By Michael Ollove Sun Staff For a political candidate, Rick Kunkel has a high degree of self-awareness. You can tell by the way he prefaces his pronouncements about the issues of the day. "I don't want to sound kooky or radical, but ... " he says to introduce his support for universal health insurance. "I don't want to sound strident, but ... " he says as a wind-up to his denunciation of how big, special-interest money finds its way into political campaigns - although not into his. Even about his candidacy, Kunkel finds the need for a qualifying prologue. "I'm not delusional," he might say, or "I'm not crazy." All of which, of course, only begs the question. Kunkel is the Green Party candidate in the race for the House of Delegates in the 42nd District, a splotch on the map just above the city's northern line in Baltimore County. He is running for one of three seats against three Democratic candidates and three Republicans. If it helps, think of them as France and Germany and him as Luxembourg. As of last week, his opponents each had raised an average of $55,255 for their campaigns. Kunkel had managed $5,939. That financial disparity, which undoubtedly will grow wider by Election Day, helps explain why, at the moment, Kunkel is standing in a steady rain on a traffic island at the corner of Charles Street and Towsontowne Boulevard. He is a stick figure, long and thin, in clothes that hang ever more limply the wetter he gets. In each hand, he holds a green cardboard sign, and he constantly raises and lowers them as though sending signals by semaphore. The signs bear his name or a Green Party slogan, such as "Not for Sale" or "Corporations Out of Government." Four Green Party volunteers with similar signs man other parts of the intersection. If you are in need of an antidote for the cynicism in American electoral politics, a good place to find it is in the electoral long shot. After all, who has more faith in the possibility of democracy than the candidate with the least chance of winning? That describes Kunkel, and he knows it. "I'm not unrealistic about what this is about. I know I'm a long shot. I'd be a fool to say otherwise." Kunkel never has run for anything before and never wanted to. He is running now, he says, because he couldn't sleep at night if he didn't. "For me, it's 100 percent idealism combined with 100 percent outrage. I know and feel what's possible, how things could be and should be." As ardent and expansive as he is on the various issues, he is all too aware of the irony that his campaign is reduced to one of catchwords. He refuses all contributions from corporations, unions and PACs - not that any have been offered - and in no case will he accept a gift of more than $100. Those constraints severely limit his opportunities to reach the 63,000 voters in the 42nd District. Glossy display ads and big lawn signs would empty the budget. Mass mailings are too expensive. Radio and television spots are unthinkable. So, it's sign-waving. "I get home from work at 5:30 or 6. At that point, how many meaningful conversations can I have with voters? Ten, if I'm lucky? So, we made the decision of waving signs on street corners. This way, we hit thousands and thousands of pairs of eyes. It's a tactical decision - an unfortunate one." As the traffic lights change during this afternoon rush hour, Kunkel constantly reorients himself to face passing cars. Most passengers wear stony expressions, but in virtually every group, someone rewards him with a honk, a wave, a smile or a thumbs-up sign. Kunkel registers every such positive reaction. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he cheers to himself under his breath. None of it comes naturally to him. "The first five minutes, you feel a little foolish," he says, "but then you get into a groove." Because Kunkel is running for office, he is by definition a politician. But it is an identification that feels as foreign to him as would "venture capitalist" or "junk bond trader." Over coffee earlier in the afternoon at Barnes & Noble, he had reflected on the strangeness of this role of candidate. "I'm an introvert by nature," he said. "I get my tank filled by being alone. But here you're out front, speaking in front of an audience, introducing yourself to strangers. I can't deny I get a thrill out of it, but it also runs down my battery." Until recently, Kunkel says, he considered his work a sufficient expression of his politics - organizing a farmers' cooperative in the Himalayas as a Peace Corps volunteer and serving the homeless and the mentally ill as a social worker. He was catalyzed into electoral politics in 2000, when he heard a speech by Ralph Nader, who was running for president as the Green Party nominee. Kunkel agreed with the Green Party positions on a range of subjects - universal health insurance, a living wage, campaign finance