It was the second in a series of happy hours for Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, something called “Monday Nights with the Mayor” that the  incumbent’s campaign people announced would be held in bars and pubs.

There she was, at Bar Liquorice near Locust Point enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender.

So her frosty response to a reporter who tried to snap a photo seemed odd.

“Why do you have to take a picture of me with a drink in my hand?” Rawlings-Blake said to Sun reporter Doug Donovan, who’d been standing there with notepad in hand.

The rebuke was gentle, but firm.

Her fundraiser, Binetti Political Strategies, had announced and promoted yesterday’s event on social media as an opportunity for residents to talk to the mayor casually, over a drink or two.

The first “Monday Nights” happened last week, at a bar on Belnord Avenue in East Baltimore, not long after former mayor Sheila Dixon announced that she would enter the mayoral race and would start by conducting a listening campaign with residents.

The upscale, but unpretentious Bar Liquorice seemed like a good choice for Rawlings-Blake’s schmooze session.

As she nibbled from a bowl of its signature olive oil popcorn and a gourmet cheese plate, she looked happy.

Her new money-raiser, Stephanie Binetti (who replaced longtime stalwart Colleen Martin-Lauer), was on hand – affable, casual and down to earth. But the kerfuffle about the photo underscored how mixed the campaign’s messaging seemed to be.

Addressing the reporter by first name, she told him she didn’t want to be photographed drinking at her own happy hour.

It was clear who was in control of the mayor’s messaging machine, and it wasn’t Binetti.

“How is Life Treating You?”

Over the course of an hour, as a handful of people trickled in, the mayor got up and greeted them, sometimes sitting down next to them.

“So, how is life treating you. What is going on in your world?” she asked.

Rawlings-Blake told a patron that her appearances were similar to a professor’s “office hours, like in college, but in a bar.” She said that the meet-and-greets were working their way around the city and would be at different places every week.

For an event promoted on social media, the turnout was low. There were, by our count, six people who talked to the mayor. The dozen of others in attendance consisted of campaign workers, the mayor’s security detail and some friends.

It was hard to believe that just a week before – and a mere two blocks away – more than 300 South Baltimore residents had come out to tell the mayor how important the Banner Route was, packing the Baltimore Museum of Industry’s outdoor pavilion to give her an earful.

“No Magic Wand”

Rawlings-Blake talked the longest with a retired city planner who worked in the area and stopped by for a beer when he heard she was in the neighborhood.

He had worked for Baltimore city government since the Thomas D’Alesandro III administration in the late 1960s. Her guard went down for him. She laughed and joked.

She also spent a few minutes talking to a Baltimore County resident who came because he was worried about Baltimore after the riots.

“How are we going to fix this mess?” he asked, referring to the city’s violence and talking about the hate he’d seen in the city lately.

“It breaks my heart. It scares me,” he could be overheard saying.

She told him that there was “no magic wand” to make the city’s problems go away and every issue had to be addressed individually.

“Fear,” she told him, “is good if you do something with it,” assuring him that no one in city government was resting on their laurels.

He told her that she had the hardest job in the country.

By 6 p.m., Rawlings-Blake had talked to everyone who wanted to talk to her, finished her drink and was out the door – reportedly to meet with Kevin Davis, the new interim police commissioner.