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Senator grows into his role
J. Lowell Stoltzfus brings to Annapolis a Mennonite devotion to peace, but recent events are helping to sharpen his aggressiveness
 
By Jennifer Skalka
Sun reporter

September 28, 2005

Westover // Sen. J. Lowell Stoltzfus, a devout Mennonite, is seen as one of the gentlest members of the General Assembly. Balding, with big, warm brown eyes and glasses, he teaches Sunday school classes to adults and talks about his love of a cappella singing.

But Stoltzfus has been steamed lately, and he isn't hiding it. As one of four Republicans on the special committee investigating whether Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. fired state workers for political reasons, he is fighting to make sure the eight Democrats on the panel don't turn the hearings into an election-year escapade that makes the governor look bad.

Though Stoltzfus, 56, denies he's Ehrlich's point man in the committee, he uses the word "we" frequently during the group's meetings. As in, "We're never going to have bipartisan cooperation." As in, "We have nothing to hide."

He has railed against the Democrats for granting the panel subpoena power and giving themselves the right to hire outside counsel. And, to make his outrage plain, he has threatened to abandon the hearings altogether.

"I'm the one who most wants to get out of it," he said during a recent interview at his Somerset County farm. "I think it's a silly waste of time."

Stoltzfus has served in the General Assembly since 1991 and hasn't decided yet whether to run again. One of two farmers in the General Assembly, the legislator says it has always been uncomfortable to be a Republican in a Democrat-dominated legislature.

And he despises the rancor that marks each special committee hearing. He'd rather be tending to more pressing business - the state's or his own.

"I don't like to fight, but I will when I have to," he said.

Given his roots, it's no surprise that Stoltzfus isn't keen on doing battle.

James Lowell Stoltzfus was born in Pottstown, Pa., the second of six children born to a "poor farmer" and a homemaker who had only completed eighth grade. His grandfather was born Amish; his parents were Mennonites. The church was the center of their lives.

When he was 5, Stoltzfus' family relocated to Snow Hill so his father could help start a Mennonite church there. Mennonites believe in peace above all and service to those in need.

Stoltzfus described his childhood as insular. The men in his life wore dark coats. The woman wore prayer veils and weren't permitted to cut their hair. Shorts were a no-no. Interest in government and politics was shunned as too worldly.

It was a very big deal, Stoltzfus said, when he chose to take a high school physical education class. Stoltzfus laughed as he recalled that he opted for longer Bermuda shorts instead of the skimpier gym shorts the other students were wearing.

Stoltzfus graduated from a Mennonite boarding school in Pennsylvania and then studied at what is now Salisbury University, where he majored in English and sociology and played center on the varsity basketball team. He also completed a year of seminary school at Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Va.

After teaching English and music at Pocomoke High School, Stoltzfus took over his father's nursery. He married a Mennonite woman whom he had first met in high school. Their business - Stoltzfus Plant Farm - grew, and so did their family.

Now a father of four and grandfather of one - James Lowell Stoltzfus III - Stoltzfus owns about 500 meticulously maintained acres of farmland on the Eastern Shore. He grows cabbage, soybeans, corn and wheat on the property and employs about 80 people, depending on the season.

Stoltzfus and his wife, Sharon, a sixth-grade teacher, raised their children in a 1902 farmhouse on the property. A few years ago, they sold it to build a modern home nearby. The Pocomoke River snakes past their backyard.

Inside, a Bible sits on a coffee table. Music for "Hymns of the Christian Life" is perched on the piano.

A challenging year
On a recent afternoon, Stoltzfus sat, legs crossed, in a living room chair. He was candid about the challenges he has faced over the past year. Even when he tries to stop himself from dwelling on the personal or political, he often continues. It's as if sharing comes most naturally to him.
Last session, Stoltzfus said, he survived a push to oust him as Senate minority leader.

"They said to me, 'You're not aggressive enough,'" he recalled. "'You're not a fighter. We need a fighter.'"

Sen. Andrew P. Harris, the minority whip, was the man who wanted to replace him. Harris said he has seen another side of Stoltzfus during the special committee hearings. The pit bull in Stoltzfus has surfaced, a development Harris sees as an expression of Stoltzfus' interest in justice, not politics.

"To understand Lowell, I think you have to understand that he really doesn't like when people don't treat other people fairly and with respect and honesty," Harris said. "And I think why he's been so outspoken on this issue is because he really truly in his heart perceives that this is not something that's being done for the good of the state but is a political maneuver."

Sen. Thomas M. Middleton, the Democratic co-chairman of the special committee, which is scheduled to meet again tomorrow, has faced off frequently with Stoltzfus over the course of the hearings. They quarrel often, with Stoltzfus insisting that the minority's wishes are being ignored and Middleton, face growing red with frustration, exclaiming that he's doing all he can to address their concerns.

Affection and respect
Despite their differences, Middleton expressed great affection and respect for Stoltzfus, an anti-abortion fiscal conservative who rarely breaks with his party. He said he understands that Stoltzfus has a job to do, and he senses that it's paining him.
"He's one of the most decent, caring people I've ever met in my life," Middleton said.

Harder still than the political feuding dominating Stoltzfus' life in Annapolis was the news that his wife of 34 years was sick. During the last legislative session, Sharon Stoltzfus, 55, started suffering from a range of symptoms that were hard to ignore: muscle cramps, trembling hands, difficulty turning over in bed and exhaustion.

"I knew she was having trouble," Stoltzfus said. "I knew her health wasn't right."

A local neurologist diagnosed Parkinson's disease. But the couple held out hope. They waited five months to seek a second opinion. A doctor at Johns Hopkins confirmed their fears in August.

Sharon's health is, not surprisingly, the key variable that will determine whether Stoltzfus will run for re-election. He said she's on several medications that seem to be helping. She's sleeping better of late. They're taking life as it comes, Stoltzfus said. They attend Holly Grove Mennonite Church every Sunday and pray together daily. They are enjoying time with their children and life on the farm.

Sharon Stoltzfus said her husband turns to his faith to give him strength - both in dealing with her illness and his new responsibilities with the special committee. He knows that he can't always control things. "You do your best and then let it go," she said.

The rural stretch of road that leads from the main highway to Stoltzfus' acreage winds through cornfields and past modest frame houses. Three large wooden crosses stand guard on one side of the street.

Stoltzfus loves to roam his property. During a recent drive, he pointed to the row upon row of trees he has planted, sycamores and sawtooth oak, persimmon trees and bald cypress. He kept a lookout for wild turkey, quail and deer. His voice dropped slightly as he recalled that the night before he watched a fawn nurse on a doe.

"I'd rather watch them now than hunt them by far," Stoltzfus said.

Copyright © 2005, The Baltimore Sun