Hutzell: Speed dating for Congress: How Maryland’s 5th District candidates stand out

Harry Dunn extended his very large hand for a shake.

“Hi, how are you?” he beamed inside the cavernous office space.

At 6-foot-7, the former U.S. Capitol Police officer is the tallest person running for Congress in Maryland’s 5th District, and the tallest person in the room. His $2 million campaign fund makes him one of the best-funded, and he’s the only one who can claim hero status.

All that — and it’s a lot — still might not be enough to win his second bid for Congress. In Maryland’s biggest primary, almost anything seems possible just 32 days from the start of early voting.

“I’ve got election PTSD,” Dunn said. “I’ve been in a good place before.”

Rep. Steny Hoyer is leaving Congress after four decades, and all the pent-up political ambition in his district avalanched into this crowded race — 23 Democrats (down from 24), three Republicans, two independents, plus one retired federal stenographer running as a write-in.

An overwhelming Democratic majority in Prince George’s makes the June 23 Democratic primary victor Hoyer’s likely successor, swamping Anne Arundel, Calvert, Charles and St. Mary’s counties.

But if you’re not a 6-foot-7, nationally recognized retired police officer, how do you stand out from the crowd?

“I’m a different dude with a different passion,” said Walter Kirkland, giving it a try.

About 60 people walked into the South County Democratic Club forum May 3, looking for answers in a building so generic that even the address is indeterminate, both Upper Marlboro and Largo.

Campaign signs, planted like flowers in the grass and waved by a dozen young Quincy Bareebe supporters, were the only distinguishing feature.

“Can I get your name?” I asked one of them, introducing myself and taking a photo.

“That’s not what we do,” her minder interrupted. “It’s just not what we do.”

Inside, the crowd filled almost all the folding metal chairs, a phalanx of voters surrounded on three sides by candidates, volunteers, flyers and smiles.

“If you hear something you like, clap,” said Barbara Holt Streeter, a moderator so affable she uses the sobriquet Mrs. Protocol. “If you hear something you don’t like, don’t boo. Security is in the back.

“Are we ready?”

A dozen of the 23 Democrats nodded yes. For two hours, they talked about affordability and housing, healthcare and “white supremacist fascists.”

They quoted poetry.

“It matters not how straight the gate, how charge of punishment must roll,” said veteran Jerry Lightfoot, reciting “Invictus.” “I am the master of my faith. I’m the captain of my soul.

“I want each and every one of you to remember that.”

They offered personal details.

EMT James Anderson Makle talked about his special-needs son. Leigha Messick explained she was having trouble reading her prepared introduction because of a concussion.

They interpreted history.

Former Prince George’s County Executive Rushern Baker credited the Voting Rights Act, gutted days earlier by the U.S. Supreme Court, with helping him win his first office in the House of Delegates — even though he was appointed to the seat.

“Rushern!” came a shout from the crowd.

“Thank you!” he said back.

Harry Jarin, a volunteer firefighter who lost on “Jeopardy” over a Smokey the Bear question, swiped at Hoyer’s absent pick to succeed him, Del. Adrian Boafo.

“Steny Hoyer’s PAC has already dumped in more than half a million dollars for a candidate who couldn’t even be bothered to show up,” he said.

All the buzzy Democratic mantras made an appearance: billions on defense but not a penny for utility bills, reversing DOGE cuts to the federal workforce and really, really putting America first — through infrastructure, not tax breaks for billionaires.

Stop data centers, they said. Protect the district’s military bases. Up with progressive values.

“Medicare for all!” added Wala Blegay, a Prince George’s councilwoman.

Then came the lightning round, 30-second answers to successive questions, and candidates really started rolling for hot sixes of ideology.

“Let’s go,” Streeter said. “This is lightning. What is one federal policy you would change immediately?”

Bareebe: “We need to bring back more money in our county. Period.”

Dunn: “We have to abolish ICE. We have to defund ICE. They are terrorizing our communities, not only that, but they are stealing money from actual programs.”

Blegay: “It’s time for universal healthcare.”

State Sen. Arthur Ellis: “We need to have Democrats stand up strong.”

Baker: “Voting Rights Act. The John Lewis Voting Rights Act. It is the first thing that I will work on as your congressperson.”

Bing. Bang. Boom.

Most of the candidates, of course, are kidding themselves. Mr. Smith doesn’t go to Washington anymore, if he ever really did.

Winning a seat in Congress takes money, name recognition, a relentless schedule and a voter-turnout operation that can overcome an electorate diced among 23 candidates — or friends who can help achieve it.

Baker has some of that, and Bareebe gave $3 million to her own campaign to buy it. Adrian Boafo hopes Hoyer and other supporters will give him the boost he needs to win it.

Yet the myth of Jimmy Stewart’s 1939 movie endures — an idealist set loose among the lions can make a difference.

However ungrounded in political reality, there was hope in that building somewhere between Upper Marlboro and Largo.

Maybe the firefighter or the social worker can do it, or the father of a kid with autism, the poetry-loving vet or the single mom struggling with a concussion.

Or maybe it’s the former cop who stood up to a mob launched by Donald Trump, our past-and-present president. Maybe he stands above the rest.

“My name is Harry Dunn. I believe that a lot of you all may know who I am, because I lived one of the worst days of my life on national TV.”