M. CHARLES BAKST
A fitting farewell to a rare man
I went to Grace Church yesterday to witness history and saw a funeral for the ages.
Amid Gothic arches, a massive organ and the soaring notes of a brass ensemble, the service for John Chafee was of towering majesty and heart-tugging elegance -- ``the Episcopal Church at its best,'' said long-time Republican activist Nancy Richmond.
It was a perfect tribute to the 77-year-old senator, Navy secretary, governor and Marine, capturing his enthusiasms, his insistence on quality, highlighting his career and sealing the image of a man the Rev. John Danforth, a former Missouri senator, said radiated joy. ``To him, life was good, and he let you know it,'' Danforth declared. ``There was nothing mean about him.''
I will remember the sounds of the trumpets, but more will I remember the stillnesses, the bells tolling quietly, life at attention.
I will remember the president of the United States after the service on the front steps of the church, staring ahead at the coffin aboard a horse-drawn carriage, the red white and blue of the flag covering the coffin a vivid contrast to the black bunting on the carriage, the black formal clothes of the driver and the black limousine waiting to whisk Mr. and Mrs. Clinton away.
I will remember the sounds of the feet of the Chafee family reverberating on the polished stone aisle as they strode into the still, packed church. And I will remember thinking about it again after the 75-minute service and seeing the horses. Only last November, Senator Chafee had told me of being at John F. Kennedy's funeral and watching the coffin go by drawn by horses. ``The thing that struck home was the silence,'' he said. ``You could hear the horses' hoofs on the road . . . It was so quiet. So many people and so quiet.''
I will remember being perched in a Grace Church loft in front of the organ and I will remember the physical sensation I felt as the first hymn, ``God of Our Fathers,'' blared.
I will remember thinking how apt it was that the Rev. Maria DeCarvalho, once a Chafee staffer, stood at a lectern adorned by a giant brass eagle and read, at this service for a man whose watchword was honesty and whose performance so shone, from Philippians:
Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
I will remember thinking that it took Senator Chafee's death to make Rhode Islanders pause and appreciate fully the grand sweep of his life, and that the funeral, attended by the president and cabinet members and dozens of senators, helped convey the esteem in which his personal qualities, if not always his liberal Republican policies, were respected in the land.
I will remember thinking how close in mannerism and tone to the senator is his son Zechariah, a federal prosecutor, whose eulogy began, ``What a man! What a life!''
Young Chafee touched on his father's Boy Scout training, his zest for collegiate wrestling, his love for the Marine Corps, his qualities of leadership by example, self discipline and willingness to take risks.
He spoke as a reporter, taking us to this family scene or that, to a horse show starring his sister Tribbie, who would die from a horse-riding accident in 1968, to his father gathering the grandchildren around to raise the flag at the Maine summer home, to the senator and wife Virginia, off at a cabin: ``They speak easily together, bound by the love of nearly 50 years.''
He spoke of a light-hearted photo of his father and some other pols, including Ronald Reagan, who inscribed it: ``John, sometimes it is fun, isn't it?''
Zechariah concluded, ``Dad, when you were around, it sure was!''
I will remember that son Lincoln, mayor of Warwick and putative Senate successor, recited the poem, ``Old Ironsides,'' and I will remember how the senator enjoyed the opportunity to cruiseon the venerable ship when it moved under its own power, sails billowing, one day two years ago.
I will remember thinking how pleased the senator would have been to hear the poem, how he savored great quotes, including passages from Shakespeare.
I will remember seeing at Grace the familiar faces, including U.S. Appeals Court Judge Bruce Selya. Chafee's death was a shock to him, but the judge positively trembled at a post-script. On Thursday he learned that Chafee's last official Senate action was to submit to the Congressional Record a tribute honoring him as he stepped down as chairman of the Lifespan hospital system. ``He was obviously planning to surprise me with it.''
The tribute cited their longstanding ties and ended, ``I look forward to continuing our close association in the years ahead.''
The congregation yesterday threw itself into the singing of hymns and ``America the Beautiful.'' Those were flurries of activity. But the tragedy of the occasion perhaps sunk in more as mourners sat quietly, with time to think, and listened to the choir sing the reverential Navy anthem, ``Eternal Father, strong to save. . .''
I looked down from the perch and spotted Bryant College president Ron Machtley, an Annapolis alumnus and former congressman, and wife Kati. It was a moment, Machtley said later, ``to ponder the essence of his life.''
There were about 800 people at the funeral, and some will remember this and some will remember that. But no one who was there -- no one -- will forget the sight of the Marines in dress uniforms who marched down the aisle, the strains of the Marine Corps Hymn (``From the Halls of Montezuma . . .'') filling the air, the coffin being lifted and carried out.
In the pages of my notebook, I wrote the word goosebumps.
It was the kind of handsome, precise, colorful, somber renewal of patriotic tradition Chafee would have loved.
It was a reminder of how important public service was to him and how he wanted things done right.
His appeal was to the best within us. Many politicians today appeal to the worst in voters. They see public service as a vehicle for enrichment, a chance to carve out empires or indulge their vanity. Some disgrace the public trust. Chafee ennobled it.
You could sit in church yesterday and ponder that, and consider what Shakespeare's Juliet said of Romeo:
And, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
M. Charles Bakst, The Journal's political columnist, can be reached by E-mail at mbakst@projo.com
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