Clarence Mitchell

From the windows of state Sen. Clarence M. Mitchell IV's old office on Druid Hill Avenue, printed signs carry two distinct promises.A campaign poster declares that a vote for Mitchell is a vote "for a better Baltimore." In larger letters across the tall glass panes, another sign announces: "Druid Bail Bonds: Home in a Hurry."The signs advertise the two worlds of Clarence Mitchell, a licensed bail bondsman who represents the third generation of one of Baltimore's political dynasties. This week, when the senator switched sides and voted against a bill aimed at unclogging Baltimore's courts -- legislation that could have cost bail bondsmen considerable profits -- those two worlds collided, his critics argue.

The brother-sister political team of Del. Clarence M. Mitchell IV and Lisa Mitchell opened their campaign office in downtown Baltimore last night. There was only one problem: Lisa Mitchell may not be on the ballot in her race for state delegate.Clarence Mitchell, 36, a Democrat from the 44th District, is seeking to move from the House of Delegates to the state Senate seat vacated in January by expelled state Sen. Larry Young.Lisa Mitchell, 35, is one of several candidates vying for three House of Delegates seats from the same district.

With the enthusiasm of a schoolboy, James F. Schneider walks the halls of the Clarence Mitchell Courthouse, marveling at the stained-glass skylights, the craftsmanship of the marble stairways and the striking, larger-than-life murals painted by internationally known artists at the turn of the century.But Schneider the curator is also a federal judge.A judge in U.S. Bankruptcy Court, Schneider spends his workdays sifting through legal arguments and financial data to come up with the best way to divide what is left of companies and individuals whose fortunes have gone south.

The saddest moment of Larry Young's news conference last week arrived when the beleaguered state senator, accused by this newspaper of various conflicts of interest, and taking money with both hands, and mixing public service with private grabbing, chose to call himself a victim of Baltimore Sun racism.This will arrive as remarkable news to those politicians with names such as Agnew and Mandel and Anderson and Alton and Orlinsky, and the various Maryland savings-and-loan pillagers, and frequently criticized governors such as Glendening and Schaefer, and judges named Bollinger and Dudley, and big shots named Angelos and Paterakis, all of whom have been slammed by this newspaper despite the color of their skin.

Juanita Jackson Mitchell, the first black woman to practice law in Maryland, now has a place of honor in the Baltimore Circuit courthouse named for her husband.A portrait of the NAACP activist and one of her husband, Clarence M. Mitchell Jr., were unveiled yesterday and took their places behind the bench of the courtroom where they used to practice.The late Clarence Mitchell Jr. was dubbed "the 101st senator" for his exemplary work as the Washington lobbyist of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.

The long-shuttered Lillie Carroll Jackson Museum, former home of one of Baltimore's earliest civil rights leaders, may open its doors to visitors again -- if a prospective buyer can work out final details.Proposed purchase plans by Morgan State University -- about four years in the making -- could ensure the future of the stately but in disrepair three-story, Victorian rowhouse at 1320 Eutaw Place in Bolton Hill.The move also would help preserve a rare monument to Baltimore's African-American struggle for justice and equality, state and museum officials say."

From the 1930s until their deaths, Juanita and Clarence Mitchell Jr. rarely threw away a letter, a photograph, a memo, a speech, a legal brief, a flier announcing a rally or just about any scrap of paper of seeming consequence. The couple sensed that their civil-rights work was of historic importance and that later generations would want documents to study the struggle.How right they were. The Mitchells' heirs currently are in the process of turning over the papers -- an estimated 250,000 items -- to the Library of Congress.

Baltimore's weekend radio talk show scene gets a new entry today: "The Mitchells' Maryland Magazine," featuring former state Sen. Clarence Mitchell 3rd and his journalist daughter, Lisa Mitchell.The two-hour show debuts at noon on WOLB-AM (1010), and will PTC be simulcast on Washington sister station WOL-AM (1450). It is an outgrowth a solo show by Mr. Mitchell.The new show includes a weekly panel discussion of African-American issues, with both hosts and also Clarence Mitchell IV, along with guest newsmakers.

As a little boy in Baltimore, Keiffer Mitchell Jr. had a dream. I want to be president, he told his grandfather.You will be president, his grandfather replied.No matter that no African-American had ever been president. No matter that racism was evident across the country. His grandfather, Clarence Mitchell Jr., a highly regarded NAACP lobbyist who was widely known as "the 101st senator," was used to defying barriers in his way. So were Keiffer's grandmother, Juanita Jackson Mitchell, the first black woman to practice law in Maryland; his great-uncle, Parren Mitchell, Maryland's first black congressman; and his great-grandmother, Lillie Carroll Jackson, a local NAACP leader.

The big band wailed. Old-timers crooned "Hail Douglass" with all the heart and vigor of a half-century ago. And generations of Douglass Ducks danced, sang, laughed, hugged, prayed and remembered together.Frederick Douglass High alumni threw the school huge bashes Friday and Saturday nights, then capped its 110th anniversary celebration yesterday with services at churches throughout the city.All weekend, as more than 2,500 alumni marked the occasion, former principals and teachers and coaches and absent friends received tributes befitting the closest of family.

