Thursdays With Frank E.

In mid-April, I met with Michigan's former attorney general, Frank J. Kelley, to accept an offer to collaborate on a "book deal." A mutual friend, Larry Glazer, arranged for the meeting at the Okemos Big Boy, just off I-96. In fact, it was Larry who'd recommended me for the job.

He and I go back to my days as a custom publications editor at the Lansing State Journal. I desperately needed writers for a variety of local niche products, and a colleague, Meredith Sharp, recommended her father – Larry. She was herself an award-winning and well-read pop-culture writer and designer for "The Source," and I had enormous respect for her work. As a courtesy, I called her dad. I learned that he had recently retired and was looking to do some writing. I agreed to give him a trial assignment. If he hit the mark, I'd run the story; if not, we would amicably part ways.

He delivered, of course, and for what seemed too fleeting a period, he would pick up additional assignments here and there, always articulate, thorough, interesting, timely. When he informed me in an e-mail that he'd accepted a technical-writing assignment, I wasn't surprised, but I was sorry to lose him.

Months later, I asked Meredith to write a cover story for Greater Lansing Woman about local PR professional Kelly Rossman-McKinney. Kelly was a long-time family friend, Meredith said, and that's when a lightbulb went off and I realized that Larry was the Larry Glazer, i.e., Judge Lawrence Glazer, who for 15 years was an Ingham County circuit judge. He had also served as special counsel and legal adviser to Governor James Blanchard (1983 – 1987).

We kept in touch over the few years that passed, mostly by e-mail. Then, in 2006, I had the pleasure of meeting him face to face when he presided over a mutual friend's wedding. I had since left the LSJ. In fact, on Friday, June 30, 2006, Meredith and I both left the paper to pursue bigger and better opportunities. Larry's smile was wide, and he quickly offered a warm handshake, audibly affirming – mosty for his own benefit, I think – that I was his "very first editor." I knew then that our friendship was all the more special to him because of that fact.

Late last year, Larry asked me to preview a manuscript for a biography he was writing about former Michigan Governor John B. Swainson (1925 – 1994). Currently, the Michigan State University Press is reviewing it, and publication is expected by early 2010.

Late last year, I received an intriguing e-mail from him, with the word "Turnabout" in the subject line.

"I would like to seek your advice on a literary project," he wrote. "Frank Kelley, who served as Attorney General of Michigan for 37 years, is a close friend of mine. He wants to publish his autobiograpy, in which he'd asked me to help him find a collaborator."

He concluded his message with this question: "Would you yourself be interested?"

Kelley holds the record as the longest-running attorney general in the United States, and his 37-year career earned him the nickname "Eternal General."

Additional conversations ensued, including a call from the general himself. He was in Florida for the winter and would return at the end of March, after which he wanted to meet to discuss the project. Our meeting culminated in an agreement – signed and sealed by both Mr. Kelley and me that warm April afternoon.

Each Thursday evening since I've met with the distinguished 84-year-old Kelley at his residence in Haslett. On the rare occasions when our schedules conflict we meet on a different weeknight or twice the following week.

We begin with a review of our progress from the previous week, after which we'll get right to it: He'll dictate and then stop to ask, "How's that?" or "What do you think?" or "Is that OK?" I make recommendations, ask for clarification, and make edits to a draft manuscript. After about three hours, our meetings generally conclude with a new plan of action for the following week.

But my favorite part of the meeting occurs just before I leave, because he seems to want to take a few moments to get better acquainted with his "associate," as he refers to me. He speaks very candidly, and shows a genuine interest in me, often asking about my day at work or inquiring about my family. He tells me jokes, shows me photos of or news clippings about old friends, and he very often talks about his beloved father, who he desperately misses. He frequently invites me to enjoy a candy fruit slice, which more often than not can be found at the center of the dining room table where we work.

"They don't have any calories," he beams as he pops one into his mouth and savors every sticky bite.

By his own admission, Kelley has lived a rich and satisfying life. And yet, he still manages to enjoy its simpler pleasures. Each Thursday night, on the drive home from our meeting, I hope my life will be as remarkable and worthy.