Stephen Hess obit

Remembering Stephen Hess

 

He was not on the list.

Stephen H. Hess, 1933–2026

I lost a great friend, and America lost one of its finest writer/historians, when Steve Hess passed away on Sunday morning at the age of 92.

Perhaps you don’t recognize the name. Perhaps that’s because he did not seek the limelight—and perhaps because the latest of his 25 books emerged seven years ago, a memoir that he titled Bit Player: My Life with Presidents and Ideas. But Steve was so much more than a “bit player.” He was, along with much else, one of our foremost biographers of presidents, critical observers of the election process, and students of the Washington media, as well as the White House and presidency. You’ll find a partial biography and bibliography on the Brookings website and an inadequate one on Wikipedia. Dig a bit deeper and you’ll find such seminal works as America’s Political Dynasties, The Washington Reporters, and Organizing the Presidency. The list goes on.

Yes, those were all pre-Trump and much has changed in the past few years. Steve, in recent months, would sort of shrug his shoulders when asked about Trump. He said he had stopped talking to journalists about it because there was nothing useful to say. But the last time we saw him, he also commented on a bit of light at the end of the present dark tunnel, mostly because he saw some cracks in the current edifice—and didn’t see how it could sustain itself over time. (Others have lately made similar comments.)

Steve was a classic “moderate Republican” who earned his first political spurs as a speechwriter in the Eisenhower White House. I met him in 1969 when I (a 25-year-old graduate student) followed my doctoral advisor to Washington and became part of Pat Moynihan’s team at the White House. Turned out that Steve was already there, serving as Pat’s deputy. And what a superb deputy/boss he was.

Four years later, I’m working in New Delhi, again with Moynihan (now U.S. ambassador to India), and who should turn up to visit, tour, and lecture but Steve Hess. That’s when Renu—my then fiancé—also made his acquaintance. And a year after that, as she and I were trying to figure out where back in the U.S. we might both reconnect to jobs and locate our young family, it was Steve who introduced me to Brookings, where he already was situated (and remained for half a century!). That led to our settling in the D.C. area and made possible a stateside relaunch of Renu’s medical career. We likely wouldn’t be doing what we’re doing today if it weren’t for Steve.

Who then remained a dear friend, birthday celebrant, travel companion, and brunch guest along with his wonderful wife of many decades, Beth Amster Hess. He invariably offered insights into the state of the nation, the GOP, whomever was then president, and the world beyond. He listened patiently. He replied thoughtfully. It was all very old school. And it was invariably educational for us, as well as pleasurable. Old school, yes, but never stodgy. Plus he was almost as interested in the doings and accomplishments (and challenges) of our kids and grandkids as we were.

Among the many Hess books on our shelves, in addition to his mis-titled memoir, two are particular favorites. One is his astute guide to the lost world of “campaign etiquette” (circa 1998). The other is his wonderfully insightful account of the odd-couple relationship between Moynihan and Nixon, which of course intersects with my own history.

When Steve, at 90, finally went “emeritus” at Brookings after five decades of affiliation there, the Brookings team produced a wonderful podcast series of reminisces, spanning his long and (for a guy who more or less stayed in one place) extraordinarily varied career. It repays attention both by anyone with an interest in modern American history and all who may want to learn more about a man who was so much more than a “bit player” and in so many ways. May he now rest in peace.