Cover Story: Into the spotlight

It is telling that Robb Pitts uses the steel city as a way to describe himself. Pitts does not come across as fancy. His way is as direct and purposeful as a Steeler lineman pulling left on a sweep; his work as a member of Atlanta City Council — including the last two-and-a-half years as its president — typically has been as workmanlike as the players who man those positions.

And it is ironic that in his sixth term as a council member, Pitts must clarify his identity in an emergency call to a city employee while trapped in a City Hall elevator. That Pitts was stuck between floors, ringing alarms and attempting to distinguish himself, reflects his larger challenge as a politician: To establish a clear vision and identity after years of laboring inside the bowels of city council.

Long content to remain a counterweight to Atlanta’s political regime — a coalition that backed mayors Maynard Jackson, Andrew Young and Bill Campbell and will support Pitts’ leading mayoral opponent — the council president must now step into a spotlight he traditionally has avoided in order to win a position that the same group of insiders has locked down for more than 25 years. And in a mayoral race with three serious candidates, becoming visible is his greatest challenge.

8:30 a.m. Robb Pitts almost always begins the day by driving his vehicle — a 1990 Cadillac Brougham he affectionately calls “the Hog” — from his Buckhead home to Goldberg’s Bagel Cafe on the corner of Northside Parkway and West Paces Ferry Road. The clientele is overwhelmingly white. But neither Pitts nor his many greeters seem to mind as he works the room, then takes a seat in the rear of the cafe. Two businessmen approach him warmly and the trio discusses the city’s land-permits process while Pitts sips a cup of tea.

Pitts genuinely seems to enjoy pres-sing flesh. He does not worry that his penchant for accessibility muddies the mystique many citizens have come to expect of their elected officials. “There’s so much fluff that’s associated with being mayor and image and style,” he says. “I’m just a regular guy that’s into working hard and having people feel comfortable with me. I’m not a status seeker, I’m not an elitist. I like to go to the ballgame, have a beer and listen to my music.”

The mutual acceptance between Pitts and the Goldberg’s crowd is the first of many signs that the City Council president can “crossover” — forge coalitions between white-owned business interests and the city’s majority-black voters. Just two days earlier, Pitts was sitting across from the Rev. Otis L. Blackshear, pastor of Southeast Atlanta’s Mount Pleasant Baptist Church and an old friend, explaining why he thinks his controversial plan to sell naming rights to city-owned properties is a workable idea. “Any time we need money, we either raise fees or go to the taxpayers,” Pitts said. “We need to find another way. If companies are willing to pay just to place their name on a building or a bowl game, why shouldn’t we look at that as an option? We’d do our citizens a disservice if we don’t explore it.”

According to University of Maryland professor Clarence Stone, an appeal to both white businesses and black voters will become increasingly important in an Atlanta that at once enjoys tremendous economic prosperity and suffers one of the highest poverty rates in the country.

“The lesson is whoever is the mayor has ample opportunity to build a coalition with business because business needs City Hall and City Hall needs business,” Stone observes. Stone, author of Regime Politics: Governing Atlanta 1946-1988, points to Andrew Young’s administration as an example. “[Young] was not supported by most of the business elite. But after he was elected, he talked to the business establishment and he said to them ‘I cannot govern this city without your help.’ Even though they hadn’t been principal supporters, he made his peace even before his inauguration.”

Whether Pitts can woo the city’s business elite — companies like Coca Cola, SunTrust, Georgia Power and BellSouth — has yet to be determined, and it is reasonable to presume that Shirley Franklin, Pitts’ most recognized opponent, will garner most of the elite’s gifts. While the old guard remains important, however, other commercial interests, including the Buckhead Life Restaurant Group, a slate of technology companies led by EarthLink and small businesses, such as Goldberg’s, have begun to share (and in some cases, supplant) their influence. The emerging businesses have their own money and agendas, and tend to be less beholden to a single candidate or political party. Pitts’ ability to forge relationships with these new business partners should serve his campaign well.

10:30 a.m. From Goldberg’s, Pitts travels to his spacious City Hall office for a meeting, and then pushes the Hog out to a dedication ceremony that renames a portion of Fulton Industrial Boulevard after Leroy R. Johnson, who in 1962 became Georgia’s first African-American state senator since Reconstruction.

“I listen to all kinds of music: rock ‘n’ roll, blues, gospel, jazz,” he says en route, his wide-ranging tastes again manifesting crossover attributes. The music bug caught him early, back when he was being reared in Haddock, Ga. Pitts, now 58, moved to Dayton, Ohio, in the third grade. He was raised by his mother, Louise Phillips, and his grandmother, Elizabeth Johnson, an only child. He never had a close relationship with his father, the late Joseph Pitts.

