It all seems so comfortable. No navigational tool, either real or not, is necessary. Back in the cocoon of friendship and familiarity? Yes, that sums it up. The rhythm is soothing. 

I cannot sever my ties to Talbot County. Two weeks ago, I went “back home” for two vastly different community events and a substantive meeting. Though an outsider now, deeply enmeshed in life in Annapolis, 41 miles away and so culturally disparate, I still felt welcomed.

The Eastern Shore Land Conservancy’s annual fall fundraiser, Party to Preserve, celebrated the organization’s devotion over 32 years to land preservation by using the lovely Duvall Farm, a wildlife preserve owned by Chip and Sally Akridge in Oxford, as its scenic venue. The weather and mood were pleasantly compatible. With folks attending from Cecil, Kent, Queen Anne’s, Caroline, Talbot and Dorchester counties, the event projected the best of this six-county region.

I learned again about the Eastern Shore’s beauty and the commitment by the Akridges and others to enhance its special qualities. I view Oxford Road and its pristine character, unblemished by commercial clutter, a metaphor for the continual battle to preserve what matters—that being a humane quality of life hard to match. I heard, however, disquieting chatter about a 400-unit residential subdivision planned on Peppermill Creek near the eastern terminus of Oxford Road. 

I could think only of the multiple developments in the Annapolis Neck area near our new home at the BayWoods waterfront retirement community and their detrimental effect on Forest Drive. Every time–and far too frequently–that I confront congestion on this major road, I think about Easton and Talbot County and pray it will not be ruined by an overdose of housing and ensuing traffic.

My perspective has changed. Annapolis has become a benchmark that reminds me that life on the Eastern Shore is precious—and threatened by over-development. The battle for a life free of urban misery is ceaseless. While Annapolis, a city of 40,000, is wonderfully livable and enjoyable, it too faces the tension between sanity and senselessness.

Two days after the ESLC party, I attended the Delmarva Boy Scout District Council’s ceremony paying tribute to Derick and Dina Daly for their creation of Building African-American Minds (B.A.A.M.). They received Scouting’s Midshore Distinguished Service Award. I knew little or nothing about this successful program to provide a route for academic and life success for African American children.

Clearly pleased with the award, the Dalys could feel justly proud of their achievement. They also realized that, like the effort to preserve land amid constant development pressure, they must relentlessly encourage and coach young people to seek success and avoid unhealthy choices in their young lives.

Do I yearn for the life that my wife and I savored for 44 years in Easton and Talbot County? Sure, I do. Yet I understand that Annapolis is an appealing place to settle, offering plentiful history, cultural amenities and lovely waterfront. Also, I know of people who departed the Shore after retirement for San Francisco, Austin, Seattle and Winter Park, Fl. to spend their senior years near children. Those moves meant severing ties to the Shore.

Earlier in this essay I exclaimed about the intoxicating quality of life in Talbot County, as defined for me by the lack of urban congestion, the agricultural character, the water and the good people. Invited by the Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s Alan Girard and the League of Women Voters Kathi Bangert to emcee a Talbot County Council candidates’ forum last Wednesday evening at the Eastern Shore Conservation Center in Easton, focused on the environment, I was struck by the anxiety concerning land use and increased development pressure.

Civic engagement undergirds democracy. As I observed first-hand, Talbot County citizens are committed to holding their local elected officials accountable for wise land use management. Land preservation demands public input; democracy provides access to decision-making. 

I traveled home to the Western Shore feeling cautiously optimistic about the future of my former home. 

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

 

Public service is no picnic. It easily provides a psychic return in enabling a person to feel satisfied that he or she is helping others. It also imposes an ethical straitjacket.

For example, personal investments by members of Congress project a poor image: elected officials often have inside information that can produce profitable transactions.

Perception dogs every public official, as it should. If an action bears even a small scent of impropriety, don’t do it. Lack of trust by the public is a long-lasting punishment. It is difficult to recover approval after an ethical mishap.

When I served as deputy treasurer for Maryland, I sometimes attended high-level investment meetings of the State Retirement and Pension System. The nuggets of information were delectable. Do I use them for my modest portfolio? Would it be unethical to exploit my access to valuable data?

I learned early on in my career: if in doubt, don’t.

If you cannot sleep at night due to a transgression that someone will likely never know, don’t transgress.

