Last week I received an email from a childhood friend that Jimmy Whelan had died unexpectedly. I went to high school with Jimmy (I always think of him as 'Jimmy' and always picture him as a tall, lean eighteen year old), and I had occasion to spend time with him later in life. Jimmy was three times elected mayor of Atlantic City, New Jersey (he had the distinction of being the first mayor in the city's history who was neither indicted nor imprisoned), and then to two terms as state senator. Some months ago he emailed me that he was going to retire after his current term and write a book or play about U. S. Grant.
Though Jimmy was a year ahead of me at West Catholic High in Philadelphia, I have distinct memories of him as a strong personality and a natural leader. He was one of those older kids who seemed to me so much more mature and self-confident than I, and I could not help but admire him and be a little in awe of him. He was a star of the swimming team, and it was that which led to his life and career in Atlantic City. He used to go to "the shore" as we called it, to work as a lifeguard, eventually relocating there. It was an aged custom in AC that all city employees had to kick back a percentage of their salaries to government officials ('ice money' it was called), an index of how ingrained and accepted was the level of corruption in the city. Jimmy knew instinctively that this was wrong, and he helped organize the lifeguards, who refused to pay, putting an end to the practice. Given the brutality of the city's bosses, it was a gutsy move. And it was typical of the strong, decent kid from West Philly whom I had known.
That is my enduring impression of Jimmy Whelan: strong, principled, decent, tough, and compassionate. That rarest of exotic creatures, an honest politician.
About twelve years ago, I was asked to write a proposal for a TV series set in Atlantic City. I immediately thought of Jimmy, whose third term as mayor had just ended. I contacted him, and he generously invited my writing partner and me to come to AC as his guests. He then acted as our personal tour guide, and a more gracious and effective guide no one could have asked for. I had not been to AC in many years, and two things struck me. First, how much the city had changed. The fading queen of the shore declining into slum that I remembered from my childhood, was actually an exciting place, and, though I have no interest in casinos or gambling, I found its neighborhoods charming and vital. That, I think, was the greatest tribute to Jimmy's time as mayor: Atlantic City had become a good place to live, and I found myself thinking that I might not mind living there myself.
The second thing that struck me was that the people of Atlantic City loved Jimmy. Everyone recognized him as we moved around the neighborhoods, everyone offered us free food and drinks, everyone was anxious to shake his hand, from casino managers to sub shop workers. They not only admired and respected him, they evinced an unmistakable affection for him. I was very moved by this; that a kid from West Philly had become so beloved by his adopted home town.
The TV series never materialized, but I remained in touch with Jimmy. He asked my advice on becoming a writer after his retirement from politics, and, in a gesture typical of him, he hosted my older son in his home when he was touring the East Coast as a new college freshman in New York. Jimmy and his wife, Kathy, took my son to dinner one evening, and when my son offered to pay for the meal (under my orders), he learned as I had that Jimmy was a guest in everyone's place in AC.
And why? Because the people knew how much they owed him for restoring their city's dignity and prosperity, for transforming it from the butt of bad jokes into a world-class resort and a good place to raise a family. Jimmy never talked about it, but it had become clear to me that, through his decency and superb negotiating skills, he had done more for the ordinary citizens of Atlantic City than they could ever repay. Think about it: as mayor, he had to balance the interests of international moguls like Steve Wynn and Donald Trump with the needs of working people, poor and elderly people, disadvantaged kids. He leveraged the magnates' transcendent ambitions and greed in order to create jobs, improve schools, and build parks for his constituents. And he did it with a compassion, toughness, and skill that were born into the nature of the man. That was Jimmy - a decent, honorable kid from West Philly who, thank God, never really grew up. Not in the sense of losing his birthright as a kind and caring human being.
I have been moved far more than I would have expected by the news of his death. I suppose the emotion comes from losing yet another bit of my boyhood, another face from the years that formed me, another intimate contact with a period of my life long gone now. But I also mourn the passing of a good human being who managed to prove all of our worst fears about politics and politicians untrue. In that swamp we so often hear about, in that sorry spectacle which public life in our nation has become, Jimmy proved that a person of principle and compassion can not only survive, he can make such a difference in people's lives that he leaves a legacy not just of good public policy, but of love.
It was a pleasure to have known him as a boy, and an honor to have known him as a man. I will miss him.