reform and other trade, labor and environmental issues. It was something Nader said, though, that changed everything for him. "There was one quote that got me, that stayed with me a couple of days, and then I knew I didn't have a choice," Kunkel recalled. "He said, 'If you don't like the government, become the government.'" Kunkel, who is married and the father of a daughter in the sixth grade, joined the Greens and volunteered in Nader's campaign, his first one ever. This year, he helped found a Green Party chapter in Baltimore County. In line with the party's increasing activity in electoral politics, he began thinking about a campaign for the General Assembly, preferably for someone else. When no one stepped forward, he agreed to take it on himself, but on one condition. "I always said I didn't want to do this alone. There had to be a core group of people willing to work hard on the campaign." And so there have been. A group of 25 key supporters and as many as 50 other volunteers helped collect the necessary voter signatures - about 650 - to get his name on the ballot. They have joined him at street corners, designed a Web site, and searched out forums where he could appear. They also helped him weather the crisis of redistricting, when the Maryland Court of Appeal's intervention abruptly moved the 43rd District out from under him and plopped him into the 42nd. He had to acquire 500 more signatures to make up for the ones that the decision rendered useless. Since then, it has been a steady exercise in sign-waving, some door-to-door canvassing and occasional appearances at generally sparsely attended political forums. "I never knew what hard work it was going to be," he says. "I read a couple books. They said be prepared not to get much sleep. Be prepared to say goodbye to your family. All that's true. The campaign has been front and center to the detriment of my work and my family. It's been hard." And humbling. As the rainfall grows heavier, Kunkel walks down a line of cars, offering his leaflets. Few drivers will even make eye contact, let alone roll down the window to accept his material. "It's odd to me that people wouldn't take a flyer, that they wouldn't even want information," he says. He admits the rejection is degrading, but it's not too degrading. "As a social worker, I'm used to people not liking me, people who are delusional, who think I'm out to steal a million dollars from them. So, when I'm doing this, I think about what's more important, health care for all or being humiliated? When I think about it that way, it's not even a choice." Just then, a young man in a silver Camry rolls downs his window and with a friendly smile accepts a flyer from Kunkel. "I'll take a look at it," he says, and he seems to mean it. Kunkel is elated. "Every time someone blows their horn or gives a thumbs-up or gives $2 to my campaign, that's a victory. Fires usually start slowly." It won't be possible to tell how much his fire has spread until Election Day, but already Kunkel's candidacy has managed to activate some who have never involved themselves in electoral politics. They say they've been attracted not only by Kunkel's positions but also by the sense that his candidacy represents an attempt to take back something lost. "So many people of my generation have been disengaged from the political process," said Peter Owen, 33, a free-lance photographer and one of those most active in Kunkel's campaign. "I can't really blame them. This is the first time I've been involved in the electoral process, except for going into a voting booth." Kunkel isn't kidding himself. His district has 34,400 registered Democrats, 21,300 Republicans, and 167 Greens. Assuming the typically high 90 percent turnout rate of Green voters, that gives Kunkel a starting point of ... 150 votes. Needless to say, for a Kunkel victory, Election Day is not going to come down to who can best mobilize his base. Whatever the outcome, Kunkel says his campaign is proving beneficial to his party in terms of electoral experience and name recognition. "We have eight people running in the state this year. [One for state comptroller, four for the House of Delegates, and three for county commissions.] My hope is that next time it will be 28. This is all about growth." Should he fail to beat the odds this time, will Kunkel be one of them? Here, for the first time, he is equivocal. "It's hard, man, it's hard," he says. "I'd be thrilled to death to have other Greens run in the 42nd. Thrilled to death." The rain has only gotten worse, and his coat has darkened as the water has soaked in. After about an hour-and a-half, Kunkel calls the troops together to halt the afternoon's campaigning. As he had insisted earlier, he may be running for office, but he isn't crazy. Copyright © 2002, The Baltimore Sun

Baltimore Sun
Feature Article,
October 29, 2002.

