Ted Stevens lived for Alaska

The memorial service for former Sen. Ted Stevens on Wednesday was unlike any other in Alaska history, drawing a planeload of Washington dignitaries and thousands of mourners from throughout the state.

That was fitting. As a performer on the public stage for 57 years, Stevens lived a life unlike any other Alaskan. I was 10 years old when I first read about Ted — the aggressive district attorney in my hometown of Fairbanks. Now I have a Medicare card and am still reading about him.

Ted is best known as chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee, where he steered billions of dollars to his grateful constituents, who in turn showered him with honors, including Alaskan of the 20th Century. Outsiders — that’s what we call those who don’t live in Alaska — gave him a title too: King of Pork.

Providing for Alaskans was a large part of Ted’s job, and the requests for federal dollars never stopped. He once invited me to breakfast at an Anchorage hotel. We were quickly surrounded by supplicants who needed a little help, a million dollars here, a million dollars there. One former state senator told me he stunned Ted when he dropped by his office to chat and didn’t ask for anything. The asking may not be over. A Catholic priest at the memorial service suggested that if there’s an appropriations committee in heaven, Ted is on it.

I have often wondered if Ted wearied of meeting constituents who asked for money and other help. I do know that Ted became so exasperated with a wealthy businessman who wanted something from a regulatory agency that he shouted, “Damn it, Bob, you have to understand! I’m a senator, not a magician!”

Ted had a fierce temper that reduced bureaucrats to jelly but could make him look foolish when employed against a peer in a fair fight — as when he repeatedly called Secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt a liar on national television.

On several occasions an inflamed Ted said he would never again talk to the Anchorage Daily News, my former employer. He once left an editorial page meeting screaming, “Sayonara, baby. I’m outta here!”

He was utterly blind to the excesses and wastefulness of the military-industrial complex, which he financed from the Appropriations Committee. He justified himself by insisting he was financing a defense second to none.

Nevertheless, I was fond of him. He was so bright, so sensitive to the importance of how history shapes events, so dedicated to his constituents whether they appeared in suits or fisherman’s garb. If he made enemies and nursed his wrath to keep it warm, he recognized that he too was imperfect — a sinner — and that the world is a sinful place. He was immune to the hectoring of preachers who used Christianity for political gain. He had no interest in impeaching Bill Clinton for what the president did with Monica Lewinsky. And he made friends on both sides of the aisle. When Joe Biden spoke at the memorial, his affection for Ted filled the auditorium.

Ted Stevens lived to be 86, and for all the success he enjoyed, disappointment and tragedy punctuated his life. In the ‘60s, he ran for the Senate twice and lost twice. He reached the Senate by appointment in 1968 and, after serving longer than any GOP senator in history, was convicted of corruption, a conviction thrown out because of prosecutorial misconduct. In 1978, his first wife, Ann, died in an airplane crash. His childhood in Indianapolis was often gloomy and threadbare. His parents split up; he spent years with his grandfather, who died when Ted was 12. At one point, Ted recalled, the only income his broken family had came from his paper route.

After his grandfather died, Ted was sent to live with an aunt and uncle in Los Angeles. He attended high school in Redondo Beach. When Ted talked about his California youth, it was with gratitude. His college education at UCLA put him on the road to becoming a lawyer. Without the California chapter of his life, there would be no Alaska chapter. And Alaska would be poorer without Ted Stevens, not just in the loss of dollars but the loss of a man who gave his life to his state.

Michael Carey is the former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News.