State Rep. Bobby Franklin is as hard right as they come among elected officials in Georgia. So far right he can make other conservative Republicans look like Nancy Pelosi fans.
The Marietta legislator has made it an annual Gold Dome tradition to introduce bills that cause even his Republican colleagues to roll their eyes.
This year he is at it again, introducing the first 21 House bills of the 2011 session, among them legislation that would allow guns in church, do away with driver's licenses and mandate the state to pay debts in silver or gold. But two other bills he introduced have recently drawn serious attention: One would change the rape law to replace the word "victim" with "accuser." And then there's House Bill 1, his annual anti-abortion legislation, which this year carries a provision that demands each miscarriage be investigated as to its cause.
As word of the latter two bills spread, reaction exploded across the Internet, with angry posters calling the anti-government, Biblical literalist everything but a child of God.
Terms like "reprehensible, " "disgusting, " "misogynist, " "idiot" and "woman hater" filled the comments section of Franklin's own Facebook site. And that's the printable stuff. Along with the caustic reaction, several others asked: "How does this guy get re-elected?"
Franklin, first elected in 1996, represents the northeast corner of Cobb County, an area of rolling topography that has shifted from horse farms to subdivisions with signs advertising "Homes from the 600s." The area is known for good schools --- like Lassiter High --- and landslide support of candidates with an "R" beside their names.
"I'd think it's one of the top-five conservative districts in America, " said Norm England, a semiretired Vietnam veteran relaxing with two giant schnauzers in a dog park in the heart of Franklin's 43rd Legislative District. "We're all middle- to above-middle-wage earners, very goal-driven. We have certain values. It doesn't matter if you're from Michigan or Oklahoma, when you get here you know how we collectively feel."
Conservative, that is, with a capital "C."
Franklin, who with grand understatement once said, " I think outside the box a lot, " did not return phone calls seeking comment for this story.
"His controversial bills don't bother me, " said constituent Jim Mabry, 74, who was born on the farm his family has owned for a century. Mabry keeps bees and sells honey, with a sign in his garage saying payment is on the honor system. "I'd vote for him again. A representative can't be too conservative for me."
Mabry chuckled, thinking about contentious radio host Neal Boortz, on AM 750 and now 95.5 FM News/Talk WSB, who that morning had blasted away at Franklin.
"He was saying how off-the-wall [Franklin] is for trying to impose his religious beliefs on the government, " Mabry said. "Neal couldn't understand why the district keeps electing him. But he's in a district that keeps electing him, so I guess he's doing something right."
Franklin has been without a challenger since 2004 and not in a close race since 1998, when Randy Krise, a businessman, got 47 percent in the Republican primary. The race was contentious, with Krise spending $71,000 of his own money and calling Franklin a militia member.
"He's extreme right-wing militia, out there with a gun praying for the Holocaust, " said Krise, in an interview last week. "He had people in camouflage following me everywhere --- to my events, to my house, burning my signs. I can't imagine how he is still there."
Tom Boeck, a commercial construction consultant who ran unsuccessfully against Franklin in the 2004 Republican primary, said his old opponent "gets silly, " but has good political sense.
In 2003, Franklin was the principal designer of a new state flag that helped settle the contentious debate surrounding the old banner, which contained the Confederate battle emblem. The move, one of his few legislative triumphs, enraged the so-called "flaggers, " who had originally supported him.
"Bobby was backed by the flaggers until our election cycle, then they backed me, " said Boeck. "So he sent out fliers saying I was backed by flaggers, asking: 'Do you want to vote for anyone so extreme?' "
Mostly, Boeck said, a key to Franklin's continued success is that voters don't have time to pay much attention to state politics, especially in a suburban district with many residents who have moved in from somewhere else.
"People are living their lives; they're growing their businesses; they're running around and are very busy, " he said.
David Lovetro, who has been active in the community fighting a cell tower, said Franklin "is not really on my radar screen, pro or con."
A drive around the 43rd District found almost everyone who spoke to the AJC identifying themselves as conservative voters. But ask them about Franklin and, more often than not, you'll get a shrug: They don't know him or are barely aware of him.
Resident Pat Cornelison, an artist who was walking her pet English bulldog, was more aware of her state representative than most, but still knew little about him. "I think he's just trying to get people's attention, " she said. "People are politically dead right now."
Those who have served in the Legislature with him say Franklin is personally likable. Rusty Paul, a former state senator who has headed the state GOP, noted that Franklin carries little pretense and is called "Dr. No" by his colleagues for frequently voting against any and all legislation. Often, he is the only "no" vote.
"Is he an effective legislator? Has he accomplished things you want your legislator to accomplish?" Paul asked. "Objectively, you'd have to say no."
But in the 43rd, it seems, that hasn't been a major concern.
Linda Hoyal, a 43rd District resident who calls herself a conservative Republican, is involved in community matters but is only vaguely familiar with Franklin.
"Sometimes I think he's a little too radical, a little more extreme than I am, " she said. "But until he gets good competition, he'll stay in office."
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