It has been 42 years since Tommie Broadwater Jr. was elected as the first African-American senator from Prince George’s County. Today, that seems light years away as Broadwater remains the closest thing to a political boss in the county, despite a colorful and somewhat controversial past that saw him rise from poverty to become one of the most influential powerbrokers then and now.
Attorney Wayne Currie went to Broadwater, who was convicted of food stamp fraud back in the 1980s, for his blessing when he decided to run for office and later became the first African-American county executive of the richest, most educated, and most affluent Black jurisdiction in the nation.
Bruce Branch (Courtesy Photo)
The face of Broadwater has become the face of African-American political advancement and empowerment in the county. Few politicians, including current Prince George’s County Executive Rushern T. Baker III and former County Executive Jack B. Johnson, have been elected in the county without making the trek down to the Ebony Inn in Fairmount Heights. Ebony Inn, an old-time speakeasy that still sells some of the best barbeque ribs and fried chicken around, is amid a mini-kingdom Broadwater has built through his various business enterprises, including his infamous bail bond, liquor store, hotel and adult entertainment businesses.
“He’s the Godfather,” Baker said of Broadwater when he ran for county executive in 2010. “If you’re going to make a political move in Prince George’s County, especially if you’re an African American, you talk to Tommie. People won’t take you seriously unless they know you’ve gone to see Tommie.”
The Ebony Inn remains one of the few places in the county where exotic dancers perform as much a testament to Broadwater’s political prowess as the Godfather of Prince George’s County politics and a stable of highly connected, high price attorneys. “It cost me a lot of money to keep things going,” Broadwater recently said.
Broadwater had been trying to keep a low-profile in recent years, holding fundraisers for political friends and mentoring up and coming politicians, particularly those who have been stung by scandal and legal problems.
Recent bail reform legislation has brought Broadwater out of the shadows and put him into the public spotlight. He was seen in Annapolis, Md. in recent weeks with attorney Billy Murphy and Joe Vallario (D-23B). Without naming anyone, Broadwater said he has spoken to most of the major candidates for office in the 2018 election, but if he knows, he is not letting on to whom he might support.
The life of the cagey Broadwater is worthy of a Hollywood myopic. His rise from poverty to wealth, his passage from the social margins to the county’s apex – is an essential chapter in the story of how Prince George’s evolved from a place where Blacks had nothing to a place where Blacks rule.
In 1974, Broadwater was elected to the Maryland State Senate and distinguished himself in political circles not only with an orange Cadillac and outsize Afro (a “high-bush,” as he called it), but by doling out jobs and appointments to Blacks.
Then, in 1983, at the peak of his power, Broadwater was convicted of committing $70,000 in food stamp fraud. He spent four months in a federal prison, lost his Senate seat and was publicly humiliated. Broadwater launched three failed comeback bids, the last in 1994, when he ran for his old Senate seat. Even though he did not regain the seat, he said he has learned that he doesn’t need public office to retain influence and remain a voice for the poor and disenfranchised in the county.