Nunn went back and told folks what STENNIS said. He believes that helped him win.

"There's a saying that eagles don't flock. You find them one at a time," Nunn said. "JOHN STENNIS was an eagle."

Nunn praised STENNIS' work as chairman of the Select Committee on Standards and Conduct. "He was the very essence of integrity and character," Nunn said.

Senator Jesse Helms (R-NC), said STENNIS won the respect of Republicans and Democrats alike.

Helms first met STENNIS in the early 1950s, when STENNIS was already a Senator and Helms was in Washington as administrative assistant to U.S. Senator Willis Smith and Alton Lennon.

"When I lost my mind and ran for Senate in 1972, he made calls up to North Carolina unbeknownst to me," Helms said. "He gave me encouragement when I needed it."

STENNIS was shot by robbers outside his Washington home in 1973, and Helms recalls that the Mississippi Senator handled himself with dignity. Helms went to visit STENNIS in Walter Reed Hospital, and when he arrived there was a delay.

A nurse came out and told Helms, “He doesn't want to see anybody unless he has his coat and tie on." Sure enough, Helms was let into STENNIS' room a few minutes later, and there sat STENNIS in coat and tie.

John Hampton Stennis recalled that the book One Hundred and One Famous Poems sat on the family coffee table when he was growing up, and several of the poems remind him still of his father.

One is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's A Psalm of Life, which includes the stanza:

"Lives of great men all remind us
"We can make our lives sublime,
“And, departing, leave behind us
"Footprints on the sands of time."

[From the Washington Times, April 28, 1995]

JUSTICE TO A JUST MAN: JOHN STENNIS

(By R.J. Woosley)

The obituaries of Senator JOHN STENNIS, who died on Sunday, list his accomplishments and positions, but the reasons for the great honor and affection with which he was almost universally regarded can only be understood if viewed through a somewhat finer and more personal filter.

Mr. STENNIS was at the height of his power in the summer of 1970 when he began a job interview with a nervous young Army captain by asking a big question. About to complete my 2 years of active duty, I was applying for a job on the staff of the Armed Services Committee, which he chaired. "How do you think we ought to deal with the military?” he asked. I looked puzzled, not sure what he was driving at. "Well," he rescued me, "I think we ought to be sort of like a father . . . but an old-fashioned father, don't you see? They're good people and they're trying to do something very important, so you have to help them and take care of them, but sometimes they ask for too much and you have to be ready with a tight rein."

During the 3 years that I worked for him, JOHN STENNIS' old-fashioned father formula came to the fore again and again. But his exercise of fatherly

duties both to care for and to guide did not stop with the nation's armed forces. He dealt with much of the rest of the world from that combined perspective of affection and responsibility-junior Senators, his staff, sometimes whole nations.

Once, early in my time with him, I began to describe my draft of a bill by explaining the probable political effect and likely media treatment if he submitted it. He interrupted, "Jim, first help me understand my duty here— then we'll worry about all that other."

On another occasion, a staff member of Senator William Proxmire's gave me advance notice of a forthcoming speech of his that would attack the committee's approval of the Navy's restructuring of the F-14 fighter contract. I told the staffer that I thought I should give Mr. STENNIS a heads-up; he had no objection.

When I told Mr. STENNIS about the forthcoming speech, he turned grave, asked me to sit down, and began carefully, "I always want you to tell me what you can honorably tell me, but I don't know about this . . ." It took me a few seconds to realize that his worry was not about the aircraft program, or the political battle that was brewing, or the press attention Mr. Proxmire would get, but rather that I might be violating a confidence with someone on Mr. Proxmire's staff by telling him. I assured him that this wasn't the case, and he said, "Well, that's all right then," and changed the subject clearly relieved that he hadn't had to explain to me that he did not expect his staff to break promises of confidentiality to their counterparts in order to keep him informed.

When the Nixon administration agreed that Okinawa should revert to Japan, opposition began to develop in the Senate. It was clear to everyone that, if Mr. STENNIS joined in, he could very well bring along enough votes to sink the reversion treaty. In part because of a favorite relative who had died on the Bataan Death March, in part because of disputes about textile imports, he did not ordinarily go out of his way to befriend Japan. But once he received what he finally decided were adequate assurances about continued U.S. access to military bases on Okinawa, he agreed to support the treaty. After announcing his decision, in a straightforward and unremarkable staff-drafted speech, Mr. STENNIS glanced at the Senate press gallery, jammed with Japanese faces. His final words, impromptu, were all his own. Southerners, he observed, knew something about being defeated and occupied. The United States had been in Okinawa for just over a quarter of a century as an army of occupation, and it was not fair to the Japanese for us to perpetuate that role—it was our duty not to remain an occupying power there any longer than truly necessary.

