Last month, in Minneapolis, I climbed the stairs of a row house to find Al Franken, Minnesota’s disgraced former senator, wandering around in jeans and stocking feet. It was a sunny day, but the shades were mostly drawn. Takeout containers of hummus and carrot sticks were set out on the kitchen table. His wife, Franni Bryson, was stuck in their apartment in Washington, D.C., with a cold, and he had evidently done the best he could to be hospitable. But the place felt like the kind of man cave where someone hides out from the world, which is more or less what Franken has been doing since he resigned, in December, 2017, amid accusations of sexual impropriety.
Your window is closing.
Don’t lose these views. Get full access for $2.50 $1 a week for one year, plus a free tote. Cancel or pause anytime.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Unlock this story for just $2.50 $1 a week for 1 year. Subscribe »
