In Detroit, Not Exactly LOL LOL!

He said: "I'm a guy, I'm a dude, I'm a man."

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We should note here that Kwame Kilpatrick had -- and may regain -- a promising political career.

The son of Rep. Carolyn Cheeks Kilpatrick (D-Mich.), he was first elected six years ago at age 31, bringing a youthful energy and enthusiasm to a city that needed both. Roughly one-third of Detroiters live below the poverty line. The city's population, 911,000, has been falling for nearly 50 years, and is now almost half the size it was at its peak. It is perhaps the poorest major city in America. There are, as is endlessly noted in stories about it, lots of abandoned houses, factories and streets.

Still, Kilpatrick has had some notable successes. He's lured the Super Bowl, Major League Baseball's All-Star Game and next year's Final Four in men's college basketball to Detroit. He's overseen a slow but steady growth of downtown. He's gone back to the Census Bureau with data that caused officials to revise their estimate of the city's population upward by 47,000, notes mayoral consultant Bob Berg, who adds that Quicken Loans is moving its headquarters downtown.

In public, Kilpatrick is affable, charming and relentlessly upbeat about his city. On Capitol Hill last week to testify before the House Natural Resources Committee, he presented a well-received, passionate defense of the city in a bid to keep new casinos from opening a few dozen miles away and competing with Detroit's own casinos.

"There's a real frustration among the mayor's supporters that one mistake, at least for his critics, is going to wipe out any memory of what else is going on," Berg says in a telephone interview.

Fair enough, but Kilpatrick has often seemed to be his own worst enemy.

Shortly after he was elected there were rumors in the press of a wild party at the Manoogian Mansion, the mayoral residence, that was said to have involved exotic dancers and the like. (This became particularly important several months later when one of the dancers said to be at the party, Tamara Greene, stage name Strawberry, was found shot to death.) But before that shooting, there were tales about the mayor's relationship with Beatty, and allegations that some of the mayor's bodyguards were paid for work they didn't do. A deputy police chief began to investigate and was almost immediately dismissed. He sued, claiming he was fired for investigating mayoral misconduct. Two other officers eventually filed suit on similar grounds.

The wild party was eventually dismissed as an "urban legend," according to the state attorney general, but the trial for wrongful dismissal went forward last year. Beatty took the stand on Aug. 28. When Stefani asked her repeatedly if she'd had a romantic and sexual relationship with the mayor, or if they'd fired the police officer in question, she sneered. She rolled her eyes. She said no, no and no again.

Kilpatrick took the stand the next day. The idea of an affair with Beatty was insulting, he testified: "It's absurd to assert that every woman that works with a man is a whore." He added that Beatty's husband was a close friend since childhood: "Lou Beatty grew up three houses down from me. We played on the same Little League team. . . . At 6 o'clock, he'll be coaching my sons."

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