[Congressional Record Volume 150, Number 16 (Tuesday, February 10, 2004)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E132-E133]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
TRIBUTE TO FORMER CONGRESSMAN JAMES M. HANLEY
______
HON. JAMES T. WALSH
of new york
in the house of representatives
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Mr. WALSH. Mr. Speaker, I rise today in tribute to former Congressman
James M. Hanley. Mr. Hanley, who died earlier this month, served eight
terms in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1965 to 1981. At his
retirement at the conclusion of the 96th Congress, he was chairman of
the House Committee on Post Office and Civil Service.
I have been fortunate to know Congressman Hanley throughout my life,
as he was a resident of the same Tipperary Hill neighborhood in
Syracuse, NY, in which I grew up. A graduate of St. Lucy's Academy in
Syracuse and a veteran of World War II, Congressman Hanley won an upset
election for Congress in 1964 based upon his reputation as an active
community leader and successful businessman.
Mr. Hanley translated the keys to his business success as a local
funeral director into his Congressional office operations, attending to
personal details and providing timely response to constituent requests.
He was a thoughtful and gracious man who actively legislated on behalf
of the best interests of the people he served.
After his retirement, the Federal office building in downtown
Syracuse was named James M. Hanley Federal Building by this institution
in his honor. On behalf of the people of the central New York district
he represented, I extend our deepest sympathies and thanks to his wife
Rita, son Peter, daughter Christine, four grandchildren, and great-
grandson.
Mr. Speaker, I also respectfully request that remarks made during the
Hon. James M. Hanley funeral at St. Patrick's Church in Syracuse, NY,
be embodied into the Record. Remarks were spoken by John Mahoney,
former Chief of Staff to the late Representative James M. Hanley:
Thirty years or so ago, after a tough redistricting, Jim
ended up with a Congressional seat that ran from Oswego
County to the Pennsylvania border. It was so politically
lopsided, even the cows were enrolled Republicans.
The campaign was brutal--16 to 20 hours a day.
On one particular day, we started off about 6:00 a.m. at
the gates of Crouse Hinds, shaking hands with both the
graveyard shift coming off duty and the first shift going on.
During the course of the morning, Jim did a radio talk show
in Syracuse, then went to a neighborhood coffee klatch in
Cazenovia, spoke at a service club luncheon in Norwich, and
met with a farm group outside Deposit. We then drove back up
to Oxford for a Dinner, and about 10:00 headed back toward
Syracuse--because we had to be at another plant gate at 6:15
in the morning.
Somewhere outside of Sherburne, I found myself nodding
behind the wheel. Since there were just the two of us, and
Jim was almost asleep already, I said ``I've got to stop for
coffee or we'll end up in a ditch, and some farmer will find
us after the last snow in March.''
As we sat at a semi-circular counter--I with my eyes at
half-mast, and Jim with his jaw only an inch or so off the
counter--I caught a glint of recognition in the eye of a
truck driver across from us. He sat there stirring his coffee
and stared at Jim's bedraggled appearance. Finally he said,
``There must be some benefit to that business that I JUST
CAN'T SEE.''
The mysterious benefit that he couldn't see was the very
benefit that I knew drove Jim Hanley. It was the opportunity
to serve others: the ability to stand up for the little guy.
Jim, who was a bread-and-butter liberal of the old school,
saw a unique beauty in the people who were up against the
odds: the impoverished veteran; the kid from the ghetto who
had two strikes against him before he was seven; the widow
trying to survive on Social Security; the abused family; the
breadwinner broken by unemployment; the farmer driven to the
wall by corporate agribusiness.
He knew that the comfortable and the connected would always
be able to fend for themselves. But what about those who were
merely guests in the world of the ``haves?'' They needed an
empathetic voice.
Jim was a simple man with a knack for unraveling the
complicated; he was a patient man who was never very patient
when it came to the plight of the have-nots; he was a
patriotic man who wore his patriotism in
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his heart, not on his sleeve; he was a deeply moral man who
disdained the outward trappings of feigned piety; he was the
eternal optimist in an increasingly foreboding world.
He also believed that government was the instrument of the
people, not its enemy, and that some of the worst errors a
society could produce were sins of omission rather than sins
of commission.
One might be inclined to think that today marks the end of
an era--but that only happens when we bury both the body and
the spirit--and we certainly aren't doing that today. There
are today literally hundreds of young and middle-aged people
who have been inspired by Jim's love of the little guy.
This legacy will never die.
And speaking of love and legacies, a subject that was
nearest and dearest to Jim was his family. He spoke often,
fondly and almost reverentially, of his mother and father,
Mike and Alice Gillick Hanley; and, of course, he idolized
Rita, Peter, Chris, and Jimmy, Jim, Patrick, Liza and Meg.
It's often said that God never takes someone home, but what
he sends a new light in his place. And so today, as Jim
ascends that glorious staircase, we welcome his and Rita's
newest heir, on month old Dylan Michael.
A part of Jim's other family is also present this morning--
the team who worked side by side with him on behalf of the
folks in Central New York. Tom DeYulia, Kate Ryan, Mike
Kinsella, Bob Warne, Jim Ryan and several others. I know the
thoughts I express are shared by each of them as well.
I would be remiss at this point, and I know Jim would be
upset with me, if I didn't shift gears and include at least
one humorous anecdote in my remarks.
As many of you realize, Jim was known affectionately on
Capitol Hill as ``Gentleman Jim.'' His civilized approach to
everyone he net ran to the heart of his beliefs--the dignity
of the individual.
Sometimes that philosophy took on comical overtones.
Jim knew that one of the highest forms of respect was
remembering another's first name. He had a legendary
reputation for that.
What many people didn't realize was that Jim had a slight
impairment in one ear and so sometimes his hearing was
skewed.
He remembered what he heard, but he didn't always hear
names correctly.
One day at the Capitol, I was approached by an old friend,
Dick Conlon, who was the staff director on one of the
committees. He said, ``John I have a favor to ask. Jim is
always very gracious to me. He goes out of his way to stop
and chat. But he invariably calls me Bill--and it's
embarrassing--especially if someone else is present.'' I said
I'd take care of it, and proceeded to explain the situation
to Jim. Jim said, ``I always thought his name was Bill.'' I
repeated that it was Dick.
A week or so later Conlon stopped me again, and with a
shrug of disappointment said, ``Thanks a lot. Hanley came up
to a group of us yesterday, smiled and stuck out his hand to
me, paused for a second or two and, then said `Hi, uh, Tom.
Keep up the good work.' ''
At this point, I think its time for me to depart
gracefully. I have been blessed with the friendship and trust
of one of God's truly fine men.
Jim, thanks for the chance to share in a beautiful life.
In your own words, ```Till then . . .''
____________________