Richard’s an angry voter, ticked off that I don’t think Bob O’Shea’s use of CPR to save a neighbor two years ago was important to his run for mayor of Annapolis.
“Shouldn’t voters be able to choose someone who saved a life?” he shouted after a series of irritable emails.
Annapolis is about to pick a new mayor for the first time in eight years in an election that will also remake the City Council.
Should you vote for O’Shea because he was a Good Samaritan? No.
The Republican business owner wants to cut government and property taxes. Democrat Jared Littmann, a hardware store owner and former alderman, wants government to work better without drastic cuts.
This election season, I’ve been exploring issues voters should consider. With mail-in voting two weeks away, I asked people with firsthand perspectives on the job — what makes a good mayor?
“The day after I was sworn in as mayor, they arranged for a meeting with the finance director, the financial adviser from Baltimore and a couple of other folks,” said Dick Hillman, mayor from 1981-85.
He is one of four surviving former mayors, a number that will grow in December, when Gavin Buckley leaves office.
“They said to me, ‘I don’t want to scare you, but we want you to know that, if this were a business and not a city, our financial advice would be to declare bankruptcy,’” Hillman said.
People seldom think about former Annapolis mayors, what they did or didn’t do. There’s no history of them going on to higher office, and few play a leading role in civic life beyond their terms.
Yet, for four years or eight, the mayor is the Annapolis ringmaster, setting the agenda, tackling some problems, leaving others for another day.
“All things end up on the mayor’s desk,” said Ellen Moyer, mayor from 2001-09. “And so you can say it is a weak mayor, we only have one vote on the Council, but the mayor is still the CEO.”
Whether Littmann or O’Shea, the next mayor will take office with goals. But he can expect a fractious Council, divergent state and federal leaders, storms, homicides and every kind of unexpected problem to be his bread and butter.
“It’s a 60- or 70-hour-a-week job,” said Mike Pantelides, a Republican who served from 2013-17. “It’s a job for a young person or a retired person.”
Hillman walked into the worst mess in the city’s modern history. One mayor quit over the budget; his replacement killed himself because of it.
Four years later, Hillman left the city government with a surplus. The Republican credited his city manager, finance director, city attorney and department heads.
“Just listen to them and say yes or no or refer things to the Council,” he said.
Twenty years later, Moyer became the only woman to hold the job, so far. Her office was on the first floor at City Hall, and she let anyone come in to talk — to the unending frustration of her staff.
“The keyword is, always, listening,” the Democrat said, “and then the issue is, who do you listen to?
“In a city this size, seven square miles, you should be listening to the residents.“
For such a small city, with barely more than 40,000 residents, Annapolis has a lot of factions.
Some want things to change; others hate the idea. The haves and have-nots often have conflicting needs. Fighting City Hall usually means fighting some other faction.
“Being a good mayor begins with understanding the community and its diversity,” Pantelides said. “For a mayor to be successful, they have to understand all those different groups.”
And where to lead them.
“It’s about having a good sense of what is possible when,” said Josh Cohen, mayor from 2009-13. “When is an issue ripe to move forward, and are you going to be that leader to really push it forward and make it happen?”
Leading has consequences. Pantelides beat Cohen in part because Cohen supported Crystal Spring, a retirement development off Forest Drive.
“The fact that it was in the midst of a campaign made it harder to achieve consensus because it became a political issue,” Cohen said.
Pantelides discovered his own frustrations. It took all four years of his term to build a solar park, and even putting up new bus shelters proved harder than he expected.
“It took nine months to get new ones, through government procurement, bids, the whole purchasing process,” he said.
Then Pantelides lost to Buckley in an election that swung on the ephemera of style and vision.
After the late nights and long fights, mayors tend to fade from public life.
They lose the drive to lead or maybe for the political life. Sometimes, after the sting of a loss passes, that’s a gift.
“So to lose that was very freeing,“ Cohen said. ”After I had the benefit of some time and was able to take a fresh look at my life, I chose to go in a different path.”
Pantelides ran for County Council but lost. When no one filed to run for Council in her ward, Moyer put her name in but withdrew when someone else stepped forward.
She’s more engaged than most, offering opinions on her successors.
“The parking fiasco has been the cause — not one of many causes — of reducing the perspective of the city as a sociable place,“ she said. “Two hours? $50 fines?”
“The city has rotten parking.”
Bob O’Shea, sure enough, saved a life in 2023.
A neighbor collapsed in front of his house. O’Shea started chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and the neighbor survived.
O’Shea never talks about it on the campaign trail.
“I’m running for mayor. We’re dealing with the city,” he said. “That has nothing to do with what I’m doing.”
So, Richard, if you’re reading this, we disagree. Being mayor is about more than saving a life.
It’s about what it takes to lead 40,000 of them.
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