Mr. Speaker, I submit the following eulogies honoring, J.J. Jake Pickle the Doggett Special Order. (By Peggy Pickle) Austin, TX, June 22.--Good afternoon! Hot tamale!!! This is not going to be a sad funeral. This is a celebration of a…
Mr. Speaker, I submit the following eulogies honoring, J.J. Jake Pickle the Doggett Special Order.
(By Peggy Pickle)
Austin, TX, June 22.--Good afternoon! Hot tamale!!! This is
not going to be a sad funeral. This is a celebration of a
remarkable life. I'm Jake and Beryl's daughter, Peggy. My
father asked me to speak on behalf of our family at his
memorial service.
Everyone in this sanctuary knows what kind of man Jake
Pickle was. Most of you are familiar with his life and
career: born in West Texas in 1913, attended the University
of Texas, served in the Navy during World War II, had a
lifetime love affair with politics which included 31 years
representing the 10th Congressional District of Texas in the
United States House of Representatives. He had two wives,
three children, six grandchildren, and four great-
grandchildren.
He was a tolerant and demanding man. Tolerant because he
didn't believe in forcing
his opinions on others. Demanding because he had high
standards for himself and those close to him.
It is trite to say that a person left this world a better
place, but in his case it is true. Hardly a day goes by
without my being stopped and told, ``Your father helped me
when my Social Security benefits dried up,'' or ``When my son
was injured in Vietnam, Jake Pickle cut through the red tape
and got him home.'' What Daddy loved about serving in
Congress was the clout he used to get things done. He
considered his staff family. Together they accomplished great
things.
But my assignment today is to talk about Jake Pickle from
the standpoint of his family. He was the fourth child in a
tight-knit family of seven whose values and work ethic
defined the rest of his life. Jake's sister Judith and
brother Joe and their families are in this audience, along
with the families of deceased sisters Janice and Jeanette.
The familial bonds which sustained Jake as a child taught him
to treat people and relationships with respect.
Jake and Beryl both endured the loss of their first
spouse--my mother, Sugar, in 1952, and Beryl's husband,
Graham McCarroll, in 1948. In 1960, Beryl and Jake married
and began their own family: Jake, Beryl, Dick, Peggy, Graham
and a goofy collie dog named Ike. It was a semi-normal life
for two years--and then Jake up and announced he was running
for the U.S. Congress!
Having Jake Pickle for a husband and father was an
interesting experience. He was gone a lot. Except in cases of
family emergency, work came first. He was ``On Duty'' every
day except Christmas, and even then if a constituent had
trouble. He believed that public officials are answerable to
The People 24-hours-a-day, so our telephone number was listed
in the phone book. The phone rang all the time, sometimes at
3 a.m., when the constituent was drunk or had an ax to grind.
Jake loved to work the crowd. One of his favorite places to
eat was Luby's Cafeteria because there was that long line of
people whose hands he could shake. We all know Jake was tight
with a buck. Once he said to me, ``If you've got some money,
I'll take you to Luby's.''
Sometimes Daddy worked the crowd when I least expected it.
One morning 20 years ago, I drove out to Dillards in Barton
Creek Mall to buy, of all things, a Weed Whacker. I got there
early so I could cut my grass before it got hot, so I was
there when the doors opened. I rode the escalator up to the
second floor, picked out a Weed Whacker, and took it to the
register.
By now it was maybe 10:05 a.m., there were few people in
the store, and nobody but me in the appliance department.
When I wrote the check and gave it to the clerk, he looked at
my name on the check and said, ``Pickle? Are you related to
Jake Pickle?'' I said I was.
``Well by golly,'' the guy said. ``Mr. Pickle was here this
morning, you just missed him.''
``But how?'' I stammered. ``The store just opened!''
``Oh, he addressed our employee meeting at 8 a.m.,'' the
clerk said. ``Everybody ate in the lounge. That man sure
seems to like his job!''
So I paid for my Weed Whacker and left. It was funny, but
it also gave me an eerie feeling that Daddy could be
anywhere, and probably was. He was always ten steps ahead,
with the rest of us scrambling to catch up.
Jake was quick to make friends and quick to forgive. It was
a wonderful trait for a politician because he made few
enemies and nursed no grudges. Both Democrats and Republicans
voted for him and worked with him; Jake wasn't partisan, he
just wanted to get things done. If at times it was hard to
have a legend in the family, it also made us proud. We knew
that he was the Gold Standard. The usual temptations like
money, women, alcohol and power were no match for Jake's
addiction: work. Growing up surrounded by politics, I cannot
describe the comfort of knowing that no matter what nastiness
was abroad, I would not open the newspaper and read my
father's name tainted by scandal.
