Yesterday, July 21, 2014 was Paul Wellstone's 70th birthday. I was fortunate enough to have met Paul when he was still a young guy, a 31 year old organizer, political activist, poly-sci professor and part-time wrestling coach at Carleton College in Northfield, MN.
Whenever I begin to slip toward despairing that our country's politics and government are hopelessly ruled by wealth and the power wealth brings, when I start to be filled with doubt that this country will ever live up to the democratic ideals it was founded on, I think about Paul and his magnificent, completely unlikely and immensely inspiring race to be elected a U.S. Senator. Paul's example gives us all hope that with spirit, creativity and hard work, government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth. following the orange cheeze-it is a eulogy I wrote for Paul's memorial service - I hope it might give those here who are unfamiliar with Paul Welstone a sense of the man.
If you knew Paul Wellstone, you knew he was a man of great passion. Some knew Paul through his passion for teaching. Many knew him through his passion for social justice. The people of Minnesota got to know Paul through his passion for politics and campaigning. And others knew him through his passion for his family. But Paul had another passion that went as far back as any of those things. Maybe ever farther. Paul Wellstone had a passion for wrestling.
I'm not talking about that thing that passes itself off as wrestling on TV, that thing formerly practiced by that guy who was governor of Minnesota at the time when Paul left us. A reporter once asked him about that, whether he thought it remarkable that two top Minnesota office holders should both have been wrestlers. 'Yea', Paul said, 'but I'm the real wrestler'. That's the wrestling Paul loved, the real one, the one practiced in high schools, colleges and in the Olympics.
When I saw him the last time, a few months before that awful day in October 2002, Paul had one bit of news about which he was particularly pleased – he had been elected to the National Wrestling Hall of Fame in Stillwater, Okla. It was recognition for him as a U.S. Senator but also for his two undefeated seasons at the University of North Carolina and winning the Atlantic Coast Conference Tournament at 123 lbs. in 1964.
This passion might seem odd or incongruous to you, especially if your only experience with wrestling is through the TV. But real wrestling has a strong sense of justice. The rules are clear, strictly enforced and designed to make sure no one gets injured. In many sports, it’s the coaches that decide who will play and who will sit on the bench. Not in wrestling. If you can beat the guy ahead of you in the wrestle-off, you get the varsity spot.
Most importantly, wrestling is a sport where anybody can compete. Whether you are big or small, short or tall, lanky or stocky, there is a place for you on a wrestling team. Even a wiry little Jewish guy from suburban Washington DC. On a high school wrestling mat somewhere in northern Virginia in the waning days of the Eisenhower administration, Paul Wellstone began to test and strengthen the attributes of his character that would make him the great activist, organizer and politician that he became.
(And when I say anybody can compete, Paul did not leave anyone out. When Carleton College’s regular wrestling coach took a year’s sabbatical, Paul stepped up to coach the team in the 1974-75 season. At the collegiate level, especially at a small school like Carleton, it’s tough to fill out the lower weight classes on the team’s roster. Paul took the radical step of introducing two women to the line-up that year.)
Wrestling demands personal courage. And wrestling develops personal courage. In a match, it’s just you out there. There is no one who can do it for you, and no one but you to blame if the outcome is bad. There is physical pain and physical exhaustion that few other sports can match. But there is also a dynamic of hope, that no matter how bad you are getting beat, if you keep moving and keep thinking, you have a chance to break the hold, get the reversal, and put the other guy on his back.
Paul had personal courage. In his first days as a Senator, he voted against the resolution authorizing the first Gulf War. Many in Minnesota and across the country said it was political suicide. During his last year, Paul was in suffered constant chronic pain caused by multiple sclerosis. When I saw him last, he said that he had had to give up the running he loved, that he couldn’t take all the hours on his feet campaigning as he used to. He was determined to win another term. That determination to win did not make him hesitate to take another unpopular vote against authorizing the Iraq war on Oct. 11, 2002.
For me, personally, and for those who had him as a teacher, Paul’s best role was as a coach. Great coaches find a way to connect with you and then find a way to get you to do your best, better than you thought you could. The methods for accomplishing that could range from quiet encouragement to angry provocation. The trick is finding the method that will work. Over the years, I saw Paul hone his coaching and teaching skills, whether it was as coach of his son’s middle school wrestling team or prodding the increasingly complacent college students of the late 1970s into political consciousness and political activism.
The most important thing Paul taught me was this: The level of competition does not matter; the important thing is to compete, to do good work where ever you find it. Paul Wellstone did not appear out of nowhere in 1990. He had been struggling in activist politics for 20 years. From Citizens for a Better Rice County to the Farmer Labor Association to a quixotic run for State Auditor in 1982 to Minnesota chair for Jesse Jackson’s 1988 presidential campaign, Paul was always organizing, always working to inspire others to organize.
I think about what might have been had Paul done what the experts expected, what the pundits predicted, what the smart money told him he would do - If he would have lost the 1990 Senate race to the big warchest and folksy flannel shirts of two-term incumbent Rudy Boschwitz. I know how it would have been. I know Paul would not have stopped for a minute. He would have gone on teaching, organizing, coaching and campaigning as he had for the previous 20 years. Because that is who Paul was.
But he would have been our secret then, Minnesota's secret, Carleton College's secret. He would almost certainly still be here with us today.
And I think now about what it would be like, to be able to decide, on a moment’s notice, to jump in the car, to drive the seven hours to Minnesota. To Northfield, to the modest house across the river and across tracks from campus, and to sit in his living room. And talk with him, like I used to, about family, about politics, and about wrestling.
But he, together with the thousands of volunteers he inspired, defied expectations. He confounded the pundits. He out-smarted the smart money. And he did win that improbable and glorious victory in 1990. Paul and Sheila Wellstone went on to 12 years of service to our nation.
And now Paul Wellstone has been gone many years, years when our country desperately needed the courage and the passion that were his hallmark. But Paul has left a powerful legacy for us all, in everyone across the country he touched and inspired by the stands he took, by the example of his public life, and by the power of his speech.
Paul's legacy for us all is to find the courage to do what needs to be done, wherever you happen to find yourself, doing whatever you do best. Paul’s legacy is to keep moving and not give up, even when the experts are rolling their eyes, the pundits are snickering and the smart money is betting against you. Paul’s legacy is to connect with people, to coach them, to push and encourage them to do their best.
And, if we do these things, we will all move close to what Paul and Sheila, his wife, dreamed of, what they worked so hard for, what they lived their lives for:
• A peaceful world
• A just and caring nation
• Strong, involved and democratic communities
• Loving families and friends, raising healthy, beautiful children