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Article that reviews Brooks Hays' career in The Link ; Story-Telling Statesman from Arkansas By Cyril E. Bryant He'd rather be right than congressman The Ku Klux Klan burned a cross and threatened damage to a church at Bogalusa, Louisiana, when Brooks Hays was announced as speaker at a community-wide discussion on racial problems last January. The Klan knew—as Washington folks learned long ago—that Hays is a persuasive man. And they knew too that though he is labeled as a political "moderate," he is an uncompromising advocate of freedom and justice. Hays, who is sixty-six, has the appearance of a harmless looking fellow. He's five feet 10 inches tall and weighs 160 pounds. He's begun to bald a little and there are lines around his eyes and forehead. The whole of his face smiles even to the stranger with a "let's be friends" welcome. But he is armed with a heart of strong Christian convictions, a keen mind, and a barrelful of humor and folk tales. His humor is an Abe Lincoln type of anecdotal wit. He talks of his Arkansas home folk and townspeople, and he is not afraid to laugh at himself. Shortly after he moved into the White House as a special assistant to President Kennedy, one hero-worshipping woman fawned, "Oh, Mr. Hays, it must be wonderful working so close to the President. You do see him every day, don't you?" Hays answered honestly, "I feel sorta like the little old lady down in Arkansas. They asked her if she had seen Halley's comet, and she replied, 'Only from a distance.'" Another time, according to a modern Washington legend, Hays drove his eight-year-old car to work in the middle of a morning rush hour. "Hey, you, can't you go any faster?" one policeman bellowed at him. 18

Article that reviews Brooks Hays' career in The Link ; Brooks Hays, left, views the world as a Christian's workshop and has given his career to the exercise of Christian principles in government. He is shown here with his pastor, The Rev. Clarence W. Cranford, and Angier Biddle Duke, then chief of protocol for U.S. State Department [photograph caption]. "Yes, I can, officer," Hays replied, "but I'd hate to leave the old car behind." Laughter as Hays handles it is a forensic tool, not an end in itself. He uses it to win friends and create an atmosphere wherein issues can be discussed without rancor. "It is important," he says, "that political differences be settled on the basis of reason, not on a basis of political power. We have to build bridges of understanding where men can talk together and work together for their mutual good." Hays's use of the soft sell approach marks him as a phenomenon in twentieth-century American politics. But there is no doubt as to its effectiveness. Even Vice-president Hubert Humphrey, a man seldom lacking in words, holds Hays in awe. When the Democratic National Convention's platform committee was struggling in 1952 for a civil rights plank acceptable to both North and South, Senator Mike Monroney suggested that Humphrey, then senator from Minnesota, and Hays, congressman from Arkansas, sit down together and work out the language for a compromise proposal. Humphrey retorted, "I will not let my persuasive friend from the South-as much as I like him-I will not let Brooks Hays dilute my conviction on civil rights." They did meet together however, and their conference resulted 19

Article that reviews Brooks Hays' career in The Link ; in a platform statement that restored unity to the Democratic Party that had been divided by a Dixiecrat split four years before. Brooks Hays has been in some phase of government since his twenty-third birthday. He was a student at George Washington University Law School then (after having graduated from University of Arkansas) and took a part-time job in the Treasury Department. "I counted twenty dollar bills all week long, and on Saturday they'd let me take one home," he quips. He served sixteen years in Congress, as Democratic representative from Arkansas. He has been a director of the Tennessee Valley Authority, a member of the U.S. delegation at the United Nations, an Assistant Secretary of State, and Special Assistant to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. Right now he's on part-time leave from the White House, commuting to New Brunswick, New Jersey, to lecture on politics in the Eagleton Institute of Rutgers University. President Johnson reluctantly agreed to the division of his time so that Hays —in the President's words—"might share with students his lifetime experiences as a Christian in public service." The President was referring to the Hays characteristic all Washington has come to respect through the years—the Arkansan is first of all a religious man and church leader. The ten million member Southern Baptist Convention took note of his spiritual depth and leadership ability by twice electing him to its presidency. He is one of six laymen to fill the president's office in 120 years of Southern Baptist history. "As a boy I debated whether I should go into politics or the ministry," Hays recounts with a twinkle. "The church won and I went into politics." Actually he has masterfully combined the two in his philosophy that "the world is a Christian's workshop." He first campaigned for public office at the age of twenty-nine, when he ran for governor of Arkansas. "The boy scout candidate," his opponents called him. He was twice defeated for governor and once for congress before winning his congressional seat in 1942. Even in those early campaigns his humor was winning friends. At one rally an enthusiastic supporter introduced him as a man who did not smoke, drink, or cuss. Hays interrupted his friend, "You've just alienated my three biggest blocks of voters. All I have left now are the snuff-dippers." And once when a heckler asked him, "Tell us, Brooks, who wrote your new book?" Hays quelched him with, "I'll be happy to answer that question, friend, when you tell us who read it to you." Hays has persistently pushed legislation to provide increased opportunities for underprivileged and harassed citizens. He saw their plight when he worked for the National Recovery Administration in the 1930's ("I knew the depression was over when I saw a chicken cross the road without somebody chasing it," he mused). He also wrote and pushed 20

