[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 157 (2011), Part 11]
[Senate]
[Pages 15378-15379]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                         ADDITIONAL STATEMENTS

                                 ______
                                 

                        REMEMBERING JOE GARLAND

 Mr. KERRY. Mr. President, over the course of the past half 
century, Joe Garland served as the unofficial historian of Gloucester, 
MA--its fishermen, its boats and its life. But Joe Garland not only 
wrote history in his books and newspaper column--he was part of 
history, guiding his beloved hometown through headwinds and troubled 
waters. Joe Garland passed away August 30, and his family and friends 
gathered October 1 for a memorial service. I would like to share with 
the Senate the thoughts and memories of Joe that I shared with those 
who were part of that service honoring this great champion of all 
things Gloucester.
  If you visit the Fisherman's Memorial on Gloucester's waterfront on a 
stormy winter day, the statue of the Heroic Mariner seems to be 
steering the whole town into the wind toward fair weather. And if you 
look closely at the statue, you can almost see Joe Garland in its 
carved granite face, full of grit and determination, guiding his 
beloved Gloucester through headwinds and troubled waters.
  ``Beating to windward'' is the art of sailing into the wind. 
``Beating to Windward'' is also the name of the column Joe wrote so 
many years for the Gloucester Times. And it is no surprise to any of us 
who knew him that Joe used the column to champion all things 
Gloucester. Joe didn't just chronicle Gloucester's history--he was a 
part of it. In his column and in his books, he brought to life the era 
of the great schooners--like the 122-foot Adventure, the flagship of 
Gloucester, and the larger-than-life Gloucestermen--like the ``Bear of 
the Sea,'' Giant Jim Patillo, and the ``Lone Voyager,'' Howard 
Blackburn.
  But he also used the sharpness of his pen to make his case on all 
kinds of civil causes--opposing unbridled economic development, warning 
about the loss of local control of the hospital and water supply, 
complaining about comprises on the environment or demanding the 
preservation of Gloucester's beauty. And trust me--Joe never hesitated 
to offer his advice to a certain U.S. Senator, if he felt like I needed 
it.
  Joe wrote with passion, conviction and humor, never with ill will or 
with the intent to wound. He was a gentleman. And always, whether in 
his column or in his books, he promoted the interests of Gloucester's 
fishing fleet. In my office in Washington, I have a copy of the book he 
wrote in 2006, ``The Fish and the Falcon,'' about Gloucester's role in 
the American Revolution. His inscription to me expresses his 
appreciation ``for your efforts to relieve the fiscal crisis that has 
long haunted our beleaguered fishing industry.'' He urged me to keep up 
the fight, and I have.
  Joe wrote 21 books, and I always enjoyed his sharing the latest with 
me. In my Boston office, I have a copy of his book about the Adventure, 
which he helped to restore. It arrived with an invitation from Joe to 
tour the schooner and, of course, I didn't waste any time accepting his 
invitation. He welcomed me aboard, and his tour made the Adventure's 
history come alive--from its construction in 1926 through its career as 
a ``highliner,'' the biggest moneymaker of them all, landing nearly $4 
million worth of cod and halibut during her career.
  But the book that spoke to me the most was his last, ``Unknown 
Soldiers,'' his memoir of World War II and his journey from a student 
at Harvard to a ``dogface'' with a close-knit infantry in Sicily, 
Italy, France and finally Germany. It is a clear, eloquent and 
unflinching panorama of the mundane and the horrific in war. It is, by 
turns, humorous, poignant and gut-wrenching, with the common soldier 
perspective long associated with journalist Ernie Pyle or cartoonist 
Bill Mauldin, a point of view with which soldiers from my war, from any 
war--a band of brothers stretching through generations of Americans--
can identify.
  I was deeply saddened to learn of Joe's passing. But I am glad that 
his passing was gentle, his last moments of his life near the window of 
his beloved house by the sea, surrounded by loved ones and squeezing 
the hand of the woman he loved--Helen, his wife, his World War II pen 
pal. And how fitting that in those final moments, the schooner Landon 
fired a farewell cannon salute to Joe as it headed out to sea. Joe 
loved the tradition of cannon salutes, so much so that he fired one at 
the wedding of his stepdaughter, Alison, only to have it backfire, 
burning a hole in his jacket and covering his face with gunpowder, just 
in time for the official wedding photos. But that was Joe, and a face 
smudged with gunpowder underscored what we all know--truly, his was a 
life well lived.
  There is an anonymous quote I once read which may well describe how 
we should think of Joe's passing. It says:
  I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white 
sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an 
object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her until, at 
length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and 
sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, 
``There! She's gone.''
  Gone where? Gone from my sight--that is all. She is just as large in 
mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as 
able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. 
Her diminished size is in me, not in her, and just at the moment when 
someone at my side says, ``There, she's gone,''--there are other eyes 
watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, 
``There she comes!'' And that is dying.
  Because Joe loved the sea so much--and because he enjoyed watching 
seagulls soar--I close with a special poem. It is titled ``Sea Joy'' 
and it was written in 1939 by a little girl named Jaqueline Bouvier. 
America eventually came to know her as Jackie Kennedy. But when she was 
10 years old, she wrote:

     ``When I go down by the sandy shore
     I can think of nothing I want more
     Than to live by the booming blue sea
     As the seagulls flutter round about me
     I can run about--when the tide is out
     With the wind and the sand and the sea all about
     And the seagulls are swirling and diving for fish
     Oh--to live by the sea is my only wish.''

  To Helen and Joe's family, I extend my deepest sympathy, but with a 
reminder that Joe's work, like the sea he loved, is eternal and 
booming, and that Joe's life, like the seagulls he enjoyed so much, 
swirled and soared.

[[Page 15379]]

  And to Joe, from one sailor to another, I wish him ``fair winds and 
following seas.''

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