Congressman Tony Hall, the plain-spoken Democrat from Dayton, Ohio, is not
flashy. There is no mane of flowing white hair, no sonorous voice uttering
benign inanities, no wall of toothy photos with the powerful and chic. There
are a few snapshots displayed in his waiting room beside a citation from
a mayors' prayer breakfast and a tiny TV. One shows Hall ladling a serving
of beans into a bowl for a child, apparently in Africa. Another shows him
standing next to a camel, and both of them face the camera head-on for their
portrait. The resemblance between the two is striking: sandy-brown hair,
appraising eyes, and a cautious smile. For both man and beast, the wide-set
eyes dip down at the outward corners, suggesting sobriety, perhaps a tinge
of melancholy. Neither one is likely to be persuaded to buy a bridge; neither
is likely to try to sell you one.
Tony Hall is not a typical denizen of Capitol Hill. Compared to the other
shining lights, he presents a modest display: practical, industrious, and
determined. Hall brings to mind the turtle, that single-minded, thick-shelled
creature who, as the saying goes, gets nowhere without sticking his neck
out. Stylish he's not, but that was never an essential component of success.
Yet this unpretentious man could represent a model for a new way of doing
politics, offering hope to Christians weary of the clumsy fit offered by
current partisan alignments. For some Christians, the Democratic party has
put itself beyond the pale due to its support of abortion and and its lack
of support for a traditional sexual morality. But the Republican party is
on shaky ground as well. So-called country club Republicans were deserted
in the last two presidential elections as Christians suspected them of ...
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