Article that reviews Brooks Hays' career in The Link ; he tried to make friends with the Russian ambassador. "Mr. Ambassador," he said in his folksy way, "back in Arkansas I have a neighbor who is ninety-seven years old . . ." "Hold everything," the Russian interrupted, "I know a fellow in Russia who is 147." Hays listened politely, unable to finish his story. He was more successful in putting across his point in a State Department staff conference. Hays, as Assistant Secretary of State, objected to a proposal by Secretary Dean Rusk that certain staff members attempt a job Hays thought the Secretary should handle personally. "Don't forget that the Bible tells us, Mr. Secretary, that when Jacob leaned on his staff he died," the Arkansan conveyed his point. When, a few months later, Mr. Hays took the oath of office as assistant to President Kennedy, Hays called Mr. Kennedy's attention to his ninety-five-year-old mother-in-law who came in a wheelchair to witness the ceremony. "Behind every man's achievement there is a proud wife and a surprised mother-in-law," Hays quoted an old joke. The President laughed courteously. But then Hays continued, "My mother-in-law is really surprised. She expected me to be President." Mr. Kennedy laughed in full earnestness. Though Hays has been a platform favorite on the East Coast for many years, it was only a year or so ago that Meredith Willson, the composer and entertainer, "discovered" him at a city-wide church dinner in Los Angeles. That meeting led to a series of invitations to national television shows, and Hays personally debated if he should capitalize on his "inside" role at the White House to provide entertainment. "Some friends asked me why I resigned my job at the White House to take a teaching position at Rutgers," he ventured on one TV show. 'I'll tell you honestly. After Mr. Johnson became president I just couldn't stand the strain of turning off the lights." Offstage he rationalized, "That's not a disloyal joke. It tells the folks about Mr. Johnson's insistence on economy in government."

Article that reviews Brooks Hays' career in The Link ; Dave Garroway of the National Broadcasting Co. interviews Brooks Hays, right, on his role in the school integration struggle in the South [photograph caption]. almost to passage in 1949 a package of civil rights bills intended to compromise the objectives of the North and the hesitance of the South. Though the bills failed then, Hays has seen each of the proposals enacted into law by later congresses. His determination to apply spiritual values to political decisions often drove him to long hours of deliberation before a vote was cast. Out of his own sense of need and in recognition of that of his fellow lawmakers, he introduced in the House of Representatives a resolution to provide a prayer room in the Capitol Rotunda. Senator Monroney gained passage of an identical resolution in the Senate. The resulting tastefully decorated, yet simple chapel remains in the Capitol for a single purpose: "To provide a quiet place to which individual senators and representatives may withdraw a while to seek Divine strength and guidance, both in public affairs and in their own personal concerns." "Bargain with your opponents on the fringe issues," Hays once told a colleague, "but hold fast to your basic principles." Hays laid his membership in congress on the line when he volunteered in 1958 as mediator between President Eisenhower and Arkansas Governor Orval Faubus in the now historic Little Rock high school integration dispute. The action was, stated Sherman Adams in his White House memoirs (First Hand Report), "One of the greatest exhibitions of sheer courage in modern political 21

