Samuel Hopkins was a luminous presence in a sometimes dark and disappointing world. He passed from our midst at 95, making that journey without distance home on Nov. 5. It was my privilege to call him my friend for 41 years. Born and raised at White Hall, his family’s farm in Howard County, Sam would tell me that winter evenings as a boy were spent completing homework by kerosene lamp or candlelight, then sitting before a roaring fireplace just listening and absorbing lessons of simplicity and tolerance from his Quaker family.
Sam learned well from his egalitarian relatives and always gave generously of what was most precious, his time. Some would say his finest quality learned in childhood was that rare ability to quietly listen to those who sought his advice. His solutions were simple, clear. His knack for cutting through pettifoggery was natural to his Quaker roots. Sam Hopkins was a great-great-nephew of Baltimore Quaker philanthropist and merchant Johns Hopkins, whose achievements had a profound influence on Sam and sparked his great passion for the preservation of Maryland history and historic sites, public service, philanthropy and Republican politics.
A graduate of McDonogh School in 1930 and Johns Hopkins University in 1934, he enrolled in The University of Maryland Law School at night and was admitted to the Bar in 1938. Sam entered World War II in 1942 as an ensign in the Navy and was discharged in 1945 as a lieutenant. He was navigator on the actively engaged attack transport Custer and on the hospital ship Solace during landings on Guam, Palau, Iwo Jima and Okinawa.
What Sam Hopkins brought to the world of business and the boardroom over the next 70 years was the humility of trust in the integrity of his fellow man. His impeccable reputation for fairness and decency inspired the best from others. Each kindness he extended would reinforce a colleague or diplomatically deflate bad behavior. He joined Fidelity and Deposit Co., spending 36 years there, retiring in 1970 as director, vice president and secretary. Over time he was a member of the Trust Committee of The Equitable Trust Co., becoming a board member in 1967, a partner at Alex Brown & Sons from 1970 to 1987 and director of Essex Corp. from 1988 to 1997.
A lifelong Republican, Sam Hopkins became the party’s natural standard-bearer in an overwhelmingly Democratic state. In 1950, he was elected and served four years as a member of the Maryland House of Delegates. In the 1955 election for mayor, Republicans chose Sam Hopkins to run against solid incumbent Thomas D’Alesandro, Jr. Sam said that he met my Democrat father, City State’s Attorney Anselm Sodaro, for the first time when they both walked into the washroom at the Park Plaza Hotel. Dad gave him some sound political advice and election strategy as they washed their hands. Laughing, Sam said the washroom was the only place a loyal Democrat could exchange ideas cordially and freely with a loyal Republican.
Sam’s civic activism started in 1941 as a founder of Citizens Planning and Housing Association; as president, vice president and member of the City Board of Recreation and Parks from 1965 to 1977; trustee and vice president of the Board of Sheppard Pratt Hospital, 1970 to 1987; member of the Baltimore City Planning Commission from 1985 to 1995 and Civic Works Board from 1995 until his death.
Sam was devoted to preserving Maryland’s history and historic sites. He served the Maryland Historical Society as treasurer, president, then chairman between 1956 and 1990; trustee of the Baltimore Museum of Art and Peale Museum; board member of the City Art Commission, Friends of Benjamin Banneker Historic Park and Museum, Friends of Clifton Mansion and Friends of Maryland’s Olmstead Parks.
The real measure of the man is that he is loved by those who knew him well.
The mutual gift of love and devotion I observed among Sam and Anne, his wife of 53 years, four sons and their spouses, 11 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, was often a wordless blazing silence, a bond so deep it made no sound. He offered to friends like me what he experienced, a peace beyond measure, complete, profound. To honor Sam’s memory, I am determined to become that person he always told me I was.
Stephanie Esworthy is a writer living in Bel Air. Reach her at [email protected].