In the Towson-based 42nd District, the race for the three seats in the Maryland House of Delegates has become one of the most heated in Baltimore County, with the Democratic and Republican slates accusing each other of having the wrong answers on education, the budget and the environment, while a Green Party candidate says the other candidates are wrong on just about everything. Two longtime Republican party activists, Susan L.M. Aumann, 42, an accountant from Timonium, and William J. Frank, 42, of Lutherville, a former banker and development officer for a private school, united on a ticket last spring with Del. Martha S. Klima, who is running for a seat in the state Senate. After the primary they picked up John G. Trueschler, 45, a landscape architect and attorney from Lutherville, and have run a coordinated campaign, highlighting the same talking points and emphasizing their relationship with Robert L. Ehrlich Jr., the GOP gubernatorial nominee. They back slot machines at racetracks; a 4 percent across-the-board spending cut for all state agencies except education, health and public safety; and creating a Maryland version of Project Exile, a gun-crime initiative pioneered in Virginia. "All of us are concerned about public safety and public education ... but Maryland is broke. We've got some real, tough, wrenching decisions to make in the next 18 months," Frank said. "The answer sometimes in government is 'no.' We've said 'yes' too often in the last four years." Democrat James W. Campbell, 54, is the only incumbent in the race. He has served in the House of Delegates for 24 years and is chairman of an education subcommittee. The social worker and one-time neighborhood association president moved to Ruxton during the summer after the Maryland Count of Appeals redrew the legislative maps. Running with him is Stephen W. Lafferty, 53, of Stoneleigh, who ran unsuccessfully for the House in 1994. Lafferty is also a neighborhood activist and former Baltimore County Planning Board member who works for the state in community revitalization. Rounding out the ticket is Matthew Joseph, 36, of Towson, who took a leave from his job with Advocates for Children and Youth to mount an aggressive door-to-door campaign, reaching, he said, about 15,000 homes. Despite the state's predicted $1.7 billion budget shortfall, they emphasize their commitment to fully fund the Thornton Commission legislation, a plan to equalize school funding across the state. They also support Gov. Parris N. Glendening's Smart Growth policies. The Democrats said they do not favor tax increases, but would do whatever it takes to fully implement Thornton, which would bring $120 million to Baltimore County. The Republicans say they support Thornton conceptually, but would vote for funding only if they think the state can afford it. The Republicans also say they support Smart Growth in theory, but not the way it has been implemented. Frank said in a recent debate that Glendening had sought to punish Carroll County with sanctions for having voted for Ellen R. Sauerbrey instead of him. "The problem with the way it has been implemented is that it has too many loopholes in it," Joseph said. "Carroll County has gotten away with murder." On the budget woes, Campbell said he will rely heavily on a committee organized by House Speaker Casper R. Taylor that is studying the issue, but would consider delaying capital projects or salary increases. Lafferty says the state should evaluate agencies individually for cuts, while Joseph looks on tough times as an opportunity to cut ineffective programs. Rick Kunkel, 44, of Rodgers Forge is the first Green Party candidate for the state legislature from the Baltimore area. A social worker in mental health clinics for the past 10 years, he champions public financing of elections, strengthened environmental protections, a higher minimum wage and universal health insurance. Kunkel said he knows his candidacy is a long shot, but that he believes the major parties have sold out to big-money interests. He refuses contributions of more than $100. "I'm outraged at how your government, our system, has been bought," said Kunkel. "Who's suffering when our state is taken over by big money? Our environment is suffering. The 700,000 people who are uninsured are suffering. The people trying to make a living on minimum wage are suffering."

Towson Times
Featured Article,
October 17, 2002.

