Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. waited outside the doors to the packed Senate chamber in Annapolis yesterday just seconds before he was to be sworn in as Maryland's 60th governor. Unable to stand still, he clasped his hands before him, bowed his head, and rocked back and forth, toe to heel. Everyone was very quiet.
"Hey, you look good from the back," said U.S. Rep. Melissa A. Hart, a Pennsylvania Republican and one of Ehrlich's buddies from Congress. ("I tease him all the time. I can't help it," she added.)
At times, yesterday's inauguration of the first Republican administration in Maryland since Spiro T. Agnew was elected in 1966 seemed equal parts solemn ceremony and GOP shindig.
Although state officials from both parties insisted the day symbolized unity, Republicans both local and national could barely control their still-fresh glee over finally winning the governorship.
"It's hard to contain myself," said a beaming James "Chip" DiPaula Jr., Ehrlich's campaign manager and budget secretary nominee.
"When you're in the business of politics, it's the ultimate high," added former Tennessee Sen. William E. Brock, who ran against U.S. Sen. Paul S. Sarbanes in 1994.
Before walking into the Senate, Ehrlich leaned over to Hart and other close friends from Congress who were about to join him in the chamber. "This many Republicans have never been in here, ever," he crowed.
An hour earlier, the congressional group, which included Reps. George P. Radanovich of California, Richard "Doc" Hastings of Washington, Rob Portman of Ohio, Michael Patrick Flanagan of Illinois and former Indiana Rep. David M. McIntosh, got a private tour of Ehrlich's new office on the second floor of the State House.
"I hope he gets to put up new wallpaper," someone said, noting the fade marks that framed departing Gov. Parris N. Glendening's recently removed pictures.
"I thought about not coming," said Portman. "But this is also historic for us, for a colleague to succeed in what seemed like an insurmountable challenge, and to prevail." Portman was among those who called Ehrlich from the House cloakroom last week to razz him about his absence.
Former Rep. Rick A. Lazio also flew in, from New York. "For me, this is the biggest win in the country," he said. It felt all the more satisfying in light of his own loss to Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton. "I think he ran a better race than we did," he said. "He made people confident that he was going to govern from the center."
Some of the visitors wrote messages on Ehrlich's desk blotter ("Love the office ... but not your colors! We'll work on it. Love Edie and George Radanovich") and made cracks about his private bathroom, which contains a fire extinguisher.
Also tucked into the blotter was an envelope addressed, "Gov. Ehrlich."
"That was from me to him, personally wishing him well," said Glendening, who attended a reception in his own former reception room for the new governor.
The two talked by telephone a few days ago, and Glendening advised Ehrlich to have his staff document the next few months very carefully, "because between today and the parties and the budget and the fights with the legislature, it's going to be an absolute blur," he said. "I told him it's not going to be until about June that you realize you're governor."
Democrats did their best yesterday to push aside any stings lingering from the campaign, proclaiming themselves eager to work with the new governor and confident in his abilities.
Only Rep. Steny H. Hoyer, who championed Kathleen Kennedy Townsend's candidacy, allowed a crack of regret. "Obviously I'm smiling on the outside and crying on the inside," he said.
Others, such as Nancy Ehrlich, the governor's mother, shed real tears as her son was sworn in. "He's the kind of son everyone wishes they had," she said later.
Even Robert L. Ehrlich Sr. admitted to a few tears. "An ex-Marine's not supposed to cry," he whispered as he walked toward the post-inauguration parade between two lines of state police troopers.
After the Senate ceremony, the Ehrlichs and other dignitaries went outside for a second, more public swearing-in, with speeches and singing and bunting and a 19-gun salute into the freezing air.
Over the speakers, however, the crowd could hear the distant chants of at least 50 anti-death penalty activists protesting Ehrlich's decision to lift the state moratorium on executions.
Among them was Shujaa Graham, who sat on California's death row before being exonerated. "The death penalty is racist," Graham said, referring to a recently released study pointing out racial disparities in the way death sentences are meted out here.
Although they didn't know it, the group had an advocate on the inauguration platform with the new governor. Attorney General J. Joseph Curran Jr. said yesterday that he is calling for Ehrlich to continue the moratorium.
"I think we need to take a long, hard look at this study," he said. "Especially when seven people could be eligible for execution by June."
Below the platform, an immense crowd squashed into Lawyers Mall where there was limited seating. Robert Tillinghast, 34, a truck driver from Earleville in Cecil County, was not about to risk standing the whole time. He arrived at 4:04 a.m.
"It was the first time I've ever been to Annapolis," he said. "I just have an awful lot of respect for Bob Ehrlich. I wanted to be here when history was made." His boss, a Democrat, let him have the day off to attend.
Chris Ruff, 18, of Kent Island, did not have a day off. She skipped her English class at Villa Julie College to be there with three girlfriends who also volunteered on Ehrlich's campaign. When he appeared on stage, they let out screams worthy of a Justin Timberlake sighting.
At a souvenir stand across the street, Joe Gregory of Arbutus shelled out $20 for a commemorative mug and T-shirt. He grew up a block from the Ehrlichs and his mother used to baby-sit the new chief executive.
Another enterprising retailer on State Circle also used the event as a promotional opportunity. "Inauguration Day Consolation Sale: 20% off for Democrats," read banners at the Chesapeake Photo Gallery.
They weren't the only ones wincing at a GOP takeover. One environmental activist, sitting in a coffee shop near the State House, observed that "there are a lot of minks around."
Occupying one of those fur coats was Joyce Lyons Terhes, the former Republican state party chairwoman who led the party through the lean years of the 1980s and early 1990s.
"It's a coat, OK?" she said. "It's not a Republican cloth coat."
Terhes said the weather yesterday was almost as cold as at Ronald Reagan's 1984 inauguration, which she took as a good omen.
"This is going to be the first of many," she exulted. "I think the Democrats need to go 36 years without a governor the way we had to."
As Ehrlich left the State House yesterday, a reporter asked him how he'd like to be addressed from now on: "Do we call you Governor, or Bob?"
"Bob," said Ehrlich after a moment's reflection.
"Governor!" corrected his wife, Kendel.
Sun staff writers Michael Dresser, David Nitkin, Tim Craig and Dan Harsha contributed to this article.