January 7, 2009 CONGRESSIONAL RECORD — Extensions of Remarks E37 

those with whom he came in touch. He grew 

up in Pinellas County and was a product of 

Pinellas County schools having graduated 

from Clearwater High School. 

His advice was eagerly sought not just by 

this Congressman but by Governors, legislators, school board members and community 

leaders. And it was just not advice on educational issues. In fact, Jade was just completing a difficult term as the Governor’s appointee to the Florida Taxation and Budget 

Review Commission. 

More than 700 people turned out this past 

Saturday to memorialize Jade Moore and pay 

tribute to his life as a husband, a father, an 

educator, a community leader, a Sunday 

school teacher, and a friend to many. Following my remarks, I will include an article 

‘‘Boisterous and fitting farewell’’ by Thomas 

Tobin and Donna Winchester of The St. Petersburg Times on January 4, 2009 which 

talks about the very moving and uplifting memorial service. Also, I will include a December 

20, 2008 column by Jon East of The St. Petersburg Times which describes Jade as a 

tough but friendly advocate. As Mr. East says 

in concluding his column, Jade Moore ‘‘honestly believed in saving one soul, one child, at 

a time.’’ 

Madam Speaker, at a time when our Nation 

looks to its elected leaders to come together 

and put politics aside to do the people’s business, Jade Moore should be an enduring example of how we can serve our constituencies 

and express our views with respect rather 

than conflict. We have lost a great leader in 

Jade Moore, but we must not lose those lessons from a lifetime of leadership he leaves 

behind. 

[From the St. Petersburg Times, Jan. 3, 2009] 

BOISTEROUS AND FITTING FAREWELL

(By Thomas C. Tobin and Donna Winchester) 

CLEARWATER.—He loved roses and Broadway musicals. He stunk at golf, though he 

had a whale of a time playing it. 

He was an optimist, active in his church, 

strong in his views. He was a reader and a 

smiler, a pundit, a partier, a people lover. 

And when it came to teachers, Jade Thomas Moore—the executive director of the 

Pinellas teachers union for 34 years—was no 

pushover. 

‘‘He fought hard for them and he loved 

them,’’ Tim Moore said at a memorial service for his brother Saturday. ‘‘If you want to 

remember Jade, remember that love for 

teachers.’’ 

Pinellas County’s education and political 

communities turned out in force to remember Mr. Moore, who died Dec. 18 at age 61 

after suffering his second stroke in a year. 

More than 700 people jammed Trinity Presbyterian Church in Clearwater for an 

hourlong service that recalled his success as 

a family man, his long career as an educator 

and the outgoing personality that endeared 

him to allies and adversaries alike. 

The congregation included state and county officials, legislators, judges, lawyers and 

school system employees of every stripe— 

from support workers and teachers to top administrators and school board members. 

In keeping with Mr. Moore’s love of food 

and celebration, hundreds of mourners reconvened at union headquarters in Largo for an 

evening of eating, drinking, tears, laughter 

and toasts. 

Guests arrived to a massive potluck 

spread, a full bar and a chance to talk about 

Mr. Moore for up to three minutes. 

A DJ played Broadway hits, popular songs 

from the 1950s and ’60s and Mr. Moore’s favorite, Blue Moon by the Marcels. 

‘‘The noise is what Jade would want to 

have happened,’’ his wife, Sue Moore, told 

the crowd. ‘‘He would want us talking to 

each other and drinking a whole lot.’’ 

She offered a toast: ‘‘To the best man I’ve 

known and the best man I will ever know.’’ 

Said U.S. Rep. Kathy Castor, D–Tampa: 

‘‘He believed in the power of education. He 

believed in the power of teachers. He believed we could take this state forward.’’ 

Kim Black, president of the Pinellas Classroom Teachers Association, said Mr. Moore 

served with her and 12 other presidents during his tenure. 

‘‘Jade has adapted to every one of us,’’ she 

said. ‘‘He has been the constant. When we 

were weak, he was strong.’’ 

She said his favorite part of the job was 

visiting schools. Black and Mr. Moore had 

been to 40 so far this year and planned many 

more visits in the upcoming semester. 

‘‘He was about bringing joy to the workplace,’’ Black said. ‘‘He was about bringing 

joy to everybody he knew.’’ 

County Commissioner Susan Latvala recalled her time on the Pinellas School Board 

from 1992 to 2000. 

‘‘I don’t know if I would have survived 

those eight years without Jade,’’ she told the 

crowd. ‘‘He would call me to say, ’Susan, 

why don’t you come over to the office and 

we’ll have a drink.’ It was never a 15-minute 

conversation.’’ 

Upstairs at union headquarters Saturday, 

Mr. Moore’s office remained as he left it on 

Dec. 15, his last day of work. 

An avid reader who would polish off a 

dozen books during vacations to North Carolina, he had three books on his desk. 

The titles: I Haven’t Understood Anything 

since 1962, Educational Conflict in the Sunshine State and The Language of God. 

Mr. Moore was known in Pinellas and 

across the state for his knowledge of Florida’s budget and politics. He took tough 

stances, including pushing for a teacher raise 

this year even as the district plunged into a 

deep economic hole. But he maintained a 

collaborative style and an optimistic outlook. 

‘‘All of us knew that Jade meant what he 

said, that ... his views were in support of the 

many, not of the few, and that he would always, no matter what, stand by his beliefs,’’ 

said the Rev. Victoria ByRoade, a local Presbyterian pastor who eulogized him Saturday. 