Story By Bryan P. Sears Respond to this story Email this story to a friend It's not easy being Green. Or Libertarian or Constitutional or even Independent. For voters and candidates who feel the two major parties in Maryland don't reflect their values, third parties are often a lonely option. Rick Kunkel, a Green Party candidate for House of Delegates in the 42nd District, knows that all too well. Kunkel, 44, was a ``lifelong Democrat" until Ralph Nader ran for president as a Green Party candidate two years ago. ``Nader's campaign completely turned me on," Kunkel, the only third-party candidate in the 42nd District, said. Kunkel, a social worker, is running for one of three seats in the House of Delegates against Democrats James Campbell, Matthew Joseph, Steve Lafferty and Republicans Susan Aumann, Bill Frank and John Trueschler. For Kunkel and other third-party candidates, the road to elected office is tougher than for candidates in the state's two major parties. No third- party candidate has ever won a state election. First, there are the petitions that must be filed just to get the party official recognition so voters can register as a party member. Then, a candidate for the third party must collect signatures equal to 1 percent of the number of people who voted in the district in the last gubernatorial election to have candidates' names added to the General Election ballot. Kunkel added an additional hurdle - he only accepts campaign contributions from individuals of $100 or less. Regular guy on the fringe Of the more than 63,000 registered voters in Baltimore County, 546 affiliate themselves with the Green Party. About 30 percent of those live in the 42nd District. ``This is a pretty anti-third-party state," James Gimpel, a politics professor at the University of Maryland, College Park, said. ``(Candidates) have to really work hard to identify themselves (to voters)." Gimpel, who spoke on the broader topic of third parties in Maryland and not about particular candidates, said that most members of third parties fall into two categories, ``cranks" and those who have an issue they feel would not be considered if they did not run for office. ``Some, quite frankly are delusional," he said. ``It's hard to know why they're running, quite frankly. If the issues they were talking about were mainstream, we'd be hearing them from the two main parties." Kunkel is sensitive to the unflattering portrayal of those who run as third-party candidates. ``I'm just a regular guy," Kunkel said. ``I'm a regular guy who is concerned with the direction that our state and planet is going." Issues in the mainstream Kunkel said his issues are mainstream. He said when he goes door-to-door and speaks to voters, he notices a ``disconnect" between voters and Annapolis. In addition to the traditional Green Party value of protecting the environment, Kunkel advocates universal health care for all of Maryland's citizens. He said there are 700,000 residents who do not have health care and the state could provide the service without increasing the budget. ``The percentage of those without health care in Maryland is lower than other states," Kunkel said. ``But the fact is that so many of our brothers and sisters are without health care and that is a sin." He also believes in reforming campaign finance laws to prevent ``buying access in Annapolis," and the repeal of the 10 percent tax reduction enjoyed by Marylanders over the last five years, along with institution of a progressive tax structure. `Green Party values and ideals are not fringe and are not out of the mainstream," he said. ``If I could have a conversation with each of the 63,000 voters, I know I would win." But Kunkel is realistic about his chances of winning _ or of making a significant change if he did. The Republican Party holds just 35 of 141 House of Delegate seats and is considered to be only a marginal force in Annapolis. Kunkel, if he won the election, would be a party of one. ``We're trying to start a movement here," he said. ``I'm convinced that 100 years from now people will look back at 2002 and wonder why health care for all was such a struggle."

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Baltimore Jewish Times
Cover Story,
October 17, 2002.

