Mr. President, on November 21, America lost a great journalist and a wonderful human being when Hugh Sidey passed away at the age of 78. Hugh Sidey was a man I admired and read for many, many years. He was an observer of the world and a…
Mr. President, on November 21, America lost a great journalist and a wonderful human being when Hugh Sidey passed away at the age of 78. Hugh Sidey was a man I admired and read for many, many years. He was an observer of the world and a preeminent chronicler of our times. It was one of the great joys of my life that since coming to the Senate 9 years ago, I had the opportunity, from time to time, to sit-down with Hugh Sidey and get his sense of the world. He understood the intricacies of politics and policy but, more than that, he understood the human dynamic of our business. He understood people.
Hugh Sidey approached the world with a Midwestern sensibility and a simple decency. Raised in a newspaper family in Greenfield, IA, he learned his craft at the Omaha World-Herald among other stops early in his career. At Time Magazine he covered every American President from Dwight Eisenhower to George W. Bush. He understood politics and the presidency because he understood America. In a 1979 Time Magazine Presidency column, Hugh Sidey said this about our political system:
Politics, when all is said and done, is a business of
belief and enthusiasm. Hope energizes, doubt destroys.
Hopelessness is not our heritage.
That observation hangs on the wall of my Senate office. In three simple sentences, Hugh Sidey summed up what is good about our country and what American politics can be at its best.
President Gerald Ford paid an eloquent tribute to the life and legacy of Hugh Sidey in a November 26th Washington Post op-ed. Mr. President, I submit President Ford's tribute to this great American for the Congressional Record. America will miss Hugh Sidey.
The tribute follows.
[From the Washington Post, Nov. 26, 2005]
The Friendship, and Toughness, of Hugh Sidey
(By Gerald R. Ford)
It wasn't supposed to be this way. Like most men my age, I
have given a thought or two to my funeral. As a former
president, I'm almost required to, since the military
periodically updates its plans, and each presidential family
is solicited for personal touches. Among these is a choice of
eulogists. Thus it was, a few months ago, that I called Hugh
Sidey.
We'd known each other forever, Hugh coming to Washington
just a few years after the voters of Michigan's 5th
Congressional District sent me there. Maybe it was our shared
Midwestern background, his transparent decency or the tough
but fair coverage he accorded me and nine other American
presidents; in any event, I had always regarded Hugh as a
friend. So I asked him if he would do me the honor of
speaking at Washington's National Cathedral when the time
came.
I did so in part for symbolic reasons. I like reporters,
even if I haven't always liked what some wrote about me. I
figure that's a pretty minor price to pay for a free press in
a free society. But I also hoped to remind people in our
often overheated era that it is possible for a politician and
a journalist to enjoy mutual respect, admiration and, yes,
friendship, all the while understanding the necessarily
adversarial relationship that often exists between those in
power and those who report on their activities.
Hugh Sidey died this week at the age of 78. Anyone who read
him knew America's presidents. Anyone who knew him knew
America. In a very real sense, he never left Greenfield,
Iowa, where four generations of Sideys practiced journalism
with integrity and the perspective that laughter uniquely
supplies. ``A sense of humor . . . is needed armor,'' he once
wrote of the presidency. ``Joy in one's heart and some
laughter on one's lips is a sign that the person down deep
has a pretty good grasp on life.''
Hugh had a sure grasp of life. An insider who never forgot
those on the outside, he was warm and wise about Washington
and its rituals. He appreciated Woodrow Wilson's observation
that men who arrive in our nation's capital--presidents
included--have a tendency to either grow or swell. But he was
incapable of cynicism. Hugh scored more than, his share of
scoops, but along with the ability to pierce official secrecy
went an empathy that enabled him to see the White House and
its occupants first and always as very human beings.
Whether reporting of the U-2 crisis, the Missiles of
October or the 22nd of November; Vietnam or Watergate;
Richard Nixon's opening to China, or Jimmy Carter's high-risk
diplomacy at Camp David; Ronald Reagan's years of renewal;
the tumult of the '90s followed by the shattering events of
Sept. 11--Hugh put readers at the center of events. At the
same time, he made it possible for millions who might never
visit the White House to experience it, in good and not so
good times, through a President's eyes and ears.
Over the years he became something of a Washington
institution himself, seemingly as much a part of the
presidency as Air Force One or Camp David. Yet he never
behaved like an institution, and I suspect he never stopped
pinching himself over his extraordinary good fortune.
For his friends, and they are legion, the good fortune was
to know and learn from and simply enjoy Hugh's company. Now
he is forever part of the old house whose history he brought
to life. Hugh not only explained Washington to the rest of
America; by being the kind of person, he was, no less than by
setting the highest of journalistic standards, Hugh Sidey
also embodied the best of America in Washington.