[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 10]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 14615-14616]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                  TRIBUTE TO STATE SENATOR REGIS GROFF

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. MARK UDALL

                              of colorado

                    in the house of representatives

                        Wednesday, July 25, 2001

  Mr. UDALL of Colorado. Mr. Speaker, I rise today to pay tribute to a 
man considered, after twenty years of service to be the ``Conscience of 
the Colorado Senate.'' As a State Senator Regis Groff was a man who 
never backed down from a fight and always stood up for what he believed 
in. Although he often stood alone, he never hesitated to do what he 
believed was right.
  As an African-American political leader from West, Regis was often 
pitted against the forces of discrimination, a battle in which he was 
consistently outnumbered. He pushed for Colorado to divest itself from 
business relationships with the apartheid regime of South Africa, and 
was a strong voice for enhancing voter registration. When it wasn't 
popular, he was also a voice for rational gun control. He was 
responsible for carrying Senate legislation in Colorado designating the 
birthday of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. as a state holiday.
  Regis Groff's convictions earned him respect from both sides of the 
aisle. One former colleague remarked, ``there would be a hush when 
Regis went to the microphone.'' The former Colorado Senate President, a 
member of the opposing party, said, ``Regis was the most fun and 
challenging person to debate at the microphone of anyone I served with 
in the legislature.''
  I would ask my colleagues to join me in paying tribute to a great and 
dedicated public servant. I am including an article from a recent 
edition of the Denver Post that recognizes the significant 
contributions of Regis Groff to the people of Colorado.

    Whatever Happened To . . . Regis Groff?: Former ``Conscience of 
                    Colorado'' Speaks From Sidelines

                          (By James B. Meadow)

       The former ``Conscience of the Colorado Senate,'' the man 
     who spent 20 years fighting--and mostly losing--the good 
     fight is staring out the window of the clubhouse of the Park 
     Hill Golf Course sympathetically watching grown men flail at 
     a little white ball.
       ``Most retirees assume their golf game will be much, much 
     better, but it doesn't happen that way,'' says Regis Groff. 
     He flashes his trademark megawatt smile as he adds, ``At 
     least it didn't happen to me. But then I only play one-third 
     as much golf as I want to.''
       Not that he's complaining, because these days life is 
     better than just OK for Groff. For one, he looks a decade 
     younger than his 66 years, almost too youthful to be the 
     grandfather of four. For another, he takes a winter hiatus in 
     Las Vegas every year.

[[Page 14616]]

       He also indulges his passion for baseball by taking 
     advantage of his Colorado Rockies season tickets. True, 
     they're not his beloved Chicago Cubs, but few know better 
     than Groff that life is riddled with compromise.
       For two decades, he was the impassioned, eloquent spokesman 
     for liberal causes in the Colorado Senate, a man whose 
     flights of oratory were legendary.
       ``There would be a hush when Regis went to the 
     microphone,'' says former Sen. Mike Feeley, calling the 
     Democrat ``the finest public speaker ever to grace the floor 
     of the state Senate.''
       Even those at the opposite end of the political spectrum 
     were Groff fans.
       ``Regis was the most fun and challenging person to debate 
     at the microphone of anyone I served with in the 
     legislature,'' says Tom Norton, former Senate president. ``I 
     don't know that he ever passed a whole bunch of bills. But he 
     always made sure the point of view he represented was 
     adequately considered.''
       Norton isn't exaggerating in his remarks about Groff not 
     passing a whole bunch of bills.
       ``Oh, it was thorough frustration to have zero influence, 
     no power,'' says Groff of his 20 years in the minority party; 
     years of futilely fighting to ban capital punishment, have 
     the state divest itself from business relationships with the 
     apartheid regime of South Africa, enhance voter registration 
     and establish gun control.
       ``But you have to raise issues that aren't popular,'' says 
     Groff. ``You try to raise issues that touch the conscience of 
     each human being.''
       Although Groff dismisses Sen. Jana Mendez's claim that he 
     was the conscience of the Senate as ``overspeak,'' he doesn't 
     deny that he was loath to back down from an issue.
       That's why in April 1993, only months after Coloradans 
     passed Amendment 2--largely seen as a slap at homosexual 
     rights--Groff tried to get the Senate to put it back on the 
     ballot to let voters ``revisit'' the measure.
       That same session, he was blunt about his feelings for 
     Douglas Bruce, author of Amendment 1, which limited the 
     state's ability to raise taxes and spend money.
       On the Senate floor, Groff said that Bruce, a California 
     transplant, ``slithered into Colorado and hoodwinked the 
     state.''
       Standing alone was second nature to Groff: He was the 
     Senate's only black. And political ostracism was nothing new 
     for a guy who knew all about racial discrimination.
       When he first arrived in Denver in 1963, to begin what 
     would be a lengthy career as an educator, he and his wife 
     were repeatedly denied rental homes in Park Hill because, as 
     landlords told him, ``We don't rent to coloreds.''
       Growing up the son of a potter in Monmouth., Ill., a small 
     rural community, Groff wasn't allowed in the YMCA pool.
       Racial intolerance was still an emphatic given when he was 
     attending Western Illinois University. Along with a group of 
     other black students, Groff led a successful push to force a 
     local barbershop to serve black students.
       His proudest moment as a legislator came in 1984, when he 
     persuaded the Senate to pass a bill making Martin Luther 
     King's birthday a state holiday.
       He recalls that debate over the bill almost caused a fist 
     fight with another senator. ``I told him, `I should kick your 
     ass!,' and he said, `C'mon!' but others stepped between us,'' 
     laughs Groff.
       Groff left the Senate in 1994 to head the state's Youth 
     Offender System, a multimillion-dollar rehabilitation 
     facility for violent juveniles. He quit in 1998 and then 
     headed the Metro Denver Black Church Initiative.
       These days, he says, ``I have no gainful employment,'' 
     content to be a grandfather, serve on boards, travel, golf, 
     watch baseball, adjust to life as a divorced male after 33 
     years of marriage and basically do what he pleases.
       Would he ever again consider elective office?
       ``No, no, no!'' he says, recoiling in mock horror. ``If 20 
     years of politics doesn't fill your appetite, then that 
     appetite is so insatiable as to be dangerous.''
       Still, he does confess to more than a trace of envy now 
     that Democrats control the Senate.
       ``You bet I'm jealous. I'd like to know how it feels to be 
     in the majority,'' he says.
       But then you'd expect a frank answer. After all, anything 
     less from the Senate's former conscience would be, well, 
     unconscionable.

     

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