"The temper which does not press a partisan advantage to its bitter end, which can understand and respect the other side, which feels a unity between all citizens ... which recognizes their common fate and common aspirations; in a word, which has faith in the sacredness of the individual ... this is what we have striven for." -- Former Gov. William Milliken, quoting Judge Learned Hand

Over Memorial Day weekend, I had the sad pleasure of reading Dave Dempsey's new biography: William G. Milliken: Michigan's Passionate Moderate (University of Michigan Press, $29.95.)

Sad, because we don't seem to have leaders like that any more. Bill Milliken, who left office voluntarily in 1983 after 14 years, was the longest-ever serving governor of Michigan.

Today, he is the living icon of political moderation. But his temple attracts few followers.  The spirit of his career, quoted above in Milliken's final State of the State message in 1982, now seems a quaint, out-of-date anachronism.

We are all the poorer as a result.  Milliken's career marked the height of a Michigan political culture that was distinctly sane, and which endured for nearly half a century, from Soapy Williams' 1950's to John Engler's election as governor in 1990.

Some would call it moderate, others bi-partisan, and others faintly elitist. And the glow of those days disguises the tough partisan conflict that always characterizes politics, then and now.

But Milliken's style was distinctive and effective. "Good government is good politics," he would say time after time. Above all, he was a gentleman, seldom harsh in his rhetoric, unfailingly civil even to his opponents and rarely going for purely partisan advantage.

The governor consulted with everyone, worked tirelessly to forge bipartisan coalitions, and almost always found ways to reconcile differing points of view. Those who he appointed to senior positions in state government were amazed that he never asked their partisan affiliation during job interviews, but concentrated instead on how they proposed to carry out their responsibilities.

Many of his highest concerns seemed unusual, even radical at the time. But as the years passed, they become important parts of the canon of good, sensible, broadly acceptable public policy.

His concern for the environment and the Great Lakes perhaps was the most notable. "The Great Lakes (are) the world's largest collection of fresh water, and water will be for the Midwest almost like oil is to the OPEC countries," he said.

Seeing the catastrophic effect of the swings in prosperity of the auto industry in his state, he predicted that Midwestern states would have to restructure themselves if they were to recover.

He urged schools to start emphasizing computers and what we would now call "high tech" to prepare young people for a globally competitive economy. He urged an end of the hostile relationship between business and labor. He was consistent in supporting a woman's right to choose an abortion.

And he was preoccupied with the concerns of the poor and the poorly treated; he forged an unlikely partnership with Detroit Mayor Coleman A. Young, and later said that his support for harsh mandatory sentences for those involved in minor-level drug crimes was among his greatest mistakes.

In retrospect, it now seems clear that Milliken's decision not to run for re-election in 1982 marked the end of an era in Michigan politics. Author Dempsey quotes political scientist Peter Kobrak as saying that while G. Mennen Williams had campaigned for higher taxes and better services for the poor and Milliken had called for open housing and aid to Detroit, "(James) Blanchard and (Richard) Headlee, by contrast, stood for election."

What that meant was that both men largely had turned control over to "professional campaign consultants and pollsters,"  who coin(ed) slogans and images to capture public sentiment rather than fashioning strong issue stands."

Dempsey thinks Blanchard governed in Milliken's guise but also in his shadow. The Democrat won fairly narrowly in 1982 against an unbelievably clumsy Headlee and in 1986 against a weak black opponent, William Lucas. As someone who had an occasional hand in the Blanchard Administration, I agree that Blanchard took to heart the axiom that to win elections you need to occupy the middle.

He wanted to encourage "Blanchard Democrats" in the suburbs where his predecessor had fostered "Milliken Republicans."

But the rise of John Engler in 1990 marked the statewide comeback of what were once called "Neanderthal Republicans," conservatives who were anti-tax, anti-government, anti-choice, harsh and unsparing in their political tactics, and self-assured in their condemnation of opponents. To this day, Michigan politics are enormously influenced (perhaps even dominated) by them.

No wonder Milliken from time to time after leaving office would come down from his Traverse City "mountain" to condemn extremism, self- righteousness and a political system so obviously out of touch with the everyday concerns of most people.

Sadly, as right as that is, he has been largely reduced to a voice crying in the wilderness.

In his entertaining memoir, Off the Record (U of M Press, $29.95) Lansing correspondent Tim Skubick said he regretted not being there when Milliken and his wife "got in the Lincoln for the last time on Inauguration Day 1983. Guys who were there tell me there wasn't a dry eye despite the bitter cold and the even more chilling feeling that a civil era of Michigan politics was walking out the door ... never to return in the same way."

They were, sadly, all too correct. In these days when our politics seems captured by ideologues of both left and right and our political system seems so dysfunctional and out of touch with ordinary people, it's hard not to be nostalgic for the contributions of William Milliken, an admirable politician and truly civilized man.