Thursday, September 14, 2006

Ann Richards

I was a journalist in Texas when Ann Richards was governor. I met her many times and had several meals with her. I loved her. I am truly sad at her passing - she was the same age as my mother was when she died in August of 2005 : 73. Doesn't seem like long enough when someone you love dies that young.

The National Speech that made Ann Richards famous follows her obituary and a few special appreciations, below.

Ann Richards, Former Texas Governor, Dies at 73


Published: September 14, 2006

Ann W. Richards, the silver-haired Texas activist who galvanized the 1988 Democratic National Convention with her tart keynote speech and was the state’s 45th governor until upset in 1994 by an underestimated challenger named George W. Bush, died Wednesday at her home in Austin. She was 73.


Chester Higgins Jr./The New York Times

Ann Richards, the former governor of Texas, in 2004.

Ms. Richard died, surrounded by her four children, of complications from the esophageal cancer, the Associated Press reported.

Ms. Richards was the most recent and one of the most effective in a long-line of Lone Star State progressives who vied for control of Texas in the days when it was largely a one-party Democratic enclave, a champion of civil rights, gay rights and feminism. Her defeat by the future president was one of the chief markers of the end of generations of Democratic dominance in Texas.

So cemented was her celebrity on the national stage, however, that she appeared in national advertising campaigns, including one for snack chips, and was a lawyer and lobbyist for Public strategies and Verner, Lipfert, Bernhard, McPherson & Hand.

“Poor George, he can’t help it,” Ms. Richards said at the Democratic convention in 1988, speaking about the current president’s father, former President George Bush. “He was born with a silver foot in his mouth.”

Her acidic, plain-spoken keynote address was one of the year’s political highlights and catapulted the one-term Texas governor into a national figure.

“We’re gonna tell how the cow ate the cabbage,” she said, bringing the great tradition of vernacular Southern oratory to the national political stage in a way that transformed the mother of four into an revered icon of feminist activism.

Dorothy Ann Willis was born Sept. 1, 1933, in Lakeview, and graduated in 1950 from Waco High school where she showed a special facility for debate. She attended the Girl’s Mock State government in Austin in her junior year and was one of two delegates chosen to attend Girl’s Nation in Washington.

She attended Baylor University in Waco — on a debate scholarship — where she met her future husband, David Richards. After college, the couple moved to Austin where she earned a teaching certificate at the University of Texas in 1955 and taught social studies for several years at Fulmore Middle School.

She raised her four children in Austin.

She volunteered in several gubernatorial campaigns, in 1958 for Henry Gonzalez and in 1952, 1954 and 1956 for Ralph Yarborough and then again for Yarborough’s senatorial campaign in 1957.

In 1976, Ms. Richards defeated a three-term incumbent to become a commissioner in Travis County, which includes Austin, and held that job for four years, though she later said her political commitment put a strain on her marriage, which ended in divorce.

She also began to drink heavily, eventually going into rehabilitation, a move that she later credited with salvaging her life and her political career.

“I have seen the very bottom of life,” she said. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t be funny anymore. I just knew that I would lose my zaniness and my sense of humor. But I didn’t. Recovery turned out to be a wonderful thing.”

In 1982, she ran for state treasurer, received the most votes of any statewide candidate, became the first woman elected to statewide office in Texas in 50 years and was re-elected in 1986.

In 1990, when the incumbent governor, William P. Clements Jr., decided not to run for re-election, she ran against a former Democratic governor, Mark White, and won the primary, then later fought a particularly brutal campaign against Republican candidate Clayton Williams, a wealthy rancher, and won.

Among her achievements were institutional changes in the state penal system, invigorating the state’s economy and instituting the first Texas lottery, going so far as to buy the first lotto ticket herself on May 29, 1992.

It was her speech to the Democratic convention in Atlanta, though, that made her a national figure.

A champion of women’s rights, she told the television audience: “Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

In 1992, she was chairwoman of the convention that first nominated Bill Clinton.

