In a 2002 moment of clairvoyance, I decided not to peel off the distinct red and white “Schaefer for Comptroller” bumper sticker, not because it was one of the few I had applied straight, but because I knew there would be another Schaefer campaign for comptroller. He would approve of my make-do, recycling frugality. I would “Do It Now!” before “Now” was here. Time is holographic, not linear.
I?m not admitting this undamaged sticker might be the reason I?ve delayed buying a new car, but will concede that William Donald Schaefer inspires loyalty and devotion, for he is loyal to aides and devoted to the regular folks he serves. His devotion entitles him to ours.
My pinnacle of devoted distraction was achieved years ago, rushing to dress in the dawn darkness for a campaign breakfast. After first packing school lunches at lightning speed, there was a vaguely perceptible tactile feeling of something foreign inside my shoe but not a moment to stop and investigate. Halfway through eggs, homefries and his remarks, I had a chance to remove my shoe under the table to take a sly peek. There, flattened and elongated like some new improved organic Dr. Scholl?s pad, sticking fast to the bottom of my bare foot and held in place by my hose, was a very fresh Fig Newton. My first reaction was guilt and panic! This nutritious snack had not made it into my daughter Zann?s lunch bag. Later in the office, I showed off the Fig Newton as proof of my earnestness. I perceived others as having Fig Newton envy.
In every Schaefer campaign there is a demeanor aides adopt. The look is confident but serious with a hint of worry. The stance is like that of an alert border collie, at the ready, waiting for the nod to herd something. The walk is resolute. Men don?t saunter, they stride with purpose. Women never stroll but sharply tap those heels. It?s a quick mincing gait which produces a snapping sound particularly effective on City Hall marble floors. All this is the result of Schaefer?s training that it?s important to be eager and efficient ? but to “run scared” no matter what the polls say. It?s a wise philosophy and a mark of great respect for opponents. So in 2002, despite favorable polls, we would “run scared.” This was not so easy. I had a hard time summoning up angst.
His narrow sliver of a town house on Lancaster Street in Fells Point housed Baltimore City?s portion of the statewide campaign. Most days were peaceful for volunteer Angela Parks and me in that two-room first floor. There was no bustling, no ringing phone.
He already had achieved icon status and was expected to win handily. In the silence I listened for the footsteps of famous ghosts in this historic district, one-legged sea dogs and English Quaker William Fell.
I phoned his supporters who might want posters and lawn signs, and could hear them smile. “Sure we?ll take some,” said one, “but won?t put them out to get dirty. They?re great souvenirs of the Schaefer era.” Others would quip, “You can?t be seriously campaigning!”
Once a week The Boss would sweep into the house looking properly anxious. We would walk around the corner to Jimmy?s Restaurant on Broadway. Getting there was akin to inching along at rush hour. He is a star. The folks stopped him every few feet to thank him again for past legislation or personal kindnesses or just to encourage him. Inside Jimmy?s, we would head for the large, round, permanently reserved table with a worn handmade cardboard sign swaying overhead on a string stapled to the ceiling. It read “Reserved for Governor Schaefer.” I?d try to be serious and give my report. He?s disciplined and kept the “run scared” demeanor. I wantedto smile and reassure him ? all will be well, and so it was.
I?m ignoring the 2006 polls. His has been the transparent no-spin life. We know him well. Is his position in sync with the party platform? He doesn?t care! Once again, his devotion to regular folks entitles him to theirs.
Stephanie Esworthy was director of media and public relations and the Baltimore City Film Commission for former Mayors William Donald Schaefer and the late Clarence “Du” Burns and served as head of Baltimore City?s Bureau of Music in every city administration since Mayor Theodore R. McKeldin. Her personal experiences in local politics started in the early 1950s as the daughter of state?s attorney and chief judge of the Circuit Court for Baltimore City, Anselm Sodaro, now deceased. She may be reached at [email protected].
