The One and Only Marion Barry

He never really left the stage. And now he’s gone.

For nearly 50 years, Marion Barry was a force to be reckoned with. There were those who idolized him and saw him as their only champion. Others detested him and viewed him as an odious, destructive presence.

One thing that cannot be taken away from Barry: he was a very successful politician. He was elected mayor of the District of Columbia four times. The last time was truly amazing. He had been in prison for six months just a few years before, but came back in 1994 and reclaimed the highest office.

Even hobbled by poor health during his last days, he was still an elected official, representing Ward 8 on the District Council. He could have served there forever.

A self-proclaimed “situationist,” Barry formulated himself to fit each and every situation. In 1974, when he was first elected to the D.C. Council, he was a dashiki-clad militant activist. The at-large position required him to win citywide. Four years later, he needed to moderate his image. So he became a pinstriped politician who romanced Georgetown and Cleveland Park residents in their living rooms. He won them over and began his reign as mayor.

In 1982, Barry was supposed to face a formidable foe: former cabinet secretary and ambassador Patricia Roberts Harris. The story is told that while Harris was testing the waters for her potential run, she ventured out to Anacostia. After giving a speech, she felt quite satisfied, thinking she had connected with the crowd. She sat down. Seated next to her was Barry. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to kick your ass.”
And that’s exactly what he did. He cleaned her clock, winning seven of eight wards. I dare you to name his 1986 opponent.

To those who did not want D.C. to have more home rule, congressional representation and ultimately statehood, Barry was the perfect justification for saying, “No.” His personal life, the bloated government payroll and corruption by close aides and friends all combined to hold D.C. back. We, the citizens of D.C., suffered. We suffer even today.

As a person, Barry was not vindictive or mean-spirited. He once told me that there was only one person in this city he would not speak to. Barry played the race card when needed. But more than anything he was a big-city mayor in the mold of Richard J. Daley, Boss Tweed, Boss Crump and James Michael Curley. That’s the way I believe he wanted to be remembered.