Barbara Pash OCTOBER 18, 2002 Baltimore Rick Kunkel is a full-time social worker. Last spring, he took on a second full-time job, although this one's unpaid. Mr. Kunkel is the Green Party candidate for the House of Delegates in the 42nd District. With 167 Green Party members among the district's 63,104 registered voters, Mr. Kunkel is — to say the least — a long shot. And no one is more aware of that than him. "I wake up in the middle of the night and think, 'What am I doing? This is crazy,'" said Mr. Kunkel, a 44-year-old Rodgers Forge husband and father, who now spends a good 40 hours a week ringing doorbells, handing out fliers, attending political forums, being interviewed by the media, and holding signs at street corners where "I get 20 waves for every flipped finger. But I don't mind. At least there's a reaction." People enter the political fray for all sorts of reasons, even a contest they appear to have virtually no chance of winning, says David Conn, director of government relations and public policy at the Baltimore Jewish Council. Some have an issue about which they're passionate, and use their campaign to highlight it. Some are fed up with the current political leadership. Some run at the urging of their political party in a district dominated by the opposition, in effect agreeing to be "sacrificial lambs," Mr. Conn said, "but also generating more interest in the race and in their party." For candidates from third parties, the goal is to start building a base in local and state politics, thus making the party important in future electoral calculations. The candidates themselves may be long shots, but the people they're running against don't necessarily see it that way. "When a clear front-runner has even token opposition, it energizes their campaign," Mr. Conn said. "Typically, you'll see their fund-raising efforts increase. If there's no opposition, it's difficult for them to go to people for money." Besides, dark horse candidates have been known to win. "It happens all the time," said Paul Herrnson, director of the Center for American Politics and Citizenship at the University of Maryland, College Park. "I call it the snowball's-chance-in-hell factor." Mr. Herrnson cited U.S. Rep. Daniel Rostenkowski, a Democrat from Chicago. "He was considered a shoo-in until he was indicted and then was beaten by an unknown, Michael Patrick Flanagan. It enabled Flanagan to topple a political giant," he said. There doesn't even need to be a last-minute scandal to make a once-safe incumbent vulnerable. Mr. Herrnson refers to the Richard Nixon-era Watergate events. "Before Watergate, the Republicans didn't have much to worry about. A lot of weak Democratic candidates ran because conditions suggested the Republicans would retain their seats," he said. "After Watergate, the environment changed." Alan Zukerberg is the Republican candidate for state senator from the 11th District. Of the district's 69,036 registered voters, 43,755 are Democrats, 17,193 Republicans, according to the state election board. Despite these odds, Mr. Zukerberg, a 56-year-old retired attorney, says he wouldn't have entered the race if he didn't believe it was winnable. His opponent is Paula Hollinger, who is not only a Democrat but a four-term incumbent in the seat. "There have been other uphill battles that I've won," Mr. Zukerberg said, referring to his community efforts, most recently as president of the Pikesville- Greenspring Community Coalition, an umbrella organization for neighborhood groups, a position he resigned when he decided to run for office. He also switched political parties in order to do so. "When I did the cemetery fight, people laughed in my face. They said I was a fool," Mr. Zukerberg said of the successful effort two years ago to prevent a residential development on part of the Druid Ridge Cemetery land in Pikesville. "But I studied the situation, made my alliances and we won." Now, Mr. Zukerberg's mission is to let voters know "who I am and what I've done. What I want to overcome is that people will vote for [Mrs. Hollinger] just because of name recognition." For Kenneth Holniker, name recognition is not an issue. Neither is fighting an incumbent. A 30-year resident of Eldersburg who with his late wife, Peggy, founded Beth Shalom of Carroll County, the 74-year old Mr. Holniker, an attorney, is running as the Democratic candidate for the House of Delegates in the 9B District. The legislative district is a brand new "sub-district," as it's officially called, in Carroll County that was created by the state's redistricting last spring. The district is predominantly Republican, with 11,558 registered Republican voters vs. 8,495 registered Democrats. Mr. Holniker says he entered the race because he feels strongly about the future of the area. "I don't want to see Eldersburg go downhill, as it's been doing," he said. "I know the problems, and I'm willing to put the time and effort into solving them." Mr. Holniker said he isn't too concerned about the disparity in voter registration. "I have the name recognition," he said. "I think I can pull an upset." By state law, as a third party candidate, Mr. Kunkel had to get his name on the ballot by petition. He went through two petition drives because Rodgers Forge was originally in the 43rd Legislative District but after redistricting ended up in the newly redrawn 42nd District. The state officially recognized the Green Party as a third party two years ago, and Mr. Kunkel is one of three Green Party candidates running for the House of Delegates in Baltimore County. "You have to build movements," Mr. Kunkel said. "It's like starting a campfire. First you find pieces of tinder, then you add more wood and soon you've got a bonfire." For long-shot candidates, the main challenge is getting their name in front of voters. Mr. Kunkel has a Web site, www.rickkunkel.org , that he hopes will accomplish that. "The underdog candidate has to do things in more creative ways than the favorites," Mr. Conn said. "Classically, what the underdog wants to generate is free newspaper and TV coverage. That's why you see the underdog challenging the front-runner to debates." Mr. Herrnson agrees. "If you expect to be competitive, you have to compete," he said. "If you're the challenger, you better be working your tail off. Unless you're a celebrity of some sort, you have no track record, no history, no name recognition." But don't get Mr. Herrnson wrong. He has a friend who has run for U.S. Congress three, maybe four, times. His friend has never won but that doesn't deter him. "He feels he's meeting people, learning things. Sure, he'd like to get elected, but even if he doesn't, he feels he's doing something valuable," he said. So does Mr. Herrnson. It's not easy to run for office. "People make sacrifices, in time and money. They do this willingly and no matter how pathetic any candidate's chances look, I commend them," he said. "This is what makes democracy work."

