He stood at the witness table with an expression of respect for the legislative committee he was addressing. And though he had become a fixture in Annapolis, he always introduced himself. "My name is Jim Doyle, and I'm a lawyer from Baltimore," he would say. Then would come brief, sharply focused testimony.
"There was an air about him that stood out above us all," says his friend and colleague, George N. Manis. "It was the silver hair, the blue suit, the blue tie, his presentation, his demeanor. He was the man."
Mr. Doyle died Feb. 28 after a half-century of working in Annapolis, where his clients included racing interests, banks, insurance companies, automobile manufacturers and motion picture interests. He prospered on his reputation for honest advocacy, his willingness to tell legislators the political pros and cons of legislation he was trying to pass or kill.
"Before there were fax machines, cell phones and personal computers, there was Jim Doyle," says Patrick H. Roddy, a lobbyist. Though he put his clients' interests first, he was honest with legislators who wanted to know the upsides and downsides of bills. He lived on his word.
Said former state House Speaker R. Clayton Mitchell Jr., "If Jimmy told 'em it was going to snow tomorrow, it was going to snow tomorrow."
Mr. Doyle's daily comings and goings became a part of the rhythm of life in the state capitol. As Mr. Manis tells it: "There was a restaurant he would pick out. He would have his place. And they always reserved that place. He'd have his soup and hard roll. Salad. And then he would have his meal." And the same wine every day.
"Legislators would walk in. That's where he would meet them and talk with them. Very seldom did he walk the halls seeking legislators," Mr. Manis said.
He abandoned one restaurant when he discovered the fish it was serving was frozen, not fresh. "I have but one stomach to give for my profession," he said.
Over decades in Annapolis, Mr. Doyle achieved a status rare in today's politics and government - if, indeed, it still exists. He had standards. They could be violated only at the peril of both client and legislator. Mr. Doyle had been known to upbraid both.
"We went to the Prime Rib one night," Mr. Manis recalled, "and one of the legislators dipped bread into the wine. Jim about collapsed. 'You're embarrassing me in my restaurant. They'll never have me back. How dare you!'"
Not everyone speaks that way to the "votes" - as lobbyists call legislators.
On another occasion, Mr. Manis said, a Doyle client sent clocks to legislators at Christmas unbeknown to Mr. Doyle. The value of gifts that lobbyists could give or lawmakers accept had been lowered, and these gifts exceeded the limits.
"Jim was running around all over town trying to recover the clocks," Mr. Manis said. "He almost fired the client over that. He couldn't get the clocks back. In fact, one legislator said, 'I can't give it back to you. I gave it to my mother for Christmas.'"
He became something of a bridge between the old and new styles of advocacy. Today, Mr. Manis said, some young lobbyists call themselves "legislative adviser," as if embarrassed to use the word lobbyist. The lawyer from Baltimore never would have apologized, but he saw the standards slipping.
Senate President Thomas V. Mike Miller said Mr. Doyle was offended by activities that resulted in jail terms for some of his fellow lobbyists.
A federal judge said "a culture of corruption" had been allowed to rise in Annapolis. "Jim was disappointed that what he considered an honorable profession had been tarnished," Senator Miller said.
He had been one of the first lobbyists to work in Annapolis year-round. As more and more important business issues were before the General Assembly, lobbying fees grew and lobbyists entered what Mr. Doyle thought was a potentially ruinous competition.
"Legislators have the words in the bills to work with. A lot of people forget that that's where you should begin and end your advocacy," said Mr. Roddy. "He was a master at that."
And there was another thing.
"For a person who was so important in this town, who had so many of the powerful clients, I can recall time after time when he would laugh at himself. He never took himself too seriously.
"He took the issues seriously."
Mr. Roddy said that image of the lawyer from Baltimore will stay with him.
C. Fraser Smith is senior news analyst for WYPR-FM. His column appears Sundays in The Sun. His e-mail is fsmith@wypr.org.