Daddy was a great motivator, and not only about
Congressional business, but about Jake Pickle business: his
bees, his garden, his pear relish, his longhorns, his stumps
that needed rooting at Niederwald. He rallied people with
such enthusiasm that it was only later, when you went home,
that you realized your aching back and calloused hands were
all you had to show for his project.
Two of Daddy's other projects concerned Christmas. For
years our family had a ``Hats Off to Christmas'' tradition on
Christmas morning, as Jake and Beryl distributed hats they
had gathered during the year while on junkets--oops!, I mean
``fact finding tours.'' During the 1990s, Daddy, dressed as
Santa, arrived in increasingly outrageous ways: in Don Cook's
Model A Ford, in a fire truck, on a donkey, in a sidecar
motorcycle. He always claimed he wanted to arrive by climbing
down a rope ladder from a hovering helicopter, but thank God,
he never tried it.
Jake didn't care much about stuff--life's fancy trappings--
and looking ridiculous never occurred to him. In 1961, when
Jake had just been appointed Texas Employment Commissioner,
he often drove Dick's used car to work at the fine new TEC
office in the Capitol Complex. Dick's '52 Ford was rusty
gold, with a '55 front grill, '53 headlights and two bent
antennas, but to the new TEC commissioner, it was damn fine
transportation.
Years ago in Washington, Daddy had a vivid dream in which
he was being chased by a bear. In his sleep, he hollered and
flew out of bed, cracking his head on the bedside table.
Beryl woke to find him holding his bleeding nose, but happy
he had outrun the bear. For weeks, my father went to work on
Capitol Hill with black eyes that faded to green and yellow.
Cheerfully, he told everybody about his dream--and his narrow
escape. I always wondered what people thought. Probably oh,
that's just Jake!
He was a stickler for details, always carrying around a
piece of paper and a pen in his coat pocket so he could make
notes. It will surprise no one that he helped plan this
funeral. He was habitually late because he was always coming
from another event--and on his way to the next one. His
memory was phenomenal. When he ran into a constituent, he
remembered their name, their spouse or where they worked.
He loved his family and friends, ice cream, a good story,
playing the harmonica, Christmas, the University of Texas,
this church, the principles of Democracy, banging on the
piano, the hymns of his childhood, dominoes. . . . and a
thousand other things. He was innately curious and asked
questions constantly. He was a very tough old bird. He
endured treatment for cancer which at his age should have
killed him, but he hunkered down and got through it. He won
remission from cancer an incredible five times. Being
weakened irritated him; it cut into his schedule! Right up to
the end, he found life interesting. Mom and Pop Pickle
whispered in his ear: he always tried to do the right thing.
After my father retired from Congress, and during the years
of his decline, many of the people in this Sanctuary--and
others not present today--came to visit Jake and Beryl. If he
worried that once out of the public eye, he would be
forgotten, he needn't have. On behalf of our family, we thank
you. Your visits, laughter, advice and friendship meant the
world to them.
My father's legacy is considerable. There are buildings,
schools, research facilities, an airport runway and children
named after him. Legislation he helped pass changed this
country for the better. He counted the mighty among his
friends, but treated no person better than another.
But of all his legacies, the one I'm most grateful for is
his allowing me to be my own person. He raised me with easy
affection instead of a preconceived idea of how a little girl
should act. As an adult I have come to understand that the
worst thing you can do to any person, especially a child, is
to stifle their spirit. Jake Pickle made you want to do your
best. I can think of no greater accolade for any person.
I enjoyed a 59-year relationship with my father. Because he
was ill for a long time and I witnessed his suffering, I've
already grieved for him. I do not grieve for him today.
Instead, I am proud of the person that he was and the life he
tried to live, right up to the end.
We have other speakers today. As Daddy would say, ``Keep it
short. People need to get back to work!''
Thank you for being here to help us say goodbye.
Eulogy for Congressman J.J. Pickle
(By Paul Hilgers)
Austin, TX, June 22.--Surely you would all know that it is
a great honor to be asked to represent the people who worked
on Mr. Pickle's staff.
Once you were on the staff, it was a lifetime appointment.
Whether you were on the payroll or not, it did not matter. We
work for him because we love and respect him.
Like all Pickle staffers, I never knew how hard I could
work in one day, or how many people I could help in one day
until I started working with Jake Pickle.
