The candidate filing deadline is upon us, and it’s always an exciting day.
It’s always fun to hang out at the Board of Elections office in Annapolis, or in county boards of elections, to watch the stragglers come in, and it’s fun to pore over the candidate lists. It’s a ritual that separates the mere political junkies from the truly hard core.
By 9 tonight, we’ll know for sure who’s running and who isn’t (though there is a 10-day grace period for the faint of heart to change their minds). There aren’t many huge mysteries left, as far as we know, but there will undoubtedly be a few surprises.
All of a sudden, some long-term incumbent who we assumed would be running again will instead decide to quietly and unceremoniously end his or her career, leaving the act of refusing to file for re-election as the only clue. Or an election that seemed fairly sleepy until now will suddenly be transformed into a bare-knuckle brawl. You can never be completely sure — that’s the beauty of it.
Whatever happens tonight, though, it can’t compare for sheer drama with the filing deadline of 1998. That was just three days after legendary state Comptroller Louis Goldstein (D) dropped dead by his pool at the age of 84, throwing the Maryland political world into several days of chaos.
Twelve years later, it’s fun to review the sequence of events — and speculate on what might have been.
Goldstein died at the start of a long Fourth of July weekend, just as most Maryland pols — like everyone else — were looking forward to a quiet weekend. Although there were Democratic and Republican primaries for governor brewing, we were all looking ahead to a November rematch between Gov. Parris Glendening (D) and Republican Ellen Sauerbrey. Goldstein was a shoo-in for an 11th term; veteran Attorney General Joe Curran (D) was also a heavy favorite for re-election.
Then, out of the blue, Goldstein dies. So Glendening faced parallel dilemmas: He needed to appoint someone to serve out the remainder of Goldstein’s term, and he needed to find someone to file for the election. What followed was days of intense negotiations and intrigue.
Former Gov. William Donald Schaefer (D) wanted back in. After four years in political exile, he desperately missed the spotlight and wanted to feel needed again. He called Glendening and asked for the appointment.
But Glendening’s first instinct was to get Montgomery County Executive Doug Duncan (D) to fill the job, and run for a full term. But Duncan was riding high as boss of Montgomery County and looking forward to running for governor in 2002. Duncan calculated that he could do more — and keep his visibility higher — as county executive than as comptroller. Glendening turned next to state Sen. Barbara Hoffman (D), chairwoman of the powerful Budget and Taxation Committee. She also declined.
Glendening had reportedly vetted those selections with Schaefer, and Schaefer had privately assured him that if Duncan or Hoffman were the choice, he would not interfere, but would keep open the option of running if Glendening went in a different direction. Glendening agreed to stay in touch.
Glendening and Schaefer had never really gotten along — the mercurial and me-first Schaefer had in fact supported Republican Congresswoman Helen Bentley for governor in 1994 instead of a Democrat.
But as the 1998 campaign heated up, as Glendening realized that Schaefer could be useful for him in the battle against Saurbrey, and as Schaefer realized that Glendening would welcome him back to the campaign trail, the two reached a rapprochement, with Lt. Gov. Kathleen Kennedy Townsend (D) and some old Schaefer hands as the catalysts. Schaefer was even given a prominent speaking role when Glendening kicked off his re-election campaign at the University of Maryland.
With Duncan and Hoffman out of the picture, Glendening turned eventually to former Montgomery County Congressman Mike Barnes (D), who had been out of politics since losing the 1986 Senate Democratic primary to Barbara Mikulski, but had remained active with several political and policy groups. It was at that point that William Donald Schaefer said: “Wait a minute.”
Glendening announced that he was appointing Barnes to be comptroller. Barnes filed the paperwork to be a candidate that fall. But word began to circulate that Schaefer also wanted to be a candidate for comptroller. So on that filing deadline day, July 6, a Monday, the media camped out at the Board of Elections. They were not to be disappointed.
To call the next several hours a circus would be an understatement. But really, that was just a precursor for the next several days — and, for that matter, the next eight years of Schaefer’s public life.
Schaefer did indeed file to run for comptroller. And the Glendening people had an “oh shit” situation on their hands. They spent the next few days, both privately and publicly, trying to push Schaefer out. Fat chance. The more Glendening resisted embracing Schaefer, the more resolute Schaefer — who knew little about being comptroller — became.
It was Barnes who helped settle the situation. A few days later, he resigned as comptroller and withdrew from the election. Goldstein’s longtime right hand, Bobby Swann, became comptroller for the rest of 1998.
Glendening and Schaefer then held a hastily thrown together breakfast — and another media circus — at a hotel in Baltimore in which each said how delighted he was to be running with the other. They also appeared delighted to be running mates at the annual Tawes crab feast in Crisfield two weeks later. And they seemed to get along for the rest of the campaign. But it was not to last — to the detriment of both men and their good reputations.
It is interesting now to ponder what might have been. Were Duncan’s instincts wrong? Could he have parlayed the comptroller’s job into a gubernatorial win in 2002? He sat out that election because Townsend seemed so strong — which, of course, turned out to be anything but the case — and then began running in 2006 but didn’t even post against Martin O’Malley (D), who was a little-known Baltimore city councilman in 1998.
What kind of comptroller would Hoffman have made (probably a pretty good one)? Would one of the delegates in her district — likely Maggie McIntosh — have advanced to the Senate that year? If Hoffman had been comptroller, would legislative leaders felt compelled to appoint a woman (Nancy Kopp) state treasurer when that job became open in 2002?
What kind of comptroller would Mike Barnes have made (also pretty good)? Could he have parlayed the stature of being comptroller into, say, another Senate bid in 2006, when Paul Sarbanes (D) retired?
As for Glendening and Schaefer, their relationship became poisonous. After a lifetime of public service, Schaefer’s tenure as comptroller seemed to have one goal: to make Glendening miserable. And no one felt particularly good when Schaefer essentially exposed Glendening’s long-term personal relationship with a top aide.
Schaefer’s final four years as comptroller, serving alongside Republican Gov. Bob Ehrlich, were a little less contentious, though there were embarrassing and unfortunate moments, and of course his political career ended after an explosive Democratic primary.
Glendening, who in many ways was placed in an untenable situation by being forced to campaign and serve with Schaefer, nevertheless was graceless in his dealings with his predecessor — who demanded constant tribute, but could have been of service to Glendening if Glendening had only played along. It was a wasted opportunity for Glendening, and he paid the price.
Tonight’s filing deadline isn’t likely to produce such short-term drama. But a surprise here and a surprise there, and who knows? The long-term ramifications of something that happens tonight could be every bit as important.
Josh Kurtz is a managing editor at Roll Call, a Capitol Hill newspaper. He can be reached at joshkurtz92@gmail.com.
Previous Center Maryland columns by Josh Kurtz:
Bad News for Democrats From Washington to Washington County
The Political Lives of Peter Franchot
How to Make Prince George’s County King
Gay Rights and Political Wrongs?
The Washington Post Goes to War
Unsolicited Advice for Ehrlich — Wait Till 2014
