Former congressman Lane Evans: 'I have no regrets'
For 24 years, Lane Evans fought for the rights of veterans and workers. Today, he fights for himself — against a disease that ravages his body while another strikes at his mind.
The people who have come to know the retired 12-term U.S. congressman — and there are too many to count — have kept track of Evans’ health since he disclosed a decade ago that he has Parkinson’s disease. People cannot help but notice his decline. It is written on his unsteady gait and declared by his mumbled speech.
His central-nervous system breakdown drove Evans from office long before he was ready to go.
The 57-year-old spends his days in a modest apartment in an assisted-living center in Silvis, Ill. Although his body often refuses to cooperate with a mind that is now disrupted by dementia, self-pity is as elusive as uninterrupted thought.
For Evans, life is a collection of conflicting patterns.
He is weak, yet strengthened by lifelong ideals.
He loves privacy but misses his friends.
He finds relief in the simplicity that comes with retirement but pines for a chance to help pass just one more piece of legislation.
He is disabled by his illness, yet enabled by the challenges it creates.
As he answered questions last week in a two-hour interview at his home, his thoughts were often sidetracked by Lewy body, a dementia-producing disease that is similar to Alzheimer’s. But he answered one question without pause.
When asked whether he had any regrets, Evans’ voice was clear and strong.
“None,” he answered. “I have no regrets.”
Passing the torch
Evans’ outing last month to hear U.S. Sen. Barack Obama speak at the fairgrounds in Davenport — just a few days before Obama accepted the Democratic nomination for president — was an increasingly rare public appearance.
But Obama is to Evans what the Obama campaign has tried to portray for the rest of America: its best hope.
“It was obvious to me,” Evans said of Obama’s political potential. “He’s a hero for working-class people.”
Evans’ guardian and near-constant companion, Cher Erickson, helped him recall one of the first up-close meetings with Obama.
“We were at a fundraiser in Phil’s (Hare, a longtime Evans aide who now occupies his seat in Congress) basement, and Lane spent some time talking to Barack,” she said. “He knew right then and there. Now, every time Obama’s on TV, Lane gets excited about him.”
The respect is mutual.
In a framed letter that sits on a table next to Evans’ brown leather couch, Obama wrote of his regret over missing Evans’ 57th birthday party on Aug. 4. When Obama learned on Thursday that Evans was being profiled in the Times, he sent an e-mail that had this to say:
“Lane Evans is a dear friend and an American hero ... I believe that had it not been for his early support in my campaign, that I would not be a member of the U.S. Senate. Like Americans across the country, I continue to draw inspiration from Lane.”
Evans also has his eye on the political promise of someone more local — a U.S. Marine, naturally.
Seamus Ahern, 27, of Silvis, won a sentimental spot in Obama’s now-famous address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention and has since expressed an interest in veterans work and, possibly, politics.
He was surprised to learn last week that Evans mentioned him, saying the two have met only briefly at a few political events. He was flattered, especially since he was a mere toddler when Evans served his first term.
“As a kid growing up, I’ve always known his name,” he said. “I’m a veteran myself, and we always hear of members of Congress who are on our side. I would always hear Lane Evans’ name.”
If he could, Evans would back the young Marine.
“I still love to campaign,” he said. “I hate to give it up. No matter how hard you try to hold onto these friendships, people move on. I’m really proud, though, of the young people getting involved. It’s time to let some other people have the spotlight that goes with this. I wanted to give other people a chance.”
This is not to say that he doesn’t harbor a lingering hope that there might still be room for him.
“Maybe I’ll be employed for some labor issue,” he said. “My health comes first, but you never know. There may be some opportunities down the road. There is still important legislation.”
And what was his most important piece of legislation?
“We brought help to kids (soldiers) who wouldn’t have had it,” he said. “Look especially at the Hispanic veterans who never received proper training, weapons or benefits. Helping those kids, that’s been the hallmark of my career.”
The Marine
One of the harshest cruelties of Parkinson’s and Lewy body diseases is their nagging interruptions of thought.
For most of his long congressional career, Evans was a favorite on the speech-giving circuit. Local labor leaders say Evans spoke at every union hall and VFW within the sprawling 17th Congressional District, garnering wild applause from veterans and the working class who regarded Evans as a next-door neighbor who happened to live part time in Washington.
Hare said Evans never was a particularly powerful speech-giver. His strength, he said, was in his genuine interest in the people he spoke with after speeches.
“His word was his bond,” he said. “He talked to people until the last one was gone.”
Evans’ disabilities have cut off all power to the microphone. They also have introduced a new pattern to his speech: uncontrolled references to his days in the early 1970s when he served in the U.S. Marine Corps.
He keeps a picture in his apartment of himself with actor Michael J. Fox, who also has Parkinson’s and has become a friend. A common side effect of Parkinson’s is a tremor of the extremities, and Fox has struggled with the hard-to-control movements.
When asked whether he has experienced such tremors, Evans answered, “I’ve had ’em.” Then, without meaning to, he added, “Take care of your weapon.”
He is acutely aware of the uncontrollable interjection of new thoughts or the loss of current ones. He regularly asks for patience, saying, “Stay with me,” or “Hang in there. It’s coming,” or “I’m slow, but I’ll get there.” Sometimes, the thoughts are restored. Other times, they are lost.
Humor is not lost.
Evans and his caregiver and friend, Erickson, often compete playfully with one another on their military histories. She was in the Air Force during the same years he was a Marine.
