Mr. Speaker, I thank my fellow dean, my bipartisan dean on the other side. I have so many stories to tell, so I am going to watch the clock here a little bit. I am going to ramble. I don't have a prepared speech. I am delighted to be here.…
Mr. Speaker, I thank my fellow dean, my bipartisan dean on the
other side. I have so many stories to tell, so I am going to watch the clock here a little bit. I am going to ramble. I don't have a prepared speech.
I am delighted to be here. I am delighted that you were able to get this time for some of us to speak and honor a legend. And when you think about this last year, man, we have lost some really terrific ones: President Bush, John McCain, others. Certainly, John Dingell joins those ranks as a distinguished American who really made a mark on everyone's life in this country.
Mr. Speaker, I include into the Record an article written by editor Nolan Finley of The Detroit News.
[From the Detroit News, Feb. 9, 2019]
John Dingell Knew How to Live, How To Love
(By Nolan Finley)
I was up to my waist and cork tight in what I can only
describe as quicksand when I looked up and saw John Dingell
squinting down at me with that familiar, satisfied grin.
``How in bloody hell did you get in there? And more
important, how in blue blazes are you going to get out?''
We were hunting ducks on Maryland's Eastern Shore. I'd
winged a goose that came down running, and was in hot pursuit
when I stepped into the hole of muck and quickly sank.
John pulled me out, and then finished off the goose.
I never know how to answer when someone asks how a
conservative, Republican-leaning newspaperman could become
such fast friends with a New Deal Democrat who shaped the
liberal politics and policies of the second half of the 20th
century.
I never occurred to either of us that we could be anything
else.
John didn't choose the people he loved based on political
compatibility. Certainly, he had strong opinions, and so do
I, and we engaged often in intense discussions. Not once in
25 years did we exchange angry words, nor ever part with hard
feelings.
We were more than our politics. When together, our
conversation quickly moved to our common loves--guns and
hunting. It was what drew us together in the first place.
John was a great hunter, a dead-eye with a shotgun. I was
with him when he shot the last duck he ever killed. Four of
us were settled into a blind on a brisk but sunny January
morning, and the ducks were coming in fast and furious. Three
of us were blasting away like a trio of Elmer Fudds, shooting
a lot of birds, but burning up a case of shells in doing so.
Not John.
Barely able to stand, he shouldered his shotgun just three
times that day. And all three times a duck fell from the sky.
Not a shell wasted.
John's great passion was his wife, Debbie. After that, it
was a toss-up between a duck blind and the House chamber for
his next greatest love. I recall an afternoon when we were
returning to Washington, and as we crested a hill the
gleaming white Capitol dome came into view. ``I never get
tired of seeing that,'' he said softly.
And obviously he never did. John spent nearly 60 years in
Congress, serving longer than anyone else. And better. John
was a parliamentarian; he cherished the traditions and
processes of the House.
And while he was a bare-knuckled negotiator who relished a
fight, he was ultimately a pragmatist. When the time came to
compromise, John set down his club and made the deal.
His decision to retire was based mostly on his waning
physical condition. But he was also disgusted with the
poisonous partisanship and gridlock ruining Congress. He
couldn't stand to watch what was becoming of the institution
he joined as a teen-aged page during World War II.
Still, he hated to leave. The night before he announced his
retirement, he called me to have dinner with him and Debbie.
John had made his decision but hadn't accepted it. He was
looking for assurance that he wasn't letting down the people
of his district by leaving, that he'd done his best for them,
that they'd understand his reasons.
At the same time, he was offering counsel to Debbie, who
had a quick decision of her own to make. He wanted her to
succeed him, as he had his father, to continue a Dingell
legacy in Congress stretching back to 1935. It was a poignant
moment between the past and future.
When I'd visit him after retirement, the questions were
always the same. Did I make a difference? Do my people
remember me? Would Pop be proud?
I was always stunned that he could harbor such doubts,
given his enormous accomplishments. But John Dingell never
took the obligations of public service lightly. He always
felt there was more he could do for the people who placed
their trust in him.
He was a man in the best sense of the word. A man of the
Greatest Generation. A man of courage, confidence,
compassion. A man who did his duty. A man who took care of
his own business, and of the people he loved.
And he sure did know how to love. He and Debbie shared an
epic love affair that never waned. You couldn't be around
them more than five minutes without hearing him say, ``I love
you, Fox.'' The fire in his eyes when he looked at her burned
until his last breath.
She was fiercely protective of him, and kept him alive
years longer than he should have expected by the sheer force
of her will.
Our friendship may have been unlikely, but it was one I
cherished. I loved him, and hate to see him go.
But if life's a game, John Dingell won it. Nearly 93 years,
and every minute of it lived honorably and with passion and
purpose.
Goodbye, good friend. I hope wherever you are this morning,
the ducks are coming in fast and low.