My ethical line is super bright. It is a beneficial barrier. It prevents behavior that I will surely regret. It is good for my emotional well-being. It is invaluable. It is the right course.

Some members, jaded from years of service, follow different standards. The thinking goes like this: though a congressional member, I am entitled to invest my money; I cannot stop thinking about my family and its financial well-being; if I learn something particularly appetizing, I would be foolish to disregard it; I had a life prior to elected public service, and I will have one afterwards;  I did not have to take a vow of poverty when I was sworn into the House of Representatives or U.S. Senate.

This thinking leads to decisions, if not unethical, are highly questionable, if not arrogant.

I feel so strongly because I learned of instances when Maryland state legislators betrayed the public trust. It was always about money, of course. The temptation is too great for some.

One legislator, well-liked and well-respected, was working as a consultant for a grocery business that wanted a traffic light. He wrote a letter to the State Highway Administration on his state-senator letterhead. He also chaired a budget committee. The request gained approval. He received a fee for service normally provided by an elected official.

When the news came out, this state senator faced condemnation, a trial and disgrace. To add insult to injury, the senator’s attorney, a former legislator, offered a defense that wreaked of irony and offensiveness: his client was too dumb to pull off the caper for which he was charged.

Selling political influence is a longstanding practice throughout the American political sphere. It never seems to vanish. Its stench is infinite.

Conflict of interest is another prevalent bugaboo. According to an analysis by the New York Times, 97 members of Congress traded stocks related to oversight by House and Senate committees on which they served. Many rebutted any claims of unethical behavior. They were right. They were wrong, however, about optics; their constituents might disagree about the propriety of buying and selling stocks in companies whose inner workings are known by congressional members.

House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is planning to introduce legislation by the end of this month to ban stock trades by congressional members and their members. With elections facing all representatives and some senators in early December, I wonder if the bill will move quickly for political reasons, or be stalled until after the Nov. 8 election, for political reasons.

Though self-righteous, I feel comfortable on my high horse.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

 

Millions of words have flowed in conventional and social media since Queen Elizabeth II died at age 96 on Sept. 8. Her funeral was yesterday at Westminster Abbey.

Coverage of her death and assumption of the crown by King Charles II has seemed smooth, efficient and appropriate. The new king has performed magnificently on the world stage, ever dutiful to memorializing his mother.

For nearly two weeks, I have paid scant attention to inflation, global warming and Russian aggression in Ukraine. I have immersed myself in the unending ceremony, pageantry and substance surrounding the exquisite handoff of the British throne from a monarch who served as a symbol of stability for 70 years to her 73-year-old son, who served his apprenticeship loyally and patiently.

I might have been guilty of seeking an escape from the Washington political muck. In fact, I freely admit it.

I am aware that British royalty is considered archaic. I am aware that a segment of British citizenry views the monarchy a wasteful expense. I realize the Commonwealth ruled by Queen Elizabeth II tolerated horrendous treatment of British subjects throughout the world. The Queen exhibited little emotion in performing her public duties. If the television series, “The Crown,” is even partially true, she was a mother who raised her four children with little warmth and empathy. She ceded parenting to her husband, Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh.

Still, I respected the Queen. I found the rigid traditions surrounding her role as the monarch magical. Nearly 11 years ago, when my daughters and I visited London, my oldest daughter arranged a private tour of Buckingham Palace. The Queen and family were spending their winter holiday in Sandringham. To raise money for restoration of Windsor Castle wrecked by a fire, the Queen opened Buckingham Place to small groups of 30 at a hefty price.

My daughters and I loved the privately guided tour. We could envision the Queen’s living space, including a secret door behind a bookcase that enabled her to escape visitors. We saw the room where she bestowed honors and awards. The huge, elaborately furnished palace was a home and workplace at the same time. Her lifestyle was rich in entrenched ritual, exquisite art and incredible wealth.

Despite her love of horses, dogs, hunting and Balmoral Castle in her beloved Scotland, she found her duties endless and consuming as she walked a tightrope of responsibility and sensibility, while quietly enjoying the prerogatives of the rich and famous. Unlike most of us, she rarely could escape the spotlight. She also endured her share of family dysfunction and objectionable behavior, as manifested by her children.

