What follows is one of the “Lansing Diary” reports I distributed to my constituents each week when I was a member of the Michigan House of Representatives. This one, dated April 5, 1992, pays tribute to a friend, colleague and respected lawmaker, the late state Rep. Jim Dressel, a Republican from Holland. In 1983, Jim was the first legislator to sponsor a bill amending Michigan’s Elliott-Larsen Civil Rights Act to prohibit discrimination based on a person’s sexual orientation. To this day, I regret not understanding, not being more supportive of Jim’s courageous call for change. And I celebrate the enactment, 40 years later, of the legislation Jim championed.
It was 1978. I had been working on a congressional staff in Washington, D.C. Jim Dressel was on the phone, calling from Holland. Serving as the Ottawa County Republican chair, he advised me to return home and consider running for office in an open state legislative district. I did, and we wound up winning seats in neighboring districts.
Jim and I became good friends. We shared the belief that elected public service was a high calling. We wanted to make a positive difference in Lansing.
Our task force report on workers’ compensation reform contributed to the overhaul of what was a costly, uncompetitive system funded by employers. Serving together on the House Taxation Committee, we were less successful with school finance reform, but not for the lack of trying.
Jim Dressel loved his work. He was a loyal Republican partisan who understood the importance of bipartisan problem-solving. He was proud of his West Michigan heritage but had no use for Detroit bashing.
His independent spirit and moderate brand of Republicanism drew some flak. Not all of Jim’s constituents appreciated his strong advocacy for a mass transit system in Detroit and a gasoline tax hike to maintain Michigan roads. A decorated Vietnam War pilot, he could handle the flak. Jim Dressel did his homework, reached well-reasoned conclusions, and seemed comfortable with himself and his constituency.
Yet behind his usual exuberant greeting, “How are ya?” was a burden he carried.
In 1984, he decided to deal with it.
When Jim announced his intention to sponsor an amendment to the state civil rights law, prohibiting discrimination against homosexuals, I could not understand it. Political suicide, other friends and I warned him. Moreover, why should we broaden Michigan’s civil rights law to protect what ought to be a person’s private sexual orientation?
Jim told us he knew citizens who had been denied housing and public accommodations, even employment, because they were gay. “Who? Where?” we asked.
He introduced the amendment in an election year, and the campaign got personal. Some said to his face what many whispered behind his back: “You must be gay.” Forgetting an admirable record of public service, Jim’s constituents soundly rejected his re-election bid.
Throughout the controversy, Jim said that his sexuality should be a private matter apart from the public policy issue. But those two spheres could not be separated. In fact, his amendment was a means by which Jim confronted the truth he had been reluctant to share with many of us who were his friends. Whether homosexuality is a product of one’s genes or shaped by a cultural and social environment is still being debated, but for Jim it was a burden he never sought to bear. A burden made heavy by his conservative religious and community upbringing. A burden made heavy by constituents who didn’t want to talk about homosexuality. A burden made heavy by some gay political activists who were critical of Jim because he wouldn’t publicly own up to his sexual orientation.
And finally a burden made heavy by AIDS. I had not seen Jim for about a year when, a couple of months ago, he stopped by my office to visit. Without telling me he was dying, he had come to say “good-bye.” We laughed and talked about many things. At one point, he reflected on what he felt was one of society’s double standards. ”People blame promiscuous gays for spreading AIDS, but they won’t condone gays openly entering into committed relationships.”
Jim Dressel was a true public servant. He stood for what he believed was right, even when it wasn’t politically popular. He taught me not to be so judgmental about an issue I cannot fully understand or experience.
For those who strive to be decent politicians, friends and human beings, Jim’s spirit—free at last—is alive.