(Official and Personal Tributes: Part 2 of 3)
for the rotation of names on paper ballots, it did not require it on the machines, and Mo's name was on the second row rather than the first, from which the winner was chosen. He always believed the loss was a fluke.

In 1961, Mo's career as a lawyer ended and his career as a legislator began. He was elected by a fairly small margin to succeed his brother in the United States House of Representatives, for the seat Stewart Udall vacated to become Secretary of the Interior for President Kennedy.

Mo was often questioned about his committee assignments, which were the Interior Committee and the Post Office and Civil Service Committee but not the Judiciary. He had arrived under the old regime where committee chairmen were responsible to almost no one, where they called meetings when, as and if they cared to do so, and where they brooked no opposition, dissent, or amendments. Mo decided against the Judiciary Committee which was chaired by Howard Smith of Virginia, the most ruthlessly totalitarian chairman of them all.

The nation lost nothing by his forsaking the judiciary. His bills brought the law to apply across the broad sweep of the nation's concerns for energy and environment and even to housekeeping matters within the Congress itself.

Even as law was the core of Mo's life, so humor was the core of his self-esteem. In spring of 1964, Mo was given a small assignment by the Post Office and Civil Service Committee. The government was being inundated with insurance claims for deceased civil servants, filed by then-called "illegitimate children." The authorities decided to recognize children as descendants whether the product of a sanctified union or not. A change in the law was proposed and Udall was given the responsibility to carry it through his own committee, the Rules Committee, and finally, big time, on the floor. He did so and the measure is now the law of this union.

Touring on a campaign swing that summer, Mo and I arrived in Bowie, Arizona, which, wasn't much then and is somewhat less now. The central point of community existence was Skeets Tavern run by irascible Skeets Thomas. We went in and were immediately treated to vintage irascibility, with Thomas pointing his finger in Mo's face and saying, "When are you going to stop giving away all this money and start taking care of old bastards like me?"

Mo said, "Funny you should ask, Skeets, let me tell you what I did for a lot of old bastards this past year."

Mo also claimed to have gone to an American Legion Post in Tombstone and made what he thought was a splendid address. When he finished he asked for questions, and an old gnarled cowboy in the back of the room said, "Son, you said a lot of fine

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things, but I want to ask one question. You're not one of them damned lawyers are you?" Udall gulped and said, "Well, sir, I am, but I'm a damned poor one."

Curiously, the media paid very modest attention to Mo Udall's predilection for peace. That characteristic tested him during the Vietnam War. He was one of the first Americans to denounce the war. He did it while Lyndon Johnson was President and Stewart Udall was Johnson's Secretary of the Interior. Johnson liked to pinch, with his great rough hands, the shoulder muscles of lesser individuals to the point where the victim cringed or cried out. Johnson thought of this as the process of "reasoning together." But with 6'4", 220-pound Mo Udall, the President was not able to pinch or grin the lanky Arizonan down.

Mo's position on Vietnam was initially enormously unpopular, and exposed him to vituperation unparalleled in his earlier political career.

But his penchant for peace would not be dismayed. Over the years he was subject to betrayal of the most egregious kind. His unsuccessful efforts for election as speaker and, subsequently as whip, generated duplicity worthy of the Middle Ages.

A man of peace, he refused to be angry and he would not consider retaliation.

It is little known, and rarely said, that three-fourths of Congressional decisions are made in the spirit of E Pluribus Unum. I mean that almost every vote pivots around the necessity to make one from many, to move us closer together as a nation. That view underlies the whole spectrum of decisions. It was in the best Jeffersonian tradition, which holds the people themselves are the only depository of society's ultimate powers of society. If we think the people not enlightened enough to exercise their control with wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take control from them, but to inform their discretion by education.

