Sixteen years ago, a former teacher beat a powerful Baltimore state senator in a primary surprise.
Now that upstart is the Maryland Senate president and he faces his own tough challenge. Bill Ferguson is up against social media provocateur Bobby LaPin in a Democratic primary that rhymes with history.
“I think it is inevitable for anyone that’s been in office to be once a challenger and now an incumbent,” Ferguson said. “And so it has been a different feeling than expected.”
We were sitting in his election offices in Locust Point, a temporary space rented for shared desks, logistics and signs. Blue “Bill Ferguson: Fighting for the 46th” placards leaned against almost every wall.
It was three days after I wrote about the similarities between Ferguson, one of Maryland’s most powerful elected officials, and former House Speaker Cas Taylor.
Twenty-four years ago, Taylor had power, influence and a record of achievement for his Western Maryland home. It meant little to voters unhappy with the status quo, who replaced him with a political nonentity.
Ferguson’s campaign didn’t respond to questions for that column. Emails I sent didn’t make it to the right person, I’m told. So campaign spokesperson Alli Smith asked if I would sit down with Ferguson to hear his take.
“I feel the same as I did 16 years ago, except kind of now I have a record,” Ferguson said, a water bottle from his job at a solar energy company on the table. “I can say the things that I have done, not just what I aspire to have done.”
He doesn’t feel much different than that 20-something upstart — older, of course, and with kids. This is still the guy who beat state Sen. George Della in a race that should have been a stroll for the incumbent.
Ferguson understands what it means to be LaPin, the critic with a resonant message.
“When I was the initial challenger, it really wasn’t about my opponent. It was really about education,” he said. “If my predecessor, Sen. Della, had been doing the things that I feel like I’ve been able to do in the last 16 years, there’s no chance I would have run.”
LaPin, a charter boat captain with a talent for social media, sees it differently. He calls Ferguson out of touch, focused on Maryland over South Baltimore — and even there, failing to see things right.
As the party moves leftward, critics assail Ferguson for blocking votes in Annapolis on legislation that motivates Democrats.
The most recent flash point was the proposal to gerrymander Republicans out of Maryland congressional races.
President Donald Trump weaponized the process nationwide, starting a back-and-forth between red and blue states. Gov. Wes Moore leaned on Ferguson to join the fight.
Add to that frustrations with the cost of everything, tire-fire politics nationally and public dyspepsia with government — no wonder LaPin’s insurgency has appeal.
“We do have people that are really angry about positions that I may have taken,” Ferguson said. “This is the first real challenge in 15 years, so you know, we dealt with thousands of issues over that time period. There are inevitably someone or some entity that is unhappy.”
He isn’t running from his record. Ferguson can rightfully say he led through the pandemic, police reform and the collapse of the Key Bridge.
The “education guy” of 2010 — as wonky a campaign slogan as you could dream up — has delivered for schools.
Ferguson led on rewriting funding formulas to put more money in city schools, and paid for the $475 million influx over the past five years with a digital ad tax.
While he has been president, Maryland achieved the nation’s second-lowest rate of people without health insurance. The state invested in city parks and museums, and supports Inner Harbor redevelopment.
“These are things that I have been able to deliver,” Ferguson said, “and when I tell people, they appreciate it and understand.”
He has a 20-year relationship with Brandon Scott, and the unexpected threat to a key money guy has the Baltimore mayor and others rallying to him.
Balance this with Ferguson’s refusal to call a vote on redistricting. Moore and House Speaker Joseline Peña-Melnyk wanted to adopt a map that would have pushed out Rep. Andy Harris, the state’s lone Republican in Congress.
Ferguson said the votes weren’t there to pass it, and he feared the inevitable lawsuit would make things worse if they were. He’s done the same math on other contentious issues.
“If we put it on the floor and it starts to be filibustered, all that happens is you sort of divide your own caucus and don’t break the filibuster,” he said.
The U.S. Supreme Court decision in May to slash the Voting Rights Act changed that calculus. Ferguson is now open to a constitutional amendment on changing boundaries for 2028.
He’s also in talks to campaign for Dan Schwartz, the likely Democratic challenger to Harris.
As for Moore, who hasn’t endorsed Ferguson, the Senate president sees the governor as running for higher office even as he seeks reelection. Maybe, he said, they can accomplish things together in the next two years.
This all makes sense, right?
So why, if Ferguson’s explanation is reasonable, does he seem in trouble? Maybe it’s his absence from social media, where LaPin dominates.
Ferguson said he doesn’t like to talk about himself, but he really dislikes snappy videos without context.
“I’ve tried to refine and study more the importance of better messaging through online media than I generally am uncomfortable with,” he said.
That long-ago speaker, Cas Taylor, fell before Instagram and TikTok arrived, but he probably never knocked on a door either. That’s where Ferguson will be till Election Day.
He knows he should have been out there all along. Now, he has to remind voters who he is.
“I don’t have the ability to, kind of, manipulate the narrative. I just try to do what’s right and then deal with the political consequences that come.”
Comments
Welcome to The Banner's subscriber-only commenting community. Please review our community guidelines.