It happened when I was working on a documentary about the now deceased former U.S. Sen. Richard Lugar, R-Indiana. I had asked Hamilton about his relationship with Lugar.
Hamilton smiled, brought his hands together so his fingers resembled the roof of a temple and then began to talk. He meant to relate an anecdote but also deliver a bit of instruction.
Hamilton said he’d known Lugar for years, but that they really had gotten to know each other during the years when they served together in Congress—Hamilton in the U.S. House of Representatives and Lugar in the U.S. Senate.
In those days, Hamilton said, when Democrats and Republicans found themselves at loggerheads on a measure or issue, the parties would ask him and Lugar to meet and hash things out.
Lugar had the trust and respect of the Republicans in Congress, Hamilton said.
“And I had the same with my party,” Hamilton said, shrugging modestly.
There were, though, other Democrats and other Republicans who could claim the respect and trust of their respective parties. What made Hamilton and Lugar special was that they were liked, respected and trusted by members of the opposition.
And—even more important—they liked, respected and trusted each other.
The two men got to know each other early in their careers.
Hamilton told me that Lugar had reached out to him not long after Hamilton had been elected to the House for the first time. This was in the mid-1960s, when Lugar was contemplating what would become a successful campaign for mayor of Indianapolis.
Hamilton said the two men, then both in their early 30s, got together and formed a rapport immediately.
They talked, Hamilton said, as “practical politicians” about the things that concern politicians.
How to attract votes.
How to win elections.
And most of all, how to get things done.
Even though they were from different parties and held different positions on several important, even fundamental issues, they had certain key similarities.
Neither man was a slave to ideology. Both were pragmatists to their cores, public servants more interested in effecting practical changes that helped their constituents than striking symbolic poses. For that reason, neither man ever became comfortable with the more theatrical parts of being a national leader as the 20th century gave way to the 21st.
And both were smart, smart, smart, possessed of minds that were sharper than brand-new razor blades and a determination to know as much about an issue as was humanly possible before he would venture an opinion on it.
For that reason, neither man came to the table thinking he was going to be able to put something over on the other.
Each of them knew the other guy would arrive at the negotiation well-prepared and able to discern any tricks, deceptions or other bits of political chicanery. So, they didn’t try to fool each other.
Instead, they came ready to listen and to look for pieces of common ground, however small those pieces might be, upon which they could build. They didn’t shout or threaten each other.
They just … talked.
Sometimes, Hamilton said, they had to talk for a long, long time to get anywhere. They kept at it, though, because both believed getting something accomplished—even if it involved compromising and meant that neither man or party got all he or it wanted—was better than walking away with nothing.
Particularly if walking away with nothing left their constituents wanting or hurting.
Most of the time, Hamilton said, he and Lugar found a way forward. The two Hoosiers brokered deal after deal that helped ordinary people live better lives.
The moral of Hamilton’s story was easy to discern. He was arguing that the old-fashioned qualities of trust, respect and integrity were the things that made real change possible.
Lee Hamilton died the other day. He was 94.
He was the last survivor of a generation—one that included him, Lugar, former U.S. Sen. Birch Bayh, D-Indiana, former U.S. Rep. Andy Jacobs Jr., D-Indiana, and former Indianapolis Mayor William Hudnut, a Republican— of Hoosier political giants.
Since I first heard about Hamilton’s death, I’ve been thinking about the story he told me.
And about how it may map a path forward for us as a state and a nation.
May he rest in peace.
