Marshall Cobleigh: Darn, I Wish I Had Lingered A While Longer

I just wanted to say something about Marshall Cobleigh.

He was House Speaker during my first term, some 40 years ago in 1969. I still remember being in the House Chamber on my first day. I had driven up alone in my Ford Falcon on a snowy early January morning, not quite knowing what I had walked into. Why was I doing this to myself, I thought? It's something I still often ask.

But back to that day. I stumbled around looking for my assigned seat in Division 2, then looked around, fascinated by all the "old people" sitting there. Then I saw this rather young guy with what I'd call a roller-coaster voice and constant smile that often broke into a cascading laugh standing at the podium, heading up the festivities.

I always enjoyed Marshall. He was a good and fascinating man, Republican in his soul but more main street than hardcore, yet he had a solid conservative streak no matter what The Union Leader of the day sometimes wrote about him. And often pictured too -- his face and demeanor allowed for some gentle caricatures in that state's newspaper, which in coming years would find their way onto the Speaker's walls.

Marshall always treated me well. In those early days, there were only a couple of handfuls of us who were under age 30 -- at 20 I had run as the youngest member out of the 424 Legislators. But he never talked down to me. He often ran the Speakership, and used his gavel, with a firm hand -- but I think everyone who served with him will say he was fair. At the very least, he respected people. I think it was because he really liked people.

Marshall was always ready with a quick quip and a whippy wit -- no one and no thing was off limits. There's something very satisfying about that. His sense of humor was extraordinary, and one would see it sometimes at the State House but always across the way a bit at the old Highway Inn, a favorite hangout in those days to talk politics and get away from it all. I won't write any stories. He wrote about some in his book about making sausages. ("We Ain't Making Sausages Here.")

I saw him for the final time last Spring when he was visiting the State House. He was sitting in a hallway on the second floor on a bench, alone, apparently waiting for someone. I said hello as I turned a corner and he let out a bellowing "Hi Jim!" I sat next to him for about two minutes, chatting about the state of the world and such. As I got up to walk away, we shook hands and he broke out in that grin-smile of his and said something about how quickly the years fly by.

I laughed in agreement, and walked off. Darn, I wish I had lingered a while longer. He'll be missed.

Comments

[NH Guy]

He was mean, foul mouthed and nasty.

[Jim Splaine]

Maybe what you thought was mean, foul mouthed and nasty was simply that he was direct, had an expanded vocabulary, and didn't like you very much?