Sen. Barbara Mikulski retiring: here's the fight that started her career
Sen. Barbara Mikulski (D) of Maryland announced Monday that she won鈥檛 seek another term. After 10 years in the House and 30 in the Senate, she鈥檒l retire after the 2016 elections.
Senator Mikulski will surely be remembered as one of the most forceful national lawmakers of her era. She rose to the chairmanship of the Senate Appropriations Committee, long one of the most sought-after posts in the chamber, before Democrats lost their majority in 2014.
Her gender-specific accomplishments are considerable. She鈥檚 the longest-serving woman in congressional history. She鈥檚 the first Democratic woman elected to the Senate in her own right, as opposed to succeeding a spouse. She鈥檚 the first woman to head the Appropriations panel. And so on.
鈥淭he modern history of Senate women really begins in the 1980s with Barbara Mikulski,鈥� earlier this year in a history of the chamber鈥檚 women members.
She is renowned for being tough, even prickly. She does not make lists of Capitol Hill鈥檚 most understanding employers. Her colleagues, on occasion, are visited with her displeasure.
Sen. Harry Reid (D) of Nevada once told reporters a story that bears on this point. Back in 2005, Senator Reid had taken a vote that some other Democrats construed as antiabortion. They complained to him in no uncertain terms.
Mikulski told the complainers to leave Reid alone.
鈥淓verybody walked away,鈥� . 鈥淏ecause everybody鈥檚 afraid of her.鈥�
But in Baltimore, where Mikulski grew up and where she still lives, not far from her childhood home, that鈥檚 not the first thing people talk about when they talk about Maryland鈥檚 senior senator.
They don鈥檛 start with her stature 鈥� 4 foot, 11 inches. They don鈥檛 mention right off that she鈥檚 got a great crab cake recipe she promotes, or that she once wrote a mystery novel about a Polish-American nurse, or that ex-Gov. Martin O鈥橫alley鈥檚 mother is still her receptionist.
They talk about The Road.
In 1966, the Baltimore City Council proposed building an east-west superhighway through the heart of the city. It would connect I-95 on the east with I-83, the north-south road already driven like a railroad spike down the city center.
Construction looked likely. The city鈥檚 business elite favored the road as a means to whisk cars downtown from the fast-expanding suburbs.
The business elite hadn鈥檛 counted on Barbara Mikulski. She was then a social worker in Highlandtown, an ethnic enclave east of downtown. She knew that large numbers of Polish-Americans, African-Americans, and generally lower-income residents would be tossed out of their homes by the road. Many historic neighborhoods would be razed.
She formed a community group called Southeast Committee Against the Road and rallied the opposition. The citizen uprising blocked the road. Mikulski herself ended up on the city council.
Today, Baltimore鈥檚 most vibrant neighborhoods line its harbor to the north and east. They鈥檙e full of tech start-ups and Peruvian chicken restaurants and million-dollar condos. They鈥檙e a big reason Charm City is a destination for Millennials who want a fun urban experience at non-New York prices.
But that鈥檚 where the road was supposed to go. If the city council in 1966 had had its way, that part of the city today would be eight elevated lanes. Historic Fell's Point would be an on-ramp. Harbor East and its offices and shops would be tarmac.
鈥淯.S. Sen. Barbara Mikulski will be remembered for a long list of accomplishments as she retires from the U.S. Senate, but her most enduring legacy in Baltimore will always be a scrapped highway plan,鈥� of the Baltimore Business Journal.
