It's been more than 15 years since Dick Israel's body started to revolt.
Back then, in the early days of his Parkinson's disease, Israel still wrote legal opinions in flowery script from an old-fashioned fountain pen, churning out advice for the General Assembly. He charmed political giants with a wry wit, delivered in a baritone that seemed several octaves too deep for his short stature.
Now he never leaves his hospice room.
His booming voice has become a rumble, his clever words tumbling out slowly in a nearly undecipherable growl. A hospital gown has replaced his trademark straw hat and bow tie.
Richard E. Israel, 72, spent more than two decades behind the...