‘‘Jade Moore was a man we could trust.’’ 

[From the St. Petersburg Times, Dec. 20, 

2008] 

A TOUGH, FRIENDLY ADVOCATE

(By Jon East) 

What made Jade Moore such an institution 

in Pinellas public education was also what 

made him such an invaluable source to those 

of us who watched from the sidelines. Moore, 

who died Thursday after suffering a stroke, 

knew his stuff. He believed in what he was 

doing, and he would never let education ideology cloud his plain assessment of right and 

wrong. And, yes, Moore would speak his 

mind, usually with blunt, sometimes profane and often comic effect. 

Moore ran a union with 8,000 teachers and 

could throw a punch with the best of them. 

He retaliated to legislative cutbacks in 1991 

by stuffing what was then called the Florida. 

Suncoast Dome with 15,000 educators and 

supporters holding signs imploring, ‘‘Don’t 

$hortchange our Kids.’’ He skewered a 

Pinellas School Board that in 1998 voted to 

seek an end to the federal court order on desegregation, and then fought a choice plan 

for student assignment that he viewed as a 

retreat. But Moore became a force in education policy for three decades in part because conflict was not really in his genes and 

was never his first impulse. 

School boards and superintendents from 

other locales would marvel at the relationship between the Pinellas Classroom Teachers Association and the school administration. Most contracts through the years were 

signed after friendly collaboration, not 

threats and mediation. Moore came to respect most of the superintendents with 

whom he worked, though he remained partial to Scott Rose for his inspirational style 

through the 1980s. Moore managed to develop 

such strong bonds with school officials that 

former superintendent Clayton Wilcox made 

the unfortunate mistake upon his arrival in 

2004 of seeing Moore as part of a good ol’ boy 

network that needed to be rooted out. Moore 

remained as Wilcox left. 

The Moore persona was a tapestry of color 

and contradiction. He would cuss enough to 

make the timid blush. But he also was a 

Sunday school teacher who really did live by 

the Golden Rule. Nothing got him angrier 

than to see teachers be made scapegoats for 

political causes or to be publicly humiliated 

for private and personal transgressions. But 

he would avoid like the plague defending any 

teacher who he believed didn’t belong in the 

classroom. He was an unabashed liberal 

Democrat, but he befriended so many Republicans that he even managed an appointment 

from Gov. Charlie Crist to a constitutional 

taxation review panel. He could describe, in 

detail, the district cost differential multiplier in the Florida Education Finance Program but—much preferred to settle budgetary policy over a bottle of bourbon. 

Back in the early 1990s, when tensions were 

high with then-superintendent Howard 

Hinesley, Moore was persuaded by a former 

PCTA president to lobby School Board members for the four votes necessary to remove 

Hinesley. He failed, and to the day he passed 

away he seemed to regret what he had done. 

Guerrilla politics were never Moore’s style, 

and the failed attempt nearly severed his relationship with Hinesley. ‘‘I’ll never go there 

again,’’ he would say. ‘‘I won’t do it.’’ 

The lesson was never lost, and Moore even 

found himself taking friendly fire as a result. 

A splinter group calling itself TUFF-Teach 

emerged In 2001, condemning what it saw as 

too much coziness between PCTA and school 

administrators and state lawmakers. But 

Moore was unyielding and argued that cooperation, not confrontation, is more productive in the long run. In his characteristic 

style, he said: ‘‘You don’t score points by 

taking a dump on these guys.’’ 

What I always saw in Moore was an 

unfailingly sentimental view of public education. He would speak wistfully of his own 

days at Clearwater High School and the way 

such schools can be a gathering place for 

children from different walks of life. Nothing 

got him more emotional than to talk about 

a teacher who had made a difference in a 

child’s life. That was the Sunday school 

teacher in Jade. He honestly believed in saving one soul, one child, at a time. 

f 

RECOGNIZING ROSE RUSSO OF 

SPRING HILL, FLORIDA 

HON. GINNY BROWN-WAITE OF FLORIDA

IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

Wednesday, January 7, 2009 

Ms. GINNY BROWN-WAITE of Florida. 

Madam Speaker, I rise today to honor Rose 

Russo of Hernando County, Florida. Rose will 

do something later this year that all of us 

strive to do, but that very few of us will ever 

accomplish, celebrate her 100th birthday. 

Rose Russo Was born April 11, 1909 on 

63rd Street and 1st Avenue in New York City, 


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E38 CONGRESSIONAL RECORD — Extensions of Remarks January 7, 2009 

New York. Following her schooling in Brooklyn, Rose went on to work at the New York 

Health Department as a tab-operator. 

Marrying Anthony Russo, Rose went on to 

have two daughters and is now the proud 

grandmother of nine grandchildren. Her 

happiest moments include her 50th wedding 

anniversary and touring our beautiful country. 

Rose’s proudest moment was seeing her 

daughter and her grandchildren graduate from 

college. In fact, Rose’s youngest grandson 

now has his PhD. 

Eventually moving to Hernando County, 

Rose decided to live with family because her 

daughter and son-in-law didn’t want her to live 

alone. Today she enjoys relaxing with a book 

and knitting. Her advice to young people is to 

stay in school and get a good education. 

Madam Speaker, I ask that you join me in 

honoring Rose Russo for reaching her 100th 

birthday. I hope we all have the good fortune 

to live as long as her. 


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