PERRY: Frankly speaking, underpass honoring Weddig is a fitting tribute to a concrete hero

As they so often do, hoo-haws at city hall this week christened some concrete and steel in the name of someone who did nice things in Aurora.

But this time when Mayor Steve Hogan and the city council announced that they, again, wanted to honor one of their own, it was different. But then, so was Frank Weddig. And so became the Frank Weddig Underpass in Aurora, Colorado.

For those of you who didn’t know Frank the city councilman, Frank the state representative, Frank the state senator, Frank the county commissioner, Frank the electrician or Frank the watchdog at large, I can explain how a bike-trail underpass came to bear his name, and how cool that is.

Frank was an Aurora political and neighborhood institution who died from cancer complications last Oct. 26. An Air Force vet and master electrician, he moved here from Wisconsin with his wife, Pat, and raised three daughters. But most know him best because for more than 30 years Frank was elected to several posts, working for people and issues that affected so many but often seemed so mundane. While his peers were chasing big corporations or tackling gangs, Frank was trying to keep trailer park residents from being pushed around, or saving an ancient cottonwood tree, or keeping kids at a nearby school from being hit by cars. Just as local government is closest to the people, so was Frank.

He was a loyal and determined Democrat, but you wouldn’t know it to talk with him. He hailed from an era in Colorado politics where partisanship really didn’t exist. He thrived in a time when solving problems mattered more than party affiliation because his pet issues had little to do with political consternation. His causes dealt with people.

It wasn’t that Frank wasn’t concerned about the big, controversial matters of the day, or that he didn’t have something to say about them. Frank had plenty to say. Frank could talk. Frank did talk. With all the fastidiousness — and sometime annoyance — of a skilled electrician, Frank would verbally trace through just about every detail of an issue into the fading foam cover of his microphone. Everyone knew that even though the meeting or hearing had run mercilessly late and baby sitters were waiting, or heads were throbbing or newspaper deadlines were nearing, when Frank’s “I-Have-A-Comment” light went on, you might as well take off your coat.

He didn’t blather. He always had something to add to the discussion that, often, no one else had considered. With steely-blue Viking eyes, the strained vowels of his Wisconsin accent and his motioning hands, Frank would lay it all out.

More times than not, Frank would be worked up over safety. He was always going on about making sure that homes were safe from fires, seniors were safe from crooks, kids were safe from molesters or bicyclists were safe from oblivious motorists.

That was a big one for Frank. He was smitten with the idea that kids should be able to walk safely to school. People should be able to get around without their cars and he lamented that cities like Aurora were car-centric obstacle courses for pedestrians. Frank was the patron saint of those who were overlooked, bullied or had to risk their lives to get somewhere without a car. In Aurora, that’s a lot of people who now have Frank to thank for safer intersections, trails and in more than one case, a safe way to get somewhere.

Along the Highline Canal, which is a transportation marvel winding all across the metro area, pedestrians, bikers, kids and others can now walk or ride under six lanes of the never-ending river of traffic on Chambers Road. After years of pestering and insisting, Aurora found the money to build the bike-trail underpass on Chambers.

So rather than erect a statue or put a plaque on a tree or on a rock somewhere in a park, city officials named the slightly odd but vitally important underpass after the guy who wanted so badly to see it happen. That is so Frank.

Reach editor Dave Perry at 303-750-7555 or dperry@aurorasentinel.com