What with the Bush administration leaving after eight years, there's a lot of talk about legacy these days. Legacy is a hard word to define; it can even take on different aspects as years go by.
Last week an American statesman died, leaving a legacy that clarifies and illuminates the meaning of the word. Former Senator Claiborne Pell of Rhode Island, born with a silver spoon in each hand—his family's money came from a grant of land from King George the Third—will be remembered for his contribution to the viability and the grace of life in America.
Pell's work over his 36 years in Congress (1960-1996) made things better for millions far less advantaged than he was—a fact that adds fodder to the ongoing argument about whether rich politicians make for an insensitive government. It's tempting to say so, yet some of the staunchest advocates for average-or-worse-off Americans have been wealthy politicians; Ted Kennedy is an inevitable but powerful example.
Pell invented the grants named for him that helped millions of students go to college. He said famously and often that he devised the grants because the G.I. Bill had meant so much to him, a remark that seemed rather enigmatic given his wealth.
Pell was also a chief sponsor of the legislation that brought the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities into being. And the heritage he left isn't confined to education and culture; he also wrote the bill that gave us Amtrak.
We feel the benefits of Pell's work every day. The Pell grants have assisted over 54 million people. Amtrak, especially vital in the Northeast, is more important everywhere now that climate and energy have become survival issues. The NEA has nourished tens of thousands of arts projects in, but also away from, major cities that previously had a lock on such enterprises, and thousands of projects that would never have gotten private support. This is legacy.
