We could use a few more like Chic Hecht

Chic Hecht, the brother of Cape Girardeau's Marty Hecht, died recently. His funeral was Friday in Las Vegas, where he made his home, owned a women's apparel store and had a political career that included serving as a U.S. senator from Nevada. Contributions in memory of Chic Hecht may be sent to Comprehensive Cancer Center Foundation, 3920 S. Eastern Ave., Suite 202, Las Vegas, Nev. 89119. The tribute below was published in the Las Vegas Review-Journal shortly before Hecht died.

In the pantheon of Nevada leaders, Chic Hecht is one of my hands-down favorites.

He's the classic underdog, the fella everyone underestimates, the guy no one sees coming.

Although he served only one term in the U.S. Senate, he rode to prominence as part of the Ronald Reagan phenomenon and became a part of the movement that changed the face of the world.

Hecht defeated then-longtime senator Howard Cannon in 1982. Cannon at the time was deemed unbeatable, especially by little ol' Chic Hecht, a quiet Las Vegas businessman and former state legislator derided by his lesser opponents, in their utmost moments of generosity, as an odd duck who couldn't possibly measure up to the legendary Cannon. But once elected, Hecht became part of something bigger -- a loyal soldier in the Reagan Revolution, which won the Cold War, brought new prosperity to the United States and redefined the conservative movement.

I knew Chic best after politics. In 1988, he lost his Senate seat to then-governor Richard Bryan. After serving out an appointment as ambassador to the Bahamas, Chic returned to private life in Las Vegas. One day, quite by accident, we bumped into each other, swapped a few stories, and eventually struck up a game of Saturday morning golf. That regular game lasted for several years.

There is no hiding your real personality from your golfing buddies. If you have a temper, it will come out. If your conscience allows you to bend the rules, it will be noticed. If your character contains a sense of fair play, which is what the inventors of the game envisioned, all will see.

For the record, Chic doesn't have a temper, never cheated and loved to see others play well.

He also has a wonderful sense of humor. When faced with a short-ish putt, he'd joke that as an ambassador in the Bahamas, putts of that length were always conceded.

We told him that if we were ever to play in the Bahamas, we'd take his begging into account. For now, in Las Vegas, however, those putts must be holed.

By the way, Chic rarely missed those putts. He was one of those golfers who got better the closer he got to the hole. As a consequence, he won his share of the bets each Saturday.

We talked a lot during those Saturday mornings. Chic told many stories about his days in the Senate. He revered Ronald Reagan. He had his opinions about politics in Nevada and the politicians who make it such a colorful place. What I found truly remarkable was this:

In the course of spending several hundred hours with Chic, I can't recall ever hearing him speak ill of others. Not once.

He never got personal, not even with those who roughed him up in the heat of political battle. Even at the height of President Clinton's sexual predator escapades in the White House, Chic's harshest comment was something like "not presidential" or "very disappointing."

When they write the book about Chic, there will be some who will gravitate to his knack for Yogi Berra-like verbal slips that, though obviously misplaced, somehow told a truth.

The most famous occurred during the debate over Yucca Mountain, when he called the proposed nuclear repository a "suppository." His political foes were quick to make fun of the slip.

But I ask you, who was right?

I saw Chic a few weeks ago. He's been diagnosed with cancer and is fighting for his life.

We sat and talked. Though weak and tired, he was still a gentleman. You can't take the patience out of a good man.

I am not very adept in these kinds of situations. We looked at each other for a long time and, in my inability to do much more than firmly grasp the obvious, I said:

"Chic, you have cancer ... and I don't know what to say."

He held my hand and replied, "Yes, that's life."

Was that another one of his famous slips, but another one of his truths?

I am fine with it either way. When Chic Hecht ran for the U.S. Senate, his slogan was a simple two words, and it was plastered on billboards across the state. It read:

"Hecht, Yes."

Could we use more people of character like Chic in Nevada politics today?

"Hecht, Yes."

Sherman Frederick is the publisher of the Las Vegas Review-Journal.