CORNING – In 1986, the congressional seat for New York’s Southern Tier unexpectedly opened up.

When one of the candidates was Amory Houghton Jr. from Corning, many people asked two questions: Who’s he, and how do you pronounce that?

Well, he was the head of what was then Corning Glass, most commonly known as the manufacturer of cooking dishes with the little blue flower.

And you pronounced it AY-more-ee HOE-ton. Or better yet: AY-moe.

He was congressman for Chautauqua County through 2002 and for the rest of the Southern Tier and part of the Fingers Lakes region through 2004.

He died in March 2020, and his memorial service – twice postponed because of the pandemic – is on Sept. 17 in the hometown he loved and for which he did so much.

When, for example, what in Corning is known as “the flood” hit in 1972, he loaned people money and told them to pay it back when they could, if they could.

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The shame would have been if, when Amo Houghton was our congressman, we didn’t appreciate how extraordinarily good we had it.

But we knew how extraordinarily good we had it, and we appreciated it.

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Many people across his large congressional district experienced the delight of knowing him, so the theme of the anecdotes in today’s column isn’t unusual.

As one of the younger volunteers on one of his campaigns quickly learned, he took a special interest in young people, both on his staff and elsewhere.

When the by-then-former volunteer years later covered him as a newspaper reporter, Houghton invited him to experience the Capitol and the White House first hand.

In Washington, the reporter experienced something like that old E.F. Hutton commercial: When Amo Houghton talked, people listened.

One afternoon he went to the House floor to speak in favor of a good bill on which the debate hadn’t been constructive. He had a prepared speech, but as he reached the lectern, he put it onto the clerk’s desk and spoke off the cuff. Citing personal experience, he pleaded with House members to put aside their own personal feelings. Slowly all of the heads began to turn toward the man from Corning, and the bill passed.

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Later when the by-then-former reporter was an intern in the U.S. Senate, Houghton invited him to his office’s Christmas party. It astonished the intern’s Senate-staff colleagues that Houghton knew the intern.

With the disbelief on each part of the question, one asked, “You know Amo Houghton?”

“Yes,” came the reply.

“But he doesn’t know you.”

“Yes, he does.”

“He won’t say, ‘Hi Randy.'”

“Yes, he will.”

Then came the real kicker. They assumed that any district that would elect the wealthiest member of the House of Representatives must be a wealthy area.

But this part of New York is in the Appalachian Regional Commission. The Senate-staff colleagues learned that day that Houghton related as easily to the next person in line at the grocery store as he did to Washington power brokers.

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And he wasn’t there for people only during happy times. He, for example, stood with friends by calling family members of someone seriously ill, by talking with those who had just lost family members, and by standing up for what was right when something had gone wrong.

That’s the Amo Houghton whom many remember during his congressional tenure as smart, effective, dedicated, decent, loyal, and friendly.

And fun too.

When the by-then-former intern was Houghton’s ticket mate, they were knocking on doors together one day on Woodworth Avenue in Jamestown, and the ticket mate recalled he knew the people in the next house.

Houghton asked, “What’s their name?”

“Anderson,” the ticket mate replied.

As if the ticket mate could have guessed correctly with “Anderson,” Houghton smiled and said, “Come on, Randy. Anderson in Jamestown?”

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In 2019, the by-then-former ticket mate invited his friend from Corning to his wedding.

The sad declination arrived from a secretary explaining why he wouldn’t be able to attend.

It wasn’t hard to read between the lines.

His earthly life ended three months later.

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When Ronald Reagan died, Margaret Thatcher spoke at his funeral in Washington’s National Cathedral. Lamenting the loss of Reagan, Thatcher said that those who follow him will have one advantage he didn’t have.

“We have his example,” Thatcher said.

Now we have Amo’s example.

Randy Elf was the campaign volunteer, newspaper reporter, Senate intern, and ticket mate.

COPYRIGHT ç 2022 BY RANDY ELF