If you were deciding, what salary would you give Maryland lawmakers? I helped set the number.

The snail-mail letter arrived in September, from the Office of Gov. Wes Moore. “With the utmost gratitude to you for your dedication to public service,” it read, “it is my pleasure to designate you Chair of the General Assembly Compensation Commission, serving at the pleasure of the Governor.”

A few weeks earlier, I had given a hesitant “yes” to friends Mollie Byron, the governor’s appointments secretary, and Jeremy Baker, head of legislative affairs, to serving on the board. But chairman was something else. It meant toning down my snark; and no turning off the camera or skipping meetings. Tough stuff.

Truth be told, I love the concept and the mission of this commission — which wrapped up its work last week. 

I covered it as a State House journalist, and had only a few qualms about switching roles and being a participant (in fact, becoming a participant in public policy and public service was exactly what I sought when I left the Baltimore Sun more than 15 years ago. One of my Chicago-based mentors called me the ‘David Axelrod of Maryland,’ which I liked to hear.)

The commission is central to the way Maryland has chosen to set the salaries of members of the General Assembly, the governor, the judiciary and constitutional officers. A 1970 constitutional amendment authorized the creation of these panels, with appointees from the governor, the House and the Senate. The commissions review salary history, data from other states and economic projections (that’s in practice; in theory they can look at whatever they want); then they vote on a recommendation in the form of a resolution that is submitted to the General Assembly. If the Assembly takes no action, and in practice they never do, the recommendation becomes the reality, for the next four years.

In this manner, the Assembly and the governor do not have to propose or vote on their own salary increases, unless they really want to.

Our commission was a public body subject to open meeting laws, but I’d be lying if I said the work and the resolution get a lot of attention, at least beforehand.

Our work was made easier because of the attention and good questions of past commissions, which collected a LOT of data that only had to be updated. And we were guided by the thoroughly excellent and sober work of the Maryland Department of Legislative Services, the nonpartisan agency which rightly garners much respect in Annapolis. [In fact, if I had another life or career — or a slightly different temperament (see above, snark) — I’d love to be part of that organization.]

Here are a few facts gleaned from data we reviewed:

Eight states have full-time or near full-time legislatures, including California, New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio, meaning lawmakers spend at least 80 percent of work life on legislative responsibilities. New York lawmakers, as a result, get $142,000 a year, and those in Pennsylvania receive $106,422.

Maryland is part of a plurality of states with what political scientists call “hybrid” legislatures, spending at least 65 percent of their time on lawmaking work. In Maryland, that’s concentrated in the 90-day legislative session, which is now underway. In 2024, based on the recommendation of the prior commission, Maryland lawmakers get paid $54,437, ranking them 13^th in the nation. (The 2026 salary in Maryland is $56,636.)

There may well be a connection between salary paid and the quality voters get. Commission members discussed this link, and previous commissions were also cognizant of the relationship between higher salaries and less pressure to find outside employment, which can create potential conflicts and limit time spent serving constituents. Our predecessors purposefully wanted to make sure that compensation in Maryland was at roughly the top quartile of such salaries nationwide, and also in line with those in other states with capital and operating budgets of roughly similar size to Maryland’s. We thought those were good goals, and tried to meet them there.

While the main work of lawmakers takes place during the annual session, which began last week, there are year-round responsibilities that take many hours, and these jobs could certainly be considered full-time. Maryland, like most states and Congress, prides itself on the tradition of having a citizen legislature, but in practice you get a good number of lawyers and married or older folks whose households derive income from a spouse, retiree payments or family wealth. Our commission discussed this, and concluded that it’s worth studying a possible shift to full-time status and salary. But we wouldn’t be recommending or putting forward such a change this year.

Here were our driving principles:

First, maintain Maryland’s salary position relative to peer states, including those who manage budgets of similar size (although we didn’t have good information on what other states will be doing);

Second, take into account the rocky fiscal condition of the state with a gap between revenues and expenditures this year of $1.5 billion and $2 billion next year;

Third, recognize that staff and state employees are equally valued, and avoid a situation where lawmakers are receiving salary increases larger than those that state employees covered by bargaining units will get this year.

As chair, I sought to give every commission member a chance to express their views. We had some amazing perspective and experience, including Simon G. Powell, a respected analyst who was the executive director of the commission before his retirment; James King, a former delegate and business leader; Matthew Gallagher, a former chief of staff to a governor and the spouse of a former state budget secretary; and Dr. Zina Pierre, who was a strong voice for lawmakers who are serving many hours and challenged by finding outside employment. 

In fact, you could be excused for asking what the heck I was doing there.

Our other commission members all added value: Allora Good Cyrus, a program manager; Lindsey Reynolds, who served on the governor’s compensation panel in the last cycle; Thomas Slater, a respected Frederick County historian and activist; and Deborah C. Wilder, a leader in Prince George’s County.

Our deliberations lacked friction, I have little doubt, because of one-party control in Annapolis. The governor, the House speaker and the Senate President, who appointed us, are all Democrats. While they don’t see eye to eye about everything, there is a respect for the workings of government. In 2018, the compensation commission appointed by Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican, recommended four years of zero salary increases. That prospect was not on the table this year, a condition I attribute to the Democratic hegemony.

So what did we decide?

Our final vote, which was unanimous and fairly easy to arrive at, was that lawmakers should receive a 1.75 percent salary increase in calendar years 2027 and 2028, and 2.75 percent in 2029 and 2030. By then, salaries would be $61,905 for rank-and-file members and $80,406 for the two presiding officers.

Will this make lawmakers happy? I suspect not. Will it drive away talent and prevent good people from running? I also suspect not.

We knew the decisions of a separate commission that advises on governor salaries. The next governor will receive no increase in 2027, a 3.6 percent raise in 2028, zero in 2029 and 4.0 percent in 2030, bringing the salary to $210,000, a $15,000 increase over four years – compared to the $1,474 four-year increase for legislators. We also voted on modest increases, in line with the federal government schedule, for hotel rooms and meals while lawmakers are in Annapolis.

The resolution is now on its way to be printed. Apart from this article, you’ll probably never hear a word about it.

A few minutes after the vote, which took place on the fourth floor of the Miller Senate Office Building, I passed the governor as he was entering the State House and I was leaving. I shook his hand, reminded him that I was there that day because of the position he named me to, and thanked him for the opportunity.

I am 99 percent sure that Gov. Moore didn’t really recall that he had appointed me, or that I was the chair. He probably saw a memo or my name on a list at some point months ago, a decision way down at the bottom of his priority list. Decisions like this need to be delegated.

But as he walked away, he also said out loud: “That’s the best writer I know.”

I’m 99 percent sure that’s utter BS. But I smiled, and I will remember the hyperbole for a long time. Technically, my term expires this year because Moore’s appointment was for the remainder of a concluding four-year cycle. I’d be honored to stay on the commission and continue our work in the next cycle.