Politicians, constituents bid Murphy final goodbye

WACO - Tom Murphy's funeral was a bit like the House of Representatives he ruled for almost a decade.

It was at times humorous, somber, folksy and even a bit raw. And it was powerful in its own right, bringing together Georgia's political establishment, men and women of all political stripes, with the state's rank-and-file.

The political giant, who died Monday after a stroke, was laid to rest in his west Georgia hometown a day after he was bid farewell by current and former lawmakers at the state Capitol in a ceremony full of pomp.

The political elite were back Saturday, as a row of chief executives headed by Gov. Sonny Perdue sat next to Murphy's flag-draped casket and offered memories of the lawmaker.

But this ceremony was also a chance for his constituents, the folks who elected him to office and kept him there until his defeat in 2002, to say goodbye to the man who many simply knew as "Mr. Speaker."

They talked of a time when politics in Georgia was dominated by rural Democrats, a time when the bespectacled, cigar-chomping Murphy ruled over the House with an iron fist. He took the chamber's reins in 1973 and put his stamp on just about every budget, every public program, every policy enacted by this state over the next three decades.

At the time of his defeat in 2002, he was the nation's longest serving House speaker.

Murphy was good to his rural west Georgia hometown during his reign, making sure the interstate ran through his county and doling out money to projects, among them the West Central Technical College, where hundreds gathered for Saturday's funeral service.

But his legacy extends far beyond his hometown of Bremen, from social programs and a dedication to strict fiscal oversight to massive public projects in every part of the state. Without him, there would be no MARTA subway system in Atlanta, no Georgia Dome and no Georgia World Congress Center to draw conventioneers to the city, said former Gov. Roy Barnes.

"His life touched us all," said Barnes. "All of Georgians are beneficiaries of his service."

There were personal touches throughout the service to remind mourners of Murphy's softer side. Two giant video screens showed memorable moments from the speaker's career, ending with an elated Murphy banging the legislative session to a close and sprinting from the chamber.

A friend donned a black hat and belted out Murphy's favorite song, Hank Williams' "Your Cheatin' Heart." A preacher got on bended knee in front of the row of governors and offered a rambling, but heartfelt, prayer in Murphy's honor.

And there were plenty of stories from the governors, tales of Murphy's stubborn temperament, his iron will, and his soft spot for the poor and elderly. They all seemed to mention the legendary grudge matches between Murphy's beloved House and the rival Senate during the final days of each frenzied legislative session.

Perhaps his most frequent adversary was former Sen. Zell Miller, who as lieutenant governor for 16 years presided over the Senate. The two would go toe-to-toe in late-night battles over the budget, where meetings would start calmly but often end in a rage, Miller said.

But Miller remembered Murphy as an honorable foe, and to this day, when he wakes hours before dawn, he said he can't help but think back to his days in the Legislature, and his epic clashes with Murphy.

"And I remember, once upon a time, when politics was fun."