Two years later, she underestimated her young Republican challenger from West Texas, going so far as to refer to George W. Bush as “some jerk,” a commend that drew considerable criticism. Later, she acknowledged that the younger candidate has been much more effective at “staying on message” and made none of the mistakes that her campaign strategists had expected. She was beaten, 53 percent to 46 percent.

Her celebrity, however, carried her onto the boards of several national corporations, including J.C. Penney, Brandeis University and the Aspen Institute.

She also co-wrote several books, including “Straight from the Heart: My Life in Politics and Other Places” in 1989 with Peter Knobler and “I’m Not Slowing Down” in 2004, with Richard M. Levine.

On her 60th birthday, she got her first motorcycle license.

“I’ve always said that in politics, your enemies can’t hurt you, but your friends can kill you,” Ms. Richard once said.

Survivors, according to The AP, include her children, Cecile, Daniel, Clark and Ellen Richards, and eight grandchildren.



Lone Star lady

Ann Richards and I saw everything on Broadway and loved to rag about George W. Bush. They were some of the happiest years of my life.

By Liz Smith

Ann Richards

AP photo/Michelle Bidwell

Ann Richards raises her arms in celebration after being sworn in as governor of Texas in Austin on Jan. 15, 1991.

Sept. 14, 2006 | NEW YORK -- "It is impossible to experience one's own death objectively and still carry a tune," said Woody Allen.

This is also an Ann Richards thought if ever there was one. Ann always said she couldn't carry a tune, but her one-time aide Sandra Castellanos recalls that whenever she started to sing "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!" Ann would always burst out of her office and finish it with a flourish: "My, oh my, what a wonderful day."

I recall now a glorious moment onstage at the St. James Theatre when Ann and I appeared as "cowgirls" in a musical number for the Broadway benefit to help the Women's Health Initiative of the Actors' Fund. We came out in ridiculous garb with huge brown felt chaps, hats, boots, the works. We were later castigated by the New York Times critic as women who could neither sing nor dance. What did they know? Ann and I thought we had done great imitating Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance performing "I'm an Old Cowhand From the Rio Grande." In our patter I blamed Ann for George W. Bush's rise and her failure to stop him. She said, "That's not funny, Liz!" and shot me with her cap pistol.

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The Democratic Party and thousands of admirers, public and personal, took a big hit on Wednesday night. As you know, our friend Ann died after a six-month bout with esophageal cancer. She had been in and out of M.D. Anderson hospital in Houston and they had pronounced her cancer gone. But even the mighty, the feisty and the brilliant Ann couldn't come back from this terrible illness. She left this world only blocks from the big white mansion in Austin where she had been such a successful and unusual governor of Texas from 1991 to 1995. The combination of Karl Rove and George Bush put her out of office in 1995. She became a famous speaker and fundraiser for the Democrats but refused to run again herself. Many people urged her to try for the presidency, but Ann said she needed to make some money. "I don't want to end up living in a trailer parked in my daughter's driveway in Austin."

Bette Midler just called to tell me the New York Restoration Project will plant a huge tree in the city in Ann's memory. "Not one of those little mangy $100 ones either," said the heartbroken Bette. I am under an avalanche of condolences now and will offer them to Ann's devastated family -- her attorney sons, Dan and Clark, her wonderful social worker daughter, Ellen, and her eldest, Cecile, who is now the head of Planned Parenthood in New York. Ann had many grandchildren, and she was surrounded by them and by friends like the writer Bud Shrake, who was her main man, and Jean and Dan Rather, Ladybird Johnson, Liz Carpenter, Molly Ivins and others during her brief illness.

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It is a shock to lose Ann, who was always so concerned about her health and that of her pals; she was an exercise and good nutrition fanatic and often made jokes about my careless ways, telling people that I ate only from the brown and white food groups.

The five years that Ann spent in New York working for Jack Martin's Public Strategies advisory group were some of the happiest of my life, since I got to introduce this wonder woman to everybody in Manhattan.

