By Barry Rascovar

Unlike the massive publicity that surrounded the death of former Gov. William Donald Schaefer, the passing of Pete O’Malley gained scant media attention.

Yet Peter F. O’Malley III will be remembered as a major figure in suburban Washington’s history. He was a political and business heavyweight who, along with Rep. Steny Hoyer, changed Prince George’s County politics for the better.

The O’Malley-Hoyer organization (both of them hated when reporters called it a “political machine”) brought progressive, honest government to the county. Under O’Malley’s leadership, his “breakfast club” chose up-and-coming Democrats to run for county offices, and then provided the organization and discipline to consistently win elections.

At its peak, the organization founded by O’Malley swept nearly all elective offices in Prince George’s and erased the Republican Party as a viable alternative in county elections.

During the late 1960s and 1970s, the county changed from a sleepy, rural haven run by “good old boys” to a fast-growing, middle-class suburb with a large African-American population and leadership that was well-educated, liberal and loyal to Peter O’Malley.

He could have been a Baltimore-style political boss, pulling strings in Annapolis and Upper Marlboro. But that wasn’t Peter O’Malley’s style. He remained the unseen organizer and disciplinarian of the group, though.

As Prince George’s flourished, so did the organization’s leaders. Hoyer became state Senate president and then a congressman (now he’s the No. 2 Democratic in the House of Representatives).

Peter O’Malley and his law firm took full advantage of the business and residential growth in Prince George’s. Developers flocked to his firm for help on zoning matters. He advised Giant Food and played consigliore to sports entrepreneur Abe Pollin on legal and political issues, even serving as president of Pollin’s Washington Capitals hockey team (as did O’Malley’s daughter, Susan).

He took the top job at the Greater Washington Board of Trade and used that forum to promote business development in suburban Washington.

But O’Malley found his formula for success in politics and government didn’t work as well outside Prince George’s County.

He became an ardent supporter of the University of Maryland and served 10 frustrating years on the board of regents even giving up his law work to devote full time to higher education matters.

Twice he took the job as chairman of the regents. The last time, in 1988, Gov. Schaefer asked him to reshape the university system following passage of a massive reorganization law.

Peter O’Malley’s grand plan included a three-way merger of UM’s Baltimore institutions, moving the law school from Baltimore to Bowie State College, and moving the social work school from Baltimore to College Park. It was too much, too soon: His proposal collapsed in a heap.

Even worse, the board chairman ended up in a prolonged, nasty struggle to force out entrenched UM Chancellor John Toll, who had lost the confidence of the regents. Then O’Malley sought to impose his reorganization plan on Gus White, the newly named president of UM’s professional schools in Baltimore.

White was stunned when O’Malley informed him that two of the major professional schools on his campus would be removed and that White had to accept it.

The prestigious Harvard surgeon, who would have been the first African-American to lead UM’s professional schools, promptly resigned, blasting Peter O’Malley for not consulting him on such an important decision.

White’s departure killed O’Malley’s reorganization and sealed the chairman’s fate. He knew it was time to remove himself from the brutal higher education battlefield.

Peter O’Malley’s intentions were honorable and practical. But he never grasped the nuances of Maryland academia and never understood Baltimore’s political and business culture. He was buried under an avalanche of carefully orchestrated criticisms from those quarters.

(Senate President Mike Miller’s current proposal to merge the Baltimore professional schools with College Park may end up suffering the same fate.)

After this misadventure, Peter O’Malley considered a run for state attorney general or even governor, but he was too sensitive to public criticism. He also recognized that he lacked vital voter support in the Baltimore region.

He resurfaced in the 1990s long enough to rescue Blue Cross-Blue Shield of the National Capital Area from near-bankruptcy.

Then he quietly went back to his law practice and more recently split his retirement years between West Palm Beach, Fla., and Rehoboth Beach, Del.

When O’Malley was trying to shake up higher education, I described him in another publication as “one of Maryland’s best-kept political secrets. He is a consummate behind-the-scenes orchestrator, a quiet consensus-builder [who is] tireless and committed to achieving his goals.”

Prince George’s County citizens are better off because of Peter O’Malley. He set a high standard for public service. The University of Maryland might have been better off, too, if O’Malley hadn’t rushed to push through his reorganization of it without first working out a broad agreement.

The county and the state could use more Peter Francis O’Malleys, people who are dedicated to making government and its agencies work effectively and efficiently for the people.

Requiescat in Pace.

Barry Rascovar is a State House columnist and communications consultant. His e-mail address is brascovar@hotmail.com.