The Harry Browne

That I Knew

BY BILL WINTER

How can you sum up someone's life in a few words? With Harry Browne, I can't even try. I only knew him for the last 13 years of his life, and I knew him primarily as a candidate and libertarian spokesman. So how about if I just tell a few stories about the Harry Browne I knew?

Like most people, I admired Harry as a gentleman and as an extremely effective political candidate. But most of all I admired him as a writer. As someone who taps a keyboard for a living, I understand how difficult it is to do what Harry made look so easy. The job of any writer is to say something original and interesting, and to say it in clean, precise, energetic prose. Harry did that -- brilliantly.

I first remember being impressed with Harry's writing when I read his 1996 campaign manifesto, Why Government Doesn't Work. The book was full of dazzling insights about government, politics, and freedom. Other libertarian thinkers had made many of the same points Harry did, but few made them so clearly and persuasively. His writing flowed; his wisdom sparkled. It was difficult to imagine anyone reading that book and not being swayed by Harry's logic and passion. An autographed copy still claims a place of honor on my bookshelf.

In 1996, I wrote press releases for Harry's first presidential campaign. In one way, it was the easiest job I ever had; I just borrowed sentences and themes from Why Government Doesn't Work and plugged them into press releases about the hot political story of the day. In another way, it was the toughest job I could imagine. Each press release had to maintain the high standards Harry had set. The arguments had to be tight and the soundbites irresistible. Fortunately, the press releases did their job (thanks in large part to Harry's memorable rhetoric), and helped earn Harry a spot on hundreds of radio shows. Talkers magazine later ranked Harry #53 on its year-end list of "Talk Radio's 100 Most Talked About People of the Year."

In 2000, I didn't work directly for Harry's campaign, but I helped arrange publicity for the Libertarian National Convention in Los Angeles where Harry won the party's nomination for the second time. It was there I witnessed Harry's most wonderfully surreal political encounter.

One of the journalists covering the event was Johnny Rotten, the malignantly charismatic former lead singer of the British punk band, the Sex Pistols. Rotten was hosting an internet radio program based in Los Angeles, and he decided to tape a show from the convention. In the interest of reaching every possible demographic -- and I mean every possible demographic! -- we scheduled an interview that we later called "When Harry Met Johnny."

Harry Browne meets Johnny Rotten

In a "wonderfully surreal political encounter" that took place in 2000, Harry Browne autographs a copy of The Great Libertarian Offer book for Johnny Rotten

More than two decades after the heyday of the Sex Pistols, Johnny still looked like Johnny Rotten, with spiky orange hair, pop-star sunglasses, and a florescent green shirt. Harry, a longtime fan of opera, was, shall we say, "out of the loop" about popular music -- and especially about semi-obscure U.K. punk bands. As the interview began, Harry clearly had no idea who this strange creature was. But they chatted amiably -- a dignified, white-haired gentleman and an outrageous, orange-haired punk-rocker -- and Harry even autographed a copy of his The Great Libertarian Offer book for Rotten. Later, proving that he could find something good in anyone no matter how, er, rotten they were, Harry wrote in his campaign journal that Rotten was "very gracious for a man with dyed hair and plenty of earrings." Rotten, in turn, was charmed by Harry. He was later quoted saying that the Libertarian Party offered a "viable alternative" to America's two-party system.

In 2002, I had the pleasure -- and by that I mean the misfortune -- to debate Harry. It was at the Libertarian National Convention in Indianapolis, and it wasn't supposed to be a debate. It was one of several events entitled "Building Consensus on the Tough Issues," where libertarians were supposed to seek common ground on divisive issues. But our topic was "The Libertarian Response to 9/11," and Harry had little interest in building consensus about America's wayward foreign policy. Harry took his usual strong, no-exceptions, anti-interventionist stance, while I argued for a more moderate position. (That is, use the military to go after terrorists in Afghanistan, but don't invade countries unconnected to the 9/11 attacks.)

Harry was courteous -- he always was -- but debating him was like being in a very small bathtub with a barracuda. (A polite barracuda, mind you.) Drawing on historical parallels ranging from Vietnam to World War II, and using rhetoric he had honed in dozens of essays and interviews, Harry mounted a "shock and awe" oratory assault on U.S. military interventionism. Had I not been in the process of debating him, I would have applauded. The general consensus after the debate was that Harry cleaned my clock. Fair enough. If I have to lose a debate, there's no shame in losing to Harry Browne.

Besides, I had already gotten my revenge. Earlier that day, I had introduced Harry as the speaker at a convention luncheon event. After the usual -- and sincere -- compliments about Harry's long list of libertarian accomplishments, I put in a plug for our upcoming debate. I told the audience the topic, and said I would be representing the "mainstream" libertarian position on fighting terrorism. I paused, and said, "And Harry Browne will be representing Osama bin Laden." Harry, who always appreciated a good joke (even at his expense), laughed.

My last encounter with Harry was at the Advocates for Self-Government's 20th Anniversary Celebration in Atlanta in October 2005. Harry was suffering from the amyotrophic lateral sclerosis that would later end his life, and was confined to a wheelchair. But he seemed fairly healthy, and although he tired easily, he was in good spirits.

Harry listened in on an interview I did with former 20/20 newsman Hugh Downs (who was also speaking at the event), and when the formal part of the conversation was over, Harry joined in. It was something of a lovefest; Downs had listened to Harry speak earlier that day, and praised him for his eloquence. Harry, in turn, was impressed with Downs' sharpness and vitality -- at age 84 -- and complimented him on his excellent lunchtime speech. The two men, both smart and accomplished, obviously enjoyed each other's company.

Near the end of the conversation, Harry said something prophetic. As the two talked about getting older, Harry said, "I have always felt that on my death bed, I will be saying, 'I can't go yet -- I haven't finished that article!' "

I don't know if Harry had the opportunity to say that on his final day. So I'll say it: Harry, it's a shame you had to go so soon. There are articles still to be finished. There are books still to be written. There are speeches still to be delivered, debates to win, and interviews to be given. The freedom you loved so dearly -- the freedom you wanted for every American -- has yet to be realized.

How can you sum up someone's life in a few words?

The Harry Browne I knew never stopped working for freedom. He did an enormous amount of good in the time he had. And his legacy lives on in the words he wrote and the lives he touched.

 

Bill Winter is the Communications Director for the Advocates for Self-Government. From 1993-2002, he was the Communications Director for the Libertarian Party.


 

 

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