Hutzell: Can David bring down a Maryland Goliath? It’s happened before.

One of the most powerful elected officials in Maryland was fighting for his political life.

Voters were deeply unhappy with his decisions, giving an upstart challenger hope. Fighting over a state election map could be the deciding factor.

That was 24 years ago. House Speaker Casper R. Taylor Jr. lost to an unknown candidate in one of the biggest upsets in Maryland political history.

Even in the usually predictable landscape of Maryland politics, the Goliath occasionally falls to a David.

Maybe social media provocateur Bobby LaPin can repeat the upset and beat state Senate President Bill Ferguson next month in their South Baltimore Democratic primary.

Maybe not.

Circumstances have to come together at just the right time, in exactly the right way. It’s happened before, and the similarities between then and now are striking, if not exact.

LaPin — my colleague Lee O. Sanderlin called him “a hoodie-clad, flip-flop-wearing charter boat captain” — thinks he’s caught the moment.

“In the end of the day,” he said, “there was a change with Bill going from the senator who represents the district to the senate president who represents, you know, all of Maryland and all these larger corporate interests.”

Only voters know for sure. But history puts the possibility in perspective.

Taylor brought millions home to his Western Maryland district over 28 years as a delegate, capped by nine as speaker of the House.

The Cumberland Democrat championed Interstate 68, convincing the governor to fund its completion as an economic lifeline.

He was the driving force behind the resort at Rocky Gap State Park, creating hundreds of tourism jobs. He set the stage for the profitable casino that followed a decade later.

And Taylor pushed through tax credits for local small-business expansion, funding for Cumberland revitalization and money for state prisons with hundreds of jobs.

It wasn’t enough.

Voters were angry. Taylor helped pass gun safety legislation in 2000, making Maryland the first state to require built-in trigger locks on new handguns.

Then an appeals court threw out a new legislative district map in June 2002, declaring it unconstitutional. Consultants drew a new plan for the September primary, moving four Republican precincts into Taylor’s district.

Republican congressman Bob Ehrlich was simultaneously building momentum in his successful run for governor, and urging Western Maryland voters to kick the Democrats out.

Into this walked LeRoy E. Myers Jr., a manager at his father’s Hagerstown masonry firm. Savvy enough to focus on the trigger lock, he attacked Taylor as no longer representative of conservative Allegany and Washington counties.

It worked. When the ballots were counted, Myers beat one of the state’s most powerful figures by 76 votes.

Myers stayed in Annapolis for two terms, futilely voting against the Democratic majority again and again. His most notable legislative accomplishment may have been a failed attempt to ban truck nuts.

I reached out to Ferguson’s campaign to talk about whether Taylor’s past is his prologue. No one responded.

But as Lee wrote Thursday, Ferguson’s circumstances are unique to his own moment.

The former teacher is a moderate Democrat in an age when the Maryland party’s left is rising.

He has frustrated progressives on immigration and juvenile justice. When he blocked an attempt this year to redraw the state’s congressional districts in response to Republican gerrymandering, Ferguson became a national target.

For the record, I like Ferguson. So do political figures I respect. Five years ago, I applied for a communications position in his office — I’m pretty sure we’re both happy I didn’t get the job — and this spring wrote a defense of his stance on redistricting.

Like Taylor, Ferguson’s political future may be coming unglued, in part because of circumstances beyond his control.

Anger over the redistricting fight worsened in early May, when a Virginia court blocked a voter-approved referendum to shift four seats from red to blue. Economic pain from high electricity prices was exacerbated in March by gas price spikes caused by President Donald Trump’s war with Iran.

Enter LaPin, a tour boat captain with a knack for social media. His posts shifted from Baltimore sunsets to left-leaning politics.

“I think that there is a progressive wave that is undeniably, you know, flowing through this country,” he said.

He fits an archetype of political challengers in any party, the knowledgeable blowhard who stops being ignored when events turn in their favor.

“I prefer citizen journalist,” LaPin said.

He’s not a political neophyte. He was a high school page in the state Senate when Taylor was speaker.

Like me, he remembers the day-after moaning that Taylor’s constituents had foolishly cast out their best friend in Annapolis for a powerless back-bencher.

“Any, any incumbent will tell you, if you lose me, the world will end,” LaPin said. “They will all say that, OK?”

Unlike Western Maryland, Baltimore has many powerful lawmakers. If Ferguson were to lose, they would be key to choosing a successor.

Many are lined up behind Ferguson. Yet LaPin has shown asymmetric talent for getting under his skin.

During this year’s General Assembly session, he blanketed Ferguson’s street with campaign signs. The Senate president was sufficiently gobsmacked to start knocking on neighbors’ doors.

LaPin likes to claim more. He thinks that propelled controversial legislation limiting local police cooperation with immigration enforcement.

“I put up signs around his house because I was pushing for the Community Trust Act to be brought out of death from committee after crossover, since I was making videos on it, and I knew that that was a pressure campaign on him,” LaPin said.

Like Taylor, Ferguson is taking the race seriously. He has outspent LaPin and is meeting daily with constituents.

The outcome will be, essentially, a referendum on his record.

Like Taylor’s defeat 24 years ago, the governor’s race could affect the outcome, too.

Instead of Ehrlich’s conservative alternative to Democrats’ budget crises, Wes Moore is a popular incumbent facing token opposition.

The senator opposed Moore’s redistricting plan, and the governor didn’t endorse Ferguson.

The comparison to 2002 can be overdone. Bill Ferguson is not Cas Taylor.

LaPin, with the confidence only a “citizen journalist” displays, calls it close enough.

“Rick,” he said, “I think it’s going to be an overwhelming win for us.”