Try this little experiment. Close your eyes and think of the word “senator.”
If you were born in Utah any time in the last, say, hundred years, the image in your mind was almost assuredly that of a willowy, gray-haired man with pursed lips, a patrician demeanor, wearing a crisp, starched shirt and dark suit.
Conservative in appearance and more conservative in his politics, Orrin Hatch was iconic, defining the role.
In my experience, and in conversations since his passing over the weekend with those who knew him, he was more complicated and complex — a Mr. Smith who went to Washington and then became deeply entwined with it.
He grew up poor in Pittsburgh with Democratic parents; learned music and got into fights; lost a brother in the war who he missed immensely, saying at one point he felt like he was living his life for two. He served a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, worked through law school and espoused a devout, black-and-white brand of Republican politics.
(Francisco Kjolseth | The Salt Lake Tribune) Robert Gehrke.
His upbringing produced a young man who was intensely driven and ambitious, focused, competitive, sensitive to people’s perception of him, and a shrewd and skilled tactician.
Hatch’s career spanned from the beginnings of the Reagan Revolution to the takeover by Donald Trump, who Hatch said might be “one of the best” presidents he’d worked with.
One’s perception of Hatch’s legacy from his years in the Senate is as complex as he was and depends on perspective and political allegiances.
Hatch went to Washington to fight the system. He’d run against incumbent Sen. Frank Moss on a catchy slogan of “What do you call a Senator who’s served in office for 18 years? You call him home.” Then he held the seat for 42 years, longer than any Republican senator to date.
He made a mark early on filibustering labor rights and fair housing laws. He fought against social safety net programs, opposed the Equal Rights Amendment, and same-sex marriage, helped craft the Patriot Act, assailed Anita Hill during Clarence Thomas’ Supreme Court confirmation hearings, helped to torpedo the Merrick Garland nomination and was a leading enabler of the rise of Trumpism.
But then there is the complexity that led him to partner with Massachusetts Sen. Edward Kennedy — who epitomized the liberal D.C. establishment Hatch ran against — to pass the Children’s Health Insurance Program.
Staffers warned him not to trust the liberal Democrat, said Trish Knight, who helped craft the bill and later became his longest-serving chief of staff. “He took us aside and said, ‘Look, you don’t know what it’s like to have grown up poor. Help me do this the right way. I want an approach I can live with that will help the people of Utah.”
Today, that program provides access to health care for more than 9 million American children a year and upwards of 60,000 Utah kids.
“He knew how to get things done,” said Bob Henrie, who worked on all but Hatch’s first campaign. “One of his proudest accomplishments was the CHIP Act.”
Beyond that, Hatch helped pass legislation to prevent the spread and provide health care to people with AIDS; won approval of compensation for Utah’s Downwinders who were stricken with illnesses caused by nuclear weapons tests; co-authored the Violence Against Women Act with then-Sen. Joe Biden; bucked his party to advocate for stem cell research; and I was there when he joined in sponsoring the DREAM Act, providing temporary residency to the young children of undocumented children brought into the country by their parents.
It is unquestionably a remarkable record of legislative victories. Hatch passed more legislation than any living senator.
“He was a master of knowing how to operate in the Senate; he was a master of knowing how to operate politically,” Dave Hansen, who ran several of Hatch’s campaigns, told me over the weekend. “He should be remembered as a man of principle who fought for those principles and … accomplished more than anyone who has ever been in elected office in Utah before.”
“I think he was one of the greatest senators of the modern time,” Henrie told me over the weekend, “and one of the greatest if not the greatest to ever represent Utah.”
Greatness, of course, is subjective and every individual will judge Hatch’s legacy for themselves.
But love him or hate him — and there are plenty in both camps — it is hard to fathom that any other Utahn will ever match his impact and stature on the national stage. It is perhaps harder to imagine that whenever someone utters the phrase “Utah senator,” the image that comes to mind won’t be that of Orrin Hatch.
