My first boss in politics was Thomas M. Kavanagh. Heavy hitter: He was the chief justice of the Michigan Supreme Court. Before that he had been state attorney general under Gov. G. Mennen “Soapy” Williams, then appointed to the Supreme Court where he had served for 18 years, eight as chief justice.
I had been teaching middle school at St. Thomas Aquinas in East Lansing, but after six years of teaching I was getting tired of it. I enjoyed working with the students and seeing them progress, but I just needed some new challenges in my life. When my contract was up at the end of the school year in June 1974, I opted not to sign for another year. Sister Rosemary Brennan, the principal, understood my predicament, and wished me luck.
Okay, I made the break but now I had to be gainfully employed while I figured out my life. I had a house payment plus a student loan still looming. Fortunately, my buddy and sometime business partner, Dan Gardner, came through in the clutch.
Dan was barn painting at the time and needed a grunt to help out. Five bucks an hour, a guaranteed tan, and a couple of cold ones after work were the incentives I could not pass up.
So how did I get into politics? Well, we are coming to that. I knew painting barns was not my long-term future. So as I’m perched about 30 feet up on a dung encrusted ladder trying to scrape off paint that would rate about 9.5 on the rock hardness scale, the lightbulb went off in my head.
Why didn’t I think of this before? One of the students I had taught the previous school year had a father who was a lobbyist. Sure, I’ll give Tom Cleary a call and find out if he might be able to give me some advice on getting a job at the Michigan Capitol. Trouble was I did not know Tom Cleary at all. I guess I had met him once when he had come to a parent-teacher conference, but what the heck. Hanging out with the cows and pigs, and standing ankle deep in warm, wet fertilizer was making me bold.
I called Mr. Cleary, outlined my position, and asked if I could meet with him to review my options. Great guy who had a wonderful wife and nine children, two of whom I had taught.
When we met over coffee shortly after, Tom explained I had a problem. I had no experience or real knowledge of the political process. He was right. My only connection was through my college buddy, Greg Boyd, who worked for a legislator at the state Capitol. Tom said if I wanted a job at the Capitol I needed political experience. It was as simple as that. He said he would keep his eyes and ears open in case anything came up.
It was already July and I was getting a tad anxious. Cleary had emphasized that working on a campaign would provide good experience, and 1974 was proving to be a big political year with Watergate dominating the election landscape. However, most of the campaign positions were already filled since all the state elections were slated for November.
I kept calling Tom or having coffee with him at least once a week in the hopes that maybe he had heard of an opportunity. He later told me he was beginning to feel the pressure since I was calling him so often.
Finally, in early August Tom gave me a call.
“How’s your driving record?,” he asked.
“Great. No tickets in years, and I have a chauffeur’s license if that’s a help.”
“My friend,” Tom replied, “Thomas Kavanagh, the chief justice of the Supreme Court, needs a driver for his statewide campaign. Are you interested? I think it would be a good move.”
I about jumped out of my chair giving poor Tom a 140-decibel “Yes!” into the phone.
Slight pause. “Well, I have arranged an interview for you tomorrow with Justice Kavanagh down at the Supreme Court offices next to the Capitol. Can you make it?”
By this time I realized that ruining Tom’s hearing was not in my best interest. I thanked him sincerely, and then went out and bought a suit.
The next morning I checked through security at the court building, and was led through a battery of offices to the chief justice’s suite. His executive secretary told me I could enter the Inner Sanctum, and I’m just thinking, “Well, here we go.”
I mean if you went to central casting and you asked for a chief justice, here he was. Longish white hair, 65 years old, deep baritone voice, it was all there. I introduced myself, gave him my resume and sat down.
He quickly passed over the master’s degree and various teaching awards and pushed the resume back to me. He looked directly at me and said, “You used to coach at Catholic Central?” I nodded yes. “You’ll do,” he said. “Pick me up tomorrow at 5 p.m. Goodbye.”
Done. Shortest interview on record. Zero discussion of salary, hours or duties. I didn’t care at all. I was working for the chief justice—the “CJ.” Later, I received a call from Kavanagh’s campaign director, Billie Farnum. He was a former Michigan congressman who was still very active politically. Billie was not very happy I was the CJ’s driver when he was not consulted on the hiring. I told him he should talk to Kavanagh since he was the one who told me I was hired. Case closed. Billie and I soon became close friends, and he quickly came to know I took my responsibility with the CJ very seriously.
The next day I arrived at the Supreme Court offices before 5 p.m. I had my security badge so I was ushered right through. His secretary gave me the keys to his Olds 98, and I was ready to go. We were going to Detroit for a fundraiser put on by a large law firm that strongly supported Kavanagh. I had done a little background on the CJ and knew he was born and raised on a farm near Carson City in mid-Michigan. A very down to earth and decent person. His wife had died the year before, and he had four daughters.
