Welcome back to the deep dive. You know, I was
looking through the research for today and it
got me thinking about political branding. Usually
when a politician gets a nickname, it's it's
not a compliment. It's usually pretty brutal.
Oh, absolutely. It's almost always a weapon.
You think of. Tricky Dick Nixon or Slick Willie
Clinton. They're these sticky labels that your
opponents just slap on you to highlight some
kind of character flaw. It's really negative
branding 101. Right. It's something you spend
your entire career trying to scrape off your
shoe. But today we're unpacking a story where
the exact opposite happened. We're looking at
a politician who didn't just accept a nickname.
I mean, she bear hugged it. She made it her own.
She essentially merged her identity with it until
it became her legal middle name. abel mabel thomas
it is one of the most enduring uh self -reinforcing
brands in the history of georgia politics and
looking at these files you know biographical
records legislative history Old ballot results.
We aren't just looking at a Kirky name. We're
looking at a master class in survival. This is
a woman who navigated the shark tank of Atlanta
politics for nearly 40 years. And that's really
the mission for this deep dive. We want to understand
how someone survives that long in an arena that,
well, it usually chews people up and spits them
out in just a few terms. We're going to trace
her path from the English Avenue neighborhood
all the way to the Gold Dome and look at the
kind of resilience it takes. to keep running,
even when you're losing. And trust me, looking
at this timeline, there is plenty of leasing
mixed in with the winning. It's not a straight
line at the top at all. It's a jagged line. So
let's start at the foundation. Before she was
able, who was Mabel Thomas? To understand Mabel
Thomas, you really have to understand the geography.
She was born November 8, 1957, in Atlanta. But
specifically, she was raised in the English Avenue
neighborhood. Okay, for our listeners who might
not be familiar with Atlanta's layout, paint
the picture for us. Is this like... The wealthy
suburbs? No, far from it. English Avenue is a
historic black community just west of downtown.
Back in the late 50s and 60s, this was a working
class stronghold. But it's an area that has faced
pretty significant economic hardship over the
decades. It's a place that requires a certain
toughness. And her family background reflects
that grit, right? Definitely. She was the youngest
of five children. And her father, Bernard Thomas,
was a boiler operator. Wait, boiler operator.
I mean, that's a job that implies heat, pressure,
getting your hands dirty. Precisely. There is
no evidence in these files of some political
dynasty here. No famous uncles, no inherited
donor network. She didn't start on third base.
She started in the dugout. Now, there's a detail
in her high school and college years that I think
is just crucial to her psychology. She wasn't
in the debate club. She was in the gym. Right.
She graduated from Booker II Washington High
School in 1975. But the pivotal detail for me
is that she earned a scholarship to play women's
basketball for the Georgia State Panthers. I
want to pause on that because I feel like the
whole athlete, the politician pipeline is a real
thing. But we rarely break down why. What does
playing competitive basketball at the college
level teach you that applies to the state legislature?
It teaches you two things that are absolutely
essential for a long career. First, it teaches
you about spacing, just knowing where you are
on the court relative to everyone else. In politics,
that's knowing your coalition. Second, and maybe
more importantly, it teaches you about the shot
clock. You have to make decisions under pressure
and you have to have physical endurance. Campaigning
is exhausting. If you can run lines in practice,
you can knock on doors for eight hours in July.
That makes so much sense. You build up a tolerance
for the grind. But she wasn't just running drills.
The notes say she was also studying something
very specific while she was at Georgia State.
This is the key insight for her early career.
She earned a Bachelor of Science in Public Administration
in 1982. Okay, help us out here. Public administration
sounds a little dry. How is that different from,
say, a political science degree? That's a great
distinction. Political science is often about
the theory of power campaigns, voting behavior,
all that. It's the why. Public administration
is the how. It's the actual mechanics of government.
It's budgeting. It's zoning laws. It's H .R.
It's how a bill actually becomes a statute. So
by studying that, Thomas wasn't just learning
how to get elected. She was learning how the
machine works once you're inside the building.
So she walks into the arena knowing the rulebook
better than the people who are already there.
Exactly. She understood the levers and she didn't
wait long to pull them. 1984 is the breakout
year in all the documents. 1984. I mean, this
is a massive year in American politics, specifically
for black politics. Huge. Jesse Jackson is running
for president. It's the Rainbow Coalition era.
Mabel Thomas gets involved as a presidential
delegate for Jackson at the DNC. That puts her
right in the room with the national heavyweights.
But she doesn't just want to be a delegate. She
decides to run for office herself that same year.
And looking at this, she makes a decision that
on paper looks completely irrational. Like a
suicide mission. Right. She decides to run for
the Georgia House of Representatives. Yeah. But
she doesn't run for an open seat. She challenges
the incumbent, Grace Towns Hamilton, in the Democratic
primary. And Grace Towns Hamilton was the first
African -American woman ever elected to the Georgia
General Assembly. She was a legend. She was known
as the most powerful black woman in Atlanta politics.
