Current Issue

June 10, 2009

Vol. 109, No. 15


Arthur Glenn Andrews ’31

Published in the June 10, 2009, issue

Glenn Andrews, the oldest living former member of Congress, died Sept. 25, 2008, in his native Anniston, Ala., just short of his 100th birthday.  

Glenn came to Princeton from Mercersburg Academy. At Princeton he took his meals at Elm, ran varsity track, and was a member of Theatre Intime, the Triangle orchestra, and the University orchestra.  

After stints in banking and with IBM in the Northeast, Glenn moved south to New Orleans with Eastman Kodak. He returned to Anniston in 1946 and bought out the family outdoor-advertising business from his aunts and uncles.  

A Democrat in his earlier years, he was elected to Congress in 1964 as a Republican supporting the Goldwater ticket and served one term (in the 87th Congress). In our 25th-reunion yearbook, he wryly observed that he wanted to retire “to a tropical island well away from Social Security and the atom bomb, both Democratic contributions to our society.”

Glenn’s wife of 64 years, the former Ethel Jackson (sister of Ab Jackson ’32), died in 2001. Glenn also was predeceased by his daughter, Houston w’56. He is survived by two sons, Glenn Jr. and Scott ’64. Our thoughts are with them in their grief.

The Class of 1931

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1 Remembrance posted for Arthur Glenn Andrews

DavidTurner k’41 Says:

2009-10-08 14:29:47

Glenn Andrews was one of those larger-than-life personalities who stood tall in my childhood of the ’50s and ’60s. He and Mrs. Andrews operated a kindergarten out of their home where the offspring of many Anniston families received their first formal (and formative) education; they were the original home-schoolers, before their example was perceived as a threat by the teachers' unions. He was a bon vivant, gentleman farmer, equestrian, bootstrap capitalist, and citizen legislator rolled into one — part of a generation where mastery of many skills and pursuits was a given. Glenn was out of that long-gone and sorely missed era when people made do for themselves without resort to an overbearing nanny state that ends up taking everything under the guise of the “common good.” I still remember as if it were yesterday a family vacation that included Washington, D.C., during his term as congressman from Alabama’s 4th District. We had our picture taken by a staff photographer on the steps of the Capitol, the awesome dome towering behind us, and Rep. Andrews with an insouciant cigarette in hand and a wry smile that would have thrown present-day authoritarians into a frenzy. We had lunch in the House mess and visited his congressional office, where he pointed to a framed picture behind his desk graphically depicting a medieval figure being robbed, drawn, and quartered by highwaymen. He remarked at the time "that’s what it feels like being a member of Congress and trying to placate all the special interests." Again under his tutelage, I got my first taste of local politics as a volunteer for his re-election campaign in the summer of ’66. Picture an 11-year-old operative handing out bumper stickers and flyers for a Goldwater Republican at the county fair, in the heart of George Wallace country. All too often, in response to my drill “How about a sticker?” I heard things I had never heard before, to paraphrase Hazel Motes. Years later Mr. And Mrs. Andrews were the gracious hosts of a “peach-pickin’” party at their White Plains, Ala., farm that inaugurated a memorable round of celebration in my engagement to my wife of 29 (and counting) years. He was a wise and endearing patriarch who saw through much human folly, yet retained a bemused tolerance. I will miss him greatly.
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