He considered carefully what was fair and just for all his children-fourstar generals, staff members, the people of Japan.

Honor. Duty. Fair. Just.

Big words. An old-fashioned father's words.

JOHN STENNIS' words.

[From the Commercial Dispatch, April 30, 1995)

SENATOR STENNIS PLOWED A STRAIGHT FURROW

(By Charles Harmond)

I was sitting at home last Sunday watching the evening news when the talking head said that retired sports commentator Howard Cosell had died.

This was followed by the announcement that former U.S. Senator JOHN C. STENNIS of Mississippi had also died that Sunday.

The order of those two bits of news struck me as somewhat odd and rather sad.

The death and usually entertaining sports commentator was considered to be more newsworthy than the passing of the man who had earned (notice that I said earned) the nickname "conscience of the Senate."

It saddens me that this country seems to affix more importance to the life of a television sportscaster than it does to the life of a man who served the U.S. Senate, indeed this State and the entire Nation, with dignity, honesty and competence for more than 40 years.

Of course, that news program did originate in New York City. The people who really matter, the people who live in places with names like DeKalb, Okolona, Aberdeen and Columbus, know differently. If that news story had come out of one of those places, it would have been ordered differently. The death of Howard Cosell, not the Senator, would have appeared in the "oh, by the way" category.

On only two occasions did my path cross that of the man who was chosen by his peers to chair the first Senate Ethics Committee.

The first was perhaps 15 years ago at a Mississippi State football game. It was homecoming and in those days the Senator always returned to his alma mater to crown the homecoming queen. This particular year, he happened to have seats just below where I was sitting.

A young boy of perhaps 10 or 12 sat down next to the great man and proceeded to question him at length about the workings of the national government. For 15 or 20 minutes Senator STENNIS patiently answered the boy's questions while older men, men old enough to vote for him, waited impatiently for their turn to speak to the Senator.

It obviously did not matter. The questions from the earnest young man were as important to the Senator as were the comments of the older people waiting. It takes a truly tall man to lower himself to the level of a child. Senator STENNIS was a truly tall man.

Our paths crossed again in 1988 when I had the pleasure of attending the Stennis Retirement Dinner in Washington, DC.

I happened to sit beside the military doctor who had been assigned to treat Senator STENNIS after he was wounded in a robbery attempt. It was during the Watergate era and the doctor said that he had to follow STENNIS all over Washington because the Senator refused to say hospitalized while his wounds healed. He had to be about the business of government and could not afford the luxury of time to recuperate.

The speaker at the affair, honoring the retiring Democrat, was Republican President Ronald Reagan. The room was full of Republicans and Democrats, Mississippians and Washingtonians, blacks and whites, men and women, the rich and powerful and ordinary folks like me. All there to pay tribute to the Conscience of the Senate.

That dinner epitomizes the type of man that was JOHN C. STENNIS. Equally comfortable with the powerful and the ordinary, black or white, Democrat or Republican.

In this age when the word "crooked" all too often precedes the word "politician," Senator STENNIS stood out like a tall oak tree in a field of weeds. I still have the program that was printed for that retirement dinner. Upon hearing of STENNIS' death, I dug it out. It was titled simply and appropriately "JOHN C. STENNIS-Celebration of a Legend".

The flyleaf contained the following quote written in 1947 during his initial race for the U.S. Senate: "I want to plow a straight furrow down to the end of the row. This is my political religion, and I have lived by it too long to abandon it now. I base my appeal to you on this simple creed, and with it I shall rise or fall."

Senator STENNIS, you did plow a straight furrow row until you reached the end of the row. You will be missed.

[Lagniappe, NASA Aeronautics and Space Administration, May 25, 1995]

U.S. SENATOR JOHN C. STENNIS: HE WAS A GIANT IN EVERY WAY

(By Mack Herring, Stennis Space Center Historian)

U.S. Senator JOHN C. STENNIS, an American statesman who spent most of his extraordinary life in devoted service to his God, his country, and his fellowman, came to "the end of his row" April 23 when he quietly died in a Jackson Mississippi hospital at the age of 93.

The namesake of this NASA space center, STENNIS left such a mark on the history and direction of the Nation that his presence will be felt for many generations to come. He was a national leader who served with eight Presidents and earned the respect of admiring colleagues in the Senate during 41 years of dedicated service.

