[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 162 (2016), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Pages 12854-12855]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




             REMEMBERING THE VENERABLE NORMAN H.V. ELLIOTT

  Ms. MURKOWSKI. Mr. President, it seems I am coming to the floor of 
the Senate on an increasingly frequent basis to honor the pioneering 
men and women who arrived in the State of Alaska prior to statehood who 
truly have left a lasting impression on the history of the 49th State.
  Today I rise to remember the Venerable Norman H.V. Elliott. Father 
Elliott was an Episcopal clergyman who arrived in Alaska in 1951. He 
was truly a profound spiritual force in Alaska from the day he arrived 
in our State until his death on Friday, September 9 of this year. 
Father Elliott passed at the age of 97. To say he lived his life to the 
fullest would be a huge understatement.
  Father Elliott lived a life as big as the State of Alaska. As we 
reflect upon that life, it would be no overstatement to characterize 
Norman Elliott as a true Alaskan icon.
  Father Elliott was born in England. He moved to Detroit, MI, when he 
was 4 years old, and according to the stories, he decided very early 
on, about middle-school age, that he wanted to enter the ministry.
  That future was somewhat interrupted by World War II. Father Elliott 
was drawn to military service, and after considering the possibility of 
joining a Canadian Forces battalion in neighboring Windsor, Ontario, he 
chose the U.S. Army instead. He was assigned to a new experimental 
light infantry division which was patterned after a German light 
division. After training in the swamps of Louisiana and California's 
mountains, he was deployed to Europe. Initially deployed to France, he 
fought in Luxembourg and Germany.
  I had an opportunity to come to know Father Elliott very well over 
the years. Several years back, he agreed to sit for an interview as 
part of our Veterans Spotlight series. This is an oral history project 
I sponsored to capture the stories of Alaskan veterans. We worked in 
conjunction with the Veterans History Project at the Library of 
Congress. In that interview, Father Elliott talked about the realities 
of the war. He said:

  

       I remember good times. I remember bad times. I remember 
     times where I barely escaped by the skin of my teeth. You 
     never forget. I remember, and there are things I wish I had 
     done or didn't do. I hope that as a whole, Alaskans remember 
     what we did, because as a Nation, we are losing our 
     remembrance of World War II.

  Well, Father Elliott never let us forget our veterans, whether it was 
our veterans who fought honorably in World War II or the returning men 
and women who are coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan.
  Father Elliott's history after the war took him to Alaska. He 
attended Virginia Theological Seminary. He intended to serve as a 
missionary in India. There wasn't a slot available there for him, but 
there was one in Alaska. Father Elliott ended up in Alaska. His first 
stop was at St. Mark's Episcopal Mission in Nenana, a church and 
boarding home for Native children. Then he went to St. Barnabas's 
Mission in Minto and St. Stephen's Mission in Fort Yukon. Over time, 
his responsibilities expanded to missions throughout the Gwich'in 
communities on the Upper Yukon--communities such as Eagle, Circle, 
Chalkyitsik, Arctic Village, Venetie, Beaver, and Stevens Village. To 
cover this very large territory, Father Elliott would often travel by 
dogsled. He became a pilot and flew his own aircraft. I think he called 
his yellow plane the ``Drunken Canary.''
  Father Elliott was truly ``as unique as Alaska itself,'' in the words 
of one of his parishioners.
  His duties in the villages were hardly romantic. Father Elliott was 
forced to confront the dual scourge of alcohol abuse and suicide and 
the loss of faith that comes along with despair. As a member of a joint 
Federal-State Commission on Alaska Natives in the 1990s, he encouraged 
a shift in government policies toward Native people. Instead of the 
government doing for Native people and doing things perhaps poorly, he 
believed the Native people themselves needed to be heard. He was an 
incredible advocate in so many ways.
  He was more than your village priest, though. In various villages, 
Father Elliott would come in and do whatever task was needed.
  In an article in our local newspaper, the Alaska Dispatch, just a 
couple of days ago, it was reported this way:

       [Father] Elliott did every kind of task--he was a 
     policeman, a tax collector, a schoolteacher, a delivery 
     person and a messenger. When he arrived in one village to do 
     church services, he first vaccinated everyone for typhoid. He 
     usually carried penicillin in his sled bag, giving anyone who 
     needed it an injection in the rump, including any sick dogs 
     in his team.

  Now, that is an individual who cared for everyone in whatever the 
capacity.
  After being in the remote interior of the State, Father Elliott's 
next assignments were in relatively urban corners of Alaska. In 1958, 
Father Elliott moved to Southeast Alaska where he served at St. John's 
Church in Ketchikan. In 1962, he settled in as rector at All Saints 
Episcopal Church, a beautiful church in downtown Anchorage. Father 
Elliott officially retired in 1990 when he reached the age of 70 in 
accordance with the church rules.
  That might be the end of the story there, but it is hardly the story 
for Father Elliott. Two years after his retirement, All Saints needed a 
replacement priest, and he came out of retirement to serve as something 
called a priest in charge and continued to serve until earlier this 
year.
  Father Elliott was one of those who was everywhere. He was at every 
social gathering. He was at every wedding, every funeral, baptisms, 
everything in between. He would visit those in the hospital. At times 
he would stay all night. He had this uncanny sense of knowing when they 
were in the hospital because he was very often the first one to visit.
  Father Elliott ended up in the hospital earlier this year. He was 
down with pneumonia. It was a bit ironic. I went to visit him. He was 
really pretty grumpy. He was grumpy because he knew the hospital in and 
out, but he didn't like being the one who was confined in the bed. He 
was grumpy because he had places to go and people to see. As I recall, 
he had a funeral to go to and a wedding to go to, and when he got out 
of the hospital, he resumed that active schedule.
  I have remarked often that Father Elliott lived every day to its 
fullest, from the time he woke up in the morning until the time he went 
to bed at night, and his is a life well lived.
  Last week, Father Elliott passed away, and that, I am afraid, is the 
end of his story--at least the end of the story as we know it here on 
this Earth. Father Elliott served his church, his Nation, and his 
community with great distinction, and his was indeed a life that was 
well lived.
  I have so many wonderful memories of my friend Father Norman Elliott, 
and that will sustain me, but I cannot help but observe that with 
Father Elliott's passing, another of Alaska's great and mighty trees 
has fallen.
  I will be in Alaska this weekend and on Monday will have an 
opportunity to join with Alaskans from around the State in paying a 
tribute to a man who truly lived a life of service to others, who truly 
cared in a way that goes almost beyond description. I stand with my 
colleagues and ask that we join in prayers for Father Elliott and the 
family of truly a great Alaskan.
  With that, Mr. President, I yield the floor.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER (Mr. Hoeven). The Senator from Texas.

[[Page 12855]]


  Mr. CORNYN. Mr. President, I wasn't expecting to be on the floor when 
the Senator from Alaska was talking about Father Elliott. What a great 
story, and what a great life he lived. I am glad I happened to be here 
and had a chance to listen.

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