Free Franklin Affair by Jim Lehrer

many disagreements. The most long-lasting and enjoyable one was over whether Benjamin Franklin really deserved to be called a scientist. Middleton, a distinguished physicist, didn’t think so. He saw Franklin as an extremely talented dilettante who followed his burning curiosity about electricity, the Gulf Stream, and a long list of other mysteries to discoveries that were those of a fortunate amateur. Middleton and Wally loved to debate the issue in private and, once or twice, even did so before small discreet campus groups. (Tom Middleton, as president of a university named for Benjamin Franklin, felt he had to refrain from expressing himself on the issue in public. It would be bad for fund-raising, if nothing else.)
    The name of the university itself was another source of friction between Wally and Middleton. When Middleton came in the early sixties, the school was known either as BFU or Franklin University. Some students, in the spirit of those times, found a way to make mischief by dropping the
B.
Alumni and parents did not appreciate the humor, and finally Middleton proclaimed that the university, in keeping with its treasured heritage and in deference to its founder and namesake, would forevermore be known as Benjamin Franklin University in all matters formal and informal, and its initials would always be BFU. Items containing “designations designed to distort the university’s name for profane purposes” would be confiscated by campus security, and persons “involved with their dissemination or display” would be subject to disciplinary action. The issue triggered a small storm with some free-speech protest and debate on campus that was chronicled by mostly good-humored publicity in Philadelphia and elsewhere.
    Can anybody think of a more appropriate fight to have in Ben’s name?
Wally asked in an
Almanack
story. The statement brought him a private rebuke from Middleton, but the storm around the profanity quickly passed with the times, and the school had been solidly Benjamin Franklin University and BFU ever since.
    â€œWhen it comes time to tally the score of
my
life as we are doing for Wally Rush today, it is my hope that foremost on the scoreboard will be the fact that I brought Wally to Benjamin Franklin University,” was Middleton’s major statement in his remarks at the memorial. He was a spare man but vibrant and strong, despite, by R’s calculations, being over eighty years old.
    Then Evelyn Ross-Floyd stepped to the microphone. She was a tall handsome woman in her sixties who was as dedicated to Ben as Wally was. She had worked for years on the Franklin papers at Yale and produced two beautifully written books about Ben, mostly from the personal angle. Wally and Evelyn had exchanged thousands of words and ideas about their man through the years. R always believed that Wally was in love with Evelyn, something Wally never denied or, as far as R knew, ever acted upon. Both were happily married to others and there was also no sign that Evelyn was interested in anything more than an exchange of Ben material and thoughts with Wally.
    During her three minutes, Evelyn said, “There have been some great American pairings through the years. George and Gracie, Dean and Jerry, Tom and Jerry, Chet and David, Maris and Mantle, Ginger and Fred, Merrill and Lynch, Barnes and Noble, Rodgers and Hammerstein, franks and beans. I would submit that on the master list should also go Ben and Wally. They were two of a wonderful kind, two men with brains and humor, two geniuses of the real world—and, to be most personal, two of the most important men in my life.”
    R was the fourth and last speaker. He took only two and half of his three minutes, using mostly paraphrased lines from his
Washington Post
op-ed piece to proclaim the long-awaited coming of Benjamin Franklin’s turn to be appreciated. He gave Wally much credit for spearheading this effort and said, “Ben lives