Article that reviews Brooks Hays' career in The Link ; history. Hays felt a moral obligation . to serve as peacemaker . . . even though it meant political suicide." For weeks the Congressman served as mediator between the President and the Governor as they traded charges and countercharges. He came within an eyelash of finding an acceptable solution, but Mr. Eisenhower finally believed it necessary to send federal troops to guarantee compliance with the U. S. Supreme Court ruling on integration, "I felt like a sparrow caught in a badminton game," he quipped. Hays, who had easily won the 1958 Democratic primary (normally tantamount to election in Arkansas), suddenly found his seat in Congress challenged by a sudden write-in campaign led by segregationist leaders eight days before the November general election. He did not have time to organize a campaign, and fell a few votes short of victory on election day. Even in defeat, Hays used his sense of humor to philosophize. A newsman interviewing him on CBS "Face the Nation" television, asked why Hays had not advised the nation of the perilous path he was walking in his role as mediator. "It reminds me of the hypochondriac whom nobody believed," Hays said. "He had them write on his tombstone, 'I told you I was sick.'" Hays's friends wondered, during the next few weeks, if his world would ever fit back together again. I had opportunity to call at his office and probe him for his innermost feelings. Was he willing now, I asked to retire from public life and enter, say, the private practice of law? Hays opened a desk drawer and read from his diary the story of his conversation with a Negro college student who worked as a bellhop in the Little Rock hotel where Hays was staying on the day of his election defeat. The lad voluntarily predicted the Congressman's return to Washington and added, "You see, Mr. Hays, I do not agree with Plato that the mechanisms of popular government do not raise the best man to the top." But before Hays could reach into his pocket for a generous tip, the Plato-influenced student continued, "I've been reading your new book too, Mr. Hays, and sometime I want to argue with you about your conclusions." Hays laid the diary aside and looked up at me, then asked: "What about this lad's future? Ten years from now will this man who is able to quote Plato still be carrying bags to hotel rooms? Or can our country open doors of opportunity heretofore closed to the Negro? Only I, one person, was affected when the Little Rock election closed the door to Congress in my face. But what about closed doors for a whole race?" Hays's humor was only partially effective at the United Nations when President Eisenhower named him to the U. S. delegation in 1955. He countered Russia's proposal for admission of Outer Mongolia to the world body by suggesting that the balance of power be maintained by admitting Texas as well, under the name of "Outer Arkansas." But things did not go as well when 22

Article profiling Brooks Hays and other prominent Baptists in Washington, D.C. in Ambassador Life magazine ; Washington (Continued from page 3) Right: The holder of what is often called the most important office in the world, President Lyndon B. Johnson, confers with top aide Bill Moyers. Below: The man Washington knows as "Fishbait" shares the view from the Capitol with visiting RAs. Seth Muse [Photograph Credit] circles. He has served 16 years in Congress as representative from Arkansas; as a member of the board on the Tennessee Valley Authority; as Assistant Secretary of State; and as assistant to President Kennedy. And even though he resigned the White House job when he became 65, President Johnson insisted that he stay on as a consultant. So he still has his White House office, though he is free to give considerable time to speaking engagements around the country. Hays has never hidden his Baptist connections. Religion is the controlling force in his life, and he talks as freely about his convictions as a baseball fan discussing yesterday's ball scores. Both his personal and his political decisions are made on the basis of his religious beliefs-especially those of individual freedom and the Lordship of Christ. His championship of minority groups has sometimes made him unpopular with the voters, and he lost his seat in Congress because of his support of the Supreme Court decision ("the law of the land") on school segregation. Hays did his first public speaking in a Training Union at the Baptist church of Russellville, Arkansas, his home town. That talk was on William Carey, the missionary, and he admits he was scared to death. But practice for 50 years has made him just about a perfect speech-maker now, and his wife says he'd rather speak than eat. He was president of the Southern Baptist Convention from 1957 to 1959, one of few laymen ever elected to that post. Legal Adviser Less conspicuous in the public eye but highly effective in his work is Fred B. Rhodes, Jr., a government lawyer who feels just as strongly as Brooks Hays in expressing and practicing his Christian convictions. He's a Republican and is working just now as Minority Counsel of the Senate Appropriations Committee. During the Eisenhower administration he was chief lawyer (general counsel) for the Veterans' Administration. Before that, during World War II, he was an important official in the secret Manhattan Project, which developed the atomic bomb. Rhodes is a founder of the 12-year-old Briggs Memorial Baptist Church in Washington. He teaches a men's Bible class on Sunday mornings. He currently is serving as president of the District of Columbia Baptist Convention. Though he does not brag about it, because he thinks one's present activities are more important than his ancestry, it is interesting to note that Rhodes is a direct descendant of Roger Williams, one of the first Baptists in North America. His philosophy is "Be a Christian 24 hours a day, every day of the week." Rising Young Diplomat Paul Geren, a preacher's son from El Dorado, Arkansas, is one of the rising young men in America's diplomatic service. He has represented the United States in India, Syria, Jordan, and Southern Rhodesia. Right now he is working in Washington, helping correlate the activities of those hundreds of other diplomats in scattered parts of the world and awaiting reassignment. 4 AMBASSADOR LIFE

