Former Representative Barney Frank of Massachusetts died on Tuesday at 86, having already achieved the rare political feat of being forgotten while still alive, then remembered just in time to announce his own death with characteristic panache. Obituary writers had a field day with Frank's unconventional life: his homosexuality (source of much drama), his gift for wisecracks (legendary), and his imposing intellect (usually made him the smartest man in the room, whatever the room - though his figure was usually bulging, and came packaged in wrinkled suits and deeply scuffed shoes). In a Congress where partisan banality reigns, Frank was a towering figure, even if his suits looked like they'd been slept in.
The author's friendship with Frank dates back to 1961, when they were both delegates to the National Student Congress - though nobody had elected either of them. Frank was already a star, thanks to his quick wit, knowledge of issues, and mastery of Robert's Rules of Order. He understood, then and later in the House, that knowing the rules could be very important at crucial moments. They collaborated on a resolution to abolish the House Committee on Un-American Activities and laughed a lot. The author didn't realize then that he was more interested in the girls they worked with than Frank was.
After winning his House seat in 1980, Frank intimidated colleagues with his intelligence, but Nancy Pelosi loved it, telling The New Yorker in 2009, "It's brilliance that saves time, because he simplifies the complex for us." That brilliance came in handy after the 2008 financial crisis, when Frank, as chair of the House Financial Services Committee, reassured panicked colleagues and produced tough legislation - a rarity in politics. The Dodd-Frank Act, co-authored with Senator Chris Dodd, was one of the most consequential legislative initiatives of our era.
Frank read voraciously, and two weeks before he died was asking friends for book recommendations. In his last year, he wrote his fourth book, "The Hard Path to Unity: Why We Must Reform the Left to Rescue Democracy," scheduled for publication in September by Yale University Press. The book is energetic and polemical, fed up with lefties who prioritize Medicare for All and trans athletes' rights over winning elections. Frank wanted to restore the political power of practical liberal Democrats who believe in using government to improve the lives of non-rich Americans - a theme since the 1960s, when he debated Tom Hayden of the Students for a Democratic Society.
Frank's finest anecdote: At one campus debate, Hayden insisted on sitting with the audience. Frank came to the podium and said, "Tom, you are such a grass root, I don't know whether I should debate you or come down there and water you."
Frank suffered from congestive heart failure for years. Last month, doctors told him they couldn't keep his heart beating after another episode. He entered home hospice care in the slightly scruffy farmhouse in Ogunquit, Maine, shared with his husband of 14 years, Jim Ready. Then he picked up the phone and personally called friends and relations to deliver the grim news - a brave, facts-rooted act that illustrated how different Frank was from today's members of Congress, wedded to peddling baloney on social media.
Could a new Barney Frank - unusually intelligent, well-educated, independent, no personal fortune, funny regional accent - launch a political career today? The author wishes for his three grandchildren that the answer might be yes, but he'd laugh at himself if he claimed it was. What would the Founders make of Speaker Mike Johnson, most often seen in public wearing a nervous grin? Neither Johnson nor the overwhelming majority of today's Congress measure up to the citizen-scholars the Founders dreamed of, nor does their repeated abandonment of congressional powers fulfill those expectations.