All-American: Gov. Bob Ehrlich kicks tail in Maryland

National Review, March 28, 2005 by Jay Nordlinger

Anne Arundel County, Md.

PRESIDENT Bush is at a community college, microphone in hand. This is one of his "real people" events, and the focus is education, plus jobs. Bush is a kind of talk-show host--Oprah for a morning. Onstage with him are the president of the college, a local hospital administrator, the real people (two inspiring students) . . . and "the governor's here, how 'bout that?"

The governor is Bob Ehrlich, a 47-year-old Republican. He says to Bush, "I want some extra credit for wearing my W tie today." His pink tie is decorated with the president's key initial, a souvenir from the '04 campaign. "Hot item," Bush says. But "I don't know about the pink." Later, he refers to Ehrlich as Bobby. "They call you Bobby?" he checks. "Absolutely, Mr. President," says Ehrlich. "You can call me anything you want . . ."

The Republican party calls him one of its favorite governors. A former football player, he looks a bit like a Ken doll, and thinks like a scholar of the American Enterprise Institute. He's also a canny pol. Three years ago, he won unexpectedly in one of the most Democratic states in the Union. And he is remarkably frank about his principles and beliefs.

For example, can you imagine a governor who, on a radio talk show, dismisses multiculturalism as "bunk" and "crap"? You have one in Ehrlich. Repeatedly, he has called the Democratic party on racial dirty-dealing. And he scolds the business community, saying they lack spine, that they won't support their own interests, that, indeed, they suffer from "Patty Hearst syndrome." "You identify with your captors," he told an assembly of businessmen and their lobbyists last year. "We need you to influence votes. We need you to be dangerous."

The governor's wife is not shy, either. Kendel Ehrlich is a former public defender and prosecutor who in 2003 addressed a conference on domestic violence. Talking about the effect of popular culture on girls in particular, she quipped that she ought to "shoot" Britney Spears. She apologized for this unfortunate way of expressing herself, but she also won many fans among parents nationwide.

Ehrlich is discussing her, back at home in Annapolis, following the Bush show, when the First Lady comes in, right on cue. She's holding their year-old son, Joshua, who has an older brother, Drew. The governor tells her, 'The president said, 'Two more kids.'" Responds Mrs. Ehrlich, "Clearly he doesn't know how old I am." (North of 40.)

The governor--who pronounces his name "Er-lick," not "Air-lick"--grew up outside Baltimore, in a just-folks community. He would later represent similar communities, in the Maryland house and in Congress. "My congressional district was the definition of Reagan Democrat," he says. "The Democrats had a 70-30, or 65-35, advantage, and it was as safe a Republican seat as you're ever going to find, at least for me." When he ran for governor, he notes, he won in places where, only a generation ago, "people would spit if they heard the word 'Republican.'"

He went to Princeton, where he did his undergraduate thesis on Solzhenitsyn, and later to Wake Forest Law School. Among his models are Churchill ("He stood on principle, and he was willing to lose"), Reagan, and Jack Kemp. "As an athlete, I was drawn to him, and I loved his inclusive message"--the assertion that the Republican party should be available and attractive to all. Ehrlich describes his views as "a mixture of conservatism and libertarianism."

He was elected to Congress in the smash Republican year of 1994, and eight years later decided to run for governor. It was no sure thing: First, there hadn't been a Republican governor elected in 36 years (and he was Agnew). Second, the Democratic contender was a heavyweight: Lt. Gov. Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, a daughter of RFK. Many people considered her a shoo-in for the Governor's Mansion, and she was even talked about--briefly, a little fancifully--as a running mate for Gore in 2000. This was when she was merely lieutenant governor.

As Ehrlich explains, he had a "terrific setup" in Congress: safe seat, plum committee, a leadership post, an easy commute between district and Capitol Hill. "I had it made, could have stayed there a long time, done my thing." But he took a risk, running for governor. Among the challenges was money: "When you're on a [nearly] 40-year losing streak, your fundraising base tends to dry up." But Ehrlich wound up outraising KKT. Another challenge was uniting the state GOP (such as it was). Some conservatives didn't like him--he is a self-described "moderate" on abortion--but he'd say, "I'm as good as you get." They signed on. Ehrlich beat KKT by four points.

He had campaigned unapologetically, against gun control, against increasing the minimum wage. He prides himself on consistency, and the credibility it brings: He has been the same, he says, as Delegate Ehrlich, as Congressman Ehrlich, and as Governor Ehrlich. He does not necessarily tailor his message to different audiences. He says what he thinks, hoping to persuade those he can.