On the way to Detroit, he told me he had gone to the University of Detroit (UD), and was third-string guard on their football team from 1925 to 1927. Turned out the CJ loved to talk about sports. I figured with four daughters he did not get much of a chance to deep dive into various sport topics at home.
So I chimed in, “You know, chief justice, those were great years for UD football. Lloyd Brazil was your first All-American.”
Amazed, he said, “How would you know about Lloyd Brazil?”
“Great running back out of Flint Central. About 190 plus and could fly,” I added.
“You’re right, but how could you possibly know that?”
I told him I came from a family of seven boys (and one girl) who all played and talked sports. It was just the way it was.
Well, that set me off on the right track. We traveled all over Michigan. Hell, we spent 11 straight days driving all around the Upper Peninsula. Justice Kavanagh had been through so many statewide elections as the Democrat attorney general plus helping Williams on his six successful campaigns for governor, and his own successful runs for the Michigan Supreme Court that he literally knew all the political movers and shakers in every part of the state.
We would be driving down some street in Iron Mountain, and he would suddenly say, “Turn down this alley and stop behind that restaurant.” We would go in the back door, and the owner would rush up, “Mr. chief justice, we did not know you were coming. Please, stay for dinner. Please, we will prepare your favorite.” Happened all the time.
The CJ and I also spent a good deal of time on the campaign trail with Williams who was probably Kavanagh’s best friend. He was also now on the Michigan Supreme Court. They came from opposite ends of the universe. Soapy grew up in Grosse Pointe and was an ultra-wealthy heir to the Mennen health products fortune. He had attended private schools out East, then Princeton University, and then on to the University of Michigan Law School. Tom grew up on a farm and worked his way through UD undergrad, then UD Law School.
I always wished I had a tape recorder when we would be traveling and they would be in that back seat just chatting away on the real political history of Michigan and beyond. All about the Franklin D. Roosevelt years, World War II, all of the years Williams was governor, President Kennedy who was a close friend of Soapy, and the coming Watergate landslide. They covered it all.
Several of the attorneys who worked for the Michigan Supreme Court told me that the chief justice would talk about our trips and discussions all the time. They said he was more upbeat and positive than at any time since his wife had passed.
So the 1974 elections, in Michigan and nationally, were hugely successful for Democrats. In Michigan they had kept control of the state House of Representatives and took control of the state Senate by a big 24-14 majority. After the election, the chief justice’s secretary called and asked if I could come down and see him. When we met, he asked me what I wanted to do now that the election was over.
Justice Kavanagh told me if I wanted he would see personally that I would go to law school. I said that I really appreciated that, but what I wanted was a job at the Capitol. He picked up the phone, dialed a number and said, “This is the chief justice. Tell the majority leader I need to speak to him.” Remember that the Democrats had just taken control of the state Senate, and had elected a new majority leader, a young aggressive former state House member named William Fitzgerald.
The CJ waited a second and said in that deep baritone voice, “Billy, this is the chief justice. Congratulations. I’m sending someone over for you to hire. His name is Fritz Benson and he worked on my campaign. A real sports guy. You’ll like him.”
Pause. “Yes, he’s Catholic.” He hung up.
“Go over to the Capitol now,” Kavanagh instructed me. “He’ll see you.”
Life is amazing how things work out sometimes. Greg Boyd also worked for Fitzgerald and put in a good word for me. Tom Cleary was also close to the new majority leader and told him I would be a loyal, hard worker, and I got the job. I could not have asked for anything better. My new life had begun.
A couple of months later the CJ called and asked me if I wanted to go to dinner that night. Of course, I agreed.
It was great getting caught up. I told him my job with the new majority leader was challenging, and I was learning something every day. Justice Kavanagh talked about the Tigers upcoming baseball season. He wanted to know my views on the team and their new players. He also wanted to know how I was moving forward with my life priorities. He was just a very caring person with his friends.
As we were talking after dinner he said that if he could leave me with one key principle of life it would be, “Keep your pleasures simple.” The CJ told me about a number of prominent people he knew who had ruined themselves, their families, and others because of greed and life’s excesses.
He told me he respected my lifestyle and the way I viewed my family and friends. Needless to say, I was very touched by Kavanagh’s kind words and advice.
Then after our great evening he told me he had been to his doctor’s office that morning. The cancer that had been in remission had come back aggressively, and they told him he did not have much time left. They said they could put him on a heavy chemotherapy and radiation program but it would probably not do much to stem the cancer. He told them that he did not want the treatment, and he would let it play out.
Justice Kavanagh told me he had lived a great life, with no regrets. He wanted to have dinner with me because he knew it would be fun and upbeat. I was devastated. He told me he had heard good things about me at the Capitol, and to keep doing what I was doing.
The CJ entered the hospital soon after and died three weeks later.
I have always tried to live by what he said.