AUGUSTA, Maine — Ask anyone in Maine politics for an opinion on House Speaker Rachel Talbot Ross, and you’re all but certain to hear words both kind and critical.
“She is so generous and has a great heart,” Rep. Margaret Craven, D-Lewiston, said.
“What you see is what you get,” Penobscot Nation Ambassador Maulian Bryant said. “It’s a real human thing about her.”
“She keeps everything close to her chest,” Rep. Ben Collings, D-Portland, said.
She’s a “bit of a lightning rod,” Rep. Joe Perry, D-Bangor, said.
In seven years in Augusta, she rose from a back-bencher to the head of her chamber, a role historically held by institutionalists whose ideology comes down in the middle of their parties. That is not Talbot Ross, a self-described prison abolitionist who was one of the most progressive House members when she was elected to the top post in 2022.
The Portland Democrat comes from a trailblazing family. When Talbot Ross was 12 years old, she and her sisters watched their father, Gerald Talbot, get sworn in as Maine’s first Black legislator in 1972. Fifty years later, her father saw her sworn in as the first Black speaker.
Since then, she presided over a contentious session while battling with Gov. Janet Mills over issues including tribal sovereignty. She caught attention with inflammatory remarks, including when she suggested allies should “storm the capitol” over the state’s implementation of her Black history law.
Those remarks came at events on college campuses, not at press conferences or inside the State House. The 63-year-old Talbot Ross has been more guarded and shied away from the press, often commenting to reporters through provided statements.
“My father was very protective of his daughters, and I think Rachel has some of that protectiveness in her,” Talbot Ross’ sister, Regina Phillips, a Portland city councilor, said.
The speaker grew up in Portland’s Woodfords Corner neighborhood with her parents, Gerald and Anita, and three sisters, Renee, Regina and Robin. While Gerald faced racism from some landlords, Talbot Ross described “nothing but really fond memories” of growing up in Maine’s largest city, having dinner with family each night and attending the private Waynflete School.
“It felt like we were part of a community that was looking out for one another, and at my parents’ home, the door was always unlocked,” she said.
Watching her father, who was active in the civil rights movement and led the NAACP in Portland before joining the Legislature, and participating in local marches helped grow Talbot Ross’ interest in public service. Talbot Ross, who has one son, led Portland’s NAACP branch and then worked as the city’s multicultural director before resigning in 2015 after a dispute with a parking attendant, the Portland Press Herald reported.
One wall in her Augusta office features a framed copy of her father’s 1977 bill that removed prejudicial terms from geographic features, streets, roads and towns, such as an island by Stonington with a racial slur in its name. She built on that work with a 2021 measure aiming to replace more of them. Another wall displays a copy of the 13th Amendment abolishing slavery.
In the last year, Talbot Ross said she was “proud of the bipartisan work that got done as we made historic investments in housing, in child care and in emergency medical services.” She largely shied away from discussing more controversial moments of the session, such as when Democrats maneuvered around Republicans to pass a budget in March. She stopped debate for hours to find the votes to pass a highly-contested abortion bill.
Several members also defected in a vote to sustain Mills’ veto of Talbot Ross’ signature tribal-rights measure. Earlier in the year, Talbot Ross had threatened to oppose the governor’s two-year budget if Mills did not support key elements of the tribal-rights push.
Talbot Ross said she did not view the vetoes as losses, saying that most of her disagreements with Mills are “just in the pace of moving forward.” In a statement, Mills said while they have disagreed, the speaker is an “important partner” on issues including housing.
“I will continue to work closely with her to serve the people of Maine whom I know she cares deeply about, just as she knows I do,” Mills said.
Interviews with about a dozen current and former lawmakers, lobbyists, loved ones and friends revealed Talbot Ross has garnered respect for advocating for racial minorities and for spending time chatting with Republicans in both her and their offices.
But it was also noteworthy how various members and lobbyists shied away from criticizing her publicly. Many did not want their names attached to such comments that chided Talbot Ross for how long the House took to work through bills this year and losing her power play attempt with Mills on the budget and tribal rights.
“She’s very likable, very personable,” Rep. Gary Drinkwater, R-Milford, said. “She is too far to the left … and her time scheduling is atrocious.”
House Republican leaders did not add much on Talbot Ross. Assistant House Minority Leader Amy Arata, R-New Gloucester, said she hopes “to move forward with her in the coming year in a manner that is productive” for Mainers.
Several lawmakers said Talbot Ross was not solely to blame for problems in the 151-member House, which routinely moved slower this year than the 35-member Senate.
“Aside from the governor, she may have the toughest job in the building,” Perry, the Bangor lawmaker, said.
Talbot Ross cannot run for her seat again due to term limits. She declined to share what her plans are beyond 2024, saying she was focused on next year. But Augusta insiders suggested she may eye an open seat in the Maine Senate.
As for her “storm the capitol” comments and later remarks regarding liberal “white women” she feels have pushed their causes over her racial equity efforts, Talbot Ross reiterated regret over using “inflammatory language.”
Her father faced down Ku Klux Klan members when he was a lawmaker, even giving one klansman the address of the family’s Portland home if he had “anything to say.” That history was on her mind when she spoke out on the pace of change, she said.
“I come out of a childhood in which one of the ways we expressed our opinion and made our voices heard was in marching and in taking to the streets,” Talbot Ross said.