At the 94th birthday party of former Rep. Richard Schulze, R-Pa, in August 2023, everyone at my table at the Capitol Hill Club seemed to have a story about him.
"And you'll hear a lot of good stories about Dick from some not-so-conservative types, including Democrats," Jim Martin, president of the SixtyPlus Seniors Association, said. "Dick was always respected on both sides of the aisle."
Martin recalled his virtues last week upon learning that the Keystone State lawmaker died Dec. 23 at age 96.
Actually, a lot of people close to Schulze recalled the same thing about him: that as conservative a lawmaker as Schulze was, his relations with Democratic colleagues across the aisle were inevitably convivial throughout his 18 years in Congress.
"I remember when the House Ways and Means Committee was considering a bill on limiting ownership of handguns and Chairman [Dan] Rostenkowski, [D-Ill.], was a big supporter," Joe Westner, Schulze's former top aide, told Newsmax. "He called on Dick, who was an avid hunter and gun-owner.
"He suddenly produced a Louisville Slugger [baseball bat], banged it on the table, and said, 'Mr. Chairman, this has killed more people in your district [Chicago] than any handgun.' The committee, the audience, and even Rostenkowski were all in awe.
"But that's the way Dick was: He made his point, but nothing was personal."
Westner also remembered that in 1992, when Schulze announced his retirement, one of the first calls he received was from Rostenkowski.
According to Westner, Rostenkowski pleaded with Schulze to run again and told him, "You're one of the few Republicans I can work with." Indeed, the two had worked closely in sculpting the Tax Reform Act of 1986 signed by President Ronald Reagan.
Schulze's policy of reaching out to those with whom he disagreed extended to constituents.
Jan Friis, Schulze's longtime district director, spoke of a town meeting in which the congressman, known for his strong opposition to abortion, was confronted by a someone who said she disagreed, was vigorously pro-choice, and asked what she should do since they were polar opposites on the issue that meant so much to her.
"Dick replied: 'You can vote against me. If that one issue means so much to you, you can vote for someone else with whom you agree,'" Friis said. "That lady went outside and told people 'No one ever said I could vote against them.'
"His answer meant so much she said she would vote for Dick after all."
Richard Taylor Schulze attended three different colleges in pursuit of a Bachelor of Arts degree: the University of Houston, Villanova University, and Temple University.
Following a stint in the U.S. Army, he became an appliance salesman in Paoli, Pennsylvania. He and his wife, Anne Schulze, were vigorous volunteers in local campaigns and in 1967 he was elected register of wills in Chester County.
Three years later, he won a seat in the state House of Representatives.
In 1974, Rep. John Ware III stunned fellow Republicans by announcing that, after two terms, he would not seek re-election in the 5th District (suburban Philadelphia). Dick Schulze entered the race and campaigned on his record as a strong fiscal conservative and supporter of gun rights and law and order.
But the smart money was on John Robinson "Robin" West, a multimillionaire financier and staffer in the Nixon White House.
Like his namesake in the Batman comic books, Robin West, then 27, seemed a "boy wonder:" nationally syndicated columnist Hugh Sidey wrote a feature on him in Time magazine suggesting that, in the so-called "Watergate Year," when so many promising Republicans were foregoing races for office because they feared losing, first-time candidate West was daring the odds.
But the smart money had not reckoned with Dick and Anne Schulze and the wide circle of friends they had made working on local campaigns. Dick Schulze topped the five-candidate primary with 45 percent to West's 29%. Placing third was Rex Morgan (10%), who may have benefited by having the same name as the heroic doctor in the daily comic strip "Rex Morgan, M.D."
Dick Schulze's hard grassroots campaigning notwithstanding, he was undoubtedly helped one month before the election when a report in The Philadelphia Inquirer indicated West had overstated his responsibilities at the White House.
The Inquirer quoted West's former boss, White House personnel chief Harry Flemming, as suggesting that West was an unpaid clerical worker who was a "walking disaster" and was quickly fired for "immaturity."
West temporarily found another White House niche with Harry Dent, but according to the pro-West Ripon Society Forum, "his inflation of his political stock was considered 'abrasive' by many at the White House."
Dick Schulze, who never had a difficult trip to the polls for the rest of his House career, "loved to talk about how he overcame Robin West. He sure was proud of it," according to his House classmate, former Rep. Tom Hagedorn, R-Minn.
When Dick Schulze finally retired in 1992, he was fulfilling his longtime promise that he would serve no more than 18 years — not the three terms many fervent term-limit advocates wanted but a limit on his time in office nonetheless.
Two years earlier, the lawmaker was devastated by the death of his beloved Anne. In 1993, he found new love when he married Nancy Waltermire, widow of the former Montana secretary of state. Dick Schulze, who remained in Washington working in government relations, and Nancy were, by all accounts, inseparable.
In an era when politics is increasingly considered fractious and relations between the two parties are often characterized as toxic, Dick Schulze is remembered as a lawmaker who — even when disagreeing — never grew disagreeable and always seemed to find the good in others.
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