By Michael Roy Hollihan

Herman Morris strides through the doors of the Exum Towers, an African-American senior living center, and looks around. Only a few people populate the quiet lobby, none seeming to expect him. He sticks out his hand and introduces himself anyway. His wife Brenda and campaign volunteer William Connor spread out, looking around. They’re expecting something that’s clearly not happening.

It seems there’s been a glitch.

Such is life on the campaign trail. As Carol Chumney, Herman Morris, and John Willingham trudge that trail, seeking to unseat Memphis Mayor Dr. Willie Herenton, it’s a lonely and sometimes disappointing path, occasionally broken by friendly faces and cheering crowds. Nonetheless, they all walk it with purpose and hope.

When he entered his record fourth term, Mayor Herenton seemed nigh-on unbeatable. But a short three years later, a voter recall effort, rising crime, a child out of wedlock, and the MLGW imbroglio have taken their toll. He’s even acted out a fading boxer’s dream by getting into the ring with a far-past-his-prime Joe Frazier. The city’s finances have lurched from budget crisis, to windfall, to crisis again; from year to year it’s hard to know if a tax increase will be called for. He’s been criticized for not taking the lead in combating infant mortality in Memphis.

Herenton has never been as vulnerable as he seems today. Nor has he been more pugnacious. He’s told any whites who don’t like what’s happening in Memphis to leave. He called out his mayoral opponent, Herman Morris, with a schoolyard taunt of “boy.”

And so with the Champ wobbling, his opponents have become The Contenders.

The first contender is another creature of politics, of the Democratic kind. Although the mayoral race is officially non-partisan, there’s no mistaking the politics of everyone involved in the Chumney campaign. From her life-long involvement in the Democratic Party to the pronounced leftward tilt in the blogroll on her campaign website (http://www.carolchumney.com), from the affiliations of the organizations that endorse her to the politics of her supporters, Chumney may have shed her official Democratic designation but her flag is unquestionably blue.

Chumney’s people skills are impressive: a blend of lawyerly self-awareness and practiced political smoothness. She tends to use too many “I” statements in talking about things she’s done or said. Her talent in working a room is also impressive. Putting in an appearance at a University of Memphis Highland Hundred Club event for Tiger boosters, she made her way slowly but constantly around the room, hitting every table, introducing herself and talking briefly with everyone who showed an interest, always smiling. It was remarkably low-key, her blue suit completely swallowed up in a sea of Tiger blue, with only Charles Blumenthal – her campaign manager with a phone glued to his ear – marking her out.

It’s worth noting that her ambitions for Memphis Mayor have been discussed since she left the Tennessee House of Representatives in 2003 for an unsuccessful run for Shelby County mayor followed by a lateral move to the Memphis City Council. Her District Five Council seat was widely seen as providing her a platform to stage a mayoral run. She’s certainly milked it for all the media attention she can. She a reliable source of opinion on Council business, and a sure voice of criticism when she disagrees with Mayor Herenton.

Her media availability has been a two-edged sword in that it’s given her a reputation as a critic and not a consensus builder. Chumney always disputes that perception, launching into a list of her accomplishments as a Representative. When pressed to square her at-odds stances on the Council with evidence of building coalitions, though, she has a tougher time giving examples.

Her biggest problem is that, as a critic, she needs something to react against. Last spring’s MLGW dust-up over Joseph Lee was a bonanza of media opportunity. She stumbled when she didn’t go along with Council resolutions calling for action. By writing a letter to the Commercial Appeal later defending herself, she came off as fighting a rear-guard defensive rather than taking a strong and solid stand. Since then, she’s been combining City Council and campaign duties in a blur of motion puts her out there on an individual level, but keeps her media profile very low.

Though she declared her intent last year, and formally announced in February of this year, she didn’t open her campaign office until late June. It’s a smallish storefront in the Poplar Center with Spartan appointments – mostly campaign signs and tables. The double line of small rooms are mostly filled with office materials and political detritus. In one there’s a plain desk and a phone where Chumney makes calls when not on the road.

She had yet to fill most campaign jobs by late July. A scheduler, pollster, volunteer and policy coordinators were all set to be selected. Her website didn’t go live until late June, meaning her statements on positions have just been floating around the media, rather than being collected on a central site.

Chumney points out that all of this was planned. Fundraising didn’t really kick into gear, she says, until the last two weeks of the second quarter reporting period. That’s why her $60,000 campaign chest seems so small, and why so many activities had to wait until the money was there. She’s unconcerned about comparisons to Morris’ $160,000.

Herman Morris makes two. It’s widely assumed that Morris is a political novice, but he was involved in several races with Ed Davis in the 33rd Senate District about 20 years ago. He had to give up political activity when he became President of MLGW, becoming active in civic and civil rights affairs instead. There is a public sense that he had to be dragged into running for mayor, but Morris is clear that he was his own man in making the decision. He says he sat down with his family multiple times.

Morris jumped into campaigning hard and early. He took out the entire second floor of the Artisan Hotel at Union and McLean in March for his campaign headquarters. The space is vast and still, at this relatively early date, very under populated. Seemingly every person connected to the campaign has their own office space, and there is a whole cubicle farm area for phone banks and volunteers yet to be filled. Even with six or ten people going about their work, it has the feel of a corporate office after closing time.

He was the first to get his website (http://www.hermanmorrisformayor.com) completely up and running, including a campaign blog (cross-posting to the community blogs at FOX13) with regular content updates. Morris posted a series of small web-ads (sometimes called ‘viral videos’) on his website and at YouTube. He recognizes that the Internet is very important, even if Memphis is still somewhat behind in taking full advantage of it. He also released his first television ad in late July, the first of the mayoral election season.

