By Shailagh Murray
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, August 26, 2006

COVENTRY, R.I. -- It was getting dark, but Stephen Laffey removed his cap, wiped his sweaty brow and sprinted across the lawn to greet one more voter.

Glenn Myers, stocky and middle-aged, opened the screen door to shake hands with the 44-year-old Cranston mayor. "I believe in you," he told Laffey, who was barnstorming the neighborhood with his wife and five kids and various high school friends. "And I hope you beat the pants off of Lincoln Chafee."

The Laffey-Chafee Republican showdown Sept. 12 is the next chapter in the turbulent 2006 election saga. A spate of primary upsets -- especially Ned Lamont's victory over Democratic Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman in Connecticut -- have signaled that no incumbent is safe in a year when voters are agitating for change. With his spirited campaign against Sen. Chafee, Laffey is trying to push that frustration one step further. He wants to turn his race into a referendum on personality and attitude.

Rhode Island is a solidly Democratic state, but it does elect moderate Republicans such as Chafee and his late father, the veteran GOP Sen. John Chafee. During his seven-year tenure, "Linc" has distinguished himself as one of the Senate's least partisan members. Modest and soft-spoken, he has broken with his party on tax cuts, judicial nominations and environmental issues, and he was the only Republican senator to vote against the Iraq war.

In terms of temperament and political style, Laffey is Chafee's opposite -- confrontational and impatient, a working-class kid who scoffs at his opponent's patrician pedigree. Laffey dismisses the senator's careful approach to legislating as a big reason Congress cannot get anything done.

"He's become irrelevant," Laffey said of Chafee in a recent radio debate. "I work hard at good relations with everyone," Chafee responded.

The son of a union shop steward and nurse, and the first member of his family to attend college, Laffey had a successful career as a money manager before running for mayor of his economically beleaguered home town. He gleefully and very publicly challenged Cranston's many entrenched interests, including its costly part-time school crossing guards, who received free health care and pension benefits and collected unemployment during summer break.

Laffey calls Washington "the Cranston crossing guards on steroids." But beyond his calls for tougher, more effective leadership, he is difficult to typecast. He supports the war and opposes abortion and embryonic stem cell research, positions that place him to the right of most Rhode Islanders. He applauds all of President Bush's tax cuts, although he raised taxes to save Cranston from bankruptcy. But he savages the GOP on health care, education and energy policy. Of Bush, Laffey says, "I respect him, but I think he's failed in a number of aspects."

"He's the anti-establishment populist . . . the ordinary man who just wants to fix the mess. And I think this is exactly the right year for that kind of message," said Pat Toomey, president of the Club for Growth. The group, which advocates conservative fiscal policies, is running ads for Laffey and has raised about $500,000 for his campaign.

Laffey's critics believe he is too coarse to win the general election against Democratic nominee Sheldon Whitehouse, a former U.S. attorney and state attorney general. "He's not warm and fuzzy, and he confronts his opponents," said Darrell M. West, director of the Taubman Center for Public Policy at Brown University.

Only about 70,000 voters in Rhode Island are registered Republicans, and they are expected by many political observers to back Laffey by a wide margin. But about 340,000 independent voters are eligible to vote in the primary, and it's not clear how many will show up, or whom they will support. Public and private polls show the race is more or less even, with Chafee needing a big independent turnout to prevail.

One major uncertainty is the Bush factor. The president is deeply unpopular in Rhode Island. Although Laffey is closer to the White House and Congress's GOP leaders on key issues such as the war, Chafee is the candidate of the party establishment, receiving ample support from the National Republican Senatorial Committee and less polarizing administration figures, including first lady Laura Bush, who hosted a Chafee fundraiser.

"I'm trying to figure out exactly what is the issue. It might be Chafee, but Chafee's doing his best to make it Laffey," said Jennifer Duffy, who tracks Senate races for the nonpartisan Cook Political Report.

When Laffey entered the race a year ago, he was dismissed as a novelty act. His campaigning style matched his personality: colorful and in-your-face. He stood on street corners during the morning rush hour, waving a huge blue-and-yellow sign announcing "I'm Laffey." He bought a recreational vehicle and covered it with campaign stickers. The vehicle serves as a mobile campaign headquarters, and it trails along as Laffey goes from door to door on his daily neighborhood "blitzes."

After running a midsize investment firm in Memphis, Laffey returned to Cranston and contemplated his next move. One of the people who gave him advice was Chafee, who had been appointed to the Senate after his father died in 1999, after serving as mayor of Warwick, the city next door. He urged Laffey to take on Cranston. "I told him it's a very rewarding job and that his town needed him," Chafee recalled.

Laffey won in November 2002. When he took office, the city had the lowest bond rating in the country and was in danger of missing payroll. Even the mayor's critics concede that his turnaround of Cranston was impressive, although some of residents still complain about the tax increases.

What Laffey learned as mayor was that he was good at changing minds. His campaign literature reminds voters that he convinced a Democratic city council to approve steep budget cuts and powerful local unions to renegotiate contracts.

"I had to use the bully pulpit, hold a lot of meetings," Laffey said. "I'm a businessman. When I see a problem, I want to solve it."

Chafee is campaigning hard, with his career on the line. He agreed to four debates with Laffey and has adopted a gentle but defiant tone when responding to his feisty opponent. His latest ad is a hard-hitting compilation of Laffey encounters, including a brawl with Cranston firefighters and a showdown with a woman who complained that her taxes had gone up.

"He mocked her, saying he'd foreclose on her home if she didn't pay up," the announcer deadpans. "Do you want Steve Laffey speaking for you in the U.S. Senate?"

Last Saturday, Chafee spent the morning greeting beachgoers en route to Newport and then headed to a Pawtucket Greek festival, where he stopped at every table in three large tents. He drew a broad smile from Kosta Bitsis, a local contractor. "I appreciate that he doesn't vote with party lines," Bitsis said. "It takes courage to do that."

But Coventry is Laffey territory. Although many of the town's middle-class residents are registered as independents, Laffey describes them as Reagan Democrats who share his pragmatism and frustration with the status quo. "I know all about you," Judith Gregory announced when she answered the door. "And if you want to put a sign in my front yard, you go right ahead."