When she left the living room briefly and made a loud crashing sound in the next room, Evans shouted, “You can’t get a Purple Heart in there.”
Hare said Evans never complains.
“His legs would just lock up, and he’d be in terrible pain,” he recalled of episodes on the road during campaigns. “He once said to me, ‘I’m lucky. I couldn’t carry mail. I couldn’t be a meat cutter.’”
He finds solace in small pleasure, such as the TV comedy series “Seinfeld.”
Evans is proud of his photo taken with Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who played Elaine in the show.
Glancing at the photo last week, he quickly pointed out, “She looks like (Alaska) Governor (Sarah) Palin.”
And then he was back to the Marines. A framed Marine Corps poster occupies one wall of his apartment, and he was asked why he has remained so devoted to his brief military experience.
“The Marines salute its lowest ranks,” he said.
A private life
When Evans leaves his apartment — his caregiver always at his side — he must do so an hour before the time he is expected at his destination.
But it’s not his disability that forces the extra planning. It’s his popularity among other residents.
“It’s like that at the VA (Veterans Administration) hospitals, too,” Erickson said. “They just swarm. They love him.”
In fact, workers at Evans’ assisted living center asked Erickson if she would supply them with a copy of a picture of Evans and Obama during their recent meeting in Davenport. Erickson obliged with an 8 by 10 of her, Evans and Obama, and the photo was immediately placed in the center’s library.
Erickson, who has been in the nursing field for about 30 years, said she was “honored” when Evans asked her to be his guardian. She has filled the role for about three years, and the pair shares an obvious affection for each other.
When she stepped briefly out of the living room to stifle a cough, he paused in mid-sentence, asking over his shoulder, “Are you OK?”
She was attentive to his needs and his comfort, regularly opening and closing a sliding-glass door, depending on whether he was hot or cold. She fetches his meals, takes his phone calls and schedules other nurses and caregivers for her free time.
Sometimes, when he struggles to find words, she fights back tears. He has his moments, too.
Evans has long been a voracious reader who taught himself to speed read. A storage garage filled with his books is proof of that. He worries, he said, that technology and the Internet will rob some young people of the rewards of reading.
He understands the loss.
“I like to read, and it’s been stolen from me,” he said, his chin quivering and a tear sliding from the corner of his eye.
His inability to concentrate makes it impossible to focus on reading material.
But there are still pleasures in Evans’ life: pizza from Harris, ice cream from Whitey’s, a taped episode of “Seinfeld” on his big-screen TV. And all those friends.
“He got calls two or three times a day from people in Denver during the (Democratic) convention,” Erickson said. “They wanted to keep him up on what was going on.”
For as long as his mind lets him, he will be acutely interested in what is going on.
“Things were in place to do some things I wanted to do when last I left” Congress, he said. “It’s a great job because you can have impact in a short period of time.”
The final question to Evans was to name one thing that most people don’t know about him. At first, Erickson looked at him nervously — as if she feared the question would be too draining. After a moment’s pause, however, he grew animated.
“It will bug me all day if I don’t think of something,” he said. “I know! I like electronic equipment.”
The disclosure made Erickson laugh. And, for a moment, Evans’ thoughts fired as quickly as new sparkplugs.
“I knew I was going to make a mark in politics,” he said. “I was pretty sure about that.
“It was time to go, though.”
Hare is hoping for more time.
“His prognosis isn’t great,” he said. “He knows that.
“I unabashedly love that man. I don’t know how long we’re gonna have him. We just take him every day that we can.”
Evans at a glance
Age: 57
Hometown: Rock Island. Currently lives in Silvis, Ill.
Education: Alleman High School Class of 1969; BA Augustana College, Rock Island, 1974; JD Georgetown University Law Center, Washington D.C., 1978.
Military: Served with the U.S. Marine Corps from 1969-71.
Post-military: He worked as an attorney in Rock Island, serving children, the poor and working families.
Congress: First elected to the 17th Congressional District in 1982. He served 12 terms, from Jan. 3, 1983, to Jan. 3, 2007.
Legislation: Evans spearheaded successful efforts to pass Agent Orange compensation. He also helped pass legislation that improved health care and compensation for veterans.
Evans on others
Barack Obama: “He’s obviously the international star. He’s going to do great things. He’s very generous.”
Fellow Marine Seamus Ahern, 27, of Silvis: “He could make it in politics, no doubt. Bigger than me.”
U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin: “He stops by when he’s in town to have Harris Pizza with me. He’s a good guy.”
Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin: “I’m trying to adjust to what this new candidate has to say. It’s too soon to tell.”
U.S. Rep. Phil Hare: “Phil deserves it (congressional seat), certainly. I would like to do more fundraising for Phil. What I don’t try to do is micromanage.”
Dick Fallow, longtime Davenport labor supporter: “You don’t find people like him anymore. He’s always been there for labor.”
What is Parkinson’s disease?
Parkinson’s disease occurs when a group of cells in an area of the brain called the substantia nigra begin to malfunction and die.
These cells produce a chemical called dopamine. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter, or chemical messenger, that sends information to the parts of the brain that control movement and coordination.
When a person has Parkinson’s disease, their dopamine-producing cells begin to die and the amount of dopamine produced in the brain decreases. Messages from the brain telling the body how and when to move are therefore delivered more slowly, leaving a person incapable of initiating and controlling movements in a normal way.
Source: Parkinson’s Disease Foundation
Barb Ickes can be contacted at (563) 383-2316 or bickes@qctimes.com.