Morris explains how his efforts at bridge-building throughout the community and at returning dignity to the Mayor’s office are drawing the bi-partisan support his campaign has been picking up. Like Chumney, he enjoys support from both black and white voters, but unlike her, he also gets supporters from both the Democratic and Republican columns.

He also benefits from having his wife, Brenda, constantly by his side. She avoids talking policy, but will wax eloquent about their history and connections to the community. (Both are life-long Memphians – like Chumney – who met while still in school.) They both stress, in different ways, their status as a long-married couple with children as a contrast to Willingham, whose wife is nearly completely in the background, and Chumney, whose personal life is firmly behind stone walls.

Perhaps the most interesting difference between the three major contenders is in their platforms. Willingham’s is a detailed list, specific and tightly focused. It is Willingham’s vision of fiscal responsibility, responsiveness and openness to the voter, and good stewardship.

Chumney’s is influenced by her history as a legislator and City Councillor. Her history as a Democrat factors in. Belief in laws and government as “solutions” and a reliance on coalitions and alliances as instruments of implementation or influence inform her platform.

Morris begins with the philosophy he used at MLGW of building good management teams focused on “surprising customer satisfaction” and “establishing a standard and developing an infrastructure to support it.” Morris starts with the people and works backwards to make a government that meets their needs.

Longest in the wings is successful BBQ restaurateur, veteran politician and one-time County Commissioner John Willingham. Sitting in The Butcher Shop, he’s voluble and friendly. He’s also a conversational steamroller. Once he drops into campaign mode, he’s unstoppable. He’s got his points well-thought out and thoroughly researched. He deploys them like juggernauts.

He can, with his trademark command of facts, run down how his numbers show he’s competitive and a potential winner. It’s pointed out that his prior run for City Mayor in 2003 and his run last year for County Mayor against A C Wharton both resulted in stinging defeats; he lost by two-to-one and three-to-one margins respectively. He can show why that’s not prohibitive to a win this year. “You need to understand why I’m running for mayor,” he says. “Why I ran last year is to find out where the votes are.” Having gotten them once before, he’s sure they are still his and can be built on.

His plan for Memphis once he gets into office is clear, spelled out in earnest detail on a campaign flyer that lists 31 specific steps he’ll take right out of the box. The same flyer is on his bare-bones campaign website. (http://www.shelbynet.com/jwill) He calls it a “crystal-clear, open policy.”

Some of his ideas have been floating around for years, like having County Trustee Bob Patterson take over city tax debt collection. Some are rather like trademarks of Willingham’s business background: conducting audits of City finances and MLGW, and keeping an eagle eye on the sale of City properties. He has a plan for the Fairgrounds, the Liberty Bowl and the Coliseum. Some ideas are new, like his plan for freezing senior property taxes after age 65 and making that freeze retro-active to all seniors who have passed age 65, to be paid as a rebate on future property taxes.

When it’s pointed out that many people feel he could best achieve public office and effect the changes he wants by running for City Council or County Commission, he’s clear: “My intent has always been to run for mayor. Look, you can’t change the game unless you get on the field. If you’re not in the game you can’t change the outcome. If you’re a County Commissioner, you can’t change it. It takes six Commissioners who agree with you. The only way I can really bring my expertise to the table, as a businessman who has been in business for fifty years, is in the Mayor’s office.”

That’s a clear statement of Willingham’s approach to government. He thinks like a businessman who wants to be an owner and not middle management. He wants to get his hands on the levers, not share control with a contentious group. He sees clearly what needs doing and simply wants to get it done. Not for him the push-and-pull of politics. He identifies a problem, sets up an action plan, and executes it to completion. City assets are to be watched like a hawk, with a ruthless eye for the bottom line.

Such an approach can make him unpalatable as a candidate, even if it makes him a dutiful public servant. That kind of iconoclasm has made his campaign a long, uphill climb. It serves to isolate him from the political types who view horse-trading as the very art of politics. His own Shelby County Republican Party declined to endorse him in the last County Mayor’s race and the misfortune seems sure to repeat itself.

Willingham also has an unusual frugality. He’s proud that his two prior campaigns never spent more than $15,000 and not at all worried that in the second quarter of 2007 he’s only raised a shocking $2000. He can tell you just how many votes that expenditure earned. Confidently, he’ll then predict it’s the base from which his winning total will grow. But when the racial divide is as deep and sharp as it is in Memphis — when the Republican brand carries as much freight as it does — then being the white Republican in the race means bridge-building with African-American voters will take a lot of work. In politics, that translate into money. Throw in the calculated and aggressive racial demagoguery that Herenton has unleashed and maybe that frugality is self-defeating.

Each has its positives and negatives. Willingham’s “my way or the highway” style will tend to alienate his Council peers. Chumney, the team member, may find being the lone wolf a little daunting. And Morris’ corporate style may find change slowed down by a resistant and self-interested civil service.

And, of course, there is the lingering effect of AC. While the Commercial Appeal’s two polls to date have some value, the speculative presence of AC Wharton in those polls distorts any worth they may have had. The second poll came just as Chumney was firing up her election machinery and Morris’ first television ad aired. All the hoopla of the “Draft AC” movement distracted from the real campaigns.

The speculation, noise and commotion is now behind the candidates. From now until October 4 will be an anticlimactic two months of boring issues. Probably. All three contenders are excited by that prospect, as they welcome a discussion of Memphis’ problems over the media’s silly “gotcha” obsession.

The campaign trail is hard and lonely, but the good news is that it does have an end. And a new beginning, hopefully, for at least one contender.