A reminiscence by John C. Sherwood about the late Thomas F. Franke of Marshall, Michigan.
My life would be infinitely poorer had I never known Tom Franke, who left this realm March 23 at his home in Marshall, Michigan. However, a kind and benevolent universe brought us together and my gratitude is profound.
I’d moved back to Michigan after a decade on the East Coast, and after two years living in Union City, I was looking around for a place to live closer to my hometown of Marshall. Somehow, my mom’s longtime friend Creighton Sherman learned of that and during a 2013 fundraiser for the American Museum of Magic he introduced me to Tom, who Creighton knew was looking for someone to occupy his Oak Hill apartment. Tom asked me to come to his magnificent 1853 mansion for a conversation, clearly planning to size me up and ferret out just how disreputable I really was.
As it turned out, that conversation in the main parlor was an unexpected delight. It turned out Tom and I shared multiple interests — ancient and modern history, prehistoric megalithic monuments, science fiction, live theater, world travel and especially travel in England. I'd also known one of the mansion's previous owners, so Tom picked my brain about what I remembered. When Tom mentioned he had financial dealings with hotels in the U.K. county of Norfolk, I was taken aback. I’d traveled in Norfolk repeatedly since 1974 and I’d frequently visited my best friend Joe Cromley at his home in the Norfolk village of Gissing. Tom and I ended up sharing stories about our favorite places around Norfolk and elsewhere in England, and that rather sealed things. Tom showed me the apartment and that was that.
In time, Tom became much more than a landlord. In fact, that first conversation had set down a solid foundation for a lasting friendship — indeed, a mutual admiration society that fostered love. It began initially when I’d return from work in Battle Creek (or later when I was working in Marshall), and Tom would greet me at the back door to ask about my supper plans. Sometimes he’d be happy checking out the burgers at the truck stop, but more typically we’d end up at the “Oak Hill table” at Schuler’s. On other occasions, he’d inform me that a bunch of oysters in the fridge needed opening; of course, I got my share, although I was deeply frightened by the shucking gadget I swear was devised by Monsieur Guillotin.
Tom loved to be on the go and especially loved to bring people along with him. As a result, I’ve lost count of the number of events on which I was allowed to tag along — Schuler’s dinners, concerts by the Brass Band of Battle Creek, theatrical plays ranging from Benton Harbor to Chelsea and drives around Marshall to study locations where he thought improvements could be made. Because Tom’s active brain came up with a host of such ideas, we often found ourselves engaged in thoughtful musings about how the community might be helped by bringing people together to create this or that — a county museum, a building addition, a train stop, a better-organized tour facility, a stronger school district and much more.
Our mutual love for live theater led to many evenings when Tom and I would sit on my couch as I typed a history of The Franke Center or we filled out an application for a grant or considered the wording of a fund-raising letter. My own involvement at the American Museum of Magic and at the Great Escape Stage Company led him to support both institutions in multiple ways. In 2016, we even made sure to seat Tom in the seance circle when we called on the spirit of Harry Houdini to make an appearance. By not showing up to meet Tom, Harry lost a great opportunity to find out what a real miracle-maker looked like.
When Kim Forde and I began to date in 2016, Tom approved and encouraged the match by hosting many a lively, libation-fueled gathering in the parlor. Kim and I had met at Great Escape, and Tom further honored us by letting us hold our theatrical parties in the Nancy Boyer Pub just outside my apartment door, where Tom was always a lively participant.
Kim and I were drawn to the East Coast for professional reasons in 2020, but returned time and again to Marshall, always stopping in to visit Tom. When Kim and I married in Connecticut in the fall of 2021, Tom insisted we hold our Marshall reception on the Oak Hill terrace, then pushed beyond his growing infirmities to join the group, hold court and converse in happy fashion for hours — and then insisted on having Kim and I join him in the house for another round of conversation and drinks. He loved to have us there, and we loved him in return. “A lovely, naughty, joyful man” is how Kim describes him. I agree entirely, especially considering the joy Tom always seemed to crave and create.
We didn’t want to let that go. Biweekly phone calls helped us catch up with him, and vice versa, and although we knew he was growing weaker, we always were encouraged by his dreams. He’d talk about a trip he’d like to make, or someone he’d like to visit or see. His hopefulness was unending and his drive to do just one more thing nearly inexhaustible. That’s why, even now, I can’t let Tom go. He’ll always be there in my mind, a vital, loving star in a stellar decade, etching a powerful and happy memory that can't be erased.
John Sherwood
March 25, 2022
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