In later years, Mo was asked to comment on changes in the law which he approved or disapproved. He said, "I think we're better off because of the Warren Court and that the Court did things that needed doing." He revealed the depth of his feeling saying, "I saw as later as 1954 the Almanac had a listing of lynchings. How many there were. They kept such a God-damned list in 1954. The idea that somebody could come into your house, lift your husband out of his bed, tie him to a tree and shoot him, torture him--that we as a country would stand by and let that happen is incredible. And they always found, in the Supreme Court cases, legalistic reasons why they deplored . . . 'We the Court deplore lynching. Sorry, we don't know what to do about it. It's up to the states."'

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Mo endured personal misfortunes, none worse than his present physical condition. But beneath his ill gaunt frame, we know a penetrating intelligence lives. We know that he catalogs still further stories to entertain and amuse, but to bruise no one. We are graced by his presence, and in days when Arizonans are feeling their self-esteem slightly sliding, we know that this man distinguished himself and honors us who chose him.

The Congressional Quarterly (actually, a weekly) is the most definitive voice on the subject of the U.S. Congress, and, upon Mo's retirement spoke this judgment of the ages: "The dominant political forces at work today systematically devalue the two traits that made Mo's mark, a willingness to take risks and a commitment to larger institutions than himself." So let it be.


(By Senator Dennis DeConcini of Arizona)

To see the prodigious legacy of Representative Morris K. Udall, one need only look about the Nation and State he so passionately loved and so ably served. His public monuments will endure forever.

I could go on forever about Mo's many great accomplishments, but I'd like to offer a different perspective. There is a different side to this man. A side I saw as a young high-school and college student, when, even then, I witnessed firsthand why this man was destined for greatness.

Some of my most lasting memories of Mo Udall occurred after he had graduated from the University of Arizona law school and eventually came to work in my father's law office. I remember sitting in my father's office as a young high school student; Mo and his brother Stewart would meet with my father and strategize about cases on which they were working. Mo had a brilliant legal mind. He was an extremely hard worker, but more importantly, he listened intently to everything that was said.

I was also impressed with Mo's organizational skills. Specializing in personal injury cases, Mo carried a tremendous work load as a young lawyer. He seemed happiest during those times when he was barely keeping his head above water.

In fact, when Mo and Stewart Udall formed their own law firm, they carried three lawyers, including themselves. The firm used one secretary, so Mo and Stewart performed many of the administrative and secretarial tasks themselves.

Even with this busy schedule, Mo always found time after work with his kids to play baseball or participate in the Y-Indian guide

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program. "Big Beaver," his chosen name in Indian guides, always found time to enjoy life.

I was 24 years old when Mo Udall was first elected to Congress. I worked on his first campaign, and as I listened to him speak at various functions throughout his race, I was in awe of his ability to capture and maintain an audience's attention. His ability to communicate with people was not something he had trained himself to do. Rather, he was blessed with an ability to speak to his audience as if he were having a personal conversation with each individual. Even more impressively, Mo used few or no notes when he addressed an audience.

In addition to Mo's talents as both a lawyer and politician, he was also an accomplished businessman. Mo was concerned that no banks in Tucson were either controlled or owned by Tucsonans. At that time, all the banks in the area were owned and operated by institutions based in California or Phoenix. In order to remedy this problem, Mo became one of the original cofounders of Catalina Savings and Loan.

Mo also showed a great deal of interest in the real-estate market. He invested in real estate not only in Tucson and its outlying areas, but also in the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia.

Mo also loved to fly. He was an accomplished pilot, having served in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II. He continued to fly after he was discharged, but he found that flying time proved to be too expensive. In order to soften the financial burden, Mo and his flying partners formed a business. They would fly over the Catalinas and spread the ashes of people's loved ones over the mountains for a fee.

Mo Udall is a fighter. He never allowed any of his personal hardships or his battle with Parkinson's disease to slow him down. Even as Parkinson's began to take its toll, the old Udall charm and wit never faded.

I will dearly miss Mo Udall on Capitol Hill. I will always remember what he has done for Arizona and our Nation, and I will always cherish these memories.

