we are really overcome by what we have 
     lost. I'm feeling pretty selfish right now because I've lost 
     my closest friend in public office.
       It's a sunny morning in November, 1972 as I board the 
     flight to Sacramento to attend freshman orientation for the 
     newly elected members of the State Assembly. As fate would 
     have it, my seatmate is Julian Dixon, whom I've never met 
     before, also newly elected. It is the start of a deep and 
     enduring friendship, an ``odd couple'' relationship between 
     the slightly self-righteous Jewish guy from the San Fernando 
     Valley--who cut his political teeth in the left of center 
     reform wing of our party and the more moderate and wise 
     African-American party regular from Central Los Angeles 
     mentored by the late Speaker Jess Unruh and then State 
     Senator Mervyn Dymally.
       Together we went through a traumatic Speakership fight, 
     Assembly leadership positions pioneering and often successful 
     legislative initiatives, a wild and crazy Jerry Brown 
     governorship and developed a relationship where we could 
     share the most intimate of details and in subsequent years 
     wonderful social occasions with our wives, Bettye and Janis.
       Thomas Jefferson once wrote ``on matters of style, swim 
     with the current; on matters of principle, stand like a 
     rock.'' He describes our friend.
       Julian Dixon had the uncanny ability to stake out his 
     position, detach himself from that position, step into the 
     other person's shoes, subordinate his own ego and shrewdly 
     calculate how to address his advisory's concerns in order to 
     attain his original objective. If it meant taking less credit 
     than he deserved, so be it. He surely holds the record for 
     fewest press conferences by a Member of Congress.
       But no one who knew him could mistake his calm demeanor, 
     his thoughtful approach and his remarkable efforts at 
     bipartisanship for a lack of passion or commitment to a 
     progressive pro-civil rights, activist agenda.
       One of the remarkable scenes on the House floor was 
     watching this serene and sedate man rise to levels of 
     eloquence and controlled anger at a demagogic attack or a 
     rhetorical cheapshot. The hush that would envelope the 
     chamber when Julian's voice rose was palpable. Be it an 
     effort to override the decision of D.C. voters or its City 
     Council through an amendment to his D.C. appropriations bill 
     or an attack on the all too frequent disaster relief 
     appropriations for Los Angeles, when the voting began Members 
     you could never imagine would flock to his position, 
     deferring to his judgment and moved by his passion.
       But this was the unusual occasion. While I've chosen not to 
     even attempt to enumerate them, most of his myriad 
     legislative accomplishments were achieved behind the scenes, 
     with little fanfare.
       In the Spring, 1999, Justices Thomas and Souter appeared 
     before his subcommittee to testify for the Supreme Court's 
     budget request. The nearly complete absence of minorities and 
     the under-representation of women as law clerks to the 
     Supreme Court justices deeply disturbed Julian. In typical 
     fashion, Julian did not seek to rectify the situation by 
     crafting an amendment (which would never have passed), nor 
     did he hold a high profile press conference. He did not hurl 
     insults. Rather, with appropriate deference and a deft and 
     direct explanation of just why this was so intolerable, he 
     made his case and thanked them for listening. The Justices 
     expressed their appreciation for the way he chose to deliver 
     his message and lo and behold, in the next term the increase 
     in minority and female clerks was dramatic, if not yet 
     adequate--classic Julian Dixon.
       As the Cold War ended, Julian left the foreign assistance 
     subcommittee (where he had fought for foreign aid generally 
     and aid to Israel specifically) and joined the defense 
     appropriations subcommittee. As California slid into 
     recession and unemployment in his own
       This week's Congressional Quarterly headlined its article 
     on Julian's passing--``Remembered for Selflessness, Taking on 
     Thankless Tasks.'' He chaired the Ethics Committee for six 
     years and has been the ranking Democrat on the highly 
     sensitive House Intelligence Committee, where he grappled on 
     a bipartisan basis with our country's critical national 
     security issues. Little publicity, less glory and no fund-
     raising potential. Add to the ``thankless tasks'' his many 
     years chairing the District of Columbia appropriations 
     subcommittee, where he fought for the city in which he was 
     born and raised, particularly because its residents to this 
     day are denied equal political representation.
       Now this latter position did carry some clout. In the mid-
     1980s, I accompanied Julian to an anti-apartheid 
     demonstration in front of the South African embassy, a sure 
     ticket to jail. When we were booked I remarked the jail 
     looked rather spiffy. Julian indicated that indeed it did, 
     that before the daily demonstrations started he had suggested 
     to key D.C. officials that they might want to give it a new 
     paint job to impress the many Congressmen who would be 
     passing through.
       Julian's loyalty to and love for the House was apparent to 
     anyone who knew him. When Minority Leader Dick Gephardt asked 
     me to take a slot on the Ethics Committee, Julian told me I 
     had no choice--it was my obligation to the institution in 
     which I had the honor to serve.
       Julian's friends in L.A.--he loved them dearly and they 
     loved him in return. When

[[Page 27304]]

     he first ran for Congress in 1978, he started as a distinct 
     underdog, representing much less of the district than one of 
     his opponents, much less well-known than the other. (Julian 
     had mastered the art of remaining relatively unknown to the 
     general public)--or so I thought until today. His friends 
     came through for him like gangbusters. They set new records 
     for fund-raising within the African-American community, 
     providing the resources and the volunteers to send him to a 
     substantial victory. He never forgot them.
       I never met an elected official who was so attentive to 
     people who could do nothing for him politically. He always 
     had time to share a word with the Rayburn subway driver, the 
     elevator operator, the committee secretary. There was always 
     enough time to help the former staffer. He was not one to 
     look over your shoulder to see if someone else in the room 
     had more money, more power, more influence.
       One of the true joys of my life in Washington were my 
     frequent dinners with Julian. We glided from House business 
     to local politics to our families effortlessly. From those 
     dinners, Bettye, I know how much you meant to him, how strong 
     you were, how proud he was of your tremendous success in 
     business.
       Julian was filled with good advice--but he was not 
     infallible. One evening he indicated that he had begged 
     Johnnie Cochran not to take the O.J. case, there was no way 
     he could win and it would destroy his career.
       Julian was a throwback to a different political era, where 
     discourse was civil, where adversaries at work could have a 
     drink together in the evening, where not every interaction 
     was defined by whom was benefitted in the next election.
       Perhaps, just perhaps, Julian Dixon's career and life can 
     be instructive to us as we embark on a new Congress with a 
     new President. I think the American people want what Julian 
     offered--true to his beliefs and still able to see the other 
     side, solving problems and working to make our community and 
     country a better place--and even having a little fun while 
     we're doing it. Dr. King once said ``If a man is called to be 
     a streetsweeper, he should sweep the streets even as 
     Michelangelo painted or Beethoven composed music or 
     Shakespeare composed poetry. He should sweep streets so well 
     that the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, `here 
     lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well.' ''
       Julian--you were a great Congressman, and you did your job 
     well. We'll miss you more than you could have imagined.

     

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