Mayor makes mark, as vowed
But long-term impact of O'Malley's style is subject of debate
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By Gerard Shields
Sun Staff
Mayor Martin O'Malley's brash fighting style in demanding court
reforms from district judges -- using mocking stick figures and terms
like "throw up" -- doesn't shock longtime O'Malley observers.
They watched Councilman O'Malley employ the same
throw-gasoline-on-the-raging-fire zeal in his demand for police
reforms.
O'Malley took on then-police Commissioner Thomas C. Frazier
even as Frazier seemed to be winning part of the war on crime,
accusing him of intentionally misleading the public with false shooting
statistics. O'Malley won that bitter fight -- audits showed the drop in
shootings was 30 percent less than the department claimed -- and his
win in the primary election helped spur Frazier's departure.
"He's like a pit bull," said Gary McLhinney, president of the
Baltimore Fraternal Order of Police. "If he gets ahold of you, he's not
going to let go until you give up. The more you fight, the harder he
bites."
On Friday -- St. Patrick's Day -- O'Malley will have been
Baltimore's mayor for 100 days. And although debate will continue
over his political tactics, no one argues that the 37-year-old mayor,
who moonlights as leader of an Irish rock band, hasn't fulfilled his
pledge to shake up city government.
"He makes you want to stand and cheer," said Carol Arscott, a
former Republican activist who now operates a political consulting
firm that tracked the mayor's race.
The long-term impact of O'Malley's methods is another issue. Even
though criminal justice officials agreed to a court reform plan last
week -- which the mayor could claim as a victory -- some people
see trouble ahead for O'Malley. They warn that bombastic ways that
may have worked in the City Council won't necessarily play out in
the larger arena of Maryland politics.
Del. Howard P. Rawlings, the House Appropriations chairman and
one of O'Malley's chief supporters, said while he appreciates the
mayor's impatience, his confrontational style isn't the sole way to
achieve results.
O'Malley appeared before Rawlings' committee early in the session,
insisting that it delay state funding for court reforms until his demands
were met, later telling legislators that the judges' claim of progress
"makes me throw up." The committee approved the funds, with a
between-the-lines message to the mayor that he's not the only player.
"We are the ones who released the funds," Rawlings said. "We are
the ones who are going to have to fund a budget. He has been an
important catalyst, but we are going to achieve this goal with or
without him."
But with his political future now tied to his pledge to reduce city
crime, O'Malley has no qualms about pulling everyone from Rawlings
to Gov. Parris N. Glendening into the fight and holding them
accountable to the public.
By labeling District Court Chief Judge Martha Rasin an
"obstructionist," he dragged the court leader and fellow judges --
who are elected to 10- to 15-year terms and operate in relative
anonymity -- into the spotlight.
"He's put a face to these people who never had faces before,"
McLhinney said. "Now people know who they are. Nobody could
pick Judge Rasin out on the street before. They can now."
O'Malley has public opinion on his side, which can be to a persistent
politician what the presence of blood is to a shark.
"He has a great sense of politics as theater," Western Maryland
College Professor Herb Smith said of O'Malley's first months in
office. "And he's got a winning hand with this [issue]."
If you're an O'Malley target, life can become pretty miserable. Rasin
fired back, accusing the mayor of immaturity by calling his Annapolis
testimony "a tantrum." Some observers of Maryland politics question
whether the moves are responsible or fair, empathizing with the
judges and likening O'Malley's actions to chasing a gnat with a chain
saw.
"He makes more trouble for himself sometimes by being a little more
aggressive than he needs to be and a little less conciliatory," said
Matthew Crenson, a Johns Hopkins University political science
professor. "It's a tactic that can backfire. Sometimes, [opponents]
can react by blowing you up."
Northwest Baltimore City Councilwoman Helen Holton understands
the frustration of judges and state legislators not accustomed to
O'Malley's steamrolling ways. Many liken his style to that of former
mayor and Gov. William Donald Schaefer, whose political mantra
was once described by a loyalist as "ready, fire, aim."
"It can be frustrating for others who have seen the mayor in his more
polished campaign position," Holton said. "In a big arena, it may
appear to be flip, but he is fully aware of what he's doing. When he
believes in something, he is very passionate and he will convey the
message in a way best understood by the most amount of people."
O'Malley, welcoming the court reform agreement, said he had no
regrets over the tactics he employed.
"The point is that we have accomplished the goal to establish
priorities in the criminal justice system," O'Malley said.
O'Malley's assertiveness is felt by many, not just the judges.
Recently, the mayor said he requested that the Walters Art Gallery
provide paintings for his office. Museum officials objected, worried
about the security and condition of the pieces in the uncontrolled
climate, O'Malley said.
The mayor reminded them that the works technically belong to the
mayor, City Council and citizens of Baltimore.
The paintings now hang in the mayor's office.
Sun staff writer Caitlin Francke contributed to this article.
Originally published on Mar 12 2000