Obituaries

The Ohio senator who championed liberal causes

Howard Metzenbaum

1917–2008

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Former Sen. Howard Metzenbaum, who has died at 90, certainly knew how to get noticed. A fellow liberal, Ted Kennedy of Massachusetts, extolled him as “the conscience of the Senate.” But one of his many Republican detractors, Ted Stevens of Alaska, once called him “a pain in the ass.” The Almanac of American Politics, usually known for its temperate tone, said the Ohioan was “prickly, persistent, and at times irritating.” For his outspoken, publicity-seeking style, Metzenbaum—who was known as “Headline Howard”—made no apologies. “Sometimes in order to be effective,” he said, “you have to be an SOB.”

The son of a first-generation American who eked out a living selling goods salvaged from bankrupt companies, Metzenbaum grew up poor in Cleveland, said the Cleveland Plain Dealer. But he worked hard to change that. He paid his way through college and law school by renting bicycles, selling chrysanthemums, and ferrying friends to the racetrack. In the summers, he would travel the state “selling razor blades, shaving cream, toothpaste, and other sundries.” Later, he opened the first commercial parking lot at the Cleveland Airport, which he grew into a chain that he eventually sold for millions, while investing in a string of Ohio newspapers and 17 Avis franchises. He also pursued a career in politics, serving as a state legislator from 1943 to 1951.

After that, “he kept his hand in politics by working as a lawyer for labor unions,” and, in 1973, was appointed to serve the remaining year of Sen. William Saxbe’s uncompleted term. In 1976, he was elected to the Senate in his own right.

Metzenbaum quickly became known as an unabashed liberal, said The New York Times. He worked for such populist causes as workers’ rights, food safety, and, notably, gun control, sponsoring the original Brady Bill. He also “threw himself into fights against the deregulation of gas and oil prices, called for tighter regulation of the insurance industry, and fought for national health insurance.” Metzenbaum was a master obstructionist, perfecting the use of the filibuster to hold up “pork barrel excess and tax loopholes.” It’s estimated that in 1982 alone, he blocked the passage of bills that would have cost taxpayers some $10 billion. “His style was stubborn, bombastic, and often self-righteous—so grating that more than one colleague compared it to fingernails scraping across a blackboard.” Even his allies found him difficult. “I’ve worked with Howard Metzenbaum and I’ve worked against Howard Metzenbaum,” said his fellow Ohio Democratic senator, John Glenn. “And it’s a whole lot more pleasant to work with him.”

In the 19 years he served in the Senate, Metzenbaum “rarely pulled his punches,” said The Washington Post. In 1994, he was so disturbed by opposition to President Clinton’s universal health-care proposal that he called a moderate and bipartisan counterproposal “a callow, heartless idea; a harebrained, cruel, crass, ‘lame-stream’ proposal—one of the most absurd things I’ve ever heard of.” On his last day in office, in 1994, he took to the floor of the Senate to argue against a trade bill and declared: “I’m glad I’m going out in the midst of a battle, maybe disappointed that I’m not on the winning side. But that was and has been my role—to be able and willing to speak out when others were not willing to do so.”

After leaving office, Metzenbaum became chairman of the Consumer Federation of America, holding that position to his death. Among his survivors is Shirley, his wife of 61 years.

The pioneering debater whose life was captured on film

Henrietta Bell Wells

1912–2008

When Henrietta Bell Wells died at 96 last week, she might have done so in obscurity were it not for an acclaimed feature film released just three months ago. The Great Debaters was the story of eight black students who, in 1930, took part in the first interracial college debate in the United States. The only woman and the only freshman on her team, Wells was also its last survivor.

Wells was born in Houston, “on the banks of Buffalo Bayou, and raised by a struggling single mother from the West Indies,” said the Houston Chronicle. After graduating as her high school’s valedictorian in 1929, she won a scholarship to all-black Wiley College in Marshall, Texas. There, English professor Melvin Tolson encouraged her to try out for his newly formed debate team. “Reluctant, Wells took the stage, stood behind the podium, and read for him.” She made the cut. In addition to attending classes, Wells had to practice her debating at night, “all while working three jobs.”

“Wiley was soon debating and defeating black colleges two and three times its size,” including Tuskegee and Howard Universities, said The New York Times. Tolson drove his charges hard. He would walk into class, slam the door, and ask a pointed question such as, “Wells, what is a verb?” Wells remembered him urging the team to punch up its style, saying, “You’ve got to put something in there to wake the people.” Then, in the spring of 1930, Wiley took on an all-white team of University of Michigan law students before a standing-room-only crowd at Chicago’s Seventh Street Theater. “It was the largest black-owned theater in town, because no large white-owned facility would admit a racially mixed audience.” Though no winner was declared, the idea of black students debating against whites was groundbreaking. “We felt at the time that it was a giant step toward desegregation,” Wells said.

“Wells stayed on the debate team for one year and then dropped out because she needed to earn more money to support herself,” said the Los Angeles Times. Later, she graduated and returned to Houston to become a social worker and teacher. Her signature moment was forgotten for decades, until Denzel Washington reawakened public interest by directing and starring in The Great Debaters, which depicts Wiley’s triumph. Although Wells enjoyed the attention and the movie, serving as a consultant, she downplayed her importance. “I just thought I was living my life,” she said recently. “I don’t think we thought we were doing any great job. We were in the debate team for fun, just doing our best.” Wells leaves no immediate survivors.