John Boehner used to get mocked for all the times he cried in public.
Plenty of observers, on both sides of the aisle, piled on. Republicans seemed to find it an embarrassing show of weakness and Democrats seemed to think it was crocodile tears, the too-late-to-help empathy of a man who actually did have the power to make changes in the world.
I admit, though, that I always admired it. Boehner rarely seemed to be crying for his own sake. He cried when he saw government failing, when it seemed as if we’d come close to making a bi-partisan deal and failed.
In other words, I always suspected an abiding decency to the man, something that’s amplified as I listen here to someone with the Ohio accent of my childhood.
I want to be clear: Boehner was – and remains – philosophically in the wrong. When he talks about shrinking government, he means that we should remove the few barriers we have that prevent the wealthy from exploiting the poor. When he talks of getting rid of “needless” regulations, he means that we should permit more pollution, more risk in the products we use, and more opportunity for some to skirt the financial regulations that protect most of us.
That said, though, I am convinced he believes in that philosophy because he believes it can help the many. In turn, I can believe he is wrong and yet continue to respect him. That felt a bit radical six years ago. Today, after a term of Donald Trump – a man whom Boehner excoriates throughout this – I think it’s becoming a consensus of what Boehner himself would call the non-“crazies.” It’s clear that we need two functioning political parties if we’re going to move forward as a society, and Boehner represents some of the best of the philosophically-in-the-wrong.
Along with that, he has written a political memoir that strikes me as rare on at least two grounds. One, it’s candid. Boehner is still a relatively young man, but he’s clearly done with politics. As he says repeatedly, he’ll pitch in when he can, but he’d much rather play golf, drink wine, and chase his grandchildren. It’s been a good life, and he’s looking forward to a lot more of it, but he’s got no reason to temper his reflections. He has many more good things to say about Nancy Pelosi, for instance – someone with whom he degrees on philosophy – than about Ted Cruz or Mark Meadows.
Two, this is generally very funny.
Whatever else he is, Boehner is affable. He lacks the smoothness of most successful politicians. He is not, for instance, as glib as Newt Gingrich or as manicured as Paul Ryan. But the man can tell a good story.
He ends with a superfluous list of “Boehnerisms,” phrases he claims he threw around throughout his career. My favorite – even after he gives it to us three or four times in the body of the memoir – is “A leader without followers is just a guy taking a walk.” That kind of corner-bar cleverness (and he grew up the son of a bar-owning family) runs throughout the book, and I enjoyed hearing him spin it.
There are elements here of the lower-middle-class kid who made good, and, as with so much else, Boehner knows how to grab an audience. He was the second of twelve kids; he has the story-telling skill to share a detail like, “I didn’t get to use a fully dry towel the whole time I was growing up,” and to let it stand for a host of others.
There are elements here as well of the rising politician whose eyes got large when he first met Gerald Ford or then-speaker Tom Foley. And he has good stories about the foibles of a lot of the people he met along the way.
But the heart of this comes through his recollections of the major legislative showdowns of his speaker days. He talks about forging a major education bill with no less than Ted Kennedy, with each side holding off challenges from the most partisan of their party. He talks as well about trying – and failing – to devise common ground with the newly elected Barack Obama.
Despite the admirable passion that could make the man cry in public, I can’t imagine a world in which I would vote for John Boehner. After reading this, though, I can easily imagine enjoying a long dinner listening to his stories and sharing a drink with him. In fact, to his real credit, I feel as if I have done just that.