Article profiling Brooks Hays and other prominent Baptists in Washington, D.C. in Ambassador Life magazine ; He started his foreign activities as a missionary, teaching in Judson College, an American Baptist school at Rangoon. He got trapped there during World War II and joined forces with Dr. Gordon Seagrave, the famed Burma surgeon, assisting in care of the wounded, as General "Vinegar Joe" Stilwell led masses of American and Burmese troops from behind enemy lines to safety. Geren told about those experiences in a memorable book of high spiritual insight, Burma Diary. Much of the initial success of the Peace Corps is due to Geren, for he was its first deputy director, working side by side with Director Sargent Shriver in the corps' first months of testing. "Fishbait" the Doorkeeper A fellow they call "Fishbait" came to Washington in 1933 from Pascagoula, Mississippi. His real name is William M. Miller, and he's the Doorkeeper of the House of Representatives. Unofficially he's the man who knows everybody on Capitol Hill and a man who'll talk of his Baptist faith to friend and stranger alike. He got his nickname because he weighed only 75 pounds when he was 15, and his Mississippi cronies compared him with the small fish they used for bait. As Doorkeeper of the House- which sounds at first like a menial job-he commands approximately 300 employees, including the boys who work as pages, the barbers, snack room clerks, and everybody else employed for the comfort and accommodation of members of the House of Representatives. One of the Doorkeeper's chores is to announce the arrival of distinguished visitors to the House. This includes joint sessions of Congress, which always meet in the House chambers. You'll see him next time you watch the telecast of a joint session-he's the chubby fellow who walks down the aisle, pulls in his stomach, puffs out his chest, and chants: "Mister Speaker -the President of the United States." Of course, it could be the president of Pakistan, the Prime Minister of India, or Premier Khrushchev of Russia. But none of these fellows, despite their importance, gets into the Congress chamber until "Fishbait" cries out the announcement. "Fishbait" often talks with youthful pages about their religious faith, their church membership, and the frequency of their letters home to mother. He is superintendent of the Sunday School at Memorial Baptist Church in Arlington across the Potomac River from Washington. There are many other Baptists in government, including 48 representatives, 12 senators, and hundreds of clerks, secretaries, and lesser officials who hold unspectacular but necessary jobs. Most of them never get their names in the papers, but the government could not get along without them. A few of them are, as could be expected, no more than average in their Christian witness. But many of them take their faith to work with them every day. Their influence may be nothing more than a smile or perhaps a disapproving comment when a morally questionable proposal is being considered by their bosses-but even such a little thing as that may tip the scales for good on a debated issue. Bill Moyers, the clergyman of the crowd, believes the Lord called him into politics just as truly as other men are called to the pulpit or mission fields. He would invite more and more Christians to look to government service as a vocation. Politics is no dirtier than the men who participate in it-and good deeds can replace scandals when God-fearing, Christ-loving men are in office. for AUGUST 1964

Article profiling Brooks Hays and other prominent Baptists in Washington, D.C. in Ambassador Life magazine ; Department of State Harris & Ewing [photograph credits] Top (left to right): The State Department's Thomas Mann, Republican lawyer Fred Rhodes, and Paul Geren of the diplomatic service. Bottom: Arkansas' famous Baptist, Brooks Hays, shares a laugh with the late President John F. Kennedy. until President Johnson called him back to help revive the faltering Alliance for Progress. Riots in Panama erupted even before he got a firm hold on his new job. He flew immediately to Panama for conferences with President Chiari. Settlement of differences between the two countries has taken months—with Mann lying awake nights trying to determine the solutions most acceptable to both sides. He had the Panama crisis just about under control when the April revolution came in Brazil-requiring new studies and new adjustments of America's policies. His biggest continuing problem is Cuba under Fidel Castro. Mann has been a diplomat since he flunked his eye tests in a Navy physical in World War II and volunteered to do legal work for the State Department. He had learned Spanish as a boy at Laredo, Texas, on the Mexican border, and he had a fresh law degree from Baylor University. So the State Department sent him to Uruguay to interfere as much as possible with Nazi shipping in and out of Latin America. He's been a top-ranking trouble shooter ever since. Best-known Baptist Brooks Hays is probably the best-known Baptist in Washington government (Continued on next page) Muse Photo Bureau [photograph credit] for AUGUST 1964 3

