PERSPECTIVES: Oh, Andy was well-liked (08/28/05)

PERSPECTIVES

by Andrew Fedynsky

Oh, Andy was well-liked

The line snaked from the door of the funeral home all the way through two parlors before ending at the open casket where Judge Andrew Boyko lay, flanked by the Stars and Stripes and Ukraine's blue and yellow. It took 45 minutes from when I got in line to finally reach the family to express my condolences. When I left, the line was just as long as it had been when I walked in.

"Nice tribute, isn't it?" I murmured to the elderly man in front of me who was also patiently waiting to pay his respects.

"Oh, Andy was well-liked," he explained.

I knew that. Like so many others, I genuinely liked Judge Boyko, who passed away on August 7 at the age of 81. I'd known him by reputation since 1963, when he was first elected solicitor of Parma, Cleveland's largest suburb.

"To nash - he's one of ours," my father used to say with pride: someone who had achieved elective office not by downplaying or denying his Ukrainian identity, but instead using it as an electoral tool, as an essential element of his political base.

The solicitor's post - now known as law director - had opened up when the incumbent died suddenly, soon after the filing deadline. Andy, then an assistant prosecutor, decided to run for the office as a write-in candidate. He and a small army of supporters distributed thousands of pencils engraved with the slogan "Write in Andy Boyko." They put up signs, took out ads and conducted training sessions on how to write in a candidate. The election wasn't even close. Although his opponent had the advantage of having his name on the ballot, only 35 percent marked that space with an X. Instead, 65 percent went to the trouble of adding "Boyko" to the ballot, giving him a landslide. For the rest of his life, candidates and activists around the country would contact Andy for advice on how to run a write-in campaign. In 1987 he became a municipal judge before retiring in 1993, having never lost an election.

Born in Cleveland in 1923, Andrew Boyko, grew up in the Ukrainian community. He danced the hopak, attended Ss. Peter and Paul Ukrainian Catholic Church and served his country in the Navy in World War II. When he got back, he joined the Ukrainian Youth League of North America, eventually becoming head of the organization; many of its members were indispensable in launching Andy's political career. I saw a handful of them at the funeral home, sadly saying good-bye to their lifelong friend.

I can't remember when I first met Andy myself. It was back in the 1970s, when the dissident movement in Ukraine had become increasingly prominent. I joined fellow Ukrainian Americans in rallies, letter-writing campaigns and lobbying elected officials to support Ukraine. Mr. Boyko showed up at various events, then used his influence behind the scenes to open doors.

Along with his wife, Eve, Andy raised four sons, all of whom are successful in their chosen careers. Two followed in their father's footsteps to the legal profession and public service. Half a year ago, the oldest was sworn in as a judge on the Federal Court of the Northern District of Ohio.

Soon after the Senate confirmed Judge Boyko's nomination late in 2004, a bipartisan group of Greater Cleveland's ethnic activists held a luncheon in his honor. Acknowledging the inevitable words of praise sent in his direction, Chris began by remarking, "the president nominated the wrong Boyko; it should have been my dad." Well, Chris is plenty qualified to serve on the federal bench, but people understood his message and greeted it with warm applause.

Presidential nominations, as we all know, are highly competitive. People don't become federal judges without lots of politics. It was recently pointed out on these pages and elsewhere that Ukrainian Americans are not plugged in to the Ukrainian Congress Committee of America or the Ukrainian National Association as they once were and it's argued that the political influence of those organizations in Washington is not what it once was. Whether you accept that or not, the fact is our people are plugged in to each other and to the political process as never before - through the telephone, the Internet and, yes, at funerals like Andy Boyko's. Over the course of the three days that people had the opportunity to say farewell, there were always a couple hundred people in line.

He was a modest, friendly, eminently approachable man who simply did his job. And in doing so, Andy proved to be a giant in his own backyard. Those in power notice these things, even as they also stood for the better part of an hour to reach the front of the line - judges, state representatives and senators, members of Congress.

And if the wrong Boyko was nominated federal judge, as his son so poignantly and generously averred, it's because Andy came of age at an earlier time, when the task was different from the one that confronts us today. With a pencil and a slogan - "Write in Boyko" - he and his friends were developing a base. And because they did so, those who admired him and learned from him now have the means to go after goals far more lofty - and mundane - than his generation was ever able to pursue: political, economic and military support for an independent Ukraine, congressional earmarks for Ukrainian cultural projects, nominations to the federal court, jobs for members of our community. Those were all pipe dreams in 1963.

Ukrainians in Cleveland have done well in the political arena. Not one, but two federal judges come from our community, not to mention those who've held senior positions with senators, congressmen, governors, attorneys general, county commissioners, etc. Several of our people have been councilmen and an adopted Clevelander serves as co-chair of the Congressional Ukrainian Caucus.

Andy Boyko, to be sure, can't take credit for all this. He was a leader, but he was far from alone. Indeed, his generation has its counterparts in every major community where Ukrainians settled a century ago. Those of us who have petitioned on behalf of Ukraine's Orange Revolution, worked for a candidate, or simply used connections to get a job at City Hall or the county should know that success does not happen in a vacuum. We walk the path those who preceded us helped to blaze by dint of hard work and audacity. Waiting 45 minutes to pay respects for a man as accomplished and well-liked as Judge Boyko didn't seem long at all.

Andrew Fedynsky's e-mail address is: [email protected].

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