During the past two weeks, British civility has been on full display. For me, it is has been in sharp relief from the United States, where our democracy has faced frontal attacks by election deniers who are systematically trying to corrupt our election process. Media coverage of the Queen’s death and the consequent grieving in the United Kingdom have provided me a two-week mental-well-being vacation, one that I have enjoyed immensely.

Discordant life will return to Britain. Liz Truss, the new prime minister, will generate criticism from her political opponents. British inflation will continue to disrupt the lives of British citizens. And King Charles III will experience missteps as his royal honeymoon will have a short shelf life.

Does royalty matter in modern times? Probably not. But it does matter in Great Britain. It is part of the culture. It is an anchor, a source of tradition, an example of service above self. That works for me.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

It is funny (not really) that at the same time that we learn that a third Bay Bridge span is years off, that a wave of new concern about suicide jumpers has emerged.

Talk about breathing easier about life has always been a constant refrain among people traveling east across the 4.3-mile Chesapeake Bay Bridge. As many people have said, the passage across the Chesapeake Bay evokes thoughts of lower blood pressure and recreational pleasures.

For some over the years, since the first span was completed in 1952, shoving ferries into obsolescence, and the second in 1973, the bridges represent a jumping off point. Literally. Those afflicted with depression or mental illness seek release from life by whirling themselves off the bridges into almost certain death in the inviting waters of the Bay.

At the same time we learn that a third span is several years in the future with a potential price tag of $10 billion (probably more) and fear the opportunities for more suicides, increased attention on preventing fatal suicide jumps is gaining momentum. This information is welcoming.

Netting to deter suicides and cushion the falls by desperate jumpers, thus precluding nearly certain death, will become part of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The same should be an adjunct to the two and possibly three Bay Bridge spans.

From 2014 to 2021, there have been 32 deaths and 33 attempts from Bay Bridge from jumpers. The number is not great. It is, however, striking. More than four people a year use a public structure to commit suicide. The impact on the victims’ families is inestimable. The disruption to the operation of the bridge is unmistakable.

It might be easy to say if that someone wants to commit suicide, so what. Suicide is a choice. That thinking would be flawed. Law enforcement and mental health professionals are deployed to talk a suicide jumper down from the precipice of death. Traffic can be stopped for hours during lengthy negotiation with the suicidal person.

Though people commit suicide daily by irresponsible consumption of alcohol and food, or drug abuse, a suicide attempt on a bridge is a public spectacle. It is human tragedy in the making. It requires an immediate response.

For years, the Maryland Transportation Authority, which manages the Bay Bridge, has deliberately avoided disclosure of jumps to address very real contagion; copycat actions are common in the wake of publicity. Mass shootings are an alarming example.

As our bridge planners design a third span, I suggest inclusion of a suicide deterrence net. Further, I recommend that state officials seriously consider installation of netting on the existing spans to prevent the loss of troubled lives and long, aggravating back-ups caused by negotiations with jumpers. At the risk of seeming facetious and uncaring, the mental health of motorists traveling across the Bay Bridge matters too.

Netting must happen now. Cameras, suicide prevention and emergency lights have some value, but not much. Within three weeks of the opening of the first span in 1952, a motorist committed suicide. An unfortunate sign of the times. Bridges are just too tempting for mentally ill people desperate to end their lives and thus abolish the terrible demons that have tormented their lives. Even writing these words strikes terror in me as I contemplate the thinking that drives people to commit suicide.

While increased traffic may demand a third span, along with concerns about the structural integrity of spans, I think the temptation for suicidal people to consider the Bay Bridge a jumping off platform compels prevention. The time has come.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

 

Queen Elizabeth II’s death yesterday after 70 years as Great Britain’s monarch represents not only the end of an era but recognition of her selfless service.

Whether British or not, anyone could respect a person born with responsibility and imbued with obedience to the people she served so diligently.

If only her personal journals could talk, we would learn what this amazing woman thought about dealing with 15 British prime ministers, 14 U.S. presidents and seven popes. It really does not matter; what does would be her observations about domestic and international affairs.

She was 25 when she became Queen following her father’s death at 56. She had watched as her father dealt so heroically and admirably with the travails of World War II. Her father overcame a severe case of stuttering to serve as a partner with Prime Minister Winston Churchill to rally the British during the German blitz.

