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 hi