Part of the, you know, the old guard. So you
have Mabel Thomas, who's in her 20s, walking
up to a living legend and saying, move over.
It's like a rookie trying to dunk on Michael
Jordan in their first game. It's not just ambitious.
It was almost seen as disrespectful by the establishment.
So what was the dynamic there? Was it just new
versus old? It was generational, for sure. You
had the established civil rights leadership versus
the post -civil rights generation who wanted,
you know, faster action, more aggression. And
against all odds, Thomas won. That victory must
have sent a shockwave through the city. It did.
It made Mabel Thomas the youngest member of the
Georgia General Assembly at that time. She was
the giant killer. And this is right around the
time the nickname shows up. Legend begins. Right
around 84, 85, a colleague coined the phrase
Able Mabel. Is it just because it rhymes? I mean,
it's catchy, but was there more to it? Well,
the implication was competence. Able implies
utility. I'm able to get this done. In a world
of bureaucratic red tape, being known as the
person who is able is a very strong value proposition.
And the fact that she eventually made it her
legal middle name, I just think that's brilliant.
It's basically SEO for the ballot. It is. Think
about the voter in the booth. They're looking
at a list of names. Smith, Jones, Thomas, all
blurs together. But Abel Mabel, you remember
the rhyme? It distinguishes her from... Every
other name on that list. It's a masterstroke.
So she's in the House. She's the young star.
She serves four terms, 1985 to 1993. Most politicians
would just stay there, build seniority, maybe
run for speaker. But Thomas does something weird
in 1997. She leaves the state legislature to
run for Atlanta City Council. And this is where
the career weave begins. It confuses a lot of
political observers. To me, going from the state
house to the city council feels like a demotion.
At the state house. You're making laws for millions
of people. City council is all trash pickup.
Why make that move? See, I'd challenge the premise
that it's a demotion. It really depends on what
your goal is. If your goal is prestige and cocktail
parties, yeah, the statehouse is better. But
if your goal is tangible impact on your specific
neighborhood, the city council is where the power
is. Break that down for us. What can a council
member do that a state rep can't? Zoning. That
is the biggest one. The state rep can't stop
a liquor store from opening next to a school.
The state rep can't make sure the potholes on
English Avenue get filled this week. The city
council controls the police budget, the water
mains, the trash schedule, land use. For a politician
like Thomas, who was obsessed with her specific
slice of West Atlanta, the city council offered
a toolkit that the state house didn't. She could
pull levers that immediately changed the view
out her constituents' windows. That makes perfect
sense. She wanted to get her hands on the actual
machinery of the city. So she serves on the council
from 97 to 2002. She's an at -large member, post
-1. Does at -large mean she represented the whole
city? Yes. She was elected by the entire city
of Atlanta, not just one district, so she had
citywide name recognition. But then the weave
continues. In 2003, she goes back to the statehouse.
She returns to the Gold Dome. She represents
District 43, which later becomes District 55,
and then District 56. I noticed those numbers
jumping around in the note, 31, 43, 55, 56. Was
she moving houses every few years? No, she stayed
put. The map moved around her. This is a concept
called redistricting. Which is always a headache
to explain. It is, but here's the short version.
Every 10 years after the census, the legislature
has to redraw the map so every district has roughly
the same number of people. A politician can wake
up one morning and find that their street is
now in a different district or that half their
voters are new. That sounds chaotic for a career.
How do you build a base if the lines keep moving?
It kills a lot of careers. But Thomas survived
it because her brand was stronger than the map.
She consistently represented that core area west
and southwest of downtown, parts of Midtown.
No matter what number the state slapped on the
district, the people in those neighborhoods knew
Abel Mabel. So we have this picture of a hyper
-local politician. She knows the streets. She
knows the zoning codes. But there is this other
side to her file that seems completely contradictory.
While she's grinding it out in local office,
she keeps taking these massive long -shot swings
at federal office. This is maybe the most controversial
part of her record. We have to talk about her
challenging John Lewis. Yes. I mean, we need
to put this in context for people. John Lewis
wasn't just a congressman. He was a secular saint,
the hero of Selma. He was beaten on the Edmund
Pettus Bridge. He was a moral icon. Running against
John Lewis in Atlanta is like running against
the Pope in the Vatican. It's just not done.
You don't challenge the hero. But she did it.
Twice. 1992 and 2008. Both times in the Democratic
primary. What's the logic there? Is it delusion?
Or is there a strategy I'm missing? It's easy
to dismiss it as ego. But if you look at her
history. Remember, Gracetown's Hamilton Thomas
clearly believed that incumbency is not a birthright.
