Charlie Bennett, who would have turned 115 this month, was the rarest of politicians. He had humility.
He also was a conservative Democrat, a breed almost extinct.
Bennett was born in 1910 and was very young when his family moved to Florida.
A natural leader, he was an Eagle Scout and served as student body president at the University of Florida and also editor of the student newspaper, the Florida Alligator.
He became a lawyer and was elected to the state legislature in 1940 but resigned later to join the Army after the attack on Pearl Harbor and became an officer.
During World War II he fought in New Guinea. Later he was put in charge of a band of 500-1,000 guerrillas fighting in the Philippines. He told me once it included many women, who fought alongside the men.
In a memoir he wrote about his wartime experience, he said, “Your hands would be clammy, your throat dry. Sweat and dirt would sting and bite your eyeballs like a mad horde of furious little ants. Heat, dirt, fatigue, pain, anguish for dying comrades, inhuman responsibilities, moral conflicts and fear all pulled at you. Cowardice and heroism played close companions in your mind. But you acted. You went forward. You had to. You were no hero for doing it. Something apart from you sent you on to do the job without glory and unthinking.”
The conditions were harsh and the fighting was often brutal. Bennett earned both the Bronze Star and Silver Star but typically did not mention his own heroism in his memoir. But his Silver Star citation said:
“On 18 April, 1945, a patrol which Lieutenant Bennett was leading received intense enemy rifle and mortar fire. With complete disregard for his own life, and under intense enemy rifle and mortar fire, Lieutenant Bennett rushed forward and drew the enemy fire upon himself to enable his patrol to withdraw. Still in his exposed position and under fire, he directed the fire of his patrol, routing the enemy, and killing three Japs. He continued on his assigned mission, route reconnaissance and security of the division pack train. Later discovering an enemy position strong enough to completely deny the use of the trail he quickly withdrew his patrol, diverted the pack train from ambush and provided flank security while ammunition, water and rations were carried to an infantry battalion.”
On the 4th of July, 1945, the gaunt soldier, down from 170 pounds to 125, learned he had contracted polio. He was sent to a hospital in the United States and was there when Japan surrendered. For the rest of his life, he wore a brace on his leg and walked with pain and difficulty, but without complaint.
After the war he was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1949.
He was one of the most accessible politicians I ever knew. Even when I was a cub reporter Bennett would return my calls and later when I visited the Capitol he would take an hour to explain the bills he was pursuing.
He was the second-longest serving member of the House and was a model for ethics in that body. He also held a record for answering roll calls and voting.
He was so frugal that he returned his veteran’s disability checks to the Treasury to pay down the national debt and often refused pay raises. He would drive to Washington and back rather than use expensive airfare.
In 1955, he sponsored the bill that added the words “In God We Trust” to the nation’s currency.
He left office only because his wife’s health failed. Former City Council President Tillie Fowler replaced him in 1993.
They don’t make many like Bennett.
When I say he was humble, I mean humble. Here’s a story few people know.
When Bennett was buried in Arlington National Cemetery, his former aide Ramon Day dumped into the grave a bit of Florida soil from Fort Caroline, a historic site Bennett championed.
Later, Day went back to visit the grave. He couldn’t find it.
The reason is that Bennett’s grave is unmarked.
The reason it is unmarked is because he quietly got a law passed allowing people to be buried in Arlington without a marker.
Think of all the politicians who live for the day when they can immortalize themselves with street names or park names.
Then, there is Charlie Bennett: In an unmarked grave because of his own unparalleled modesty.