I am going to also read to you an email that I got just an hour or two ago from his wife, Debbie, our colleague, who received this from the Ford family.
This is from Mike Ford. Of course, his father was Gerry Ford, a great man, President, Michigander. And he wrote this, it is very brief:
Debbie,
Since learning of John's recent passing, my thoughts and
prayers have been constant with you and your extended family.
Through my reading of the many wonderful remembrances of
and tributes to John, I have been deeply moved and blessed to
revisit his remarkable legacy of leadership and service to
the people of Michigan and to all of our Nation.
John and my father, though identified from competing
political parties, held so much in common as men of wisdom,
integrity, compassion, and selfless service for all of
humanity, and their friendship was true and enduring through
a shared lifetime calling of public service. John Dingell and
Gerry Ford represent what is good, honorable, and decent in
our country.
Please know of our Ford family's grace giving wishes and
prayers for you and all the Dingell family at this time of
loss and grief.
May you know of God's abiding comfort, love, and hope this
day and always.
Mike Ford.
Good guy that, again, some of us know, particularly those of us on the west side of our State. You know, he was our dean. And when I became the dean of the Michigan Republican delegation--that was in the early nineties. I have got to say--I was just adding it up here sitting with Tim--I was probably in thousands of meetings with John.
Our delegation is close. We stand together on a host of issues, from the Great Lakes to the autos. We often had an agenda we worked together. Our offices were across the hall from each other for a lot of years. Of course, we have known Deborah forever and a day as well.
I had the chance to talk to John Dingell the day before he died, and I talked to him a number of times over the last number of weeks. I read his book, which I would recommend to folks. Might put the R rating next to it, in terms of his language. You can hear him speak, and he had a genuine sense of humor. He had so many stories.
I was asked a little bit earlier today: What about his tweeting?
He tweeted until, literally, the last day or two. For those of you watching tonight, get on Google. Google MLive. That is sort of the Michigan news network. Google: MLive Dingell tweet. This weekend, they ran the top 20 tweets that he did, and they will make you laugh. They really will, especially the one with the bulldog. All of the animal lovers out there, make sure you find this one. He had a sense of humor.
People say: How could a 92-year-old do all this?
Well, let me tell you how. It is because of our committee. The committee has so much jurisdiction, part of which is telecommunications. We were the first ones. We forced the broadcasters. It was actually the Tauzin-Dingell bill, I want to say a lot of years ago, and I had an amendment that was critical there. We passed the Tauzin-Dingell bill. He cared so much about bipartisanship.
We forced the broadcasters to go from analog to digital. That then allowed us all to have devices like this: iPhones and the internet. Instead of using a shoe for your phone, you got something like this that is like the world.
We forced them to go digital, and that allowed this to happen. So guess what? John Dingell, in Congress, we would often sit down. We all meet in Detroit, let's face it. All of us, our delegation, we come from someplace. Mr. Kildee comes from Flint. Tim Walberg is actually lucky and gets on in Detroit. I come from South Bend or Kalamazoo or Grand Rapids. We all come from someplace, but generally, we fly Delta from Detroit back to D.C.
We are all sitting at that A-75 gate. There is John Dingell, a colleague, and
he is on his BlackBerry, zipping away, typing just as fast as you could imagine, communicating with people around the world. It is because of the work he did in our committee. That made our lives what they are today.
Whether it is that or the environment or healthcare or pipeline safety, you name the issue--we are sorry Mr. Kildee went to the Ways and Means Committee. Deborah chose right; she went to the Energy and Commerce Committee. Mr. Kildee went to the dark side. Our committee has jurisdiction over so much.
John Dingell was such a leader. He didn't care about who got the credit. He just wanted to get the job done. He sat right over here. When you would come over and ask his advice, you would make sure that you were on his good ear, and he would talk, and he would remember things.
I can remember taking the Congressional Record from some big debates, the Voting Rights Act and others, and I would sit with him here, and we would go through the names, particularly the Michigan delegation, and why they voted this way or that way. He would tell the history. He was here for our lifetime.
He was a gentleman to the very end. He knew the rules. He had respect from both sides of the aisle. He was a guy who we will never see replaced here in this House.
In closing, let me say, even at the end, he was wondering: Did I make a difference?
Of course he did. But here was a guy who made such a difference and a guy who really never thought he would be in this institution. When his dad died, a week before his dad died, he didn't think he was going to run for that seat. It was the people at home who encouraged him to run. When he chose to retire, he didn't push Deborah, nudge Deborah, to run for that seat.
It is hard to imagine, 86 years of a Dingell representing southeast Michigan. What a tribute to a family that has made such a difference in this body, folks who love not only our State, but certainly their constituents.
Mr. Speaker, I thank Mr. Kildee for doing this Special Order.
Will the gentleman yield?
We really ribbed Dave Camp about this, and the good Sandy, too.