Evolving from a person with little formal education, she became a font of knowledge and expertise as prime ministers appeared frequently before her and listened as she asked probing questions and offered advice. Her power was quiet, understated. She died at 96.

Publicly she was neither warm nor convivial. She was polite and reserved. She guarded her emotions. She reasoned that British citizens expected her to be calm and resolute, in control of her emotions.

Now the Queen’s oldest son, King Charles, 73, succeeds her as the King after training since he was three. He will follow Her Royal Majesty, summoning his own personality and perspectives and understanding that his mother was a figure well-loved and well-respected. His path will be difficult.

Farewell, Queen Elizabeth. Thank you for exemplifying absolute devotion to your job and incomparable stability. She cut ribbons and gave out awards in what we all might consider perfunctory, even boring duties. She, however, knew that her British subjects needed to see her and experience her presence.

God Welcome the Queen!

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

Derick and Dina Daly, this year’s recipients of Scouting’s Delmarva District’s Midshore Distinguished Service Award, have created and led Building African American Minds (B.A.A.M.) in Easton, an invaluable community service.

When honored on Tuesday, Sept. 20, 5 p.m.-7 p.m., at B.A.A.M., located at 31 Jowite Street, at a ceremony emceed by Rabbi Peter Hyman, religious leader at Easton’s Temple B’Nai Israel, the Dalys will join a lengthy list of community leaders recognized over the years by the local district of the Boy Scouts of America (BSA). Rabbi Hyman, an Eagle Scout, was the 2021 award recipient.

This annual event is a special one. It raises much-needed funds to support the district council, enabling many families to afford to join Eastern Shore troops. All the money raised remains invested on the Shore.

Having been a Cub Scout as a child, I have learned during the past four years, three as event chair, the intrinsic value of Scouting through listening to the most recent recipients—Dick Bodorff of Easton, Jim Harris of Royal Oak and Peter Hyman—as they have talked passionately about their experiences as Eagle Scouts. They each tie their success in life to their years of Scouting service and lessons learned.

The long-lasting pride of becoming an Eagle Scout, the highest BSA rank possible, was evident as I listened a few years ago to Bodorff and Harris enthuse about their achievement earned more than 55 years ago. These two highly accomplished men seemed to remember every detail of their merit badges.

For many years I have known about Chip Akridge’s devotion to Scouting. This Oxford resident too was an Eagle Scout, as well as a recipient of the Midshore Distinguished Service Award. The Akridge Scout Reservation is located in Dover, Del.

A young neighbor in Easton, Jack Leffingwell, became an Eagle Scout. As his high school friends sought normal teenage diversions, he remained committed to Scouting. He was self-motivated; his parents, while encouraging, had little or nothing to do with his wholehearted participation. His Scouting experience provided a sound basis for his four years at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy. His mother, Stacy Leffingwell, serves on our planning committee.

Scanning Google to learn more about the expansive impact of Scouting, I discovered that a U.S. president was an Eagle Scout. Gerald Ford was proud to be described, sometimes critically, as a “Boy Scout” or straight arrow. His reaction was perfect: if exemplifying being honest, trustworthy, loyal, friendly, cheerful, brave, obedient, courteous, kind, thrifty, reverent, and clean, he was comfortable with the critique. As he should have been.

For 17 years, the Dalys have established the means for young African Americans to seek personal betterment through academic and athletic activities, as well as job preparation. Their efforts have gained justifiable acclaim and support. They have remained singularly focused on providing satisfying opportunities for achievement and fulfillment to African American children and youths.

The Dalys will receive well-deserved accolades on Sept. 20. Scouting’s Delmarva District Council will benefit too by raising money to ensure that young men and women gain access to activities and values that build character and promote service above self.

If a reader wishes to attend, please email Shaina Adkins at sadkins@dmvc.org. Two weeks remain for attending an occasion to honor the Dalys and meet Mid Shore scouts.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

 

 

 

Readers’ comments in the Spy typically are rational and thoughtful, though often hard-edged. A comment last week in response to my column about General Mark Milley and his commitment to our Constitution and democracy during the last two-and-a-half tortuous months of Donald Trump’s presidency crossed the line of propriety. The reader suggested that Milley “should come before a firing squad.”

