Richard Neal

Editor’s note: This is the fourth and final entry in a series of photo essays and text on this year’s candidates for U.S. Congress.

SPRINGFIELD — Photographs of Nelson Mandela, Fidel Castro and Barack Obama line the walls of Rep. Richard E. Neal’s Springfield office, capturing moments both personal and political from a congressional career that has spanned nearly four decades.

At his large desk, cluttered with certificates for student athletes and retirees that he still signs by hand, Neal works steadily through the day. Every so often, District Director and Deputy Chief of Staff Elizabeth Quigley steps in quietly with papers to review or updates delivered in hushed tones.

On this day, the congressman’s morning begins at Holyoke High School, where he speaks to students about history and civics. It is a setting that feels natural for Neal, who taught history at Cathedral High School before entering politics in 1984 and serving one term as Springfield’s mayor.

“Does anyone have any questions for me?” Neal asks the students, many of whom seem unsure what to make of the veteran lawmaker standing at the front of the classroom.

Gradually, the room warms. One student asks why he entered politics in the first place.

“Idealism,” Neal replies without hesitation. “That I could change the world.”

One of the clearest examples of that idealism, Neal said, was his role in the Northern Ireland peace process during the 1990s and the negotiations that led to the Good Friday Agreement. Photos from his visits to Northern Ireland hang throughout his office, including one with Gerry Adams, the controversial former leader of Sinn Féin.

Reflecting on the peace process, Neal said its greatest lesson was learning to listen to people he disagreed with.

“Just because you shout the loudest doesn’t mean you’re right,” he tells the Holyoke students.

After roughly an hour at the school, and a brief conversation with reporters invited by his office, Neal stops for coffee before heading to Springfield for a roundtable discussion on west-east rail service.

Across the coffee shop sits the sister of Neal’s late wife, Kathy Owens. Neal walks over to speak with her briefly before joining Communications Director Jack E. Chamberland and Quigley at another table.

Last year, Neal’s wife, Maureen P. Neal, died at Baystate Medical Center at age 75. Though public office places much of his life in view, Neal remains protective of his family’s privacy. Before the day began, he specifically requested that no photographs include images of his children or grandchildren displayed in his office.

From the cafe, Neal and his staff head to Union Station, where he announces a $1.2 million earmark for advanced positive train control systems along the Knowledge Corridor rail line between Springfield and Greenfield. He also highlights the roughly $150 million in federal funding directed toward west-east rail projects over the past five years.

By midday, the group returns to the federal courthouse on State Street, home to Neal’s Massachusetts office.

As staff members trade stories over lunch, Neal quietly flips through applications from students hoping for appointments to West Point.

After nearly 40 years in Congress, meetings, negotiations and international diplomacy memorialized on the walls outside, much of the job still comes down to smaller moments: listening, signing papers and helping shape the futures of young people from Western Massachusetts.

For past photo essays in the series:

Early mornings, grassroots effort drive Whalen’s congressional campaign (photos)

Independent Bruce Hunt Jr. collects signatures in bid for Congress (photos)