It's almost showtime at WBAL, and - for reasons I cannot explain - Clarence Mitchell IV has engaged me in an argument over Easy Cheese and Cheez Whiz. He claims that Cheez Whiz also comes in an aerosol can, which is ridiculous. What's more ridiculous is the notion that anyone would challenge my expertise on processed foods. If you don't know the difference between Easy Cheese, Cheez Whiz and the cheese they put in Cheez and Cracker Snacks, you don't deserve to have a radio talk show. ( For more, go to baltimoresun.

AND SO Clarence Mitchell IV trudges through the snow to the unemployment line. Annapolis insiders say he was shoved out of the $92,000-a-year job Gov. Robert Ehrlich handed him as a political payoff, though Housing Secretary Victor Hoskins diplomatically says no, Mitchell quit. In either case, the former state senator is now out of a job, out of favor, and out of participation in all existing political parties. The Democrats don't want him back. They suffered through his ethical conflicts of interest, his financial catastrophes and his political sabotage of last summer, when he turned his back on his party to support Ehrlich.

COMPARING PARRIS Glendening and Bob Ehrlich on just one aspect of governance - how they treat the indigent - I must say Ehrlich, the Republican, is head and shoulders above Glendening, the former Democratic governor and alleged liberal. I mean, look at it: One of the first things Glendening did after becoming Maryland governor in the winter of 1995 was scrap a program that made modest monthly subsidies to poor and disabled men, calling it welfare the fifth wealthiest state in the nation could no longer afford.

SURELY STATE Sen. Clarence M. Mitchell IV finds himself under considerable strain -- largely of his own making. An undisclosed loan he took from bail bond interests and votes he cast in favor of that industry drew conflict-of-interest inquiries recently from the Joint Committee on Legislative Ethics. He and other members of the Mitchell family face debts exceeding $400,000. And the senator faces a challenging re-election test this summer in a new district where many voters may not know him. He's choosing an odd way to introduce himself.

IT'S A LONG, long downhill from the titanic struggle for passage of the great civil rights laws of the 1960s to the current cat fight over the redistricting of a state Senate seat in Baltimore. But key participants in both battles were and are named Clarence Mitchell, and therein lies a tale. The first was the late Clarence Mitchell Jr., chief lobbyist of the NAACP and the so-called "101st Senator" because of his deep involvement in legislation that guaranteed the ballot and opened places of public accommodation to African-Americans 40 years ago. Baltimore's courthouse is named after him. The second is his grandson, Clarence Mitchell IV, who is threatening to leave the Democratic Party in a desperate effort to save his seat in Annapolis from the payback redistricting plans of Gov. Parris N. Glendening.

State Sen. Clarence M. Mitchell IV said yesterday that he will withdraw from the Democratic Party because he believes a proposed legislative redistricting map would hurt African-American and minority representation in Maryland. Mitchell, part of a prominent civil rights family that has influenced several generations of local and national Democratic leaders, said he plans to make his official announcement Jan. 8 at a Democratic Party meeting in Annapolis. He said he has not decided whether he would become a political independent or join the Republican Party.

CLARENCE Mitchell III is a lion in winter now, an angry, growling, eternally restless presence who cannot escape the shadow of his own memory. He stood there Tuesday evening at a crowded City Hall hearing as the Baltimore City Council huffed and puffed a little bit, just to show it still counts for something, and watched as it failed to lay a glove on Police Commissioner Edward Norris. As Norris explained why he had fired two high-ranking black city police officers, Clarence Mitchell III thought about Donald Pomerleau.

WHERE are the monuments to Baltimore's Clarence Mitchell Jr., one of the neglected, almost forgotten heroes of the civil rights triumphs of the 1960s? In most American cities there are Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevards and Martin Luther King Jr. schools, statues, buildings and meeting halls. In the name of the martyred orator of the "I Have a Dream" speech, his birthday is celebrated as a national holiday. With one major exception - the Clarence Mitchell Jr. Courthouse in downtown Baltimore - one would search in vain for similar memorials to the chief black architect of the laws that have revolutionized race relations in the United States.

Leonard V. Santivasci, a retired Eastern District patrolman who during an 18-year career suffered 19 injuries and received 43 official commendations and two Bronze Stars, died Tuesday of pneumonia at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. The Dundalk resident was 70. It was a fractured kneecap suffered during a 1972 arrest that finally brought the Eastern District patrolman's spectacular career to a conclusion with his retirement in 1975. In 1971, the year that he shared honors as The Sun's Policeman of the Year with his partner, Patrolman Robert E. Cohen, the pair handled 352 cases, including three homicides, 32 holdups and 134 narcotics arrests.

From the windows of state Sen. Clarence M. Mitchell IV's old office on Druid Hill Avenue, printed signs carry two distinct promises.A campaign poster declares that a vote for Mitchell is a vote "for a better Baltimore." In larger letters across the tall glass panes, another sign announces: "Druid Bail Bonds: Home in a Hurry."The signs advertise the two worlds of Clarence Mitchell, a licensed bail bondsman who represents the third generation of one of Baltimore's political dynasties. This week, when the senator switched sides and voted against a bill aimed at unclogging Baltimore's courts -- legislation that could have cost bail bondsmen considerable profits -- those two worlds collided, his critics argue.