by FERN SHEN

It’s hard to imagine a more pathetic image than Sheila Dixon’s back-elevator exit from the second-floor of Court House East Thursday. She had just signed the paperwork on her perjury-and-embezzlement plea deal, effectively stepping down from her position as Baltimore’s mayor. “A total disgrace,” presiding judge Dennis M. Sweeney had called her, in a blistering jeremiad aimed at her and at all the city’s leaders.

As the metal-grill-type elevator door closed and the car (typically used for prisoners) began its descent, an older woman called through the bars to Dixon and her retinue: “Pray ’em on down!”

Even more poignant, though, as a symbol of Dixon’s fall? Her flowery signature in the old-fashioned ledger-book of mayoral signatures from when Dixon was sworn in on Dec. 4, 2007. It was the book her successor, Stephanie C. Rawlings-Blake, was just about to sign.

The leather-bound ledger was left out on a table in the Mayor’s Cermonial Room in City Hall, as the crowd gathered to watch the new mayor swear the oath. It was opened to a page that went back 40 years, starting with Harold Grady, whose signature was dated May 19, 1959.

There they all were, the memorable and the forgettable, their personalities revealed by their penmanship: Kurt Schmoke’s signature was as legible as if it had been machine-signed, William Donald Schaefer’s was emphatic and urgent, seemingly written with a blunt-tipped, blue Sharpie.

Dixon’s big exuberant signature, meanwhile, overlapped onto several other lines. It was made on a day that must have seemed as happy and hopeful and buouyed by family-members as this day was for Rawlings-Blake. After all, Dixon had been elected Baltimore’s first African-American woman mayor. And yet now, here was her name forever blotted with, in effect, a terrible asterisk.

Dixon’s sentencing

Before an audience of about 20 people, not including the press corps, the two sides arrayed themselves one last time. Wearing a gray skirt suit, Dixon flipped though a magazine, reviewed papers and awaited her fate. Sweeney told the audience to refrain from “comments or outbursts” and asked the parties if they wanted to say anything. The prosecution declined, defense attorney Arnold Weiner made some perfunctory remarks and Dixon said “No, Your Honor, thank-you.”

Then came Sweeney’s lengthy comments, his measured-but-fiery version of an outburst, delivered after sitting by largely silent for the lengthy trial that gripped the city. He not only castigated Dixon for her behavior, but city officials for enabling or ignoring it. (See Judge in the Sheila Dixon trial lets it rip.)

Sweeney’s warning to the new administration couldn’t have been sharper:

“I hope that the new and welcomed dedication to higher ethical standards is genuine and will have a shelf life that lasts beyond the next election,” Sweeney said. “If not, then the City will be doomed to repeat the cycle of petty theft and tawdry corruption and special entitlement.”

A jury in December found Dixon guilty of stealing about $500 worth of gift cards intended for the needy. Dixon entered an Alford plea in a separate case, in which she faced perjury charges for allegedly failing to disclose on ethics forms fur coats and other gifts she received from her developer boyfriend Ronald Lipscomb. As part of the plea deal that went into effect Thursday, Dixon agreed to step down as mayor and received “probation before judgment” for both cases, meaning she will have no criminal record if she lives up to the terms of her four-year probation. That probation requirement includes completing 500 hours of community service, contributing $45,000 to charity and not seeking public office.

Sweeney said he thought the evidence against Dixon was “strong, if not indeed overwhelming” and observed that “the jury was generous in convicting her of a single count.”

Baltimore’s 49th mayor takes office

The temperature in the ornate room soared as it filled with television cameras, journalists, City Council members and friends and family who came wearing fur coats and finery. The Rev. Bruce Haskins, the new mayor’s cousin,  began to offer a prayer, but had to stop when Rawlings-Blake’s aunt, Rebecca Scott, began to collapse. Rawlings-Blake and others helped support her and got her to a chair. By the time paramedics arrived, she appeared to have largely recovered.

Standing near Rawlings-Blake for the ceremony was her husband, Kent Blake ,and her mother Dr. Nina C. Rawlings and her 6-year-old daughter, Sophia Blake. Dr. Rawlings and young Sophia held the Bible as the 39-year-old attorney took the oath of office, read to her by Baltimore City Circuit Court Clerk Frank M. Conaway. She signed her name in the registry book.

After Conaway congratulated her, she hugged her husband and mother and Sophia jumped up into her arms.

She began her brief remarks by acknowledging the unusual circumstances that brought her into office.

“None of us asked for this moment,” she said, “but all of us must accept the challenges and hard work that come with it” She sought with her comments to sound a note of reassurance to a riled up city.

Promising “trust, leadership and open government,” she said she would “keep what works and fix what doesn’t in city government so our people emerge stronger.”

As Rawlings-Blake went off to shake hands, her staff annnounced the details of her schedule for the next few days, which includes what could be her first big challenge as mayor: dealing with what forecasters say is a major blizzard headed toward Baltimore on Friday.