[From the Arizona Daily Star, May 3, 1991]


(By Senator John McCain of Arizona)

His legendary wit, his vital hand in landmark environmental legislation and his national political leadership have been the focus of numerous remembrances about Mo Udall as his 30-year House career comes to a close. While all these areas are indeed hallmarks

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of his service to Arizona and the nation, they neglect an important aspect of his work that I think it is important to include: his concern, compassion and efforts for Native Americans.

While faddish attention has focused on our first Americans from time to time over the years, Mo was persistent in ensuring that, during the 14 years he chaired the House Interior Committee, the Congress met its responsibility to advocate for an protect the rights and interests of Indians. Even before he attained the powerful chairmanship, Mo labored in an often fruitless vineyard of Indian issues for over a quarter of a century.


He did not work so long and so hard for personal glory or political gain. He did so because he cared for the dignified people in Indian tribes across the land and for the sanctity of the federal commitment memorialized in over 350 treaties with Indian tribes.

The evidence of his concern is spread across the public record. As a member of the House Interior and Insular Affairs Committee (and its chairman since 1977), he played a major role in the enactment of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, the Indian SelfDetermination Act, the Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act, the Indian Child Protection and Family Violence Prevention act and the Indian Health Care Improvement Act. The list of major Indian reform bills he sponsored or supported could go on and on.

His finest work and fondest memories, however, came not in the major legislation but in the smallest problems that he was able to solve by the wise use of his office. of the 184 Indian bills passed by the committee under his leadership, many were measures of little significance nationally, but of critical importance to one Indian tribe.


The Cocopah Tribe of Arizona and the Rumsey Rancheria of California are examples of two small tribes that benefited directly from Mo's concern for the Indian people. His efforts on their behalf assured the future stability and well-being of both these tribes. His work on their behalf demonstrates that no Indian problem was too small for his attention and time.

Mo also faithfully worked against legislation or other government action hostile to the treaties, rights, property of other vital interests of Native Americans. Sometimes all alone, he fought to ensure that the kinds of government action that have historically been bad for Indians were not allowed to go forward on his watch.

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Yet, the public record of his legislation and other actions on behalf of Indians offers only surface testimony to Mo's efforts and accomplishments. You have to go to the Indian reservations and other native communities to see the real impact of his fostering hand.


Life there is still hard. Poverty can be crushing and despair ever-present. But hope has been regenerated in the last 20 years, and slow, steady progress is being made toward a better life for Indian people, in large measure because of the legislative efforts of Mo Udall.

While the nation may not be aware of the role Mo has played in ensuring we meet our obligations to the first Americans, one need only visit his home or office to see that Indians know. On his walls and shelves are emblems of heartfelt appreciation from Indians tribes, Alaskan Native groups and Indian organizations that express love, respect and gratitude to him for a career of work on their behalf. All of this work, and most of the appreciation, occurred before "Dances With Wolves" spawned a bevy of Indian advocates.

It is not this outpouring of recognition that matters to Mo. He is ending His distinguished career with the proud and long-suffering Native American people, knowing he has touched their lives and made their futures brighter by his efforts. This is his most lasting recognition in our nation's history, and why he will be missed first and missed most by the first Americans.

[From the Arizona Law Record, Fall 1991]



(By Dean E. Thomas Sullivan)

Leader. Orator. Gracious and dignified. A man with integrity, charm, wit, and compassion. Morris K. Udall, affectionately known as "Mo," graduated from the College of Law in 1949.

His career exemplifies the essence of law as a public profession. He served his clients, colleagues, constituents, and all people with equal respect and candor. For him, practicing law and serving the public were one in the same; the profession, first and foremost, exists to serve people to resolve human problems. In his long and productive career, people always came first. Lawyers, as change

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agents for society, can make a difference in positive ways. Morris Udall always has made a difference.