When Ann came here to live five years ago, Le Cirque gave her a party and 600 admirers, including Bill Clinton, welcomed her. Ann and I worked some charities together and we saw everything that opened on Broadway. (The theater should shroud its lights on the Monday night of her funeral because she was its greatest fan and supporter. How well I remember intermissions where hosts of people came to touch her, talk to her and try to sit in her lap. It was like being out with a rock star to be with her in public.)

The election year of 2008 will be much dimmer without Ann, stumping with humor, sarcasm, a high intelligence and a combative manner for the Democrats. And I am unable to express how diminished those of us who really knew and loved her feel. She was young at heart, truly beautiful, comic, serious, dedicated, loyal -- a champion for women, for minorities and for common sense.

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Only recently when I asked Ann her point of view about granting some kind of amnesty to illegal Latins in the United States, she just laughed: "They better grant them some way to stay here because otherwise our hospitals and nursing homes will never have the staff to take care of all of us who are growing older. The people caring for me at Anderson are almost all Mexican, Dominican, Puerto Rican, and they are simply wonderful."

This was the last thing Ann ever said to me -- typically caring, penetrating, socially observant. So goodbye to one of the most fabulous women I've ever known. Ann, it was a great privilege to be your friend!

About the writer

Liz Smith is a nationally syndicated columnist.



Ann Richards to Lie in State Sunday


Published: September 17, 2006

Filed at 4:17 a.m. ET

AUSTIN, Texas (AP) -- Former President Clinton delivered poignant and at times funny recollections of former Gov. Ann Richards, a woman he called ''spontaneous, unedited, earthy, hilarious.''

Clinton tearfully escorted a flag-draped casket Saturday carrying Richards into the state Capitol. Her body will lie in state a second day Sunday before her funeral and burial on Monday.

Clinton told about 50 of her close friends and family about a lunch he once shared in New York with Richards and a group that included comedians Billy Crystal and Robin Williams.

''I thought to myself, I bet this is the only time in their entire lives that Billy Crystal and Robin Williams are the second and third funniest people at the table,'' he said, drawing chuckles from misty-eyed family members.

Richards, the Democrat known for her big, frosty white hair and sharp wit, died Wednesday at the age of 73 from esophageal cancer.

''In this case, goodbye is also a celebration, because of the big things that Ann Richards did,'' Clinton said.

A Texas Department of Public Safety honor guard rolled the casket into the Capitol rotunda, followed by Clinton and Richards' daughter, Cecile, as a girl's choir sang a hymn from a gallery above. Across the rotunda, Richard's painting hung next to one of President Bush, her successor as Texas governor, in its place among all their predecessors. Her portrait was draped in black.

Clinton called Richards ''Texas on parade.''

''For 30-plus years, that is certainly what she was to me and Hillary,'' he said. ''First she was big: big hair, big bright eyes, big blinding smile. She also had a big heart, big dreams, did big deeds.''

During her one term as governor from 1991-95 she championed what she called the ''New Texas,'' appointing more women and minorities to state posts than any of her predecessors.

He described the world that Richards wanted for her grandchildren as one ''where young girls grew up to be scientists, engineers, police officers and teachers ... where the dreams and the spirit were as big as the sky in her beloved home.''

When Clinton finished speaking, Richards' daughter, Ellen, thanked him for ''all the great times that you shared with our mom.''

Clinton paused for a moment beside the casket, then greeted family members, hugging or shaking hands with each one in attendance. At one point, he bent down to comfort Richards' 8-year-old grandson Wyatt, who broke down in sobs.

After Clinton spoke, the Capitol Rotunda was opened to the public. Hundreds of mourners snaked around the building. Later, some visitors left tributes to Richards on a grassy area in front of the Capitol.

One note read: ''Ann, Thank you for all that you've done for women in Texas. We will miss you dearly.''

Richards is survived by her four children -- Cecile, Daniel, Clark and Ellen Richards; their spouses and eight grandchildren.

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