Dear hearts and gentle people, a good, good evening to you all —
Most of you realize that I may be unable to finish these remarks due to a busted carburetor. Don’t let that spook, fluster, or flutter you. Someone will do it if I can’t. We arranged that so no one would get away without hearing every last pearly, rapturous and unforgettable Harlowism, for which you put up a bundle tonight.
During the 1950’s I once asked President Eisenhower what he thought of a certain gentleman. He pondered a minute, then grinned and said, “well, I’ll tell you this — that guy sure needs a long introduction.” That’s me tonight. For a full hour the management has been setting me up. And so you can see now that I’m like Churchill said of Attlee; a nice, modest guy with lots to be modest about. Well, I can abide that. There is so much comfort and reassurance in savoring the fact that even a little fellow like me could once have been Bryce Harlow.
A word now to His Emmett-ence, Mr. Hines, our courtly and always gracious Cracker maestro. Emmett, you know, is singular these days. He’s the only Georgian left around here who wasn’t Jimmied. Well, Mr. Hines, here we are at the Harlow sinkhole in the program. It is only fitting that I now dribble upon you one danke schoen, two graciases, three mercies, and a dollop of gratitude, all for those ego-swelling beatifics you and your jolly mercenaries just plopped on Harlow. Actually, I thought they came off rather well, considering how hard I found to write them.
In any case, it’s downright upright what our in-house Lilliputians have wrought here. Especially impressive is the thematic veneer — “Harlow’s The One.” Even I can identify with that. I’ve had to before, you know. Some here may recall that Senator Margaret Chase Smith of Maine said much the same thing of me 12 years ago. But the tone of her voice was different. And, come to think of it, she never did explain what Harlow was one of. I’d just as soon leave it there.
So to you, Emmett, as to benign and beloved Jesse Smith; my longtime comrade in arms and fellow Sooner Clyde Wheeler, classy, irresistible organizer and inveterate leader Bill Whyte; purposeful, dynamic, articulate Phil Peter; secretarially indispensable and for a quarter century my unfailing monitor and co-worker Sally Studebaker; and that long, gray line — your distinguished executive committee — to you all we Harlows genuflect, we make obeisance, we humble ourselves and prostrate ourselves — and yes, we buss your pedal extremities or such other physiological protuberances as will serve to manifest the deferential appreciation of our clan.
And felicitations of the most personal kind to everyone of you in this hall. I know some are here from far away, some are governmentalists state or federal, and all have come at inconvenience and sacrifice. I marvel at the turnout. It’s flabbergasting. There has to be a reason. My guess is word passed that anyone who stayed away would get this same Harlow treatment next year.
Okay… now let’s get serious for a minute. Several times this evening I have felt like the distraught damsel who put her bra on backwards and found it fit better. Things said tonight would fit many around town far better than me. I’ll not give their names though; you’d take all those good things back.
Actually, one or two people can affect things in this town very little unless they’re an Eisenhower, a Johnson, a Reagan, or possibly a Kissinger. In our circle, maybe a Tom Murphy, a Sidney Weinberg, a Roger Blough, a Reg Jones or a John Harper could make waves. But ordinarily it’s not a guy but the group that counts in getting the big jobs done in Washington. And there I would share a parting notion with you.
Before leaving 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue 20 years ago to mush through a blizzard to 1730 K Street, where Sally Studebaker and I opened P&G’s first Washington office, I sought the counsel of cronies in the palace guard on the wisdom of leaving government for the local business community. I had the twitches about it, having spent over 20 years living off taxes ad also having been told that I would feel parochial and trivial as a businessman after years of grappling with awesome national events and equally awesome people. Senator Robert Kerr and Speaker Sam Rayburn in particular warned me about that. Others extruded crud about alleged naiveté and sleaziness of some of the fellows around town. I had no grounds for believing any of that — but then, I didn’t know at the time and was unsure.
Well, here’s what I am getting at: not six months later — around mid-1961 — I was proudly telling my new P&G superiors and anyone else I could get to listen that I had found Washington reps clean and honest, hard-working and able, governmentally acute, and damn good guys to boot, even though, as we see tonight, every last one of them married far above themselves.
Sure, our clot of reps back then wasn’t as well organized. The grassroots were thin and parched and as likely to get a shot of herbicide as Vigoro. Nor were there very many of us in town, though we made a lot of commotion and racket. Mega-weapons like the CEO’s favorite new toy, the Roundtable, were yet to be born. NAM headquarters was still haughtily aloof from Washington to New York City. So was the GMA. Around here we raced about with bailing wire and Elmer’s Glue hitching up people and groups to fight this, pass that, and amend something else. We worked frenziedly with the Chamber and NAM and trade groups much as we do now, but the groups were smaller, there weren’t as many organizations to energize, and that political hydrogen bomb — the business PACs — hadn’t yet been fashioned.
There are lots more differences that would be fun to talk about, but I feel they’re not really what’s important. It seems to me that, despite recent refinements and the growth in our numbers, despite other advances in techniques and informational systems and such, despite even the nice understatements made here about Harlow, the bottom line is business character in Washington. Well, it was quite as good 20 years ago as it is now — our governmental know how was solid and impressive — the commitment, the diligence, the good humor, the camaraderie, the general excellence of this group — all this was already there when I began my Washington business career on a retainer by Priscilla to lobby John Alden to speak for himself. As you recall, I got that done. Then I was banished by Miles Standish. Lobbyists learn to take that sort of thing in stride.
So my friends, I delight in the underlying purpose of this event, which is to salute your own quality and your own professionalism. I am proud to have been actively with you and of you for a couple of exciting decades, and by golly I intend to hang around at least a while longer. To me the whole bit works out this way: I just happen to like you guys and dolls, and always have. I believe in what you stand for. I agree with what you try to do.
I know this nation has to have you providing balance and expertise around this town — I know the federal system can’t fairly operate in the public interest without you — I know you are a resourceful and vital part of the unending struggle to preserve for us and our kids what really counts — liberty with justice, and the pursuit of happiness.
So may God bless you every one. You’re wonderful to have come, and thanks again you guys who have made this evening sparkle eternally in my heart.