Milley ensured that our military was not used for un-democratic purposes, such as collecting election machines in an effort by Trump and his gang of co-conspirators to prove that the 2020 presidential election was fraudulent. For his actions to preserve our United States Armed Forces as non-political, the reader implies that the general was a traitor. In fact, he was a hero. He understood the danger of the uniformed services being a pawn at the behest of an irresponsible leader.

Such shameful, provocative language exacerbates the mistrust of an institution so valuable to our democracy, tied directly to the Constitution. Milley should receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom, not senseless criticism as embodied by the assertion he should face a firing squad for reasons known only to the reader.

Really? What kind of person suggests such a despicable notion about a well-respected military officer?

A conversation with a longtime friend unearthed a former political reality in the early part of the 20th century: Democrats and Republicans would disagree about contentious policies, such as the size of government, without engaging in personal assassination. Led by our former president, ad hominem attacks have increased in intensity and vitriol.

I wonder how our republic benefits from smears. It undeniably worsens the quality—and even the possibility– of civil political discourse. Name-calling as practiced last week by the Spy reader achieves little but satisfy the reader’s anger and disjointed sense of retribution. A civil conversation becomes impossible, poisoned by useless vilification.

While I understand that calumny has always characterized political combat in our country, I believe that words written by the reader and spoken by political leaders, including the former White House occupant, provoke violence and distrust of our institutions. It should be no surprise when physical altercations occur.

How does our fragile democracy benefit amid the incitement of abhorrent, antagonistic behavior? It surely does not. It becomes frayed. Polite dialogue suffers. Collaboration is an unachievable goal.

Some think that our precious nation is simply going through a bad patch.

That could be true. Destruction of our democracy, however, as practiced by election-deniers and law enforcement critics, is threatening the threads of belief in our dysfunctional country. We love to hate and hate to reconcile.

Who or what leads us out of the wilderness? Is it possible to avoid a constant war of words and harmful actions? Are our ‘‘better angels” buried too deeply in our polarizing mindsets to resist resurrection?

The Spy provides a vibrant forum for differing opinions. They mostly are well-informed and constructive. Though comments can be edgy at times, I do not recall a reader suggesting that an esteemed military leader be the target of a firing squad.

Summer is nearing an end. The political season is heating up. Crazy talk is commonplace. I trust that our ensuing dialogue will not descend into language calling for shooting a national leader, even as a rhetorical device. Potential violence is a close ally of incendiary talk.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

I try so hard to avoid writing about our former President, Donald Trump, whose form of governing threatened our nation and its democracy. A reading of a recent article in the New Yorker, “Inside the War Between Trump and His Generals,” which portrays Chairman of the Joint Staff, General Mark Milley, as a reluctant hero, broke my resolve.

I must address a frightening episode in recent history. I cannot desist. Naively, I hope that Trump backers will agree that General Milley protected our country as no one could have imagined.

Trump threatened the Constitutional underpinnings of our country. Military leaders understood the severe danger facing our country during the harrowing months between the Nov. 3, 2020, election and the Jan. 20, 2021, inauguration. A normal transition was anything but. While I knew about the turmoil and unhinged behavior happening in the White House, I was unaware of unusual behind-the-scenes actions conducted by Milley and senior military officers.

At the risk of exaggeration, I suggest that Milley, aided and abetted by unlikely civilian allies, refused to allow the president and his crazy enablers to deploy the military against American citizens and initiate illegal interference in an already decided election. These public servants also prevented an unprovoked attack on Iran.

The ship of state was wobbly. Dangerously so.

It is important to understand the military value system. As embodied by Milley, it bespeaks duty and honor at all costs. It demands loyalty to its civilian chain of command. It requires a refusal to follow illegal orders. It requires an apolitical culture. As a longtime officer in the Maryland National Guard, I deeply respect the military’s service-first-and-always ethic. I also realize that our nation’s military forces are far from flawless. “Heat-of-battle” actions can be immoral and violate the Geneva Convention.

Use of the military to further a president’s political ambitions is anathema to the military value system. Using the military, as an example, for a career-enhancing photo op demeans the military. That was the case at Lafayette Square on June 1, 2020.

Inhabited by warrior-veterans, the military seeks peace above all else.

The civilian-military nexus calls for mutual respect and understanding. Though trained to obey high-ranking civilians, general officers will not hesitate to object to ill-advised actions that place soldiers (used generically) in harm’s way without sound thinking.

