[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 16]
[Senate]
[Pages 22046-22047]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                       TRIBUTE TO MIKE MANSFIELD

  Mr. KENNEDY. Madam President, all of us who knew and loved our former 
great Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield were saddened by his death 
last month. He was truly one of the all-time giants of the Senate, and 
he went on to serve with high distinction for many years as our 
Nation's Ambassador to Japan. His wisdom, his intelligence, his 
insights, his friendship, his fundamental fairness, and his 
extraordinary humility combined to make him a leader of uncommon vision 
and ability during his long and brilliant and historic service to the 
Senate, to the people of Montana, and to the entire country.
  On October 10, at a beautiful service for Senator Mansfield at Fort 
Myer Memorial Chapel, his former Senate assistant, Charles Ferris, 
delivered an eloquent eulogy that touched us all and reminded us again 
of the many reasons why we loved and admired Mike Mansfield so deeply. 
I know that the eulogy will be of interest to all of us, and I ask 
unanimous consent that the eulogy be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the eulogy was ordered to be printed in the 
Record, as follows:

           Eulogy Delivered at the Funeral of Mike Mansfield

                (By Charles D. Ferris, October 10, 2001)

       Thank you one and all for being here. A quiet giant is 
     gone. And in the spirit in which he lived, Mike Mansfield 
     would be embarrassed by inconveniencing so many but privately 
     very grateful to each of you. And a special thanks to Father 
     Monan, the Chancellor of Boston College. Mike received an 
     honorary degree decades ago from Boston College and was the 
     first recipient of their Thomas P. O'Neill Distinguished 
     Citizen Award in 1996. He had a soft spot for Boston--he 
     referred to Boston as the Butte of the East--an expression of 
     great affection--for Butte had a hold on his heart. It was 
     where he met Maureen.
       And during 67 years of marriage, Maureen was to him what 
     Abigail was to John Adams--a loving partner in a marriage of 
     equals based on respect for each other's judgment and 
     intelligence, with equal participation in all decisions, 
     professional as well as personal.
       How does one talk about the life of such a great man who 
     was so reluctant to talk about himself? Any of the hundreds 
     of experiences he shared with me and with so many of you 
     would be a story worth telling. But most of the stories must 
     be for another time, for the Irish wake we will conduct for 
     him in our memories and hearts will never end.
       He left the world as he lived in it, with the least 
     possible fuss and absolutely no nonsense. His hospitalization 
     was blessedly short, his mental capacity and condition 
     unimpaired until the last three days when he gracefully 
     slipped deeper into the last sleep. He gave his daughter Anne 
     and granddaughter Caroline and others of us who loved him 
     time to prepare ourselves and say goodbye. Till the end, he 
     conducted himself with character and class, a sense of 
     dignity and a lifelong sensitivity to others.
       My sadness today is overwhelmed by the surge of gratitude 
     for the things we shared that will be a part of me and my 
     family forever. Thirty-eight years ago, he plucked me from 
     the Justice Department where I was a happy and content trial 
     lawyer. I don't know to this day how I got the job. I had 
     never met him before that day. He was anxious about the Civil 
     Rights legislation coming over from the House--the Senate 
     Judiciary Committee for decades being a graveyard for civil 
     rights bills. As he talked, I wondered how I could ever 
     connect my specialty in Admiralty law with the challenge he 
     was describing. Thankfully, I didn't try. I just told him 
     that I didn't know exactly how I could be helpful but, if he 
     wanted me, I would do my best. After we spoke for about 25 
     minutes--which I would soon learn for him was a filibuster--
     he asked me to start the following Monday. Mike Mansfield was 
     a ``yep, nope, don't know, can't say'' type of guy. My 
     winning argument must have been admitting

[[Page 22047]]

