Henry Hyde, 1924-2007 (Weekly Standard)
The first time I spoke to a pro-life group--it was the summer of 1993--I expected Illinois congressman Henry Hyde to be there. I was speaking in Milwaukee at National Right to Life's annual convention and my assumption was that when a major anti-abortion group gathered, Hyde's presence was required. But Hyde wasn't there. I had brought my daughter Sarah with me and I was disappointed she wouldn't get to hear Hyde, the great pro-life orator and the nation's leading defender of the unborn.
As luck would have it, when we were flying home and changed planes in Chicago, whom should we sit across from on the flight to Washington but Henry Hyde. We were thrilled. And Hyde, tall, stout, white-haired, and quite friendly, said he'd be glad to chat with us over coffee at Washington National Airport.
And he did, and told us a fascinating story. For several years, he had debated a liberal Republican from New Jersey named Millicent Fenwick on the House floor. She was a real character. She smoked a pipe. Her mother had died in the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915. Fenwick was an unswerving defender of a woman's right to have an abortion.
After an especially contentious debate, Fenwick confronted Hyde in a state of fury. She told him he shouldn't be talking the way he did about abortion. He was dividing the Republican party, even the country. He was stirring ugly passions. He must stop.
Hyde interrupted Fenwick's tirade to say he'd tell her a story he'd never
told anyone in Washington, not even close friends. Then she'd understand why he believed so strongly in saving unborn children. His mother wasn't married when she'd gotten pregnant. But she didn't seek an abortion. And when he was a month old she'd left him on the doorstep of a family, who took him in and reared him. That, he told Fenwick, was why he opposed abortion.
Fenwick was thunderstruck. She walked away without saying a word and never debated the issue of abortion with Hyde again. At this point, Hyde paused in telling the story. He looked at me and then at my daughter. "Of course the story wasn't true," he said. He'd made it up on the spur of the moment. But it was for a worthy cause, and he had never regretted using it to silence Fenwick. We laughed and laughed and so did Hyde. My immediate thought--one that stuck with me up to the day Hyde died last week at 83--was simply, "What a wonderful man. What a great guy to have on your side."...
Read entire article at Fred Barnes in the Weekly Standard
As luck would have it, when we were flying home and changed planes in Chicago, whom should we sit across from on the flight to Washington but Henry Hyde. We were thrilled. And Hyde, tall, stout, white-haired, and quite friendly, said he'd be glad to chat with us over coffee at Washington National Airport.
And he did, and told us a fascinating story. For several years, he had debated a liberal Republican from New Jersey named Millicent Fenwick on the House floor. She was a real character. She smoked a pipe. Her mother had died in the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915. Fenwick was an unswerving defender of a woman's right to have an abortion.
After an especially contentious debate, Fenwick confronted Hyde in a state of fury. She told him he shouldn't be talking the way he did about abortion. He was dividing the Republican party, even the country. He was stirring ugly passions. He must stop.
Hyde interrupted Fenwick's tirade to say he'd tell her a story he'd never
told anyone in Washington, not even close friends. Then she'd understand why he believed so strongly in saving unborn children. His mother wasn't married when she'd gotten pregnant. But she didn't seek an abortion. And when he was a month old she'd left him on the doorstep of a family, who took him in and reared him. That, he told Fenwick, was why he opposed abortion.
Fenwick was thunderstruck. She walked away without saying a word and never debated the issue of abortion with Hyde again. At this point, Hyde paused in telling the story. He looked at me and then at my daughter. "Of course the story wasn't true," he said. He'd made it up on the spur of the moment. But it was for a worthy cause, and he had never regretted using it to silence Fenwick. We laughed and laughed and so did Hyde. My immediate thought--one that stuck with me up to the day Hyde died last week at 83--was simply, "What a wonderful man. What a great guy to have on your side."...