Baltimore Jewish Times
Letter to the Editor,
September 27, 2002.

In "Familiar And New," your Sept. 13 article about the races in the new 42nd District, you mentioned the three Democratic and three Republican candidates in the general election, but failed to mention that for the first time in Baltimore County history a Green Party candidate for state delegate will be on the ballot. Rick Kunkel offers a true alternative to the "business-as- usual" approach of the other candidates, and the Jewish Times does its readers no service by ignoring this honorable man and his "corporations out of government" campaign. Dave Goldsmith Woodstock, Maryland

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Baltimore City Paper
article featuring Rick Kunkel,
August 6, 2002.

For most Maryland politicians, getting on the ballot is the least of their worries during an election year. It's a simple matter of signing some documents and writing a check for anywhere from $50 to $300 dollars to the Board of Elections. That's because most politicians are Democrats or Republicans. Third-party and independent office seekers have to earn their places on the ballot by submitting the valid signatures of at least 1 percent of the electorate they hope to represent. Statewide, that means 27,000 signatures. That's a lot of time spent pounding the pavement, offering clipboards and pens to bewildered strangers. Still, it's better than it used to be for alternative candidates. Before 1998, when ballot-access reforms were enacted, independent and third-party challengers had to collect valid signatures of 3 percent of the electorate before their names could be offered up to voters. Candidates currently negotiating the petition process say the reductions have helped--but only so much. "Maryland still has some of the toughest ballot-access laws in the nation," says Richard Winger, publisher of Ballot Access News, a monthly publication that tracks balloting rules nationwide. "While improved, there really hasn't been a lot of change." For example, Maryland is one of only two states (along with New Mexico) that requires candidates to petition to get on the ballot while simultaneously requiring parties to do the same to win state recognition, and the perception of political legitimacy that confers. Winger credits neighboring Delaware as a "model" for open ballot access. There, a nonmajor party is recognized when it gets 1/20 of 1 percent of registered voters to join, and there are no petitioning requirements for individuals running under that party's aegis--they simply pay a fee to get on the ballot, as do Democrats and Republicans. Maryland officials "had noble intentions when they crafted the [1998] legislation, but it's pretty clear that the system is still designed to provide ballot obstructions for minor-party candidates," says Isaac Opalinsky, co-chairperson of the Maryland Green Party (which achieved state recognition in 2000). "It's a one-party state, and the laws do a lot to preserve that." The Greens would like to see petitioning eliminated for candidates from recognized parties, a status a party obtains by gathering 10,000 voter signatures and maintains by getting 1 percent of the electorate to either join it or vote for it in any statewide election. Opalinsky says signature collecting wastes campaign resources, burns out volunteers, and diverts candidates from discussing the issues. Critics of ballot restrictions say the rules aren't just inconvenient, but unconstitutional. After Green David Gross was denied a spot on the ballot in the 2000 1st Congressional District race because more than 1,000 of his signatures were ruled invalid, the party took its dissatisfaction to court, suing the Maryland Board of Elections. (The Greens are the plaintiff in the suit, but members of other third parties filed affidavits of support.) The state won summary judgment in the case, but the Greens have appealed to the Maryland Court of Appeals, the state's highest court, which heard the case last fall but has yet to rule. Third-party and independent candidates face their greatest petition challenge when seeking statewide office, where 1 percent of eligible voters translates into more than 27,000 signatures. (And petitioners are advised by the State Board of Elections to exceed the minimum by at least 20 percent to provide a buffer for the inevitable disqualifications.) If well below the 80,000 