In early 1972, when Barney Frank was working as chief of staff for then- Democratic Rep. Michael J. Harrington, he sent me a letter with a copy of a newspaper obituary. He wrote, “In case you outlive me this is how I want my obituary to look.” The obituary headline read in part: Morris Bealle, softball player.
When I spoke with Frank recently in hospice care and asked if he still wanted to be remembered as a softball player, he replied that after 32 years in the House, the obituary should probably read, “The Time of the Gentleman Has Expired.”
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In late 2011, when Frank announced that he was retiring, then-President Barack Obama said, “This country has never had a congressman like Barney Frank, and the House of Representatives will not be the same without him.” He is considered by many to be the greatest legislator of his generation. He was a courageous pioneer in gay rights, a champion of Wall Street and financial reform, and a congressman who made a difference.
Sen. Ed Markey (D-MA) described Frank as a cross between Louis Brandeis and Buddy Hackett. What made Frank unique as a congressman was a combination of three traits. First, his perceptive intelligence. He was usually the smartest person in the room. Former senator Edward Kennedy said, “When Barney Frank was elected to Congress, Congress’ IQ went up 10 points and Brooks Brothers stock dropped.”
Second, his sharp wit. Humor was part of his personality, and he used it so effectively. He was naturally funny in a business where there are few comedians. Commenting in the early 1980s on the New Right’s opposition to abortion and to child nutrition programs, he made the classic remark, “Sure, they’re pro-life. They believe that life begins at conception and ends at birth.” Finally, he was a pragmatist who came to Congress to pass legislation. He had an ability to build legislative bridges across party and ideology, and a penchant for brokering deals. He knew when to fight and when to compromise. When necessary, he would settle for half a loaf, even a slice, if it made conditions better.
In October 1981, during his first term in Congress, there was Frank offering an amendment to the farm bill on behalf of the Reagan administration to cut dairy price supports: “Since we have enough butter to slather Wyoming into complete slipperiness,” he told his colleagues, “let us stop paying the people all this money for something for which there is no earthly purpose.” The city slicker from Bayonne, the Harvard-educated politician from Boston, debated and got the better of about half a dozen members from dairy farm districts. Although his amendment was defeated, he was given a standing ovation on the House floor for his performance. He later explained to a reporter why he could not cut price supports for both dairy and cattle, “Being Jewish, I can’t have milk and meat in the same amendment.”
Frank spoke fast, 400 words per minute with gusts up to 600. He often spoke so rapidly with a Jersey-Bay State accent and slurred some words that it was difficult to understand him. After meeting him for the first time, the South Korean ambassador was overheard asking an aide, “What is Congressman Frank’s native tongue?” A complex person, Frank could be abrupt, impatient, rude, and combustible. He has never been on anybody’s short list for chief of protocol.
Frank’s humble roots growing up in the blue-collar city of Bayonne, New Jersey, and working at his father’s truck stop in Jersey City, taught him a respect for working people and a sense for treating people fairly. It is the source of his Hubert Humphrey brand of liberalism.
In 1972, Frank won election to the Massachusetts state legislature, one of the few legislators in the country who benefited from Democratic presidential candidate George McGovern’s coattails. Two years later, he took his indifference to personal appearance, being overweight, and his perpetually rumpled, mismatched wardrobe, and converted these deficiencies into assets by running for reelection on the slogan “Neatness Isn’t Everything.”
During a debate in the Massachusetts state legislature on a bill by Frank to decriminalize marijuana, a conservative lawmaker took aim at Frank for having introduced legislation to promote prostitution, smut, pornography, gambling, and rights for gay people. “If it’s not prostitution, if it’s not fornication, it’s this bill legalizing marijuana. Mr. Speaker, I want to know when he is going to stop,” the lawmaker asked indignantly. The unfettered Frank responded, “Mr. Speaker, I want to assure my colleague that I will keep trying until I find something he likes to do.”
BARNEY FRANK’S FINAL WARNING FOR DEMOCRATS
Recently, when CNN’s Jake Tapper did a 12-minute interview with Frank in hospice care, Frank looked frail. He appeared to be heavily medicated and struggled to keep his eyes open. It was difficult for me to watch. However, at one point, when Tapper referred to Frank as a progressive icon, he slowly opened his eyes and said, “I am trying to decide whether it is better to be an icon or an emoji.”
Rest in peace, good friend.
Stuart Weisberg is the author of the biography “Barney Frank – The Story of America’s Only Left-Handed, Gay, Jewish Congressman.”
