What I Passed Up Keggers For

Looking back on my college years, there aren't many moments I look back upon with fond nostalgia. For the most part, I hated college.

I took classes from 8 to noon. I went home, changed into some work clothes, and was at the outlet mall by 2. I was there until at least 10. After work I went home, passed by my unzipped backpack, and thought about doing some reading.

In 1995, I signed up for a Political Process class expecting the same ol' same ol' that I got from all my other classes. Boy was I wrong.

The first couple of weeks, Dr. Farlow taught us various landmark court cases - particularly redistricting and voting rights cases. It was the first time I'd really been introduced to the more technical judicial side of the law. I discovered how fascinating it was to read majority, concurring, and dissenting opinions and to see how the law evolved over several decades to today's application.

By the time I enrolled in his course, Dr. Farlow was in his late sixties. He had suffered a stroke a few years previous that left one half of his body virtually paralyzed. Obviously, he walked only with the use of a cane. He would lift one leg forward and drag his other foot to catch up. As you can imagine, it took him quite a bit of time to walk a short distance. His body may have deteriorated, but his mind was sharper than mine is now.

Dr. Farlow spent most of the period telling old stories about the politicians he came to know over several decades. It seems that before he became president, LBJ would throw an annual barbecue at his ranch and invite everybody from Central Texas. From the stories that got told, it seems that Dr. Farlow always got at least his fair share of beef and beer.

I quickly grew fond of Dr. Farlow and his stories. He appreciated the fact that my interest and knack for law and politics were genuine and not manufactured in return for a grade. We both appreciated the fact that our handwriting mannerisms were illegible to the community at large.

On my days off, I would pass a few hours in his office after class where he would tell me the other stories he couldn't tell in class. Also, keep in mind this was a very momentous era in politics. The Republicans had taken back the House after four decades of minority status. Speaker Gingrich gave the nation and its political science geeks quite a bit to talk about.

When it became time to organize our Mock Congress, Dr. Farlow suggested I should run for Speaker. We divided ourselves into majority and minority parties. We wrote our own bills, debated them, and voted on them. It was my job to set the agenda and to preside over the debate. In order to learn how to run my Mock Congress, I spent my free hours in front of the tv watching C-SPAN or in the gallery at the Texas Capitol watching the Lege.

Each week, we turned in an analysis from some reading assignment. In return, Dr. Farlow would pass them back with additional comments. I still have most of my papers from that class, including memos I wrote to the Majority Leader and committee chairmen.

I just pulled some of them out. They have comments such as "Neil, I marvel at your smooth ability to transform five points down in an analysis and into a self-contained story of information"; "A sound conclusion from the wielder of the pen". Other comments were meant to play Devil's Advocate to my arguments, which I typically appreciate.

Dr. Farlow was a Yellow Dog Democrat. I don't ever recall advertising my political affiliation, but I'm sure he quickly figured it out and didn't hold it against me. A true mentor, however, he was quick to point out where he saw one of his students veering off. Another comment I just found - "For shame. I am disappointed that you appear to support a strategy of outright obstructionism." That one made me smile.

The reason I was thinking about Dr. Farlow today:

This afternnoon, the attorney who works in our office picked up an old book at a book sale for me. Its author is Jim Wright, the former Speaker of the House. The book was published in 1965. In the front, the author handwrote "For my good friend, Otto Passman, a tower of strength in this institution". We had never heard of Mr. Passman before so I promised to do some research and get back to him. Turns out that Otto Passman was a congressman from Louisiana from 1947 to 1977.

I mentioned to my attorney friend that I have a copy of Speaker Wright's other book, the one that got him in trouble with the Ethics Committee and eventually forced his resignation in 1989. The book, entitled Reflections of A Public Man, was given to me by Dr. Farlow.

I remember exactly when he gave it to me. August 24, 1995. I would often visit him at his office even thought I didn't take any summer courses. We talked about the upcoming election, what I had learned from his course, and my future career goals. I had always planned on coaching and teaching history or government. It was Dr. Farlow who got me to consider a career in public service. When I first got a job with then-State Rep. Brimer, I tried to get in contact with Dr. Farlow. I wanted to tell him that thanks to his guidance, I was doing what I had planned. I was saddened to learn that he had passed away before I could tell him. Here's his obit.

In his office that day, he told me there was something he wanted to give me. He got up from his chair and walked over toward his books. My bookshelves look like his - stacks and stacks of books that don't fit on their intended shelves. Books piled horizontally in any space that would hold them. Piles of books in the corner waiting for additional shelf space. After searching for a few minutes, he found the book he was looking for.

I remember the silence in the office while I waited for Dr. Farlow to write his inscription in my new book. Here's what he wrote:

"To Neil, a very capable Speaker I admire greatly, I hope you enjoy some of Jim's words before "the fall". I came to know Wright's family fairly well - his sister used to teach at SWTSU a few years back. One of my friends contends that Wright should write the sequel to this volume; call it Confessions of a Public Man."

If you get the humor in the last sentence, you would have understood both Dr. Farlow and me.