Bill Delahunt's search for humanity in politics
His focus was on what we share, never who we demonize
A friend moved on last weekend. William David Delahunt died at home, peacefully, at 82. Bill had dodged death more than once, and right up to Thursday, before passing on Saturday, he was lucid, engaged, offering advice, making appointments. His last words of the last of our near-daily conversations, signing off as he often did, were, “Love you.”
Because he presented as an Irish pol, people misunderstood and underestimated Bill Delahunt. Bearing down on his record, it’s fair to say he was one of the best Congressmen Massachusetts has seen, representing the Cape for seven terms, not at Tip O’Neill’s level of influence but unique in domestic and foreign range, measurable impact, and deep respect from Democrats and Republicans alike.
It’s also fair to argue that he was the best Massachusetts District Attorney ever, 22 years in Quincy’s Norfolk County, responsible for many reforms and innovations that became national models: First juvenile diversion program, first special unit focused on sexual assault and child abuse, first program to address domestic violence, first white collar and career criminal units.
Bill was 55 when elected to the House in 1996. In the initial primary count he lost by a sliver, but there were hundreds of ballots in stronghold Weymouth that showed blank, which made no sense. In a recount he won only after the Massachusetts Supreme Court validated ballots with what came to be called “hanging chads,” precursor to the voting machine fiasco that would result in George Bush winning election over Al Gore (when the United States Supreme Court ruled in the opposite fashion and wouldn’t allow the “chad” ballots).
Bill didn’t enter Congress with overweening ambition. He had self-confidence born of success, often avoiding the spotlight other more insecure Congressmen search out, preferring tangibles. These attributes were noticed almost immediately by The Boston Globe’s insightful columnist Tom Oliphant:
“Bill Delahunt is one of my favorite freshmen congressmen, mostly because, at 57, he’s like a freshman in college who has already done a tour in the Marines and spent a couple of years working construction.”
He served on the Judiciary Committee all seven terms, including during the impeachment of President Clinton in 1998 (which Delahunt voted against). But even with major law enforcement bona fides, his passion was foreign affairs. He engaged in surprising ways:
He became friends with Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez when the Bush administration saw Chavez as a dangerous enemy, a friendship that resulted in a nationwide program that provided low-cost home heating oil to tens of thousands of low-income Americans.
He also spent many hours in multiple visits with Cuban President Fidel Castro, who one time demanded to know what the Congressman was doing about reduced codfish stocks on Georges Bank — “he wanted to prove he knew more about everything than anybody else,” Bill laughed. Delahunt answered and then pushed back for human rights reforms in Cuba.
As the Iraq invasion loomed in 2002, Delahunt was among the earliest and most vocal opponents. He stood in front of a packed crowd in Falmouth and announced, “If it costs me the election, so be it … But this authorization coming forward to take on Saddam — it’s wrong. I’m voting against it.” To his surprise, he was greeted with prolonged applause.
Delahunt played a key role in creating what came to be called the Iraq Watch. Invoking Congressional protocol, he and a handful of colleagues took over the House podium on a weekly basis when it was dormant, often after midnight, and talked about what they saw as a misguided and immoral war. The proceedings, broadcast on C-Span, went viral before that term existed.
Among his closest friends later in life was another Massachusetts-Irish politician, Ted Kennedy. The two spent many hours together, often on the porch of the Kennedy compound in Hyannis or sailing Nantucket Sound. The Senator would invoke the fact that he was registered in Delahunt’s district, therefore a constituent:
“What have you done for me lately?” Kennedy would boom. “Hey, I need someone to cut my grass!”
Personal interaction was paramount for Bill, expressive of a search for common themes and humanity. It drove him on a constant search to create bipartisanship, find alliances and partnerships where few saw possibilities. His approach achieved remarkable, repeated results, for example enlisting arch-conservative North Carolina Republican Senator Jesse Helms to win passage of major United States adoption law reform in 2000: The Intercountry Adoption Act and companion legislation conferred automatic citizenship for tens of thousands of adopted Americans.
That initiative emerged from personal passion; he and then-wife Katie had adopted a daughter, Kara, from Vietnam in 1975. And he had done his political homework; he knew Helms had an adopted young relative as well.
I’ve written about how his outsized personality made it possible for me to meet the Dalai Lama (An irreverent Congressman led me to a holy man) and everyone has examples of his impish humor too:
Late one Friday afternoon when I was editor of The Cape Cod Voice, sitting in my Orleans office, the phone rang. This was long before caller ID, and I made it a point to pick up any call sight unseen, take’em as they come as a form of improvisation, journalistic jazz.
“Seth Rolbein, can I help you?”
A voice boomed, “Who the f— do you think you are, writing that s— you put out in that thing you publish?”
It had been a long week, I was stretched thin enough to take the bait. “Really now! And who the f— is this?” I yelled back.
“It’s your f—ing Congressman, that’s who, and it’s my birthday. Let’s go to Provincetown for dinner.”
We had a great time.
As the political atmosphere in Washington became more and more polarized, Bill became more and more concerned. He worried that his career example — ego under control, bipartisan, holding onto fundamental principles while trying to engage and yes, compromise — had become bygone, quaint, naive.
This did not bode well, he feared, but he counseled patience. “The wheels of government turn with frustrating slowness,” he would say. Then he articulated his lifelong impulse to move to a place apart from divisive ideology:
“To make progress, you need to search out and discern the humanity of the other,” he insisted. “In some, that humanity is overwhelmed by dark angels. But if you explore long enough, if you listen long enough, if you persist, you can interact with anybody. What’s important to them? What makes them feel right? Let them explain themselves. Accomplishment in the end is a result of this understanding.”
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Glad to know of your heartfelt high regard for him. And obvious friendship. P
Thanks for this wonderful remembrance of Bill. He was one of a kind - and that says a lot, given he was Irish!!RIP Bill.