Less than a year ago, the three gray horsemen of Carolinas politics -- senators Strom Thurmond, Jesse Helms and Ernest "Fritz" Hollings -- were all still riding high in the saddle on Capitol Hill.

But now, Strom is in the grave, Jesse is retired and the youngest of the trio at age 81, Fritz, announced his retirement last week.

Together, they commanded 114 years of seniority in the Senate.

I mean, if there was a Dixie Mt. Rushmore, their faces would be chiseled in granite.

They were living icons of the best and worst to ever come out of the Carolinas -- they reflected the people and the landscape they represented.

They were rough as corn cobs, spoke their minds and frequently were skewered by the national media. Strom was the "centenarian with the Tang-colored hair," Jesse was tagged as Senator No for his bug-eyed negativism and Fritz was the human cactus for his prickly verbal barbs.

One of my favorite political satires was when Hollings was running for president in 1984 and "Saturday Night Live" ran a news clip of him talking his unintelligible Lowcountry brogue. On the bottom of the screen ran a subtitle translation that looked something like "Uga booga hooka dooka down yonder in the paw-paw patch."

These three hog-jowled politicians were the dew-covered, kudzu-encased personification of the old South.

There was no mistaking this boys' club as being from any part of the USA other than WDS (Way Down South).

Yes, it was sometimes embarrassing to be visiting other parts of the country and instantly be identified with these relics of the Carolinas. I've been backed into corners at dozens of cocktail parties up North and asked to explain these politicians as something more than a cartoonish Senator Foghorn Leghorn, ("You see heyah boy, I say boy.")

One summer during the Vietnam War, I was working on Capitol Hill for Thurmond. I would attend parties with other Senate interns and grew so weary of explaining his hawkish support of the war that I would take off my staff ID card that had a prominent THURMOND across the bottom.

Last week, I thought about these three Senators and how as I got older I had a better appreciation of their ideological warts and arrogance, and even their sound bite gaffes.

After all, they had substance and you knew where they stood, and where they were from. Few people would fail to identify these three with the Carolinas.

Quick, name me a senator from Iowa, or Idaho, or Wisconsin.

And then it hit me, that is what these three men represented -- they were the opposites of anonymous. They were the embodiment of the unique landscape that produced them. They had faces and behaviors stamped with a strong sense of place. Sometimes what came out of their mouth was politically incorrect but it was always real as a rooster's crow.

These were not telegenic, Sunday morning talk show pretty boys.

If you want a contrast to these three, look at the next generation of U.S. senators from the Carolinas: John Edwards, Elizabeth Dole and Lindsey Graham.

Coifed, polished, and -- compared to the three gray horsemen -- about as dull as day-old grits.

Dan Huntley