October, six of the eight Senators from the Pacific Northwest region voted against the repeal of the arms embargo, following Senator BORAH's lead. From 1924 to 1933 Senator BORAH was chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and led innumerable battles on the floor of the upper House for his viewpoints. His last great fight was in the condemnation of the Supreme Court packing plan, a plan which he branded as a violation of the "sacred traditions of American democracy." Here was the keynote of his entire life. In his last Senate address he told the Nation:

Before any progress can be made by totalitarian ideologies in breaking down American institutions a way must be found to discredit the American Bill of Rights. I have said it is a sacred document. If human liberty is sacred, this document is sacred.

A great man has left the people of our Nation. He was more than the “lion of Idaho." He was a sturdy, human "rock of Gibraltar," standing steadfast against every force which he regarded as hostile to the American way of life.

His State will not speedily forget him. In his honor there will remain forever the name of Idaho's highest mountain, Borah Peak. Nor will the State of Idaho or the Nation at large soon find his equal.

Remarks by Representative Guyer

Of Kansas

Mr. GUYER of Kansas. Mr. Speaker, the death of Senator WILLIAM E. BORAH, of Idaho, removes from public life the most colorful figure of the past 30 years. Known as the Lone Rider, Senator BORAH was the most powerful single individual in our Nation.

Senator BORAH often told me of trying one of his first big cases, the Myers murder case, before my uncle, Judge Elisha Lewis, of Silver City, Idaho. The case rested on circumstantial evidence. BORAH was defending Myers. There was fiery prejudice against Myers. BORAH said he admired Judge Lewis for his moral and physical courage in a very difficult position in ruling on the admission of certain evidence. He said he could see Judge Lewis yet as he stood up to render his decision, the only judge he ever saw who stood up to emphasize his decision which the Senator said hewed right to the line of the law. BORAH secured two juries that disagreed, and it was never tried again. Judge Lewis was a Forty-niner at 16 and all were killed in the caravan except him and a younger boy. He was my mother's youngest brother and was born in Maryland in 1834. His son, my cousin, Elisha Lewis, Jr., has written about this case and said there was mutual admiration between the Senator and his father.

Under leave to extend my remarks I include an editorial by William Allen White, of Emporia, Kans., who was a fellow student with Senator BORAH over a half century ago at the University of Kansas.

The editorial is as follows:

[From the Emporia Weekly Gazette of January 25, 1940]

FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND

I first met WILLIAM E. BORAH 54 happy years ago at Kansas University in the classes of James H. Canfield, teacher of economics,

sociology, political science, and European history. (They gave col-
lege professors plenty of work in those days.) Canfield's classes sat
around a U-shaped pine table covered with brown calico. He was
at the head, the students along the two prongs. Canfield's teach-
ing method was not to ask questions but to let his students dis-
cuss the topics of the day's lesson. Around that same table at
the same time that BORAH sat there was a group of boys who were
afterward to be famous-the two Franklins, destined to be scien-
tists of international fame; Vernon Kellogg, who became director
of the National Research Council, the American scientific clearing
house; Herbert Hadley, a Governor of Missouri, and a college presi-
dent who came within a narrow squeak of being President of the
United States; Fred Funston, who became a major general of the
United States Army, and died ranking Pershing. Probably most
notable of all because he lived well past his three score years and
ten while the others died far short of it was WILLIAM E. BORAH.
To us in the classroom he was Bill. He was a thick-necked
starry-eyed boy with an Irish twitch when he smiled with his
loose-lipped mouth, a twitch that looked as though he was scaring
away a fly with his nose and lower jaw. But it was a good smile
with a twinkle at the top of his nose, and emphasized by a clear,
charming voice when he spoke. That voice was one of his most
precious gifts.

Another gift of the gods to BILL BORAH was made manifest and greatly developed in that wrangling classroom; it was his capacity to argue. Professor Canfield encouraged it, and we all used to like to wrangle with Bill somewhat to hear his booming voice. But he loved the debate for its own sake which the classroom brought out.

Otherwise, outside of the classroom, he had no distinction. He was a member of the Beta fraternity-a lot of good boys with high scholarship, who took many college honors and wore them with sometimes rather shiny clothes and neckties that reminded you of a fire sale. BORAH was not a fraternity success, not a college leader. He got good grades, but he was not a grind. He was just a sincere and competent student who never ganged up much with his fraternity or with anyone else. I never saw him at a dance nor an interfraternity party. I was a would-be butterflybut alas with clumsy, creaky, wooden wings!