Responsible civilian leadership knows that the military is a diplomatic tool of last resort. This creed applies to domestic as well as foreign crises.

Trump showed little if any concern about the appropriate use of troops during his presidency. His thinking was always transactional, sadly lacking a moral center. He cared not a bit about proposing that the military be perceived as an authoritarian force used by a wannabe autocrat. Our military serves the Constitution and American citizens, reporting presumably to a president who acts legally and responsibly.

General Milley and Secretary of Defense Mark Esper, a West Point graduate and Gulf War veteran, had no choice but to resist Trump’s efforts to disrupt election results by seizing voting machines. They had no choice but to oppose the bombing of Iran. Establishing an unexpected partnership with Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, who was publicly and privately obsequious to Trump, Milley determined to save our democracy following the 2020 election, even at the daily threat of being fired. He understood the danger posed by a soulless president.

A combat veteran, Milley never could have anticipated serving a president so untethered to reality and rational behavior. He faced the consequences of a democracy under attack. So did the country.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

To this young teen watching his favorite professional basketball team, the Boston Celtics, Bill Russell seemed out of place as a Black man on an all-White team, at least at the beginning of his career. He also seemed incongruous because he was an incredibly fearsome and intimidating presence on the court though lacking the bulk of pre-Russell centers.

He had an uncanny ability to swat away balls; his 6’10” height and wingspan dominated the game and thrilled Celtic fans. Opponents did not share my fondness for a man on a mission, a person who had to endure racial taunts and despicable behavior (including graffiti on the walls of his Boston-area home and defecation on his bed). Off the court, he was no people-pleaser; it was not his style.

Russell recently died at 88, a much-respected figure in the professional basketball world and the civil rights arena. He played hard and smartly, studying opponents and their tendencies. He blocked shots with studied ease. He spoke out against bigotry, decrying the reservoir of racial bias in Boston.

He stood up to taller, stronger opponents like Wilt Chamberlain, confounding him and others with his ability and toughness. His voice of outrage was equally effective and unrestrained.

To modern-day followers of pro basketball, Russell might prompt “what’s the big deal” about another tall and talented center. They would be ill-advised to jump at this conclusion. This Celtic was special. He stood out at the beginning and end of his storied career, which included 11 championships and two championships as the player- coach of the Seattle Sonics.

He won the Most Valuable Player award five times. The award is named for him. And in 2011, President Barack Obama awarded Russell the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

This brainy player, who outwitted opposing players by knowing their moves and disrupting their style of play, dominated the court. It might be hard to imagine that his drive to win manifested itself in an unlikely pre-game routine: vomiting. The sound of upchucking sent a message to his teammates that he was ready to play. An unusual signal, to state the obvious.

The famed Celtics coach, Red Auerbach, drafted Russell for his shot-blocking skills, not his shooting capability. Auerbach had a stable of shooters. Yet Russell racked up nearly 16,000 points and nearly 22,000 rebounds during his career.

According to a “New York Times” obituary, Russell was “known for his ability to enhance the talents of his teammates even as he dominated the action, and to do it without bravado.” His accurate throws started many fast breaks. He eschewed dunking or gesturing to celebrate his achievements.

Scarred by prejudice beginning in his home state of Louisiana, this transformative basketballer was aloof, refusing to sign autographs. He preferred to shake a person’s hand and chat a few minutes.

Russell’s expanse of civil rights actions matched his wingspan on the basketball court He participated in the 1967 March on Washington where the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. intoned his powerful “I Have a Dream” speech. He supported Muhammad Ali when he refused to serve in the Vietnam War. He went to Mississippi after the civil rights activist Medgar Evers was murdered and worked with Evers’ brother to establish an integrated basketball camp in Jackson, Miss. And he cared little about public criticism.

After he died, every major newspaper and TV network carried news of this sports pioneer. His legacy of superior performance by a sleek, cerebral center will never diminish. He determined to understand the game and use his savvy intelligence to befuddle opponents and induce equally outstanding performances from his teammates.

My impression as a young teen of the Boston Celtics and a force of nature guarding the shot zone has stuck with me for nearly 65 years. When Bill Russell retired, along with his incomparable teammates, my interest in professional basketball evaporated. I witnessed ultimate teamwork.

Star players became money-hungry athletes. They failed to understand unselfishness as exemplified by the great Bill Russell.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.