Francis J. Devine Jr.

I am Anne Michaels Seavey, the second of six children of the Dick and Marie Michaels family. I regard Fran as my second brother and a beloved member of our family.

From the mid-1980s onward, I was treated to many lovely lunches and dinners in San Francisco's North Beach and SOMA neighborhoods by Fran, Jr. and Fran, Sr. Breaking bread with the two Frans with their Irish wits on full display was a welcome reprieve from the grind of law school! You've never tasted a true Dungeness crab casserole unless you've tasted Fran's at his place in Noe Valley.

Decades of adventures with Fran are numerous. Here's one of my favorites: During a stay in Enfield, I invited Fran to Mom & Dad's house on Pearl Street for a homemade dinner. Whetting Fran's whistle, I declared, "You should envision a warm, intimate ambiance with the fire place glowing and delicious Italian food reminiscent of the meals we used to share in North Beach with your Dad." Game on.

As was his custom, Fran arrived on time. He had been looking forward to the dinner all day long. Soft music was playing. A fire was glowing. Platters steaming with spaghetti, meatballs and eggplant parmesan adorned the table. Mom, Dad and Fran took their seats while I tossed the salad. After relishing several delectable bites, Fran crinkled his nose and said, "Anne, I smell something burning." I checked the stove. Everything was off. Fran walked into the living room and observed black smoke billowing from the fireplace. Mom had opened the flue before igniting the Duraflame log but the flue - unbeknownst to her - had somehow closed shut. While Fran rushed to open the front door, I loaded the fiery log onto a turkey roaster pan I hastily grabbed from the kitchen, hoping to hurl it onto the snow-packed front yard. Bad idea. Couldn't make it. Eyebrows now singed, I retreated to the fireplace, returning the log where it came from. Dad grabbed a pot filled with cold water and doused the fireplace. Black smoke filled the room. A heavy soot covered the mantle and walls. Harkening Dick Van Dyke in "Mary Poppins," Mom, Dad, Fran are the "perfect happy chimney sweep family," I thought to myself.

After a slow, painful examination of the wreckage, Fran pierced 15 minutes of total silence and blurted, "This was the best, most intimate homemade Italian dinner I've been to in a VERY LONG TIME. I found the pyrotechnic ambiance particularly inviting."

As a tribute to Fran, I collected and bottled the "Eau du Smoke" fragrance in a recycled glass vial and gave it to Fran for Christmas. It was his favorite cologne for years to come.

Fran and I bantered regularly about politics. We shared that authentic leaders should possess a solid moral compass, and be transparent, fair and empathic toward all people, regardless of gender, race, religion or sexual preference.

I will miss Fran's intellect and outrageous sense of humor for the rest of my days.

Peace and much love to you, Fran, my brother.
Anne

Kathy and family: Beth and I are so sorry to hear of Franny's passing. He was an angel on earth and he will be greatly missed. Sending prayers, love, and hugs. Rich Rago and Beth Maerz