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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."
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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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