A Push to Put Government to Work
Fenty's Activist Zeal Draws Supporters; Critics Deride Lack of Experience

By Lori Montgomery
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, September 7, 2006

Zooming along the Capital Beltway in his white Ford Expedition, Adrian M. Fenty seems dangerously close to losing control. The front end is so far out of alignment that the entire passenger cabin is shaking. Empty Vitamin Water bottles skitter on the floor.

Fenty ignores the ominous vibrations, chatting intently about his campaign for D.C. mayor as he heads toward 16th Street NW. Suddenly, something catches his eye: a torn Fenty yard sign. "What's that address? Write that down," he murmurs to an aide. "Replacement sign needed."

For nearly two years, Fenty has been chasing the city's highest political office, selling himself as a disciplined, hands-on manager with an obsession for detail. But critics see the sophomore D.C. Council member as an ambitious man with no patience for critical but unglamorous tasks, such as cobbling together legislation -- or taking the car in for a tuneup.

With just days until the historically decisive Democratic primary Tuesday, Fenty, 35, is within striking distance of becoming the youngest mayor in District history. Polls show him leading his chief rival, council Chairman Linda W. Cropp, thanks in large part to the enthusiastic support of his Ward 4 constituents, who call him the fresh face of a new generation in D.C. politics. They say Fenty, the son of civil rights demonstrators turned shoe store owners, combines an activist's devotion to social justice with a businessman's zeal for results.

The critics, including several of Fenty's council colleagues, dismiss him as an inexperienced showboat uninterested in the hard work of governing. In six years on the council, they say, Fenty has spent more time calling news conferences than attending hearings. They deride his practice of borrowing solutions to the city's most pressing problems from more experienced leaders and say his brief career as a lawyer reveals a troubling capacity for neglecting mundane but critical tasks.

Fenty coolly brushes off the criticism, saying voters are not interested in hearing it.

"People share the same concerns: They want the government to provide solid schools, to stop wasting their money and to hire people who are competent and professional. And they want a government that does outreach, getting out into their communities," he said. "People are all hungry and thirsty for the same things. And that's what they see in my campaign."

His supporters agree.

"I don't know what they want from this man. He does as much as he can do," said Joan Thomas, a Petworth resident who supports Fenty because he was on the spot at a recent drive-by shooting, took quick action against illegal dumping in a nearby alley and bought a coat for the boy who carries her groceries.

"If Fenty does half as much for this city as he has done for Ward 4, this city will move forward to new heights," she said.

The establishment is skeptical. The mayor, four council members, the biggest unions and the most influential business groups have all endorsed Cropp, although their backing has conferred no clear advantage.

Fenty compares the race to his first campaign, when he upset Charlene Drew Jarvis, a 21-year D.C. Council member who had grown more interested in downtown development than the mundane concerns of her constituents. Fenty knocked on every door in the ward, winning the Democratic nomination by a 13-point margin.

"Anybody who had anything to do with Ward 4 politics were all with Jarvis," Fenty said. "But there are a lot of regular people. And they don't go to Ward 4 Democrats' meetings. And they don't go to citizens association meetings. And they don't go to other things. They just want the government to work."

Vehicle maintenance aside, Fenty is a bit of a control freak. A lean, almost gaunt triathlete, he has kept his gleaming head meticulously shaved ever since his hair started receding in law school. On even the steamiest days, he wears a suit, dress shirt and tie and insists that top aides do likewise. He also insists on driving, aides say, on the assumption that no one knows the streets as well as he does.

Fenty traces his interest in the mayor's office to growing up in a town that was famous for not working. He is careful not to point fingers at then-mayor Marion Barry, now a Democratic council colleague in Ward 8 who endorsed his candidacy this week.

But Fenty's high school friends remember reading about the cronyism and dysfunction in city government and about Barry's descent into addiction. Two years after Fenty graduated as a valedictorian at Mackin Catholic High School (now part of Archbishop Carroll High School) in 1988, FBI agents arrested Barry smoking crack cocaine in a downtown hotel.

"It was when things were getting really bad," said Carrie Brooks, who worked with Fenty at a Cleveland Park ice cream shop. "It wasn't a proud time for the city government."

Fenty remembers "my friends just moving out of the city and the general feeling that if you could get out of the District of Columbia, you should get out as quickly as possible." He gives credit to Mayor Anthony A. Williams (D) for digging Washington out of bankruptcy but says more needs to be done to restore pride, close the growing gap between rich and poor and persuade the middle class to move back home.

