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dreams was one thing. Getting
elected in a city where much of the population was black, was quite another.
They had already elected two black mayors in succession. Could a third be far
behind? And if so, what chance did the Caucasian Arnold have? There had been
ongoing suggestions in Detroit of police brutality toward young black males,
just as there had been in the rest of the country. Many people thought that a
black mayor was better equipped to deal with such issues, whereas a white mayor
might be somewhat out of touch.
     Arnold’s face was suddenly front and center on her TV
screen. But she was both shocked and dismayed by the lack of black faces that
he had assembled to be his initial lection team. The three fledgling staff
around him at the mike where all white. She frowned. It was one thing to vote
for a white guy who was influenced by black advisors. But it was quite another
to vote for a white guy surrounded with white advisors. She decided in her
heart of hearts that Arnold needed a very stiff talking to.
     XXX
    “I really like this restaurant,” Marg whispered, reaching
across the table to clasp his outstretched hand. “But you’re going to need
every penny here on in for the campaign trail. Sometimes, eating at a much
cheaper greasy spoon, or fiery hot spicy Caribbean mom and pop can be a blast
of fun.”
     “About that,” Arnold said, his countenance changing for the
worse. “Daryl, my brother and number one fan, says that our present mayor will
try to hang onto his job by stressing a ‘return to family values.’ The other
challenger, Nevil Johnston, has already declared his platform. His slogan is ‘a
job for everyone.’ I’m kind of late out of the gate and being boxed in.”
    A fear began to creep over her. She was smart enough to know
that politics was a game of perception, and that votes were where you found
them. A lot of Detroit’s citizens were upset with the present mayor David Dodds,
and his record of raising taxes while frittering away the city’s money on
projects that were ill-advised and counter-productive. It was also obvious that
the mayor had fudged the numbers to make it appear as though his programs had
been both cost effective and wildly successful. Still, regardless of the
present mayor’s shortcomings, he was black, and he understood only too well the
issues facing the city. Police brutality against black men…half the city’s
inner core rotting in decay…a hundred thousand stray dogs taking over the
city…high unemployment and a skyrocketing crime rate that was amongst the
highest in the whole damn country. On the flip side of the coin, however,
Arnold was prepared to argue that for a man who supposedly understood the city
so well, so very little had been done to address the problems. Arnold’s
platform of change was going to emphasize that David’s programs hadn’t worked
then and couldn’t work now, and that a newer fresher approach was what was
needed.
     The good news for both men was that the other challenger,
Nevil, was touting a platform that while catchy, seemed so very unrealistic. A
job for everybody? Just how in the hell was he going to accomplish that?
     Still, for all of Arnold’s bravado, and all of David’s
bluster, the fact remained that citizens were liable to make the campaign about
whatever the politicians decided it should be about. The economic platforms,
once tried and tested stalwarts in any election campaign, were bound to fall
ironically by the way side. Nobody really believed there was anything any damn
mayor could do about the shocking problems facing the city. The State of
Michigan was stepping in to take over the city’s finances and to try and reign
in the horrific debt load crushing the sea of red ink on their pathetic books.
They had lost over a third of their revenues to fleeing businesses, and another
fifteen per cent to boarded up, dilapidated homes whose present unemployed
owners could no longer afford land taxes or out of