DNC notebook: Moore takes a (hot dog) stand, Warnock recalls his Baltimore days

Gov. Wes Moore (D) and Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker (D) enjoy a Chicago-style hot dog Thursday as Illinois first lady Mary Kathryn Muenster looks on. Photo by Josh Kurtz.

CHICAGO — Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker (D) heard Maryland Gov. Wes Moore (D) on the radio recently, boasting about Pip’s Dock Street Dogs in Annapolis. So naturally, with Moore coming to his hometown for the Democratic National Convention, Pritzker invited the Marylander to one of Chicago’s most renowned hot dog establishments, to prove a point.

On Thursday, hours before they were both slated to be in the United Center to watch Vice President Kamala Harris claim the Democratic presidential nomination, the two governors, who are widely assumed to be White House aspirants themselves, met at The Wiener’s Circle in this city’s Lincoln Park neighborhood.

The Wiener’s Circle isn’t just a fine purveyor of the Chicago-style “char dog,” as Pritzker called it. The small restaurant also prides itself on its attitude.

Go to the website and the first message is “WHAT THE F*CK DO YOU WANT?” And this week, during the Democratic convention, a sign in front of The Wiener’s Circle is advertising a footlong hotdog for sale in former President Donald Trump’s honor that’s actually just 3 inches long.

“We’re here 42 years, serving dogs and talkin’ s***,” said Toni Morris, who was working the counter, to Moore Thursday as he waited for his order.

Moore asked Morris how long she had been working there.

“Twenty years,” she replied.

“Twenty years?” an incredulous Moore exclaimed, turning to Pritzker. “What kind of child labor laws do you have in this state, man?”

When their dogs arrived, Moore asked Pritzker whether he should put mustard on it. Pritzker insisted.

With that, Moore handed Pritzker a jar of Jamie’s Strong and Sweet Democracy Mustard, which U.S. Rep. Jamie Raskin (D-8th) has been handing out during his appearances around town this week.

“Put a little Maryland kick on it,” Moore said.

The two governors then “clinked” their hot dog buns and toasted to “a great convention.”

Moore took several bites and seemed genuinely impressed.

“I was coming ready to hate,” Moore conceded. “I’d call it second to Pip’s. It’s pretty great.” Later he called it “definitely second best in the country,” and said he really liked The Wiener’s Circle.

“What’s good about this is you get a really good dog, and they talk s***,” he said.

“I basically hear you say Chicago has the best dog,” Pritzker said.

Moore thought for a moment and then came up with this zinger: “I know this is Chicago, but you can’t vote twice.”

By that point, the two governors, accompanied by Illinois first lady Mary Kathryn Muenster, had moved to a patio in back of the restaurant, where Pritzker had laid out a six-pack of beer and two mini bottles of Malort, described on its website as “a wormwood-based digestif” that was created in Chicago 90 years ago.

“If you want to show your mettle to the people of Chicago and Illinois, you have to try some,” Pritzker advised.

Moore was game. “I already spoke [on the convention floor] yesterday,” he said.

The two governors toasted “to democracy,” downed their shots, then opened two cans of beer and drank a bit more.

“That’s actually not bad,” Moore exclaimed, “though I don’t know if ‘not bad’ is a selling point.”

“It is for Malorts,” Pritzker laughed.

The whole encounter took all of 15 minutes or so, but it was a decent break from the hurly-burly of the convention.

“I feel like I’ve had an actual Chicago afternoon here,” Moore said.

When a reporter asked the governors if it would be hard to maintain this level of chumminess if they ran for president against each other, Pritzker basically spun a scenario where Moore “is the nominee.”

“How many Malorts did you drink?” Moore wondered.

“I wanted him to have a good solid buzz for the afternoon,” Pritzker explained.

“Mission accomplished,” Moore agreed.

Preaching from experience

State delegations at political conventions are used to having dignitaries from different states visiting their breakfasts. But the speakers often don’t know a lot about the states whose delegates they’re speaking to, beyond a few scripted talking points.

On Thursday morning, Maryland Democrats heard first from Michigan Lt. Gov. Garlin Gilchrist II (D). He seemed like a pleasant young man and was a pretty good speaker, and he professed to having a kinship with Maryland Lt. Gov. Aruna Miller (D) because they are both engineers professionally. Otherwise, his most noteworthy attribute is that he is 6-foot-8.

But he was followed by U.S. Sen. Raphael Warnock (D-Ga.), who doubles as the senior pastor at the legendary Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta — a congregation that Martin Luther King Jr. once led.

Not only is Warnock a rock star orator, but he actually knows a thing or two about Maryland. Early in his career, from 2001 to 2005, he was pastor at Douglas Memorial Church in Baltimore where, he said, he was amazed by some of the geographic divisions in the city.

“In Baltimore, they talk about East Side! And West Side!” he said, evidently still puzzled. “Don’t you know you’re on the same side?”

The crowd roared.

Warnock, who grew up in Savannah, Ga., where the “Low Country Boil” way of preparing seafood is considered a delicacy, recalled that whenever he mentioned this in Maryland, he’d invariably get this response: “That ain’t no real crab cake.”

“Now that I’ve lived in Maryland, I know what a real crab cake tastes like,” he said. “We boil our crabs, you steam yours. Don’t tell the people in Georgia but I think I like yours a little better.”

The crowd roared again.

Warnock also recalled that when he was at Douglas Memorial, a college student named Wes Moore would occasionally drop in. “And didn’t he make us proud last night?” Warnock said, referring to the governor’s convention speech.

Warnock kept the crowd roaring, talking about the low-grade spiritual malaise that has infected the country since the pandemic, but also calling the crowd to action. His colleague, U.S. Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.), had the unenviable task of following Warnock on the program.

“Now you know,” Van Hollen said, “why we have a rule in the United States Senate — never speak after the Reverend Pastor Doctor Senator Rafael Warnock.”