In six years as speaker of the House of Delegates, and decades before that as a delegate, Adrienne A. Jones built a résumé of progressive policy wins: increasing funding for historically Black colleges, enshrining abortion rights in the Maryland Constitution, improving public education, creating a cabinet-level office of social equity.
As she steps down from leadership, those who have worked closely with Jones say she’s also left her mark as someone who has quietly built coalitions, nurtured talent and set a high bar for integrity.
“I’ve never known her to make a decision for the wrong reasons,” said Eric Luedtke, who served under Jones as House majority leader and works in Gov. Wes Moore’s administration. “There is an ironclad integrity that served the House really well.”
Rising through the ranks
Before politics, Jones earned a degree in psychology — “It comes in handy,” she once said — built a career in human relations and fair practices for Baltimore County’s government and founded the Baltimore County African American Cultural Festival. After volunteering on campaigns and serving on the county’s Democratic Central Committee, Jones got into office herself, applying for a House of Delegates vacancy in 1997 when a delegate died.
Jones’ political career launched forward in 2003, when the new speaker of the House, Michael E. Busch, tapped her to be the speaker pro tempore. The speaker pro tempore presides over full House sessions when the speaker is absent and is a key part of the leadership team.
One of Jones’ behind-the-scenes jobs for Busch was to quash personal issues with delegates before they became problems. Whether it was complaints, disputes between lawmakers or bad behavior, Jones put a stop to it.
Jeremy Baker, who was a top aide to Busch and Jones, described the job as “Mike’s problem solver.”
“She was his ultimate moral badass,” said Baker, who is now the governor’s top lobbyist.
Jones always took her work seriously, making sure she was prepared for meetings and debates, Baker said.
Jones also became chair of the capital budget subcommittee, a wonky-sounding title that meant she led oversight of the state’s budget for construction projects. In that role, she got to know delegates from across the state and the projects they wanted built in their districts.
Even as she rose in leadership, Jones remained more of a behind-the-scenes worker. She never sought the spotlight and was judicious about when she spoke up publicly.
When Busch died the day before the end of the legislative session in 2019, Jones shouldered the somber task of leading lawmakers through the necessary work of passing bills amid their grief.
Jones drew praise for her leadership, but in the ensuing days, as the race to be the next speaker got underway, she did not rise to the top of the list. She pulled out of the running when she thought she didn’t have the votes, saying she prioritized unity over self-interest.
But, when the time came for Democrats to choose, the two remaining candidates — Del. Maggie McIntosh, now a consultant, and Del. Dereck Davis, now the state treasurer — effectively deadlocked. After hours of intense, closed-door deliberations, McIntosh and Davis agreed to withdraw and put Jones forward as a compromise consensus candidate.
Jones was so surprised at the turn of events that she joked to reporters she’d have picked a different outfit had she known she’d end up becoming the speaker. More seriously, she quickly pledged to prioritize listening to members as she formulated her plans as speaker — something she learned from Busch.
“He taught me to be a good listener … because sometimes you find out the strength an individual might have that they may not have shown themselves,” Jones said in a 2019 interview.
Changing of the guard
Alex Hughes, who was Busch’s chief of staff and stayed on in the role for Jones, said the 2019 speaker vote marked a changing of the guard in Maryland politics.
Until then, all the House of Delegates speakers, all of the Senate presidents and all of the governors had been white men. Jones was the first woman and first person of color to become a presiding officer in the Maryland General Assembly.
“This was before Wes Moore. This was before Brooke Lierman. Before Anthony Brown. She really was the spark that stirred a lot of this generational change we’re seeing in the state,” said Hughes, who now owns a public affairs consulting firm.
Hughes said too often people have underestimated Jones. Even Busch, during his final hospital stay before he died, thought Jones would be a long-shot in the race to succeed him, Hughes said.
“People, probably her whole life, have underestimated her,” Hughes said. “And she just continues to sort of shock them.”
“You don’t think this about a 70-something, 5-foot church lady in heels, but she is tough,” Hughes said. “She’s really tough.”
