FOREIGN AGENTS Chapter Four

“...the concentration of wealth are what the Republican party is all about.”

Kevin Phillips. “The Politics of Rich and Poor” 1990

The red BMW convertible raced northbound up the tree lined Lake Drive in the North Port neighborhood of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It powered toward the little park called the Gilman Triangle. 

The red headed driver reeked of beer as he blew through the stop sign at East Bradford Avenue. Homes and apartment buildings flashed past as he drifted over the center of the 2500 block of the narrow residential street.

It was another 3^rd of July evening, this one two years before Angela and Clifford Barnes would be brutally attacked some 900 miles to the east. The drunk behind the wheel was 38 year old Dennis Frankenberry (above) , a “precocious young advertising executive” and founder of the hottest firm in Milwaukee.  

He had just snared the multi-million dollar Miller Brewing Company account for his agency.  He was, as the saying went, “rich, white and over twenty-one”, and a regular donor to the Wisconsin Republican party.   

Dennis may or may not have seen the single headlamp looming in front of him. He must have felt the impact as the motorcycle crumpled against the kidney grill of his car. And he surely saw the two passengers as they were catapulted onto his hood, and then tossed aside to the pavement like crumpled trash.

The damaged BMW did not pause, and Dennis Frankenberry did not inquire as to the condition the victims he left sprawled on the street behind him. 

Twenty-one year old Toby Gargardeski got the worst of it, fracturing his skull. After surgery the next day Toby would be left in a coma, in critical but stable condition. His companion, 20 year old Melcio Montemoyer, also suffered head injuries, but his most serious injury was a badly fractured leg which would require several surgeries and would never fully heal.

The red BMW continued half a mile up Lake Drive before turning onto East Locust Street. When the car started to give out, Dennis pulled onto a side street, where he finally stopped. He burst into the nearest house, telling the startled occupants that he had just been an accident. They noted he reeked of alcohol and had “watery, red eyes”.  Dennis demanded a glass of water, then a phone. When the police arrived, summoned by a witness who had followed his escape, Dennis hid upstairs. The occupants admitted the cops, who took Dennis into custody. He spent Wednesday night in jail, and on Thursday morning, 4 July, 1985, he was released on bail.

On Monday morning, 8 July, 1985, Dennis Frankenberry was asked to appear with his attorney at the district attorney's office at 8:30 am to discuss the accident. He finally showed up at noon. After a short meeting, Dennis was free to leave again. 

This time he left the state, checking into a private hospital in Kansas to be treated for his addictions to cocaine and alcohol. In reporting his extraordinary treatment, 

The Milwaukee Journal would win no Pulitzer Prize for their coverage. They identified Dennis only as “an advertising executive”. The newspaper was a client of his firm, as was the state of Wisconsin.

It would be October before the city got around to charging Dennis Frankenberry, with reckless driving and leaving the scene of an accident. The October trial was quick. Dennis pled guilty as charged.  He was fined $300. 

And he was incarcerated. For 90 days. In fact he spent his nights in jail. His days were spent in his office, working on anti-drinking and driving public service ads which would count toward his court ordered 250 hours of public service. In other words he was serving his sentences concurrently. Dennis was also furloughed to spend weekends with his wife and children.  The hypocrisy was noted by a few Milwaukee journalist, despite the official blanket thrown over Dennis' transgression. It was true, as one author has pointed out, that “While outside the correctional facility, Frankenberry committed advertising, not kidnapping and rape.” Still his treatment was the exception.

After only 66 days Dennis was “released” for “good behavior”. That left only the court ordered restitution to his victims. In early January of 1987 the lawyers announced that Toby Gargardeski, awake but struggling to read again and having short term memory problems, was awarded $990,000, and Melcio Montemoyer, just beginning to deal with the nerve damage in his leg and foot, was awarded $250,000. According to the courts, justice had been served. The crippled Melcio explained to the few reporters who showed up, “If it had been me, I would have probably gotten a longer sentence...but then we're no big shots.”

The public service ads produced by Frankenberry, Laughlin and Constable would win awards,

bringing the agency and Dennis to the attention of some even “bigger shots”, who, despite Dennis' new reputation, invited them to come to Washington to submit ideas based on theme's suggested by Atwater and Ailes.

Frankenberry's team submitted four ads the Bush campaign decided to put into production. There was the “Boston Harbor” spot (above), attacking Dukakis' environmental record, which was far stronger than Bush's.  There was “Tax Blizzard” which threatened a flood of IRS missives pouring into a middle class family home, building on the “tax and spend Democrats” trope. And there was the “Oath of Allegiance” ad which implied that Micheal Dukakis was unpatriotic. But the one that interested Atwater and Ailes the most was Dennis' “Revolving Door” spot.

“The Revolving Door” did not mention William Horton or his crimes. Atwater and Ailes knew such a blatant racist attack (“n---er, n---er, n---er”) would cause a media blow back. But it could serve as cover for such and attack.  As Ailes told Ad Age magazine, “News is who has the hottest attack ads and who can get the highest ratings.”  The odd fact that the man who would help destroy the weekend parole system in American had himself benefited from that same system did not seem to bother any pf the participants.

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