We are a proud bunch, those of us who worked in the
``Pickle Factory'' as we called it. I would like to ask all
of you who served on Mr. Pickle's staff to stand. There are
many more who could not be here today and a few were already
doing advance work in heaven.
Those who worked in his office understood the importance of
their job. Whether it was the District Director, the
Administrative Assistant who ran the office in Washington,
the legislative assistant, the caseworker, or the person who
was on the real front line answering the phone and greeting
people, he made you feel that what you were doing was
critical. He knew that it all had to work together to
properly serve the public. He valued the role we each played.
We have a bond that will never be broken, built upon his
singular dedication to public service. It is a bond built
upon the common experience of knowing this very uncommon man
who was so proud of the service we provided together.
We are also bound together by the great Pickle stories.
Now, Dr. Cunningham, I need to mention just a couple that
escaped your remarks about his time at the University. Like
the time he got caught stealing turnips from one of his
professor's garden. And, while he did love being in Little
Campus, there were stories about nailing their roommates
furniture upside down to the ceiling. There are so many
stories, way too many stories to tell.
So, when the staffers get together, only a word or a phrase
is needed to spark memories of the experiences we shared:
squeaky pickles, the county black books, 1000 acres of
beautiful topsoil, the Pickle Float, full tank
of gas and an empty bladder, retrieving that Stetson, the dry
run, the Virgil Conn story, playing the harmonica and the
piano, the pump organ.
There were the annual episodes of serving Venison Chili to
the entire House of Representatives every Texas Independence
Day, or feeding catfish from the Inks Lake Fish Hatchery to
the Interior Appropriations Subcommittee.
And stories about parades! Parades with and without squeaky
pickles, cars that worked, and cars that did not. Once, there
was a car with a stick shift that Ms. Pickle had to drive.
Always a convertible so he could be seen and so he could
throw his pickles. Parades where he was the Grand Marshall
and the first car in the parade, and the one where he
followed the horses, after his third parade of the day.
At the end of the parade route--Mr. Pickle would stop the
car, get out and walk both sides of the route personally
shaking every hand and handing out more squeaky pickles.
Most of all he was fun--he was fun to be with.
Our stories are his lasting legacy to us--which is fitting
because he was the master storyteller. He knew how to use
humor to communicate his message. He would make people laugh,
just before he would make them think about a serious issue
facing our Nation or our community.
Staffers who took Mr. Pickle to an event were asked two
questions just as we arrived: (1) ``what is my key message'',
and (2) ``tell me something funny to say.'' We had the old
regulars--the Claude Pepper story, the Round Rock story,
Dollars for Democrats, but not a Nickel for Pickle story.
Many times he would turn to Mrs. Pickle for some of his best
material.
We worked hard but his sense of humor made the job
enjoyable. But, no one worked harder than he did.
He would start the week with a 6:20 a.m. flight to
Washington on Monday mornings. He would put in 15 hour days
in Committee hearings, holding meetings with people from the
District or from associations and businesses, casting
countless votes on the floor of the House, working the
phones, signing the mail, reviewing legislation, and then
attending 2-4 receptions before going home to Ms. Beryl.
He would keep that schedule everyday until Friday about
12:00 noon when he would fly back to Austin at 5:00 p.m. We
would go immediately to the office where he would sign all
the mail that had been prepared by the District staff that
week. He signed virtually every piece of mail that went out
of his Office. This is how he kept up with what was happening
to his constituents.
We would often sign the mail on Friday and see one of those
constituents at an event that weekend. He would tell them how
their case was going, or that we had just sent off the
letter. That made an impression on people--they knew that he
cared.
He would go to Church on Sunday and we would have some
event that evening before I had to get him back to the
Airport on Monday mornings. No matter how tired I would get,
spending the weekend with Mr. Pickle would re-energize you.
His love of public service and his energy was contagious.
He campaigned even harder! He was relentless. On weekends,
we would have to have three shifts of staff just to keep up!
So many times people would say . . . he is the only
Democrat I ever voted for . . . or, I don't always agree with
him, but I always voted for him. He wanted every vote. He
earned every vote.
Just one example: a person came to him and asked for help
in finding a job--just one of thousands who asked for help.
Mr. Pickle sent out the man's resume a number of times who
always seemed to be a finalist for the job, but without
success. After several months of writing letters and
requesting interviews, I asked Mr. Pickle one day while I was
driving him home if he had not done enough and why he was
trying so hard to help this man?
He looked at me and said simply, ``Paul, the man asked me
for help. Is there any other reason that I need to try and
help him?'' He loved helping people.
