Ben Cardin announces he’s not going to run for re-election to his U.S. Senate seat, which means we lose the smartest guy in the room. Which room? Any room.
But the one that comes to mind is the dank room behind the House of Delegates in Annapolis in the autumn of 1985 when we were still learning the awfulness of the historic savings and loan scandal.
Darkness has fallen, but the TV newspeople have turned on their lights and created these eerie, surrealistic shadows behind Cardin. The atmosphere is reminiscent of those old mystery movies, where people speak in whispers punctuated by distant screams.
At this moment, though, the screams weren’t so distant. You heard them from people terrified they might lose their life savings. And here was Cardin, speaker of the House. And here, standing maybe 15 yards away, was Harry Hughes, governor of Maryland.
Hughes looked terrific. He was tan and fit and well-rested, joking with a few pals. But the pals moved on, and Hughes stood there all by himself, looking like the most lonesome man in the building.
The busiest was Cardin, because every reporter turned to him. They knew he was the smartest guy in the room, the one who would understand what went wrong, and how to make it right.
He’s been that guy for nearly 60 years in public life. He was elected to the legislature at 22. At 27, he was vice chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, which handles most of the state’s budgetary matters. At 34, he became speaker of the House.
He was an odds-on favorite to become governor, except for an earth force named William Donald Schaefer. Cardin was ready to run. But Steve Sachs was already a candidate, and Schaefer and Sachs had veiled contempt for each other. Schaefer figured Sachs would beat Cardin in a Democratic primary.
So Schaefer jumped in and knocked everybody else out of the game.
Cardin ultimately wound up on Capitol Hill, not a bad fallback. He’s established himself not only for his intelligence — he’s still among the smartest people in the room, though it’s a higher bar than Annapolis — but he’s also the rare pol who gets along with opponents, even in this combative time.
He’s never been a grandstander. Like Paul Sarbanes and Barbara Mikulski who preceded him, his best work has been done in the back rooms, when the TV lights are off. He exudes self-effacement.
In fact, there was a photograph Harry Hughes once held in his hand, which showed Cardin wearing a sickly little smile as he signed a bill. Hughes, not the most dynamic man himself, said the sickly smile was “the result of me trying to teach Ben charisma.”
Instead of charisma, he’s had intelligence. Also, integrity.
Go back to that night in the House chambers and the Old Court Savings and Loan scandal. Cardin was walking a very thin line. His cousin, Jerome S. Cardin, was one of the key Old Court defendants.
“You have to back off on this issue,” a friend told Cardin. “It’s gonna be hell on the family name.”
“To hell with the family name,” Cardin replied. “How about the name of the state of Maryland.”
He’s always been the smartest guy in the room — and the most trustworthy.
Michael Olesker’s latest book, “Boogie: Life on A Merry-Go-Round,” was recently published by Apprentice House. It’s the life story of Baltimore legend Leonard “Boogie” Weinglass, an original “Diner” guy who grew up to create the Merry-Go-Round clothing chain and contribute millions to charity.
For more than 130 years, Sol Levinson & Bros. has been woven into the fabric of Baltimore’s Jewish community.
As he gets ready to leave for California, Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg looks back on his time in Baltimore and his 10 years writing for Jmore.
A former college campus activist, Veksler will speak at Chizuk Amuno on June 8 at the Ruth and Jay Lenrow Visiting Scholar-in-Residence for Combating Antisemitism.