Rep. Donald Payne Jr. remembered at funeral as “dapper,” compassionate public servant

Neighbors from the street he lived on his whole life, members of Congress, state lawmakers, and hundreds of Essex County residents packed the pews of the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Newark to mourn and celebrate the life of the late Congressman Donald M. Payne Jr. at his funeral Thursday. 

Payne, who family and friends called “Chop,” was remembered as a loving family man and a dedicated public servant who poured his heart into social justice and serving his district, which includes Newark. Nearly every speaker remarked on Payne’s fashion sense — the handmade bowties and pocket squares he coordinated, the colorful socks he’d sport, and the glasses he switched out to match his outfit. 

“We all talked about how dapper he was,” said former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi of California. “He put us all to shame. ‘Oh my gosh, what color will his bowtie be today? Or his socks?’ Whatever it happened to be, he looked so dignified.” 

Payne died on April 24 at age 65, 18 days after suffering a heart attack. The six-term congressman was elected to the seat after his father, Donald Payne Sr., died in office. His flag-draped casket was placed at the front of the church beside a photo of him in a bowtie. 

Family and friends wore orange outfits or pinned orange bows to their shirts in Payne’s honor. They spoke about the importance of celebrating Payne’s commitment to the people of New Jersey and remembering his legacy of the positive impact he made on society. 

Nearly 20 people spoke at the three-hour funeral, including Gov. Phil Murphy, Sen. Cory Booker of New Jersey, Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries of New York, Rep. Maxine Waters of California, Newark Mayor Ras Baraka, and Essex County Executive Joe DiVincenzo. Speakers read letters from President Joe Biden and singer and Newark native Dionne Warwick. Family members, including his triplets, also spoke in remembrance of Payne.

About 60 members of Congress and dozens of members of the state Legislature also attended. 

Jeffries told mourners he and Payne entered Congress around the same time and became friends. He said Payne joked about wanting to be the “Michael Jordan of one-minute speeches on the House floor, and that’s exactly what he did.”

He told the story of how Payne earned the nickname Chop and Choppy, which even his Congressional colleagues called him. 

“Apparently, when he was young his father, the great Donald Payne Sr., thought that his face was so delightful, that he looked like Porkchop,” he said to laughter. “He was beloved.” 

Many spoke about Payne’s impact on his hometown of Newark. Colleagues said he was a prolific legislator who always spoke out even when other members of the House were leaving chambers for other commitments. He advocated for voting rights, secured funding for clean drinking water, championed lower drug prices, and, as co-chair of the Men’s Health Caucus, shined a spotlight on men’s health issues. 

Payne’s political endeavors started when he organized the Newark South Ward Junior Democrats as a teen, his daughter said. His public service journey began when he became a toll booth operator on the Garden State Parkway, and later served on the Essex County Board of Freeholders and Newark City Council. 

He also came from a family well-known in New Jersey politics. His father was the first Black person elected to Congress from New Jersey. His cousin and uncle served in the state Assembly, and his cousins also are involved in politics in New York. 

Booker was mayor of Newark when Payne was council president, and together they addressed difficult challenges in the city during the Great Recession, from the foreclosure crisis and budget allocations to issues like sewage systems. Between making “godawful choices and hellish ones,” Payne would pull Booker away from his work and pray with him, he said. 

“To have him as my partner in Congress, two people from Newark, New Jersey, growing up just a few miles from each other, coming up on the same streets, representing the same communities — it was amazing to have him there,” Booker said. “He never let my head get too big and always kept my feet on the ground.” 

The congressman also battled diabetes, a personal struggle that led him to underscore the importance of affordable medication and work with others who suffered from diabetes. Foluso Fakorede, a cardiovascular doctor in Mississippi, recalled his first meeting in 2018 with Payne. They discussed the high rate of amputations Black people face because of diabetes, in part due to lack of awareness and screening. 

Payne was a tireless advocate for health equity in “particularly marginalized communities grappling with preventable amputations,” Fakorede said. He pointed to a bill Payne sponsored called the Amputation Reduction and Compassion Act, which would require Medicare and Medicaid to fully cover screening tests for people at risk of peripheral artery disease, which can lead to heart attacks and amputations. 

“His legacy extends beyond just policy. It was rooted in the human connection. He saw beyond statistics and bureaucracy, connecting with individuals on a personal level, understanding their struggles, and offering the comforting presence of his humor, compassion, and love for the arts,” he said.