Magazine article in Home Life magazine ; April 1958 Home Life A Christian Family Magazine Southern Baptist Convention president Brooks Hays A Christian in Washington

Magazine article in Home Life magazine ; As a congressman and president of the Southern Baptist Convention, Brooks Hays's opinion is sought on many subjects. He is seen here with TV star Dave Garroway. -Arkansas' Fifth, which includes Little Rock-but he has taken bold Christian stands on many vital national and inter-national issues. He fought for educational and economic advancement of the Negro in the South long before it was politically expedient to do so. (But he voted against the civil rights bill be-cause it failed to provide for trial by jury.) He joined a Republican at the close of World War II to present a resolution for a bipartisan policy in peace as in war. He presented a resolution in 1949 urging his country to join a World Federation, stronger than the United Nations, to preserve peace and prevent aggression. He has been a member of the House Committee on Foreign Affairs since 1951, and served on the U. S. delegation to the General Assembly of the United Nations in 1955. He Fought for Peace His conviction that men ought to dwell together in peace and his unequivocal stand for Christian principles was clearly demonstrated during the school issue in his home state last fall. Brooks attempted to bring about a peaceful settlement and to find a Christian answer to an explosive question. Even before his election to Congress he had developed a strong interest in social service work and was a recognized authority on farm tenancy in the South. The Roosevelt administration called him to Washington to assist in writing a legislative program to help tenant farmers become independent landowners. Seeking greater democracy, he helped get a run-off election law in Arkansas. "Hays is a Democrat, but he does not follow his party blindly," the Biblical Recorder of North Carolina reveals. "He is a man of intelligence, keen in-sight, and high character." Just before he took his seat in Congress in December, 1942, he told the congregation of his home church at Russellville: "Faith is our greatest need: faith not only in God but faith in our fellow man and in our institutions. The future course of our national policy should be based on good will to all man-kind." A year later he was "preaching" from platforms across the warring nation that "reduction of the world to a Christian philosophy would be possible in a generation if we entered into it with an iron faith and an iron will. Christians must exercise their religion in all fields: in the home, in business, and in politics. Christianity has little value to world progress if its tenets are practiced only on Sunday and only in the church." "Hope for world peace lies in the churches," he declared at the close of World War II. "Churches comprise the only institution that is everywhere." In 1950 he joined Congressman Walter H. Judd, a former missionary to China, in a national bipartisan tour aimed at strengthening the program of the United Nations. The year he returned from law school at the age of twenty-three Brooks Hays was made a deacon in First Baptist Church, Russellville, and superintendent of the Sunday school. He led out quickly in mission work and helped organize a new church in the city's suburbs. He taught a men's class at Russellville, then was made teacher of the men's class at Second Baptist Church, Little Rock, when he moved to Arkansas' capital city. The Little Rock class soon took his name, and the Brooks Hays Bible Class, known throughout the state, still lists him as honorary teacher. Marion, who grew up a Methodist, is still a member of that church. "She is so active in Calvary Baptist Church," says Brooks, "that few people know that she never changed her membership from the First Methodist Church in Fort Smith where, according to her convictions, she received a proper baptism. Much as she would like a formal connection with Calvary Church, she feels that it would be an insincere thing to do. I respect her views." Baptists Like His Work Daughter Betty carries on the Baptist tradition of her father. She, her husband, and their two children are Baptists. All are members of the Mount Washington Baptist Church of Cincinnati. Brooks has been prominent in denominational affairs for years. He served the Arkansas Baptist State Convention as chairman of its Rural Life Commission and was a member of the executive board. He spoke at the Baptist World Congress at Copenhagen in 1947. He has served his denomination in a number of capacities. He was vice-president of the Southern Baptist Convention in 1950 and presided over some sessions in San Francisco. It was Hays who in 1953 introduced a resolution for a prayer room in the Capitol, where members of the House and the Senate could go for quiet meditation and prayer. Today this chapel stands as a memorial to the Sunday school teacher from Arkansas who has proved once more that there is a place-a key place-for the Christian in public service. April, 1958 11