Mr. Pickle represented the people of Central Texas to the
Federal government, but he was also a representative of the
Federal government to the people of Central Texas. He loved
welcoming people from the District to Washington. No one gave
a tour of the Capital like a Jake Pickle tour of the Capital.
He took people in places where you just are not supposed to
go. He made the Capital come alive with its history.
He had a vision and a love for Central Texas that no one
could match. He was our strongest lobbyist and he lobbied for
so many things in addition to UT and SEMATECH. Boggy Creek, a
Wildlife Refuge, airports (big ones and small ones), the
right of way for MoKan. He worked on behalf of the Austin
Housing Authority, the Boy Scouts, Veterans Outpatient
Clinic, IRS Service Center, the LCRA, Bergstrom Air Force
Base, Flood Control on the Upper San Marcos Watershed, the
Visitors Center at the LBJ National Park, the Gary Job Corps,
and literally a thousand other things for Central Texans.
Yes, Mr. Pickle worked hard for Central Texas, but he was
one of Washington's most respected members of Congress. He
believed in having personal relationships with other members
of Congress . . . on both sides of the aisle. This is evident
by those in attendance today.
Integrity, Honesty, Loyalty, Courage, Determination,
Tenacity--these are the qualities that he relied upon to
become a trusted legislator. These are the qualities that
defined Jake Pickle.
Of all of the legislative work and votes over 31 years, he
took the greatest pride in one of his first: the Civil Rights
Act. He would get tears in his eyes every time he told the
story when President Johnson called him the night the Civil
Rights Act passed. The President demanded that Mr. Pickle
call him no matter what time of night so he could tell him
how proud he was of his vote.
He was also proud of his work as Chairman of the Ways and
Means Subcommittees of Social Security and Oversight. His
most important legislative accomplishment was in maintaining
solvency of the Social Security system in 1983. He worked
closely with Senator Bob Dole on legislation that represented
a bi-partisan approach to the problem. He told me many times
that providing a sense of security to tens of millions of
Americans gave him a deep sense of pride and meaning.
Third, was his work in the area of pensions and pension
reform. He could see problems in the system long before they
became the crisis they are today. In fact, if not for some of
the reforms he put into place, the crisis would be much
greater today. He would say pensions are not a very
newsworthy subject, but it was damned important to families
counting on them.
The J. J. Pickle formula for success in government was
really very simple: a dedication to public service plus a
love of helping people, multiplied by a deep faith in our
system of government.
He placed the highest priority on constituent service
because he thought the highest calling of government was to
help people with their problems. He was committed to being
responsive and accessible.
Mr. Pickle often referred to the Congressional Office as
``the big buffer'' between the individual and ``big
government.'' It was the place where any citizen, rich or
poor, democrat or republican, could come for help when there
was nowhere else to turn.
Finally, Mr. Pickle had a truly unique ability to balance a
short-term immediate focus with his long-term vision. He
taught us that the best public policy always made the best
politics.
Social Security legislation was to be based upon solvency
of the system, pension policy based on protecting the pension
holders not big business, civil rights legislation based on
justice and equal protection.
Locally, his long-term vision included the need for inter-
modal transportation systems, two runways at Bergstrom
Airport, flood control systems, public power, solar energy,
habitat for endangered species and protection of water
quality, a first class research facility at UT's Balcones
Research Center that bears his name.
There is a phrase he used in some of his later speeches,
``In the Shadows of Greatness''. Referring to the portion of
MoPac north of U.S. Hwy 183 that runs between MCC and the
J.J. Pickle Research Campus--he talked about how people would
drive through that corridor not realizing that they were
actually traveling ``in the shadows of greatness'' because of
the world class research being conducted in the buildings
they were passing by.
Those of us on the Pickle staff understand a different
meaning for this phrase. We worked in the Shadows of
Greatness every day we were with him. He had an impact on
this world and particularly on this community that is--as he
predicted--already being forgotten by most.
But, his fingerprints are everywhere. His legacy of public
service, of loyalty to his University, of his commitment to
good and responsive government has been recognized through
the naming of the Federal Building, the Research Center, the
Elementary School, the Pickle Runway at Bergstrom Airport,
and even a peach orchard on Town Lake.
So, on behalf of your eternal staff . . . we will never
forget what you taught us. We will always celebrate and
treasure our time with you. My prayer is that you are
already--cheating at dominoes with all of your friends--
friends who have been waiting so long for you. I am confident
that the quality of life in heaven just got better.
God Bless You, Great Leader, for your service, for your
legacy, for giving us the opportunity work in your great
shadow!
We had a great ride!!