Rock Star

The smart money wants a mayor with sex appeal

On the one hand, I'm afraid to call anybody, because everybody I call tells me he or she is thinking about running for mayor. The field of people considering the 2007 Dallas mayor's race is starting to look like the Turkey Trot, the city's annual Thanksgiving Day run.

If this keeps up, we're going to have more candidates for mayor than we have taxpayers. Everybody's got a groundswell, to hear them tell it. Seems like the ground doesn't have to swell too much. More like a ground bump.

On the other hand, there's something about this outpouring of democratic self-love that I like and trust a lot more than what I'm hearing from the smart guys. They say none of these mayoral wannabes, even the better-known among them, stands a snowball's chance in Dallas. Instead, the next mayor, like the last two, will have to be what the consultants call "a rock star."

We can deal with a rock star mayor. It's all those council members with sticky fingers who are the problem.
Illustration by Mike Simmons
We can deal with a rock star mayor. It's all those council members with sticky fingers who are the problem.

Sex appeal. Sizzle. Electricity. Comes into a room Clinton-style and sucks all the air out of it. That's what the big money's looking for.

"It's not charisma," one very well-known Dallas-based political consultant told me in return for my promise not to name her. "Charisma is something else. This isn't that. This is something I call magic."

Current Mayor Laura Miller has it. Her predecessor, Ron Kirk, had it. I remember when Kirk was brand-new in office. A city council member whom I knew pretty well at the time appeared on the same stage with Kirk at a jam-packed event in a big high school auditorium. The council member had planned on taking him to task on certain policy issues at the next city council meeting.

"When he left, it was like watching a rock star," the council member told me. "The kids and the teachers were reaching out, just wanting to touch him. I decided I wasn't going to be the first one to criticize him."

We've had two rock stars in a row, the consultants tell me. It's too late to go back to Uncle Elwood.

The line I get consistently on money is a million bucks per candidate: That's what it will cost next year to run a credible campaign for mayor. There's enough money out there to fund several candidates at that level or less. But when the Turkey Trot comes across the Houston Street Viaduct and the limelight comes on, only the stars will twinkle.

I hate that. It turns politics on its head. It's why we can't get no satisfaction. You could look at the whole rock star thing and say it's why we got Ron Kirk. The city's first African-American mayor ran on a platform of racial healing but devoted his greatest energy in office to doing favors for the old land-and-construction oligarchy behind the Trinity River project.

Or you could look at it and say it's why we got Laura Miller: a two-fisted muckraker by trade, she ran against pretentious big-ticket public works projects but devoted her greatest energy in office to doing favors for the old land-and-construction oligarchy behind the Trinity River project.

Is there a pattern here? Is the rock star thing maybe not a great way to know what we're getting? It makes me want to go back to those guys with the ground bumps.

The smart money knows about the rock star phenomenon, because the smart consultants know, and they tell the smart money. That's what's behind this whole hoopla in the last couple weeks with state Representative Rafael Anchía. A couple Sundays ago, The Dallas Morning News ran a front-page story--one of its classic communiqués from the inner sanctum--under a headline, "In Anchía, many leaders see the next Ron Kirk. They say state rep has clout to be first Hispanic mayor."

I wanted to pick up the phone and call Gromer Jeffers, the reporter, and say, "Gromer, the only problem I see with this headline is that fewer people in Dallas know the name Rafael Anchía than know the name Noam Chomsky."

Noam Chomsky, professor emeritus of linguistics at MIT and creator of the theory of generative grammar, is not a candidate for mayor of Dallas. I just threw his name in to make an obscure point. I did not call Gromer Jeffers, because I was afraid he might tell me he was a candidate for mayor.

So who is Anchía? Former school board member. Succeeded influential state Representative Steve Wolens in the Legislature when Wolens bowed out. Nice guy. Very bright.

Real good-lookin'.

Unknown in most of the city. In terms of City Hall, never been there. No track record on city issues at all.

Real good-lookin'.

The Morning News story was one of those Pravda-style communications where you have to read between the lines and then go out back of a building and whisper with your comrades about what it really means. In it, former Mayor Kirk went on and on about what a great candidate Anchía would make and how much Anchía reminds him of himself.

So what does that mean? That means Anchía has the support of the Dallas Citizens Council, otherwise known as the old land-and-construction oligarchy behind the Trinity River project.

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