Our Pragmatic Idealist

John Warner and I first met in 1976 when he was serving as head of the nation's bicentennial celebration. We were both exploring the possibility of running for statewide office, and for 19 of the next 32 years we would serve Virginia concurrently. In almost a third of a century, I gained a pretty good sense of who he is and the stuff of which he's made.

Historians will note that John served longer in the U.S. Senate than any other Virginian except Harry Byrd Sr., yet that only hints of the man himself.

He was always in the forefront of debates about whether to send our sons and daughters into harm's way, and he was equally passionate about taking care of them when they came home. He listened respectfully to generals and admirals, but he also listened to our most junior soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines. He made sure our county met its obligations to them -- and to their families -- for the sacrifices they make to keep our nation strong and free.

In recommending the nomination of Virginia's first African-American and first woman to the federal bench, John sent an important message to all Virginians. He helped craft our national highway system, while making sure we protected and preserved our natural resources for future generations, including creation of the John Warner Rapids on the Rappahannock. He also looked after our teachers, providing them with a tax break to cover their out-of-pocket expenses, and he took care of our students with scholarships for those with low family incomes -- yet high hopes.

But what really sets John Warner apart are his personal qualities.

At heart he is not an ideologue, but a pragmatic idealist. He has a well-deserved reputation for personal integrity and for his willingness to stand up to friend or foe alike on matters of principle. He always believed that if a decision was right for his country, it would ultimately be right for his commonwealth and his political party. That sometimes put him at odds with those whose interests were more parochial -- and with many members of his own party -- but he had the courage to stick to his guns and take the heat when core principles were at stake.

He'd willingly reach across the aisle to find common ground on some of the really tough issues. And even when he didn't share your point of view, he'd hear you out, without questioning your integrity or your patriotism if you disagreed with him. While John and I represented different political parties and campaigned for different candidates over the course of our political careers, we never let those differences become personal and we have remained friends throughout.

On the more personal side, he has a passion for art, whether collecting it, painting it or photographing it. He particularly loves to paint flowers. In the spring, he'd be seen sneaking outside on a sunny day to capture the first budding tulips of the season.

And it wasn't just art he created and collected. Born with an insatiable curiosity, he would go out of his way to visit antique stores and farmers' markets, and he almost never left empty-handed. His Senate office became one of the most eclectic museums in Washington. His staff often tried to draw the line; then he'd slip in with a new treasure when they weren't looking. When he finally clears out his office, what he'll do with his cherished elk head, or the wooden propeller he finally persuaded the director of the Danville Airport to sell him many years ago, is anyone's guess.

And it isn't only memorabilia that he collects. He collects stories as well, and he uses them skillfully to make points in debate. He is, in short, a raconteur of the first order.

As politicians go, he was also fairly modest -- even humble on occasion -- and he's never claimed to be a hero. When he talks about his military experience, he's very deferential to those who have actual combat experience, saying only that he had to go through boot camp twice. But that masks the true nobility of his service, because he interrupted his education to enlist in the Navy for World War II, and he interrupted it again to become a Marine officer during the Korean War.

Those are the kinds of actions that speak louder than words.John has always been generous in his praise of others -- and feelings toward him are returned in kind. One measure of the man is the respect of his friends and colleagues, particularly those who worked most closely with him: his staff. I've know many members of his staff over the years and I don't think it overstates the case to say that they revere him. When he finally assumed the chairmanship of the Senate Armed Services Committee in 1995, I remember watching the expressions on the faces of his staff members, who ringed the hearing room, and their affection was unmistakable.

I know of only one real regret in John's life. Because his mother crossed the Potomac to deliver him in a Washington, D.C., hospital, he was deprived of the title of "native Virginian." And yet I know no truer Virginian, or truer patriot, than John Warner.

Quite by chance, just last week, I ended up sitting next to Sam Sterrett, age 85, a retired chief judge of the U.S. Tax Court, who identified himself as an ardent lifelong Democrat, and who was thrilled with the fact that Barrack Obama had carried Virginia. Our conversation soon turned to John Warner, whom he'd known for more than 50 years. Judge Sterrett volunteered that if he ever got into serious trouble and really needed help, he would call John. He said he knew John would show up. And so do I.

Charles Robb, a Democrat, was governor of Virginia from 1982-1986 and represented the commonwealth in the United States Senate from 1989-2001.