Fenty has few detailed ideas for accomplishing those goals. To fix the city's troubled public schools, his top priority, Fenty said he would appoint a deputy mayor for education and study successful reforms in New York, Chicago and Miami. To reduce crime, he would borrow a police accountability system pioneered in New York. To fix unresponsive agencies, he would borrow a government accountability system pioneered in Baltimore.

Council colleague and mayoral opponent Vincent B. Orange Sr. (D-Ward 5) said Fenty sounds like "a kid about to take an exam" when he talks about other mayors' innovations. Fenty said common sense dictates finding programs that work and applying them at home.

Fenty's supporters don't focus on his position papers. They talk about his character, his commitment to addressing the big problems and the tenacity he brings to his job.

"I think he is genuinely committed to public service," said his older brother, Shawn. "Popular culture now is, you shouldn't ask for help from the government. Well, the government is the people collectively assembled to do tasks that the individual couldn't do as one: Educate our children. Build streets and infrastructure. Government has that role, and it should function. And I think Adrian's sincerely committed to that."

Fenty's childhood was steeped in democratic ideals. His parents met at a Sears store in Buffalo, N.Y., where Phil Fenty, a former Marine, was hired to sell tires after protesters had demanded more jobs for blacks. Jan Perno, a young woman of Italian background, was working at the candy counter. Their families were furious about the interracial relationship, so the couple packed up and moved to Washington in 1967.

It was an exciting time in the nation's capital. The couple joined the Poor People's Campaign and Vietnam War protests, marching for peace and social justice. When their second child was born Dec. 6, 1970, they named him Adrian Malik, after Malcolm X.

The family bought a rowhouse in Mount Pleasant, then a multi-ethnic village of likeminded idealists, and opened Fleet Feet, an Adams Morgan running store. Later, Fenty majored in economics and English at Oberlin College.

In 1996, Fenty earned a law degree at Howard University, where he met and married fellow student Michelle Cross. They have 6-year-old twin boys. They settled in Crestwood in 1997. Within months, Fenty launched his political career, running for the advisory neighborhood commission and organizing the ward for mayoral candidate and then-council member Kevin P. Chavous.

Chavous is supporting Cropp. He declined to discuss Fenty, who worked as his legislative counsel, until after the primary.

Shawn remembers the Chavous campaign as an awakening for his brother. It also introduced Fenty to public speaking. Shawn remembers watching his brother, to this day an awkward orator, nervously introduce Chavous at a campaign event.

"It was so intense. There wasn't anything graceful about it at all," Shawn said, laughing. "But what really came across was his determination to get through this."

Chavous was the early front-runner in the 1998 mayoral race but lost to Williams, a newcomer to city politics who entered the race at the last minute. That campaign taught Fenty two things: Start early, and reach out to the regular people.

In 2000, when no one emerged to challenge Jarvis, Fenty decided to put those lessons to the test. The political establishment was incredulous. At One Judiciary Square, where Fenty was working on the council's education committee, Fenty remembers a key Williams aide laughing in his face.

"What can you say when somebody laughs in your face and walks away?" he said. "You just keep going on with your day."

From the moment Fenty took office, he dedicated himself to his constituents, including those who had supported Jarvis. "No permanent enemies," he said. Outfitted with a cellphone -- later, two BlackBerries -- Fenty was always on call.

He also dove headlong into council business, pushing for more funding for affordable housing, the closure of the outdated Oak Hill juvenile detention center and, perhaps his most significant achievement, a landmark bill that provides $1 billion over the next 10 years to modernize crumbling schools.

Other council members scoffed at the schools bill, calling Fenty's financing mechanism irresponsible. But the billion-dollar figure captured the imagination of school activists, who were furious about the vast sums that had been approved for a new baseball stadium. Within months, the council came up with a new funding scheme and passed Fenty's bill.

"What he's good at is giving voice to an issue," said Gregory McCarthy, a Cropp supporter who served until recently as the mayor's deputy chief of staff for policy and legislation. "Be it school modernization or child-care subsidies or the Smoke Free Act or capital repairs at UDC, Fenty may not have invented the legislation . . . but he has a canny sense of how to give voice to people and get people to rally around the cause."

Fenty's populism terrifies some local business leaders, who say he has shown no talent for making tough but unpopular decisions. What would he cut, they ask, if tax revenue continues to level off?

"It's not that we know exactly what's going to happen; it's that we're worried about what's going to happen," said lawyer Max Berry, Cropp's campaign co-chairman. If Fenty wins, he said, "I'll pray for him that he surprises me immensely."

Fenty said he's ready to try. "One of my philosophies is, set the bar high. And we're going to start early," he said. "You've got to come in with guns blazing."