     I didn't know. Over the years, I learned how clearly he 
     detected and how strongly he reacted to any and all 
     variations of the snow job. For whatever reason, his decision 
     changed my life as he changed the lives of all who shared 
     time with him. I look back and wonder if he hadn't taken that 
     leap of faith, I would today be a GS18 step 32 at the Justice 
     Department.
       But, by my good fortune and his hasty judgment, I was 
     graced with the opportunity to observe him--and learn from 
     him, as I never could from any book, the meaning of decency, 
     integrity, humility, of perspective, patience, and honor. 
     Mike Mansfield exhibited all these rare qualities in full 
     measure--and with it all, he was also the wisest man I have 
     ever met.
       His mother died when he was 7 and he had a rocky childhood 
     until he finally joined the Navy at age 14, committing 
     probably the only deceptive act in his life--presenting a 
     document that declared he was 18. After the Navy, it was the 
     Army and, after the Army, it was the Marines (he obviously 
     got all his indecision out early in life). The Marines sent 
     him to the Philippines and China. Thus began his lifetime 
     interest and study of East Asia. But he had no formal 
     education so he returned to work in the copper mines in 
     Butte. Then, at the urging of his new found love Maureen, he 
     enrolled at the Montana School of Mines as a special student, 
     concurrently taking courses to earn his high school diploma; 
     transferring a year later to the University of Montana, where 
     he won his BA and high school diploma simultaneously in 1933. 
     A Masters Degree followed, then a teaching position at the 
     University, which was his calling until elected to Congress 
     in the Fall of '42, then the Senate in the Fall of '52, 
     Majority Whip in 1957 and Majority Leader in 1961.
       Mike Mansfield was a distinctly different Leader than his 
     predecessor. He never twisted an arm but he touched the 
     conscience of his colleagues. He won them over by his 
     openness, his character and his reason. He transformed a 
     Senate of power brokers into a Senate of equals. His was a 
     leadership rooted in clarity of motive, honesty of purpose 
     and respect of his fellow Senators.
       And he led it to shape an America of greater equality. He 
     was a shaping force of the New Frontier and the Great 
     Society. He was at the helm of the Senate at the height of 
     fundamental achievement--the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, the 
     Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, the 
     passage of Medicare, federal aid to education, the 18-year-
     old vote--all deeply controversial at the time, many 
     requiring the then-dreaded two-thirds cloture vote. All this 
     and more was written in American life and law--and, in each 
     instance, he made sure a different Senator received the 
     lion's share of the accolades. Mike Mansfield always gave the 
     credit to others; his satisfaction came from within; his 
     approbation from Maureen. Yet, each time, Mike Mansfield's 
     leadership was the hinge of history: he was the man without 
     whom the achievements might well have been different--in all 
     likelihood, at least greatly lessened. He was the strong 
     gentle wind that set the climate of the Senate. He was the 
     essential chemistry of that Body. I say that as one who 
     observed the entire process closely from the wings.
       During the months of daily backroom negotiations on the 
     Voting Rights Act in 1965, a disgruntled Chief of Staff for a 
     Midwestern Democrat complained about holding the daily 
     meetings in Everett Dirksen's office, with the press 
     conference right outside every day at 4 p.m. Everett Dirksen 
     was given center stage by the Boss, who was content to simply 
     stand there and second Dirksen's loquacious progress report. 
     The Chief of Staff pleaded to have at least half the meetings 
     in the Majority Leader's office and hold the press 
     conferences there so the office nameplate of the Majority 
     Leader would stamp the photos and TV coverage of the day. I 
     thought this a perfectly reasonable request and brought it to 
     the Boss, whose response was ``Charlie, last year the 
     Republican Party drifted far from the mainstream during the 
     Presidential election. If the public can see the Republican 
     Leader each day reporting on the progress of what will 
     hopefully be the most significant civil rights legislation 
     ever, it will be very beneficial for the country to grasp 
     that this bill was being drafted by both parties, even in an 
     overwhelmingly Democratic Congress.'' And so it was; and for 
     me, another lesson in perspective, in wisdom.
       Mike Mansfield's fairness was never questioned on either 
     side of the aisle. I recall a freshman Senator with an 
     important amendment--important to him politically and to his 
