Francis James Smith, Jr.

Francis James Smith Jr. was a man unlike any other. His intelligence, sense of humor and warmth could never be duplicated, and he was the definition of mental fortitude. Francis’ life was anything but easy, but you would never know by his sly smile or the wickedly dry and occasionally inappropriate humor that would leave anyone doing a double take while cracking up. The legend of Francis begins in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but before the permanent tarnish of Steeler country could stick on him, he and his mother, Dolly Bray, relocated to start a new life at 213 South Stricker Street in Baltimore, Maryland. Raised under the firm guidance of his father, William Bray, Francis went on to graduate from the renowned Baltimore Polytechnic Institute, aka Poly. Founded in 1883, Poly was created for preparing boys to enter into math and engineering fields, and was the first Maryland public high school to fully racially integrate in 1952. This background shined through Francis and the bright, guiding light that he was in so many lives, with his incredible mastery of numbers from woodworking/construction measurements to financial accounting, and his unbiased mind when it came to people of all colors during a time of incredible ignorance and prejudice. Once he graduated Poly, he and his best pals Ron Austin, Jimmy Miller, Ed Trott, Jimmy Harrison and Pat Delaney entered the military on the buddy system in 1960. Of course, Pat had to binge eat a whole banana farm to make weight for recruitment office. However, that soon paid off for lucky Delaney, with his military post being four grueling years in Hawaii. One of Francis’ other dearest friends, Lou Hinkel, would have made it to serve with the rest of the guys, but Lou had an important quarterly earnings meeting at the Gandy Dancer as a well-established investor in the business. Entering the service as Private Smith E-1, Francis would soon find himself going from the pavement of Stricker to the permafrost and unforgiving conditions of the Aleutian Islands in Alaska. Once he endured the grind of boot camp, the achievements started piling up: decorated as a Marksman; graduation from Signal Corps school in the Army after 14 condensed, intensive weeks of service education; successful completion and superior ranking in Countermeasures Search Specialist and Battle Indoctrination courses. Going from one of the ghetto boys of Bmore to a 20-year-old instructing at Fort Dix on spy satellite tracking and radar technologies to people many years his senior and well-advanced in their careers was just how advanced Francis’ mind was at an incredibly young age during the peak of the Cold War in the U.S. With Russia’s spy satellite Sputnik lurking in the distance and Communist pursuits globally, Francis and his generation were living history. He rose to the rank of PFC-E3 in one year before receiving an honorable discharge from the military after being diagnosed with a debilitating neurological disorder. Despite being unable to pursue a rapidly blossoming career in military service, Francis never complained and just went to work. His father got him started with an electric technician position at Westinghouse, where Bill Bray quickly learned one of his son’s many gifts, sleeping with his eyes open. Nap times didn’t last long with his dad keeping watch, and the work ethic that was immediately instilled in Francis. Joining shipping/trucking company ET&T Leasing in the late ‘60s, he quickly rose to Vice President where he eventually met the love of his life, Dona — though Francis would always be eager to remind her how he paid her too much at $1.85 an hour. Raising kids from previous marriages on week to week wages, and getting a rare treat when they would have 6 dollars of disposable income to spend on those special weeks, Francis & Dona held it together and could not have been better parents to their children. After he sent his wife off to work, Francis soon began planning an escape route: to the woods. Hunting camp was a fixture in his life, and even when renowned truck-slaying marksman Uncle Wilson was taking out Broncos left and right, Francis was always eager to peer out over the plains, eyes searching for a pronghorn antelope. And he always knew Bob Corn would be circling the perimeter on foot, covering 20 miles at a time, to keep their hunting sanctuary secure. Wyoming, Montana…the land of the Great Plains became his second love after Dona, and they both traveled this country and continent like no others. True love is driving the Alaskan highway together, and they hit everything on their list from coast to coast; all with no smartphones or Wifi, believe it or not. Having a handicap did not limit for much of Francis’ life, and it certainly never defined him. Even when given a less than 10% chance of surviving an aggressive form of lung cancer, he did not give up and was making others laugh and smile while he had to battle every day. From taxes to taxidermy to handcrafted ‘tater boxes, Francis was a renaissance man through and through. In the end, much like another super-cool Francis with a last name that starts with an S, Francis Smith did it his way. One of his favorite actors was seminal tough guy John Wayne, but when it came to toughness, to be blunt, Mr. Wayne didn’t have shit on Mr. Smith. He is survived by the love of his life, wife Dona; children Danielle, David and Francis; and sister Blanche.

Francis James Smith, Jr.

March 3, 1940 - November 6, 2022