The trumpet once was Pitts’ instrument of choice, back when he was a student at Dayton’s Roosevelt High School. During that time, the young Pitts played in a band called the Egyptians alongside a fellow named Clarence Satchell. While Pitts followed the public service and academic paths — eventually earning a master’s degree in languages, a doctorate in Latin American studies and an MBA from Emory — Satchell took the nucleus of the Egyptians and with other Dayton musicians formed a band called the Ohio Players. “I have some pictures of me and Satch together,” Pitts recalls wistfully. “There I was, working and in school, and there Satch was, rolling in money. It was definitely one of those ‘What if?’ moments.”

Perhaps the biggest crossover issue Pitts faces is his interracial marriage. For him, it is a non-issue. “It doesn’t even come up,” Pitts responds when asked if he and Fran, his wife of 13 years, have discussed how race might play a role in the mayoral election. Fran Pitts is white. “There’s no skin color that enters into anything we talk about or do.”

Their relationship may, however, enter into what some voters talk about or do. Pitts’ principal opponents at this stage are two African-American women — Franklin and former Georgia Board of Education appointee and city councilwoman Gloria Bromell Tinubu — in a city whose largest voting bloc is African-American women. Pitts acknowledges the political power this bloc carries, noting the success Fulton County Sheriff Jackie Barrett had in being elected the nation’s first African-American female sheriff.

And while few people say his marriage will prove politically damaging, the city too busy to hate remains sensitive about race and interracial relations. That the Pittses constantly have been asked about the issue suggests one of two things: either the marriage is a journalistic fascination gone awry or some voters could weigh it against him. If nothing else, the focus on the Pittses’ relationship could detract from the candidate’s message.

“I think the overwhelming majority of people in that group are enlightened people who are more interested in good government than anything else,” Pitts continues. “People are beginning to accept the notion of diversity in this city. We’re not too far off when a Latino or an Asian will be elected to a local government seat. And that’s good for the city. It’s no longer just black and white.”

Fran Pitts, a Florida native and carpet saleswoman who now walks 15 miles per day to train for a breast cancer benefit in late September, is much more concerned with the effect the campaign could have on the couple’s 8-year-old daughter, Jordan. “I don’t want her shown too much,” Fran Pitts said. “You just worry about people looking or stalking. It is something I have become much more aware of as a mother. I don’t stress over it, but I am going to be conscious of it.”

12:30 p.m. After commiserating with a cadre of black politicians at the Johnson dedication and a quick stop for a haircut, Pitts whisks into Atlanta’s Biltmore Ballrooms for a luncheon sponsored by Business 2 Business magazine. Pitts works the room with ambulatory aplomb, greeting, shaking, seeming never to forget a face or name. His lunch remains uneaten, and his table guests express disappointment that they do not get a chance to chat with the man who could be mayor.

After the luncheon, Pitts addresses questions concerning his political affiliation. “I’m not a card-carrying dues-paying member of any political party,” he says. “My appeal is across any party, affiliation or any other arbitrary line. And it’s always been that way.”

Given his business ties, his fiscal policy and a cadre of supporters aligned with the GOP (including U.S. Rep. Johnny Isakson, Aaron Rents CEO R. Charles Loudermilk Sr. and two-time gubernatorial candidate Guy Millner), Pitts has been labeled a closet Republican. “Not true,” Pitts responds. “But I am very conservative with respect to money. I think from a fiscal point of view, I’m very tight-fisted with my own money and other people’s money, and I take that very seriously. On social issues, I think I’m as liberal as anyone.” He says he fully supports affirmative action and will continue the city’s program if he wins, but adds that he would make adjustments so the program is more inclusive.

“My vision is to make Atlanta one of the top five cities in the world,” he continues, “but getting to that point means addressing quality of life issues. In the next administration, we’re going to have to deal with some basic issues like water, air and transportation, and do it in conjunction with other entities in the region and across the state. We have to develop some working partnerships between the neighborhoods, business, the region and city hall. Atlanta is a capital city, but we’re not the big fish we used to be. Surrounding jurisdictions have more people and bigger budgets that we do, but people generally don’t say ‘I’m from DeKalb County, Georgia.’ They say ‘I’m from Atlanta.’ We cannot [make the adjustment] in isolation.”

But in an era when the big idea is nearly everything in politics — where a vice president presiding over one of the greatest economic expansions known to mankind can have difficulty pushing his platform because he is considered “boring” — will Pitts’ meat-and-potatoes agenda strike up the groundswell of support he will need to put him in the mayor’s suite?

Lee Morris, for one, thinks so. “What we need from the mayor is some hands-on management and a refocusing of the city government function, which is to assure the delivery of some fundamental municipal services,” says Morris, a second-term councilman and frequent Pitts ally. “The trash needs to be picked up, the potholes needs to be fixed, the police vacancies need to be filled and the laws and ordinances need to be enforced.”