Magazine article in Home Life magazine ; BROOKS HAYS A Christian in Washington by C. E. Bryant A Sunday school teacher from Arkansas proves again that there is a place in politics for good men. One bit of evidence: the Capitol prayer room A NEW cocktail appeared at Washington social events in the spring of 1943. It was "Brooks Hays Punch," made simply by mixing orange juice and ginger ale. It contained no alcohol. This was only one of many innovations for Washington when Hays, a Sunday school teacher from Arkansas, moved to the national capital. Few changes have been earthshaking in themselves, but all have impressed friend and foe that here is a man with Christian conviction. Few in Washington were surprised, therefore, when word flashed from Chicago last May that Congressman Brooks Hays had been elected president of the Southern Baptist Convention. Though many messengers at Chicago considered the election of a layman unusual, Washingtonians accepted it as a deserved honor for their colleague, a responsibility well placed. Sherman Adams phoned him congratulations from the White House, and Adlai Stevenson sent a note from a safari in Africa. Despite the prestige and newspaper headlines that fifteen years in Washington 8 Photos from the author HOME LIFE

Magazine article in Home Life magazine ; When Brooks and Marion Hays entered politics, they determined to stand by those principles learned in their Christian homes. It has proved to be a wise choice. have brought them, there's nothing "showy" about Congressman Hays and his wife, Marion. They live in a three-story row house two blocks from his office on Capitol Hill. It is tastefully decorated in period furniture, and on the walls are pictures painted by the Congressman himself. Incidentally, they also have an apartment permanently reserved at the Sam Peck Hotel, just across the street from his office in Little Rock's federal building. It's a necessity for a family that must divide the year between two cities. Marion, petite and gracious, is her husband's loyal supporter and sympathetic counselor. She attends few social events, and like most housewives enjoys an occasional shopping trip. Much of her time outside the house is spent at Calvary Baptist Church where she teaches a Sunday school class. Brooks usually brings a brief case of work home with him at dark and never seems satisfied that he is getting all his work done. He likes to tell jokes (the Washington Evening Star says he's the best storyteller in Congress since Chauncey Depew) and draw pencil caricatures of his colleagues. Too busy for many social engagements, he finds time-or makes it-to teach a Washington Sunday school class or to serve as a lay preacher. Their Home Is Quieter The Hayses' Washington home is much quieter now that the children are grown. Betty and Steele have started families of their own. Betty is married to William E. Bell, a sanitation engineer in Cincinnati. When she came to Washington for two weeks last summer, Brooks acted just like all other grandfathers-making monkey faces and telling riddles to his grandchildren. One Saturday during her visit the Congressman passed a law just for his own household. He declared that Mother and Grandmother must stay home while he and the grandchildren went visiting. Away they went, eleven-year-old Keith on one hand, nine-year-old Caroline on the other. They spent the day at Washington zoo, a day complete with popcorn and ice cream and more than the usual time at the monkey cages. Steele Hays, Jr., named for his grand-father, is a Little Rock attorney. He and his pretty wife also have two children, Andrew Steele, four, and Melissa, two. These youngsters got their share of spoiling last fall after Congress adjourned and Grandpa and Grandma Hays were able to visit in Arkansas. Close ties linked parents and children when Betty and Steele were growing up. Brooks' now-famous bent for a peaceful solution to problems was first seen in family discipline cases. The children recall that it was Mother, not Dad, who usually administered punishment. A ready sense of humor, a trait shared by the entire family, has held the Hayses together through wars, depressions, and political defeats. "Of the many things said about Brooks since he was made president of the Convention," said Marion, "I believe the one that pleased him most was that he is a happy individual. We have always found life good, no matter what the condition of the family cupboard, and we have tried to rear our children in that philosophy. "I think we must have succeeded," she adds thoughtfully. "I have heard the children say, for instance, that they were not conscious of the depression as a depressing time at all. One evening, though, Betty saw a huge electric bill of something like $50. It was not our bill, but we had to pay it. Brooks was sponsoring some down-and-out acquaintance. He never could say no to a hard luck story. Betty was horrified. She went around turning out all the lights, and frantically insisted we sit in the dark till bedtime." Betty recently told an aunt: "I wish all married people could be as happy as my mother and daddy. They don't agree on everything and they have some personality differences, but instead of taking their differences seriously they have always laughed about them. Some of them have become our favorite family jokes." Father Taught Him How His father Steele Hays, a country schoolteacher in London, Arkansas, first impressed Brooks that there is a place for Christians in public service. The conviction grew as his father moved to Russellville to practice law, and Brooks watched the law at work in courts and government. At the same time the youngster heard the Bible read in his home and joined with the others in family prayers. Young Brooks Hays made his debut as an orator in the B.Y.P.U. at Russellville Baptist Church. "I was to speak on William Carey," he recalls. "I worked hard getting ready and carried some notes with me, just in case I forgot. But when I got up in front of those people, I forgot everything. I couldn't even read my notes." APRIL, 1958 9