     state almost exclusively--that he had already announced he 
     would offer to a pending bill. But with some swift 
     parliamentary gymnastics, the managers raced the bill to 
     final passage. The freshman Senator had been left high and 
     dry and certain to be embarrassed back home. Mike was not on 
     the Senate Floor for the parliamentary sleight of hand but, 
     once summoned, he exhibited with few words and mostly by a 
     stern look his sense of outrage at the unfairness of what had 
     happened. He rescinded by unanimous consent the passage of 
     the bill and the freshman Senator had his day. I don't 
     remember the outcome, but it didn't matter; the opportunity 
     was the victory. That freshman Senator, incidentally, was a 
     Republican--he is still a Member of the Senate and he is here 
     today.
       He was our Ambassador to Japan during both the Carter and 
     the Reagan Administrations, a post where he became in another 
     great country what he was in our own--the most respected of 
     leaders. Again he remained himself and redefined diplomacy. 
     Early in his years as Ambassador, the American nuclear 
     submarine George Washington violated the law of the seas. It 
     surfaced and sank a Japanese vessel in Japanese waters, 
     tragically causing loss of life, a most embarrassing and 
     politically explosive incident. In a world where debate over 
     words like regret, sorrow, excuse or apology can take weeks 
     and months to be decided, at his own instigation and 
     insistence, Ambassador Mansfield delivered a note of apology 
     to the Japanese Foreign Minister. He asked, however, most 
     uncharacteristically, that the TV cameras be permitted to 
     remain in the room while he submitted the written apology. 
     Again in character, actions over words, he bowed deeply below 
     the waistline in presenting the official government position. 
     As he knew, this symbol in the Japanese culture has great 
     significance. The sincerity and depth of the apology was 
     visually conveyed. That five seconds was played and replayed 
     on Japan's TV stations many times over--obviously seen by 
     everyone in Japan with a television. The political issue 
     ceased to exist. Again, few words--great action--achieved 
     goal. I don't doubt that his 12 years in Tokyo were 
     characterized with other telling examples.
       In the last decade of his life, after he returned from 
     Tokyo, I was blessed with the good fortune of becoming Mike 
     Mansfield's good friend. We shared wonderful moments together 
     and our almost daily visits were a ritual we both became 
     addicted to. When the end came on Friday morning, I was 
     filled with sadness for an irreplaceable loss, but full of 
     gratitude for the friendship and love and the lessons on how 
     to live.
       At the hospital three days before he died, he was resting 
     comfortably, his eyes closed. He had been informed the day 
     before that he was on his final lap. I went to his bedside, 
     and took his hand and quietly asked how he was doing. He 
     opened his eyes, strained to focus, and said, ``Oh, Charlie, 
     how are you? A moment later, ``What day is it?'' Monday, I 
     said. A short pause, and then, ``How did our little giant do 
     yesterday?'' Knowing, of course, he was talking about Doug 
     Flutie, I said he won. They're now 3-0. He smiled and said, 
     ``If they go 4-0, he should own the team.''
       It was as if this were a normal day, another visit, nothing 
     unusual. In looking back, this final chat I believe was much 
     more. He was not a man of idle gestures or wasted words. He 
     knew the wheels were about to touch down. But like remaining 
     in the background at joint press conferences, or bowing below 
     the waist to the Foreign Minister or with a stern look 
     repairing a parliamentary abuse, I believe he was conveying a 
     message. That he was mentally comfortable and spiritually 
     content; that he had no fear about what lay beyond the 
     horizon. In effect, he remained a mentor to the very end--
     still more interested in giving comfort than seeking it--
     teaching again by example the final lesson of dying with 
     serene dignity.
       Now what we have left are indelible memories and his 
     shining example. But how much more that is than most people, 
     not just politicians, ever give. He left a deep imprint on 
     the history he once taught and every person he ever met.
       Mike has gone to Maureen. Together again with the love of 
     his life. But he will always be with all of us who knew him--
     who were directed by his example, honored by his friendship--
     blessed by his life and appreciative of his love.
       In the world where politics is so often so self-regarding 
     and so many so self-absorbed, Boss, you set a different, 
     higher standard. You tapped er light but left the deepest 
     imprint.
       There will never be another like you.
       You will always be a part of my life.

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