After graduating from the College of Law, Congressman Udall practiced in Tucson with his brother, Stewart, Class of 1948, and was elected county attorney shortly thereafter. His first election to Congress came in a special election in 1961 to replace his brother Stewart, who had become Secretary of Interior under President John F. Kennedy. In 1976 he launched a presidential campaign, losing to Jimmy Carter in the primary. The University of Arizona College of Law in 1973 awarded Congressman Udall an honorary Doctor of Laws degree. While in Congress, he served more than 13 years as Chairman of the House Interior and Insular Affairs Committee.

Morris Udall's accomplishments in 30 years in Congress are legendary. He played a major role in the enactment of scores of important Congressional acts, including the Alaska Lands Act; the Indian Child Protection and Family Violence Prevention Act; the Indian Self-Determination Act; Arizona Wilderness Act; a 1977 law requiring strip-mined land to be returned to its original state; and a 1974 law overhauling campaign finance regulations. No problem was too great, no person too small. As House Speaker Thomas Foley observed on May 4 upon the retirement of Congressman Udall, "He carved out a standard of public service, integrity, legislative vision and just plain hard, good-humored work that inspires the colleagues he is leaving."

Although Morris Udall may well have been "Too Funny To Be President," as his delightful book is aptly titled, he in fact was always further ahead than presidents, kings, or lesser mortals. He went further in life and accomplished so much more than others, perhaps because of his keen insights, intelligence, compassion, grace, and wit. His fondest quote is from Will Rogers. It captures the man, Morris Udall: "We are here for just a spell and pass on. So get a few laughs and do the best you can. Live your life so that whenever you lose, you are ahead." Morris Udall always will be ahead of the rest of us. For that we are grateful. He led the way for 30 years in Congress and he leaves a legacy of distinguished accomplishments demonstrating his commitment to public service.

Reviewing the public record of Morris Udall, one comes to a clear sense of the individual--uncommon integrity. In our profession, no higher accolade is possible. Would that the present and next generation of law students, when they search for heroes, mentors, and role models, will embrace the ideals and integrity of Morris Udall.

In honor and celebration of Congressman Udall's unique contributions to the profession and the public, I am pleased to announce

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that the University of Arizona soon will began a multi-million dollar fundraising campaign to establish The Morris K. Udall Fund for Excellence in Public Policy. This endowment will support two programs highly regarded by Congressman Udall: The College of Law and the Udall Center for Studies in Public Policy.

A significant portion of the Udall Fund, $1 million, will establish an endowed Chair in the College of Law in honor of Congressman Udall. The Morris K. Udall Professor of Law and Public Policy in the College of Law will be a nationally renowned scholar who will teach and conduct research at the law school. The holder of the endowed chair also will be a Senior Fellow in the University's Udall Center for Studies in Public Policy.

The Udall Center, a research unit created by the Arizona Board of Regents in 1987, is the intended beneficiary of the remainder of the endowment. The Center was established to perpetuate the Udall tradition of excellence in public policy formulation and application. Among the Center programs to be supported by the Fund are an environmental mediation center, a policy maker-in-residence, governmental internships, graduate fellowships, and an annual critical issues conference.

The endowment provides a lasting tribute to Congressman Udall's leadership and vision. Establishing an endowed chair in the College of Law honors him with the University's highest recognition for achievement. Throughout his career he has honored us with his lasting accomplishments. He continues to do so. Morris K. Udall -- a paragon of human dignity.



(By C. Donald Hatfield)

I had been in Tucson only a few short weeks and was still trying to find out where everything was and who everyone was when my secretary said Mo Udall's office had called and Mo would like to drop by.

Mo Udall? Congressman Udall? "Fine," I said, as if legends dropped into my office every day. But I was impressed and even excited. Mo Udall. A name that had meant something to me for years. I thought of the JFK days. I thought of what he had done in environmental matters before it had even become fashionable. I recalled his campaign for the presidency. I though of how he always seemed to carry himself with a quiet dignity. I had admired him, living in the East. And now he was on his way to my office.

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And in a little while here he came, this giant of a man, taller than I had expected, and larger in a different way--imposing, one might say. Even though he also seemed somewhat stooped.