The thing I remember about BORAH is that he never sang. But the rest of us at night used to gather mandolins, guitars, banjos, and go out serenading like hoot owls. Every fraternity had its quartet. But BORAH was not of those glamorous, romantic youths. He was older than the rest of us and seem to be in a hurry to get into life. He had no time for the gayer, more frivolous phases of

college life poker with matches, hard cider, girls, and baseball. I, who was everybody's dog like a shepherd pup, his complete antithesis as a student, could not make up with him, much-though I tried.

We used to walk down the hill from the university together at odd times when I was not carrying books for girls, with our heads in the stars and our feet tiptoeing on the board sidewalk. We talked seriously, for BORAH the student always was a serious cuss. He had little humor then. Yet he loved humor to the end of his life in others, though a bit impatiently. Life was all before us and joy around us.

But after we left Kansas University, our paths crossed early and often. When he went to Idaho, frequently I saw his name in the paper. He was a free silver Republican, who bolted McKinley in 1896 and belonged to a liberal faction. In the Mountain States, these free silverites were inflationists, believed in the free coinage of silver and set up a controlling faction in the Northwest. BORAH ran for various public offices, unsuccessfully, as an inflationist. In 1902 we met in Boise and from then on we were dear and fairly intimate friends. I suppose as the years passed I threw off a certain amount of my frivolity and Bill took it on. For he was a good companion, as gay as you would like, in those days of our young manhood. So whenever I went to the Northwest I stopped to see him. Sometimes he came to Emporia and visited our home, bringing his lovely wife, a Governor's daughter, who was his lifelong friend and sweetheart—his Mary of whom he was always proud. The fly-brushing smile which twitched his mouth and nose had become a characteristic in those days, and his voice had gathered the charming resonance that was making him a powerful figure in the courts. Before a jury his smile and his voice were gestures in themselves. He became the attorney for a number of northwestern corporations, the owners of gold mines and of great forests and timber lands. He had an income of five figures before he was 40, in a little town and a little State where $10,000 or $15,000 was a lot of money.

BORAH sprang into national fame in the middle of the first decade of this century when he tried to put "Big Bill' Haywood and Moyer, two union mine workers, in jail upon the confession of Harry Orchard that Orchard and they murdered Governor Steunenberg, of Idaho, for breaking a mine strike. BORAH's opponent was Clarence Darrow. It was a gladiatorial legal combat, one of the great trials of the American bar. After that, BORAH was a national

figure.

He assembled his free-silver followers into a Republican faction and after a bitter, dirty fight in the legislature, BORAH was

sent to the United States Senate. A few days after his election he was indicted in the Federal courts for timber frauds. He was attorney for the Barber Lumber Co., which had undoubtedly committed many irregularities. BORAH was stricken with humiliation. That was in the summer of 1907. The story of his indictment, of course, was national news.

A short time afterward he showed up at our house in Manitou, Colo., where we were spending the summer and writing A Certain Rich Man. BORAH was grief stricken. I have never seen another man so humiliated. He told me the story. One of his opponents was either on the Federal bench or was a Federal district attorney, I forget which, and another, either district attorney or Federal judge, was the leader of his opposition. They had him. He outlined his defense. It seemed obvious that he was guiltless. When I asked what I could do, he said:

"Go to President Roosevelt for me. Tell him I cannot come to Washington to assume my duties as United States Senator until I have been cleared of this charge, and I must be cleared beyond question of a doubt. A hung jury or a long debate in the jury room in my case would amount to a conviction. Tell him I want this: I want the Department of Justice to bring this case to a quick trial, right now, before Congress meets in December, and under the circumstances, considering the judge and the district attorney, I want the President to ask the Attorney General to send a first-class, unbiased lawyer-anyone, I don't care whom-from the Department of Justice out to my trial, to sit beside the United States district attorney and see that he plays the game square. With an outsider at his elbow, I need have no fear either of the district attorney or the judge."

I got on the train the next day, after making a telegraphic appointment, went to Oyster Bay where President Roosevelt had summoned the Attorney General, and with Senator Spooner, of Wisconsin, general counsel for the Barber Lumber Co., to sort of give me moral support (though I did the talking), we persuaded the President and Attorney General Bonaparte to do what BORAH asked. As a United States Senator, he had a right to ask it. It was only fair that the President should grant Senator BORAH'S request.

The trial came up immediately. The jury was out less than 5 minutes. When the verdict of "not guilty" was read, the courtroom burst into cheers. The mayor called out the fire department. The Governor got out the militia. The citizens had a parade, with BORAH in an open hack, the hero of the hour-all spontaneously within an hour after his acquittal. The story was spread across the United States by the newspapers, and BORAH lifted up his head and looked the world in the eye, unashamed and happy.