Because of his steadfast commitment to honesty and virtue in government, STENNIS became known as the "conscience of the U.S. Senate." He was referred to as "Mr. Integrity, the embodiment of honor and fairness," by the Washington Star and served as chairman of the Senate Ethics Committee. At the time of his retirement, STENNIS was chairman of the powerful Senate Appropriations Committee. The Senator was honored by his colleagues in the 100th Congress when they unanimously elected him President Pro Tempore of the Senate, an office that placed him third in succession to the Presidency.

Before leaving Washington, STENNIS left an indelible mark of his attention to duty when he cast his 11,595th vote in the U.S. Senate. No other Senator had cast that number of votes in the history of that body.

His achievements spanned over 60 years of service in public office, beginning when he was first elected to the Mississippi House of Representatives in 1928. This record of continuous service stands as a national record. The people's approval of this service is evidenced by the fact that STENNIS never lost an election.

Stennis Space Center Director Roy Estess, who worked closely with the Senator and his staff, captured the essence of STENNIS' lasting influence on the country and this center when he said, "It is impossible for me to adequately express my respect for and gratitude to STENNIS. He was a giant in every way who only wanted to serve people. While serving, he shaped the course of history and touched all of our lives. Stennis Space Center is but one manifestation of his great vision."

Employees of Stennis Space Center can look with pride at their association with this installation named for the courtly gentleman from Kemper County, MS. STENNIS' commitment to hard work, excellence and morality was best summed up in the words of a simple folk poem that he adopted as his political creed in his first bid for the U.S. Senate in 1947. He said: "I want to plow a straight furrow right down to the end of the row. This

is my political religion, and I have lived by it too long to abandon it now. I base my appeal to you on this simple creed, and with it I shall rise or fall."

Indeed, the mark of his work in support of America's preeminence in space and his commitment to a strong national defense is engraved throughout Stennis Space Center. STENNIS' involvement with America's space program and this center can be traced to the installation's genesis.

He was deeply troubled in 1957 when the Soviets became first in space with the launch of their Sputnik satellite, and STENNIS worked tirelessly with then-U.S. Senator Lyndon Johnson and others to strengthen military programs. He also helped in the formation of NASA, as a federal agency in 1958.

Because of STENNIS' influence in the Congress and the respect that he commanded from both political parties, President John Kennedy personally called on the Senator to support the Apollo lunar landing program and the Nation's bid to gain preeminence in space. STENNIS believed the advancement of the space program was a centerpiece in America's Cold War against the Soviet Union, and he never wavered in his support.

When NASA announced in 1961 that it would build a test facility for the giant Saturn V rockets in Hancock County, Mississippi, STENNIS was called on to explain the reasons for the massive undertaking to the people who had to give up their land for the project. In a historic speech at Logtown on All Saints Day in 1961, STENNIS eloquently expressed the overriding national need.

"There is always the thorn before the rose

you have got to make

some sacrifices, but you will be taking part in greatness," he said. One lady in the outdoor audience asked, "Senator STENNIS, why must we go to the moon?" In a serious and somber voice, the Senator answered, "For international prestige."

Years later, after witnessing a static firing at SSC, STENNIS observed, "This fine facility has worked out far beyond our expectations, and certainly it will have a future in our formidable space program. No one can know what the future will be, but it is unthinkable that we will abandon the space program after proving our mastery of space. We can no more neglect space than we can air, land or the sea. If we did, we would soon be a second-rate nation."

The late Dr. James C. Fletcher, who twice served as NASA administrator, acknowledged that STENNIS was the most influential and significant supporter of the national space program. Fletcher pointed to STENNIS' staunch support of the Space Shuttle and said that the Senator's work as chairman of the Appropriations Committee, just before he retired, "saved" the Space Station.

On May 20, 1988, President Ronald Reagan honored STENNIS by issuing an executive order designating the South Mississippi installation in his name. The President's executive order read, "Senator JOHN C. STENNIS has served his country for over 40 years and has steadfastly supported the Nation's space program since its inception. He has demonstrated visionary leadership and has consistently worked to assure United States world leadership and preeminence in space."

Likewise, as chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee (19691980), STENNIS stood firm for U.S. military superiority. He fought and won many battles on the floor of the Senate on behalf of American military men and women. A strong Navy, second to none in the world, was always at the top of STENNIS' agenda. He was frequently referred to as the "Father of America's Modern Navy."