“Maybe the next mayor does not need to be a flashy, articulate, made-for-TV person. Maybe for the next four to eight years we need somebody who is going to fix the city. I think the citizens are ready for it.”

2:30 p.m. Back in City Hall, the mayoral candidate is stuck in an elevator with a reporter. Having already made the emergency call, Pitts asks “Well, it looks like we’ll be here a while, so what’s your next question?”

Do you hate Bill Campbell?

“Not at all. I like him, always have,” he responds without hesitation. “We served together for 12 years on the Council and became very close. We even have socialized together. But the reporting has been like there has been a fight between the two of us. First of all, the differences have come over public policy, where I see things in a different way than he does. And the mayor has a strong personality. To the extent that you disagree with him, he takes it personally and lashes out. We probably have agreed more than we have disagreed, but it’s where we’ve have disagreed — that’s what has been reported.”

The mayor declined to comment for this article.

Pitts credits Campbell for his role in developing Atlanta as a music center, housing initiatives and the construction of Philips Arena. Campbell’s staff choices have been another issue. “I’ve had, and continue to have problems with some of them, Finance in particular,” he says. Judith Blackwell, who resigned last month as city’s acting chief financial officer, was not a Pitts favorite: Long an advocate for professional decorum, he once dismissed Blackwell’s assessment of a special retirement package given to airport general manager Benjamin DeCosta as “wrong, wrong, wrong” in front of a full council and the public.

But Pitts notes that “historically anyone the mayor brings in to be confirmed, has been.”

And what of his relationship with former Council president Marvin Arrington? Pitts characterizes it as “a good working relationship,” but concedes its nature has changed. “Once I made a decision to run and it was reported that he was considering running, he and I didn’t communicate nearly as much as we had prior to that.” Pitts says their most recent conversation was in May, and that Arrington, who also declined to comment for this article, has taken himself out of the mayor’s race.

4:15 p.m. Free from the elevator and another Buckhead meeting, Pitts is back in his Council chambers meeting with R.D.W. Jackson of the Spanish-language Mundo Hispanico newspaper. Latino community and business initiatives are subjects Pitts knows well, both through education and extensive travel to Cuba and Mexico. The Council president is fluent in Spanish, conversant in Portuguese and adds, “I won’t starve in French.”

Pitts’ multicultural facility could be advantageous to a city that is seeking to expand its international presence. “Robb has been a friend of the Latino community for many years,” says Sara J. Gonzalez, president of the Atlanta Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. “In his role as council member and as president of the City Council he has always, consistently reached out to the Latino community. He has always been friendly, but more than that, he delivers. If he tells you he is going to speak, he will be there.”

7:30 p.m. Robb Pitts makes the day’s final rounds at Hal’s and Bliss, both Buckhead restaurants and at the Atlanta History Center for a community design forum. Like the crisp French cuff shirt and natty tie he has been wearing all day, he does not seem the worse for wear. But as he guides the Hog back to City Hall, Pitts seems reflective.

It is a mood that acknowledges the challenge before him, suggests an ease with past accomplishments and concedes the party is almost over. Pitts faces many obstacles in his quest to become Atlanta’s 58th mayor, including having his legislative career heavily scrutinized. Councilman Michael Bond, a Campbell ally, is unimpressed by Pitts’ record: “Being there a long time doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re being productive.”

Pitts’ opponents may not face the same level of scrutiny. Franklin has little public record because she has never held elective office. And while Bromell Tinubu will have her single Atlanta City Council term investigated, two factors could mitigate the harshness of that inspection: she has been out of the political spotlight since 1997 (when she earned 14 percent of the vote in the last mayoral election) and she has less of a record to scrutinize.

And, of course, there is Shirley Franklin’s star factor. Franklin is Moet Chandon to Pitts’ Miller Lite, the razzle-dazzle offense to his three yards and a pile of dust. Atlanta’s recent mayoral elections — with Maynard Jackson, Andy Young, even Bill Campbell — strongly suggest that charisma carries votes. Pitts seemed to acknowledge his lower-wattage image during his first fundraiser last November. There Pitts was, in a tuxedo and boxing gloves, mugging for the camera like a savvy, experienced pro seeking to use his wisdom to edge out a more heralded opponent.

The veteran remains sanguine, however, waving away all concerns with the ease of a man who knows he can let it all hang out because he is near the end of his political career. “There is life after politics for me. I am not using this office as a stepping stone, so this is it. My daughter is 8 years old, and everybody tells me this is the time when I need to be around and seeing after her. And there is not a man alive who has ever loved a daughter as much as I love mine, so I plan to be there for her.”

“But you asked a hypothetical question,” he continued, referring to a reporter’s inquiry about what he will do if he does not win, “and I answered in the hypothetical. I fully, fully expect to win.”??