Del. Kim Ross, a Baltimore County Democrat, joined the House of Delegates this year and said Jones paved the way for Black women like her to succeed in politics. Ross said she’ll continue to seek Jones’ counsel as she builds her political career.
“I am deeply grateful to her for shattering stereotypes and proceeding an image of Black women in leadership that’s powerful and positive,” Ross said.
Jones was generous with her mentorship, her colleagues said.
Del. Dana Stein, a Baltimore County Democrat, didn’t hesitate when Jones asked him to become speaker pro tempore in 2024. They represent neighboring districts and have known each other for years outside politics.
Stein came into politics after Jones and considers her a mentor and guide.
“One thing she always said to me was: ‘Dana, just be you. Don’t ever change,’” Stein said. “That was very reaffirming and supportive. I appreciate her friendship in addition to her leadership.”
Judicious use of power
The House speaker holds immense authority, with the ability to name committee chairs and determine the chamber’s priorities.
Jones picked her moments to flex her power, occasionally offering a withering takedown of a delegate unprepared for a floor debate or a snappy retort that sent a ripple of laughter through the chamber.
Rarely did Jones let her guard down or allow cracks in her calm facade.
A test came in 2023, in the final minutes of the final day of the General Assembly session.
Republican delegates were protesting a procedural decision, complaining that Jones was stifling debate on a bill they opposed. An incensed Del. Nic Kipke, an Anne Arundel County Republican, hollered into his microphone and pointed at Jones from across the chamber as he sputtered that she should “sit down.”
“I am not sitting down!” Jones shot back from the dais. Jones became animated but held firm as a back-and-forth ensued over whether Jones was within her authority to limit debate.
As dramatic as the episode was in terms of decorum, Jones quickly moved forward after Kipke apologized the next day.
“There is always tension between the majority and minority parties, but the institution is bigger than any one of us ... I’ll continue to protect both the institution and the rights of every member,” Jones said in a statement at the time.
A focus on equity
Jones’ policy positions have often been rooted in equity and fairness.
In the most recent legislative session, she sponsored a bill creating the state Department of Social and Economic Mobility, bringing multiple state programs focused on equity into one office under the guidance of a cabinet secretary.
“When we say ‘social and economic mobility,’ let’s be very clear what we are talking about,” Jones said when the bill was signed into law. “We’re talking about the strength of our diversity. We’re talking about promoting equity, and we are talking about creating inclusion in all spaces.”
In 2024, Jones promoted a “decency agenda,” which grouped antidiscrimination bills and the Freedom to Read Act, which counters efforts to ban books in libraries.
And in 2021 Jones had a “Black agenda,” with bills addressing inequities in homeownership, health care and the economy.
But her first legislative priority after becoming speaker was sponsoring a bill that ultimately forced the state to commit an extra $580 million worth of funding for the state’s four historically Black universities to settle a long-running lawsuit. The governor at the time, Republican Larry Hogan, had suggested a $200 million settlement.
David Wilson, president of Morgan State University, said Jones’ advocacy — she used her position to give the measure the priority designation of House Bill 1 — was crucial. Jones understood the importance of the state’s HBCUs to Maryland’s economy and culture, and agreed they’d been woefully underfunded.
Wilson said he knew Jones’ word was good; she’d previously secured money for a new building at Morgan.
“I have never processed her as a truly ambitious person who is really about just power grabbing,” Wilson said. “She truly wanted to pass laws that were about impacting people and communities and institutions — in order for the state of Maryland to continue to lead the nation in so many areas and to rid itself of some past things that were not as glorious.”
Freeman Hrabowski, the retired longtime president of the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, said Jones was one of the state’s best House speakers because of what she accomplished and how she led, “beyond race and gender.”
Hrabowski said he appreciated that Jones was never about “glitz and glitter” and always has done more listening than talking.
“She looks at you with such seriousness,” Hrabowski said. “Whatever she tells you, you can take it to the bank.”
Banner reporters Lee O. Sanderlin and Rona Kobell contributed to this article.
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