The surprising rise of Dooley
By Chris King
Of the St. Louis American
Mike Jones, executive assistant to County Executive Charlie A. Dooley and longtime city politics insider, has been struggling to capture the surprising leader of St. Louis County in a metaphor.
The metaphor itself turns out to be surprising.
“Charlie is like The Temptations,” Jones told the American.
“The Temptations were an authentic black group that came fundamentally out of the black experience, but they had huge crossover appeal.”
That’s crossover – not sellout – appeal.
“They didn’t change anything to succeed,” Jones said, “but somehow they connected with all these people who didn’t share their historic experience.”
Jones pointed out proudly that Dooley substantially outdrew the top of the state ticket in his own county – some 50,000 more voters in majority-white St. Louis County voted for their black Democratic county executive than for the white Democratic U.S. Senate candidate, Claire McCaskill.
Dooley’s success has Jones thinking of what he calls “black non-black” politicians, with U.S. Senator Barack Obama being the most evident example. Mayor Shirley Franklin of Atlanta is another.
“These guys have mobilized huge numbers of people around their philosophical leadership,” Jones said.
The implication that they did this despite their race was left unstated, but that is what really has a city guy like Jones at a loss.
“I was a small boy in the ‘60s. My experience is more segregated,” Jones said.
“Something has happened. There is something going on, and it’s a phenomenal switch.”
Jones crunched the surprising numbers again.
“Here is a guy born in Carr Square Village who went to Wellston High School,” Jones said of Dooley.
“He is serving a county that is 80 percent white – and he raises $8 million? It’s nothing short of groundbreaking.”
If Jones is surprised by his boss’ political ascent, he is not the only one. Many black veterans of city politics in particular didn’t know what to make of Dooley when he began to raise funds and seek endorsements in the city.
In early meetings with the editorial board of the St. Louis American, Dooley seemed unpolished – a quality that now seems attractively homespun. He seemed a little unimpressive – which, when you know him better, looks more like “not out to impress anyone.” While most politicians boast about what they are going to do for you, Dooley spent much of the meeting downplaying the structural role of the county executive, compared to the political role of the mayor in St. Louis city.
It almost seemed like he didn’t want the job. Jones now knows it was simply that he didn’t need the job.
“What I genuinely like and appreciate about Charlie is that he’s a natural politician, but politics is not his life,” Jones said.
“He has an inner balance most politicians don’t have. Most politicians are insecure, like movie stars. Not Charlie. He knows his life would be great if he was not the county executive.”
Dooley is the man for the job, Jones said, but the job is not the man.
“Here’s a guy who is doing his job because he should be doing it, not because he needs to do it to be okay,” Jones said.
“People gravitate toward that.”
Lucky Dooley
Longtime county politicians, more familiar with integration politics and with St. Louis County dynamics, are slightly more reserved about Dooley’s accomplishments, though still impressed with them.
One state representative from the county, who didn’t want to be directly quoted with a negative remark at such a jubilant moment, suggested Dooley was born as county executive on second (or at least first) base, but thinks he hit a triple.
Dooley first obtained his position in 2003 as an appointee following the death of George R. “Buzz” Westfall. In its endorsement for him in the recent general election, the Post-Dispatch acknowledged that Dooley inherited key elements of Westfall’s fundraising machine and staff.
Jones said the campaign’s impressive fundraising is a team effort – “you sit in a room with a telephone; it’s just brutal” – but he would award “the game ball” to John Temporiti, chief of governmental affairs.
Like Jones, Temporiti is a key player Dooley directly recruited, not a holdover from Westfall’s staff. In fact, both men come with city, not county, credentials. Temporiti and Jones have both served as chief of staff for a mayor of St. Louis, Vincent Schoemehl and Clarence Harmon, respectively.
Not that Jones discounts the value of momentum and luck in the Dooley camp.
“You have to have good fortune. We caught some breaks we couldn’t have planned,” Jones said.
In Dooley’s first campaign for county executive in 2004, he had the benefit of a presidential race at the top of the ticket. That brought out voters, with many of those in the county leaning Democrat.
“We caught a wave,” Jones said. “Democrats stayed Democrats.”
After you raise money and catch a wave, of course, you still have to run the place effectively. On November 7, more than 260,000 county voters seemed to say Dooley has done so.
Jones cited Dooley’s cool head over the Metro cost overruns and delays.
“You never heard a peep out of the county,” Jones said.
“It was just: Let’s get the new timeline, get the new numbers, and get it done. There is no progressive metropolitan area that doesn’t have mass transit. The county needs that service.”
Jones’ confidence in his boss is such that even the impending Highway 40/64 construction project, which could strangle a major artery running right through the county and anger everybody, doesn’t panic him.
“Highway 40 needs improvements,” Jones said.
“Charlie knows the right way is to create consensus and get it done.”
Dooley’s doubters in the city have certainly taken notice. And Jones – a tough customer with his share of scars – sounds thrilled to have left city politics to work for Charlie Dooley in the county.
“There is an old cliché about power,” Jones said.
“Some swell, some grow. Charlie grew. He grew.”
