Photo by Kevin A. Roberts
Bruce Franks Jr. is trying to imagine how people might react if he walks onto the floor of the Missouri House of Representatives. “A lot of people often judge me by what they see,” Franks says. “I’ve got tattoos on my face. I’m a black man. That’s not always popular in certain circles, certain offices. But once I talk, once I open my mouth, sometimes you forget about all that.”
The 32-year-old has won the support of several progressive St. Louis politicians for building bridges across cultural and political lines. After a contested primary, he begins November just one public vote away from becoming the new state House representative of the 78th District, a Democratic stronghold that stretches along the Mississippi River. Franks is heavily favored over Republican challenger Erik Shelquist. The real battle appears to be past him now.
On August 2, Franks squared off against incumbent state Rep. Penny Hubbard (D-St. Louis), matriarch of the Hubbard family political dynasty. Franks received nearly 53 percent of all votes cast on Election Day but lost by 90 votes to Hubbard, who got a large number of absentee votes. Of the 580 absentee ballots cast, almost 78 percent were for Hubbard. After Franks contested the results, saying that there were irregularities in absentee balloting, a judge ordered a revote. The September 16 election was a landslide. Franks won 76 percent—a margin of more than 1,500 votes.
90: Votes that separated Hubbard from Franks in the August 2 primary
78: Percent of absentee votes that went to Hubbard, of 580 absentee ballots cast
76: Percentage of the vote that Franks received in the September 16 revote—a margin of more than 1,500 votes
A frenzied crowd of supporters surrounded Franks at his watch party at Yaquis on Cherokee. Franks climbed atop the bar and led off his victory speech with a call-and-response cheer: “This is what democracy looks like!”
It’s a chant that Franks learned while protesting in Ferguson.
On August 9, 2014, Franks and his wife are inflating balloons for the first birthday of their son when news of Michael Brown’s death comes through the TV. Franks picks up his smartphone. “Then I see his body,” Franks says. “I told my wife, ‘I need to be out there.’”
He becomes a boisterous fixture at protests. Four months later, Franks joins Peacekeepers STL, a group that serves as a buffer between police and protesters. “I went into protective mode and started being that barrier, which made it easier for me to start building relationships and work on bridging the gap,” Franks says.
A Department of Justice liaison puts Franks in contact with Circuit Attorney Jennifer Joyce and top brass within the police department. They discuss ways to improve police–community relations and how to de-escalate conflicts with protesters.
It’s March 2015, nine months before Franks files his campaign. Franks sits with a group of at-risk teens in his seasonal tax-preparation shop on Cherokee. They snack on pizza and riff about neighborhood troubles and feeling viewed as criminals by police.
A handful of adults in the back of the room chime in with similar experiences of witnessing violence and feeling profiled during their childhoods.
Franks cuts in: These are police officers and recruits. “You guys are cops!?” one teen blurts.
They exchange cards and swap phone numbers. The discussion continues. They keep listening.
The bridge holds.
See also: Don’t Let the Franks–Hubbard Debacle Be the Rationale Behind Voter Photo ID Measures