signatures required prior to the 1998 rule change, it's still a daunting figure. "We were planning on running a gubernatorial candidate for this election, but due to the harshness of ballot-access laws, we determined that it was beyond our finances and resources," says Stephen Krukar, chairperson of the state-recognized Maryland Constitution Party. "The citizens of Maryland lose because the different parties have different ideas that can be beneficial to hear." The Libertarian Party is the only third party likely to have a candidate on the gubernatorial ballot this fall. Indeed, it is the only minor party likely to place a candidate on any statewide ballot. The only other third-party candidate seeking statewide office--Green Party comptroller candidate Beth Hufnagel--is doubtful about collecting enough signatures by the Aug. 5 deadline. "It's not looking real good," she says of her petitioning efforts. (Robert Stewart, an independent gubernatorial candidate--who must also collect signatures--did not return calls seeking comment.) "The whole [system] is designed to rob the voter of choice," says Libertarian gubernatorial candidate Spear Lancaster, a retired marketing executive from Anne Arundel County. "They call this the Free State--that's a joke." The Lancaster campaign began collecting signatures last fall, and broke the 30,000 mark in July. Lancaster says he hopes to ultimately submit "between 33,000 and 34,000" signatures. Paul Herrnson, a University of Maryland professor of government and politics and editor of the book Multiparty Politics in America, doesn't feel the third-party candidates' pain. A consultant to the Commission to Revise the Election Code--a think tank established in 1996 to examine Maryland electoral procedures--Herrnson contends that the state's ballot-access laws are "pretty reasonable" and "a burden, but not that great of one." "Seeing conspiracies and seeing high hurdles [to ballot access] is a typical response of minor parties, which are often parties out of sync with how the public views politics," Herrnson says. Collecting signatures might be difficult, he adds, but it is "nothing like the burden that [Democrat and Republican] candidates face when they have to campaign in a primary election to get on the [general election] ballot." Third-party candidates may even give incumbents "another advantage" by dividing the competition, he says. "I think [incumbent] accountability is more important to governance than having a bunch of names proliferate on the ballot." But one person's cluttered ballot is another's freedom of choice. Libertarian candidate Lancaster blasts concerns that easing regulations will lead to overloaded ballots as "specious, insulting, and degrading." "I believe in Maryland right now that we have 18 [state] senators that are running unopposed," he says. "Don't tell me we have choices when only one person is running." Adding another wrinkle to challenges third-party candidates face is the Maryland Court of Appeals' late-June redistricting, which shifted many already-campaigning candidates into different districts. For third-party candidates this meant many of the signatures collected prior to the district shift had to be tossed out. And the Aug. 5 deadline for petition submission was not changed. Rick Kunkel, a Rodgers Forge social worker and Green Party candidate for the House of Delegates, began his campaign in the 43rd District, which straddled the Baltimore city/county line; post-redistricting, he is now running in the all-Baltimore County 42nd District. "Redistricting whacked us a little bit and set us back a couple of steps," Kunkel says. "All of the signatures we collected in the city were no good." He says his campaign is "recovering" and, indeed, he has already submitted nearly all of the signatures he needs to qualify for the ballot in the 42nd. But while he believes he will be on the ballot come November, he still questions the process. "We're an official party," he says. "We followed the rule and regs to become an official party--so what's this second [signature] hurdle about? If I had decided to run as a Democrat, I could have gone to Annapolis, paid my 50 bucks [to file], and I'd be in the primary."

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WYPR 
Marc Steiner Interview with
Alison Gibbons, Rick Kunkel, and Isaac Opalinsky
July 30, 2002.

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