Congressman Roger Williams settled into his aisle seat on a recent flight from Texas to Washington, D.C.
The man in the window seat recognized Roger.
“I know you, “he said. “You’re an asshole.”
Welcome to the glamorous world of politics.
Roger handled the insult as he usually does, with disarming charm and a sense of humor.
But on the morning of June 14, on a public baseball field in Virginia, any laughter provoked by insults was silenced by the sound of gunshots as a 66-year-old man armed with a rifle and a handgun opened fire on Williams and other congressmen practicing for a charity baseball game.
A former college and professional baseball player, Williams has spent countless hours catching his breath in ballpark dugouts, walking down the steps to the bench after running around the bases or making a difficult fielding play. Never could he have imagined himself diving headfirst into a dugout to shield himself from death.
But there he was in the dugout on that field in Alexandria, Virginia, cradling his wounded staffer Zack Barth of Houston, one of those shot by crazed gunman James T. Hodgkinson of Belleville, Illinois – a sleepy Mississippi River border town whose daily newspaper was once home to me and my longtime journalism colleague Bill Thompson.
Barth had been shot in the leg standing in the outfield and heroically texted for help while running to the dugout. He was met by his boss, Williams, who had been hitting ground balls to House Majority Whip Steve Scalise. The Louisiana congressman was critically wounded when Hodgkinson opened fire shortly after 7 a.m. Eastern time.
Williams is coach of a Republican team that was practicing to take on their Democratic counterparts in a traditional contest that raises more than $600,000 annually for various Washington, D.C.-area charities. As he dove into the dugout amid gunfire, he sustained leg injuries that left him on crutches.
This is our Roger Williams, Fort Worth and Weatherford’s Roger Williams, who was a standout baseball player at TCU from 1968-1971 and played in the Atlanta Braves’ minor league system before suffering a career-ending injury. He also served as head coach of TCU’s baseball team in 1976,
In news stories, Williams is identified as being from Austin because that’s the city most closely identified with his widespread 25th Congressional District and he has a home there.
In Fort Worth, we know Roger as a true patriot who worked for Gov. Rick Perry and on presidential campaigns for both George W. Bush and his father, George H. W. Bush. Along with his wife Patty and daughters Sabrina and J. J., he owns the Roger Williams Chrysler Dodge Jeep Ram auto dealership in Weatherford.
Let’s be clear about my personal friendship with Roger. We have known one another for 30 years, often commiserating about the challenges of small business ownership. We also have shared the joys of not having a boss. My 16-year-old daughter recently acquired her first car, a teal-blue Jeep Wrangler purchased from Roger – the wheel cover on the back of the Jeep is adorned with Texas and U.S. flags, and prominently displays Roger’s name. She will drive that Jeep with that wheel cover with great pride until the wheels come off. Great pride.
Williams was on a congressional break from Washington, but had spent his entire time traveling his district and beyond making speeches, some to veterans and active members of the armed forces.
But he took time out to help me make arrangements for the Jeep. He personally handled the deal, meeting with me twice over a two-week period.
Roger is not only a congressman and a businessman, he’s a dad and knew the importance of that Jeep, which was a surprise for its new owner. His wife and daughters run the business while he helps run the country – a job in which he has many bosses. And in today’s vicious political world, Roger Williams endures the bile of many who do not respect his patriotism, his hard work and his deeply held principles.
These folks harass Williams in public, call him names and generally test his patience. He answers all this by working even harder for his ideals and smiling all the while. He is also able to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Well, he could laugh. Until June 14, until he found himself among the prey hunted by a rifle-toting maniac who wanted to kill Republicans.
There is nothing funny about what happened but I’ll just bet that one day Roger might quip that he never ran faster for a dugout. He has been publicly effusive in his praise of the Capitol Police officers who were providing security for Scalise because of his high rank and whose quick and courageous response saved the lives of virtually everyone on the field. The shooter was shot and died at a hospital.
Roger is not alone in his patriotism but you can see he does not need to do this work. He has a life outside public service and he has a business to run. That’s what sustains him and his family financially. And when he comes home from Washington, he straightens his tie and goes to work selling cars.
Few among our readers probably remember Roger’s late father, the irrepressible Jack Williams. We are all proud of Roger but Jack Williams is surely wearing a huge smile. He raised one hell of a man.
Richard Connor is president and publisher of the Fort Worth Business Press. Contact him at rconnor@bizpress.net