Magazine article in Home Life magazine ; Steele Hays, eighty-five-year-old father of Congressman Hays, beams proudly on his granddaughter, Betty Hays Bell, and great grandchildren Keith and Caroline. A leader encouraged him, however, and he kept trying. Soon he was being called "a natural-born orator." At sixteen he heard E. E. Lee, enthusiastic field man from the Sunday School Board in Nashville, Tennessee, at a state convention at Arkadelphia. Brooks was so fired with "Hot Dawg" Lee's ideas that he returned home to help enlarge the training pro-gram of his church. How He Won Her He put his new-found abilities to work at the University of Arkansas, taking a lead in student government. His position doubtless helped him, as a senior in 1918, to win the favor of Marion Prather, the prettiest freshman to attend the reception that fall. Graduate studies at George Washington University took Brooks to Washington. Looking for a part-time job, he applied at the treasury department, "because I guessed that's where most of the money was." "They had me count twenty-dollar bills all week and then let me take one of them home on Saturday nights," he quips with characteristic good humor. Though he went back to Russellville to enter private law practice with his father, his heart was set on a life of public service. He married Marion Prather in a church ceremony at Fort Smith in February, 1922. By spring he had persuaded his dad that the elder Hays should be in Congress. The two of them staged a hard-fought campaign that summer- and lost. That Brooks was no novice at campaigning, even at twenty-three, is evidenced by a fan letter still cherished by the elder Hays. The letter praises Brooks's first effort at campaign oratory: "That speech was just long enough and just short enough and just learned enough and just boyish enough and just manly enough and just instructive enough-in fact, just enough of everything and not too much of anything, and with sufficient pep and powder to make it stick to the spot and stay on the target where it was shot." That campaign marked the beginning of many disappointments for the would-be statesman and his bride, however. He made four major political races before he won. Then once he got to Congress in 1943, he came face to face with many decisions where political friends back home urged him to vote one way and his conscience dictated another. "Marion and I decided early," he says, "to rely upon the simple, fundamental truths we had learned from a Christian environment. Our determination not to let bitterness and discouragement over-take us would have been impossible with-out religion in our lives." Not Bad for a Start His first personal bid for major office was for the Arkansas governorship at the age of twenty-nine. "The Boy Scout candidate," his opponents labeled him. He finished second in a field of eight- not bad for a beginner. He tried it again two years later, and though he polled a much heavier vote he again came out second best. This defeat was a dark hour for Brooks and Marion Hays as they realized their investment of savings (and credit) had been for naught. They slipped away from the crowd for hamburgers in a neighbor-hood restaurant. "Maybe it's better this way, Brooks," Marion said pertly. "If you had been elected we couldn't have come in for a hamburger, just the two of us together like this." Disappointment dogged them again in 1933 when Brooks made his first race for Congress. Though his victorious opponent was credited with 1,850 votes in a county where there were only 1,632 registered voters, a court suit failed on a technicality. He campaigned for Congress again in 1942. Brooks was forty-four now, had served his state as assistant attorney general and the federal government in the Department of Agriculture. He also had sold insurance. The campaign was a hard one. Results would be crucial, for he knew that success must come now or never. Brooks and Marion faced election day with prayerful confidence, sure of the Lord's will in the outcome whether or not it brought political victory. Hamburgers were not possible that night. Marion started packing suitcases for Washington the next day. Deacon Brooks Hays has done much more in Washington than is expected of an ordinary congressman. Not only has he sought to represent his home district 10 HOME LIFE