Former Sen. Jesse Helms, who died last Friday at 86, was one of the true giants of conservatism during his 30 years in the U.S. Senate.
Many a politician becomes identified with one political viewpoint or another, which he or she serves loyally during decades in public office. But only a few manage to put their mark on major aspects of public policy, by which thereafter they are historically identified. Helms was one of those few.
To note, therefore, that Helms was a conservative, and indeed even a particularly influential one, simply doesn't do justice to the man. For millions of Americans, he exemplified the type, and he left his stamp indelibly on the politics of his time. It can be argued persuasively, for example, that in delivering his state of North Carolina for Gov. Ronald Reagan of California in the Republican presidential primary of 1976, after Reagan had suffered a series of defeats at the hands of incumbent President Gerald Ford, Helms enabled Reagan to remain a force in Republican politics, and eventually to win both the nomination and the election in 1980.
And certainly Helms's creation and leadership of what came to be known as the National Congressional Club brought into play an organization that had a powerful effect on the country's politics, backing conservative Republican candidates in scores of states.
Finally, in the Senate, and especially as chairman of its powerful Foreign Relations Committee, Helms played a major role in supporting Reagan's conservative foreign-policy initiatives. His support for aid to the Nicaraguan contras, to take just one example, was probably indispensable in enabling Reagan to back them effectively.
For all his power, Helms in person was a warm and friendly man -- almost the archetype of the Southern gentleman. He never lacked a kind word for his friends. I will always remember fondly the time when he told a group at my birthday party that "I had a nodding acquaintance with Bill Rusher before I even met him" -- and then added with a twinkle, "I'd hear him on television, and I'd nod."
Helms didn't mind exasperating his Senate colleagues in what he considered a good cause. The Senate rules require unanimous consent for all sorts of time-saving procedural steps, and when Helms wanted to block a particular action he would sometimes give vent to a loud "No!" even if he was the only objector. This earned him the sobriquet "Senator No," which he, typically, regarded as a badge of honor.
William Rusher is a Distinguished Fellow of the Claremont Institute for the Study of Statesmanship and Political Philosophy and author of How to Win Arguments .
Be the first to read William Rusher's column. Sign up today and receive Townhall.com delivered each morning to your inbox.