My Rabbi, My Mentor

They say never answer your phone after midnight nothing good can happen. Well we can add -- in the modern age -- to not look at your email late. I did and I now sitting here trying to compose my thoughts on the First Lady of Montgomery County Politics, Dorothy Davidson, who died Saturday morning.

To limit my recollections to just a few would leave an incomplete picture of her. So I hope my writing skills can match the impact she had on me.

Our paths crossed the same as it did for most of her friends in the middle of a campaign. For me, the year was 2002 and the race was Chris Van Hollen's campaign for Congress. I had left politics almost ten years earlier certain I had been in my last campaign; the bitterness of three tough personal losses in one year had shaken me to my core. But like a moth to a flame I came back. The race, the stakes and the candidate were too compelling. It was June and all the "smart money" was on our primary opponent. I knew the odds were long. I saw all the young unscrubbed faces. I felt old... then from around the corner I saw the two youngest people in the room, Peter "Boston" Dennis, who was a college junior, and Dorothy Davidson. She never aged when she talked about politics.

Looking back that first image was perfect. Peter using 21st Century technology constantly updating and changing the look of that new political tool, the campaign web site, and Dorothy working with implements from the previous Century of pen, paper, and phone. It was high tech on the left and high touch on the right. Dorothy was on the phone constantly. There was always someone holding for her. Mayors had shorter lines to see them than Dorothy Davidson did.

After a day of canvassing she wanted to know what I saw, where I was sent, what was the response, what literature was being dropped. She spoke in numbers, such as "we shouldn't going into the '7s' we got those people," or "why aren't we in working the '5s' they are new to us." I knew exactly what she meant. It was the language of a field campaign by precinct number. I would mention a number and she would tell me the precinct chair, vice chair and how it had performed faster than any computer.

She worked harder and longer than anyone else on the campaign, even the candidate. She did it because if she believed in you then she was going to give you everything that she had. It was all or nothing with Dorothy with all being the operative word. She was described by the Washington Post during the campaign as "Montmomery County's secret weapon". But she was not so secret. Anyone who wanted to run a race in Montgomery came to see her.

After the 2002 campaign she told me that I needed to get involved in the Democratic Party. I thought I was involved. Dorothy showed me a new world; that of working a precinct throughout the year. She gave me my precinct application form and would not rest until I was accepted. She even selected the precinct I should work: 13-36. That's Viers Mills and Ct. Ave. to Turkey Branch for the rest of you.

I grew up outside of Chicago. Where the city poured out impressive numbers for their candidate. Dorothy did the same in Montgomery County because she knew campaigns from their smallest unit, the precinct. In Chicago political lingo the person who brought you into the Democratic Party was called either "A Chinaman" or "A Rabbi". We both agreed that the former was dated and offensive. But she loved the latter. From that day forward she was My Rabbi.

I would call her on the phone, this Catholic from the Midwest, looking to talk to his mentor, an elderly Jewish woman. She was never at a loss for words or shy with an opinion. I guess that is what a Rabbi does.

Our paths diverged in 2006. She was, shall we say, not pleased. Her eyes rolled to the side and back as if I had personally insulted her. Perhaps I did. My excuse was to blame My Rabbi. She reintroduced me to the passion and the good in politics that many never see. I felt it as keenly in 2006 as I did in 2002. I know that because my Rabbi showed it to me. She lived it. I learned it. That was the best lesson I got from My Rabbi.

Like the impish child who knows how to get their way, I was able to neutralize that glare I got by going for her soft spot. "I want to work another campaign like 2002 with you." She patted my hand and a smile quickly melted the frown from her face. It was the campaign of a life time and Dorothy was our linchpin. There were many pictures taken on election night 2002 of the people who toiled in the trenches. As we gathered for a group photo afterwards the number key contributors swelled to a couple dozen. Cameras were flashing but all photos were incomplete until My Rabbi was front and center.

We may not have always agree on candidates. But I know that my life has been enhanced because I learned at the foot of a wise woman, Dorothy Davidson. She was My Rabbi. She was My Mentor.