There were a couple of aides with him and they handled the introductions, saying the congressman had simply wanted to say hello and welcome me to Tucson.

His struggle with Parkinson's was immediately obvious, and it frankly hurt me to see him like this. I wondered whether his mind might also be affected.

It soon was obvious that it was not.

He asked about West Virginia, whence I had come, and about people he had known and worked with from that state. Soon we were involved in a conversation as if we'd known each other for years and were now sitting in somebody's living room. He was witty, warm, engaging.

When he left, I was even more impressed. He had taken time to drop by the office of this newly transferred newspaper publisher simply to welcome him to his state, his land, and to wish him well.

He had not wanted anything, asked for anything. He never would. There was no need for that. "Good luck," he said, and he meant it.

I've talked with Mo Udall only a few times since. We sat together during a U.A. football game once, and although he seemed very tired, he was also very observant about what was going on out on the field. And there were a few other occasions--dinners, etc. And my personal respect for the man did not change.

In the years since, I have found it somewhat remarkable how common that perception is, no matter what company one is in. In more than 30 years in the newspaper business, I have never come across a public person so universally respected and liked--one is tempted to even say "loved." And that, especially in the world of politics, came as quite surprising.

To be truthful, I have occasionally wondered whether his political foes--surely he must have some--were just fearful of attacking the legend, or whether they genuinely liked and respected him that much. Certainly the people did, keeping him in office for more than 30 years.

And now that comes to an end, purely for reasons of health. The tragedy of the disease that attacked him, which he somehow seemed to publicly ignore or at the most acknowledge as some kind of minor nuisance until a terrible fall a few months ago, finally proved too great an obstacle at this point in his life.

One cannot help but think of that in considering his resignation announcement yesterday.

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But soon, and for long after, we will forget the disease and the tragedy and that he had to leave much too soon, and we will remember the man, this gentle man, who gave so much, and who brought honor and respect to Arizona and the land he loved.


When Arizona congressman Morris "Mo" Udall was running for president in 1976, he asked Iowa voters if they knew the difference between a pigeon and a farmer.

"A pigeon can still make a deposit on a tractor," he said.

Using humor to make a point was Udall's trademark. Some people disagreed with Udall at times, but nearly everyone liked him. In politics, that's quite a tribute.

And unlike many less-loved politicians, Udall won't cling to power that has slipped from his grasp. Yesterday, Udall resigned, ending 30 years of service to Arizona's District 2. Appropriately, his replacement will be chosen in a special election just like the one that sent Udall to Congress in 1961 to replace his brother, Stewart, who had been appointed to President John Kennedy's cabinet.

Mo Udall is most famous for his love and care for Arizona's world famous natural wonders. He was the strongest spokesman in Congress for parks, wildlife and wilderness, and was an "environmentalist" before the term was coined.

His many achievements for Arizona and the nation remain as monuments to the man. The Central Arizona Project should be called the Udall Canal for all the work he did to reclaim Arizona's share of the Colorado River.


(Written and Delivered by Cliff Robertson, on the occasion of the dedication of the Udall Center for Public Policy, Tucson, AZ, Spring 1990)

Everyone has one--or did at one time--that idol--that hero--that individual who stands out from the crowd--the commonplace--the ordinary.

That uncommon person on which we gauge our highest marks. That figure of high esteem yet oft-times low profile. That one who seeks the truth--not the gain--the good not the gold. That rare and wonderful human being who enriches our lives--nourishes our soul and inspires us to reach higher--further--to hold closer--our fellow man. To distance ourselves from malice--to reject prejudice--to accept our differences (and) to recognize that we are brothers all. That we share this frail blue marble for such a short time,

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Section Contents: Official and Personal Tributes
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Main | Contents | Illustrations | Book Cover | Title Page

Addresses and Special Orders Held in the U.S. House of Representatives and the Senate, Presented in Honor of The Honorable Morris K. "Mo" Udall, A Representative from Arizona, One Hundred Second Congress, First Session
Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1993