Coming Home

Northbridge resident Glenn McConnell has been a great many things over the past three decades.
A state senator, president of the state senate, chair of a powerful legislative committee, national political party delegate, county political party chair,  movie actor, historic re-enactor, and, for the past while, the state’s lieutenant governor.
But through all that, he’s remained one thing, a West Ashleyian.
And now, McConnell is attempting a homecoming, of sorts, putting his name in the hat to become the next president the College of Charleston, his alma mater.
For years, McConnell has lived in his Northbridge-area house that once belonged to his monther. That is, when he wasn’t in Columbia or other parts of the state.
In hopes of being named the next president at the College, McConnell announced last week that he would not run for reelection for lieutenant governor. His term is up in December of this year, but the university hopes to have a replacement by this summer.
What McConnell would choose to do had become political theater in the state capital, bordering on an obsession-worthy staging of “Waiting for Glenn,” with apologies to Samuel Beckett and Godot.
State parties and candidates are now forced to re-triangulate their candidates and statewide strategies due to McConnell’s decision.
Lieutenant governor is supposed to be a part-time job, presiding over the Senate three days a week during the six months the legislature is in session.
But McConnell, never one to leave a job not fully picked over, expanded the role of his office, enlarging the state Office on Aging under his auspices into an almost full-time obsession.
One longtime staffer scoffs at the idea of the job being part-time under McConnell: “There are weekends when my phone doesn’t stop ringing with calls from him wanting to talk about how to get the state onboard with taking care of its elderly.”
Speaking on the issue of how to take care of the state’s elderly in the future at public events at colleges, schools, hospitals and civic organizations, McConnell stepped into a new role: advocate.
McConnell says that the state is running the risk of bankrupting a big chunk of its future if it doesn’t “step up” with proactive community-based care enabling the elderly to remain living in their own homes, which he says is “eight times cheaper than a Medicaid bed.”
A non-practicing lawyer, McConnell’s shift to the executive branch when his predecessor resigned amid an ethics scandal, marked a new chapter and new style in his public career.
Known more for his longevity and leadership than flashy individual legislative accomplishments, McConnell had been for his last 10 years in the Senate a facilitator who made sure the integrity of the legislature remained intact, and that others’ big-ticket issues got full play, according to a well-placed legislative staffer.
Locally, McConnell may be best remembered as one of a handful of legislators who helped land Boeing in South Carolina, on top of parkways and dorms bearing his name.
Best known nationally for his championing of the Hunley, protecting the “sanctity” of the Confederate battle flag, and for donning Confederate gray uniforms while towing a massive cannon behind his classic Mercedes, McConnell, 66, now wants to change gears again.
“This is simple, basic,” said McConnell. “I could spend the next six months finishing up work on the aging question, or I could put the time into an effort for a reelection campaign. By not running, everything I do up here while lieutenant governor will be directed to coming some sort of finality to these changes I’ve begun.”
Should he be named the university’s next head honcho, McConnell said he would live on campus at 6 Glebe St., the president’s house, but would not sell his home bordering Charles Towne Landing.
In short, Glenn McConnell’s version of “retirement” means continuing working for the public good, but keeping his homestead in West Ashley.