"You know who this is, don't you?" asked Owen Frisby, retired top lobbyist for the Chase Manhattan Bank and a fixture in Washington, D.C., for decades. At a weekly luncheon we always attended, Frisby had whipped out a Polaroid black-and-white snapshot from the early 1950's showing a group of twenty-something men standing admiringly around one of the most recognizable — and controversial — figures of the time.
"Of course, I know — that's Joe McCarthy!" I remonstrated, to which Owen immediately launched into a monologue about how, as head of the speaker's bureau at Northwestern University while an undergraduate there, he had secured as a speaker the Wisconsin senator who has both reviled and loved his for-anti-communist investigations.
Frisby loved McCarthy, and promptly informed me that "he filled the campus auditorium…standing room only."
When news came Aug. 15 that Owen Frisby had died at age 91, at least two generations of his wide circle of friends had stories about the onetime top Washington, D.C., lobbyist for Chase Manhattan who spoke of the past as if it were the present, who conjured up Joe McCarthy and legendary Senate Republican Leader Everett Dirksen, R-Ill., as if they were alive, and who recalled in detail how Defense Secretary-to-be Donald Rumsfeld won his first term in the House in 1962 from the suburban Chicago district that was home to Frisby's family ("and my Dad really helped Rummy win").
In 1963, onetime college athlete and U.S. Army Reserve Sgt. Frisby had a true experience in political combat. As press secretary to Ben Adamowski, Republican nominee against Chicago's all-powerful Mayor Richard J. Daley, Frisby saw first-hand how political hardball was played by the Democratic organization in the Windy City.
When Daley's campaign came out with an attack on the Republican — however untruthful — it was up to Adamowski's campaign and Frisby to respond immediately and, in the process, launch an attack of their own at Daley and the organization.
Adamowski did better than any other Republican candidate running for mayor in thirty years but lost. Frisby learned some lessons about the need to sometimes play rough in politics.
Frisby was hardly just a name-dropper and story-teller whose past glories were behind him. Semi-retired in his '70's, Frisby was brought back by the National Mining Association to help with legislation. The association's lobbyist Tom Altmeyer recalled how "Owen and I went into the Capitol and, I swear, members and their staff were stopping in the hallway to say hi. They all knew Owen."
Frisby loved politics. But among his fellow conservatives, he was also known for his love of sports — from knowing the line-up of his beloved Chicago Cubs to when he had extra tickets to invite friends to cheer on the Redskins ("and that's what they'll always be, I don't care who says their name changed!").
He was far more conservative than Chase Manhattan's boss David Rockefeller and once remarked to friends that "for David to tolerate me to be his chief lobbyist for 20 years is a minor miracle." Rockefeller, in turn, playfully urged Frisby to "tell your right-wing friends in Chicago that you still have a margin of safety. You are not going to fall off to a left-wing abyss."
As Rockefeller's man in Washington, Frisby firmly believed that "the middle left to middle right of the political spectrum was where you could build majorities and get things done in Washington. We lost no major lobbying efforts we undertook. To cultivate that capability for David was my mission for twenty years."
He accomplished it. Overseeing a crack office that included Rep.-to-be Jo Ann Emerson, R-Mo., to future Ambassador to Costa Rica Curtin Winsor, Frisby was a front-line player in bipartisan legislation for the New York City bailout and the sale of AWACS and F-15 aircraft to Saudia Arabia during the Carter and Reagan administrations.
As an undergraduate at Northwestern, the young Frisby was a star on the debate team and active in College Republicans. In 1950, he became a major fan of GOP Senate candidate Everett Dirksen — in large part because Dirksen was supported by his hero McCarthy — and organized the members of his touch football team to canvass for the candidate known for his oozing voice and eloquence. Dirksen narrowly unseated Senate Democrat Leader Scott Lucas.
Dirksen became a mentor to Frisby, who did various chores for the senator while at college and then Northwestern Law School. In the fall of 1962, when suddenly called to meet with President John F. Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis, Dirksen asked Frisby to fill in for him in a debate with Democrat opponent Sid Yates.
"I won the debate and Sen. Dirksen won reelection," Frisby loved to say.
Jim Martin, head of the 60 Plus Seniors Association dedicated to ending the Estate Tax, recalled how "[i]n nearly 60 years of working with Owen — and observing his mental gymnastics on Capitol Hill when dealing with friend and foe alike — I came to realize he possessed an intellect that could go toe to toe with the very best minds on either side, but because of his bygone days as a young Republican in rough and tumble Chicago era politics he could be as down and dirty as the opposition — if need be.
"Simply put, to use [former first lady] Michelle Obama's line, when they go low, we go high. Well Owen was an artist at that long before the Obama's rose to prominence. High or low, whatever the occasion called for. I've said that Owen's demeanor reminds me of one of my favorite Marine Corps slogans: No better friend, no worse enemy."
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