There's a school of thought that says every seat
should be contested every time. It keeps the
incumbent sharp. It forces a debate. Did she
actually think she could win? That's hard to
say. But she campaigned like she could. She argued
that while Lewis was a national hero, the district
had local needs that weren't being met. It was
that classic local servant versus national icon
argument. Did she come close? Not really. Lewis
defeated her soundly both times. But the fact
that she was willing to put her name on the ballot
against him speaks to that fearlessness we talked
about. She wasn't afraid of the establishment.
And she didn't stop with the House. The notes
mention a Senate run. Yes. In October 2019, she
announced she was running for the U .S. Senate.
The setting for that announcement was pretty
interesting. A conference called Let's Talk About
Sex. Right. Organized by SisterSong. It was a
reproductive justice conference. So that gives
you a clue about her platform. She was very focused
on women's health and bodily autonomy. Then in
2020, tragedy strikes. John Lewis passes away.
And suddenly that seat, the 5th District, is
actually open. It's not a symbolic challenge
anymore. It's a scramble. And Mabel Thomas jumps
in. She ran in the special election to fill the
remainder of his term. She didn't make the runoff.
It's a tough pattern to look at. She dominates
at the local level, winning the statehouse, winning
city council. But every time she tries to go
federal, she hits a brick wall. It really highlights
the difference between local fame and federal
viability. The skills required to fix zoning
in English Avenue aren't necessarily the skills
that big national donors look for in a U .S.
senator. It's just a different game. But here's
the thing about the Able brand. She takes a loss,
but she doesn't go home. We skipped over a defeat
in the timeline that I want to circle back to
because I think it's the most revealing one.
2010. Ah, yes. The 2010 primary. She was running
for her old house seat district 55 at the time,
and she lost to Rashad Taylor. Correct. So she's
out. No office. Not on the council. Not in the
house. For most people, losing a seat you've
held for years is a career ender. It signals
that the voters are tired of you. You take the
hint. You retire. You become a lobbyist. Mabel
Thomas. She waits. She regroups. And in 2013,
she runs for District 56 and wins. She got back
in the game. She served another eight years,
from January 2013 until January 2021. That resilience
is what's so impressive. Yeah. Goes back to the
basketball analogy. She's the player who misses
the shot, gets her own rebound, and puts it back
up immediately. That is the perfect metaphor.
She had a short memory for failure, which is,
I think, a requirement for any long -term politician.
She didn't let the loss define her. She just
reapplied for her job. So how does the story
end? Or at least, how does this chapter close?
In March 2020, she announced she wouldn't seek
re -election. She retired from the Georgia House
on January 11, 2021. That's nearly 40 years after
she first walked onto the floor as the youngest
member. It's a lifetime. Think about the changes
in Atlanta between 1984 and 2021. The Olympics
came and went. The population boomed. The West
Side gentrified. And she was a legislative constant
through all of it. The notes mention her personal
life briefly toward the end. She's a member of
the cosmopolitan African Methodist Episcopal
Church, and we shouldn't overlook that. The church
is so often the bedrock of political organizing
in the black community in the South. That connection
likely fueled her longevity as much as her policy
positions did. As we step back and look at the
legend of Abel Mabel, what is the big takeaway
here? Is it the winds? Or is it something else?
I think the takeaway is about the definition
of service. We tend to glorify the politicians
who give big speeches on cable news, you know,
the viral moments. But Mabel Thomas spent decades
in the rooms where the boring work happens. Committee
meetings, budget hearings, zoning boards. The
unglamorous stuff. The essential stuff. When
she retired, she took a massive amount of institutional
memory with her. She knew why a law was written
that way in 1995 because she was in the room
when they wrote it. You can't replace that easily.
And she did it all while ensuring that you literally
could not forget her name. Legally, you had to
read the word able to vote for her. It really
changes how I think about political ambition.
We look at people climbing the ladder, trying
to get to the top rung. But maybe the real power
is just holding on to the ladder for 40 years
so it doesn't fall over. That's a powerful way
to put it. Stability has a value all its own.
In a city that changes as fast as Atlanta, Mabel
Thomas was a landmark. Well, that's our deep
dive on the life and career of Mabel Abel Thomas.
From the basketball court to the Gold Dome, she's
certainly made her mark. And changed the ballot
forever. Here's a thought I want to leave you
with today. We often judge a politician's success
by how high they climb state rep to senator to
president. But Mabel Thomas bounced between the
statehouse and city hall. Makes you wonder. Where
does a politician actually touch your life? Is
it in Washington passing some trillion -dollar
bill? Or is it the person who ensures the streetlights
on your block actually turn on at night? Mabel
Thomas seemed to think the latter was worth a
40 -year fight. Thanks for listening.