Garrigan
The table was set perfectly, and Torry Johnson cancelled dinner.
That’s the way one mournful supporter put it earlier this week when District Attorney Torry Johnson, after lots of fervent courting (including from this newspaper), abandoned the idea to run for mayor next year. Had he gone the other way, he would have represented an alternative to the troika of mediocrity—Bob Clement, Buck Dozier and Howard Gentry—who have announced their mayoral aspirations.
What made Johnson such an attractive potential candidate is the very quality that ultimately led him away from it: he’s an authentic guy. Hell, he washes his own windows on a Sunday afternoon. He’s someone who, refreshingly, isn’t all that enamored with politics, a person with enormous stature who doesn’t think twice about sitting by himself at a Rotary luncheon. He’d probably prefer hanging out with his family on the weekend, or watching football in his boxers, than the prospect of six back-to-back public appearances on a Saturday culminating with a chicken-and-rice banquet dinner—the kind of life that would be soul-killing to all but hard-core political animals. The reason he doesn’t want to run is the same reason we like him, and vice versa.
Now, all dressed up without a date for next August, much of the thinking electorate is left with little confidence that they can happily embrace any in the current field of chicken-and-rice-type candidates. They’d rather get to know someone new than face the disappointingly familiar. So, for the good of us all, may another draft effort begin. We’ll offer a couple of (unauthorized) ideas: U.S. District Judge Aleta Trauger, who’s smart as a whip (and would be crazy to leave her comfortable situation), or Nashville Alliance for Public Education director Kay Simmons, who has helped marshal enormous private resources for Metro schools.
What we need is someone of substance, an independent thinker motivated by ideas, not politics, who’s unafraid to take bold positions on matters of public import. Who knew this would be so hard to find?
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Remembering the mayor of Beaman Park
Not many could say they peed on Allium vineale (wild garlic), sniffed deer tracks and frolicked in the creeks of Beaman Park, not to mention many other Tennessee parks, as a matter of duty. But Trouble Brown could. The gentle white four-legged, who died of cancer Friday, was a ubiquitous canine ambassador at Beaman and Warner parks in particular—the beloved companion of Bob Brown, a botanist and avid hiker.
Trouble, rescued by Brown 16 years ago, was the undeniable alpha dog of Nashville parks who spent much of her time traipsing along crumpled leaves with her human. She knew the trails as well as anyone, and somehow in her mellow way managed to influence less dignified pups to behave a bit more agreeably. (For example, we never saw her poop in the middle of the trail the way, um, some dogs do.)
It would be fitting, even if it were unofficial, to mark Trouble’s passing by naming one of the Beaman creek trails after her. Trouble Way, perhaps? Maybe the Friends of Beaman Park could take it up at their next gathering. While you’re at it, think of some potential mayoral candidates too. Because Trouble pretty much describes where we’re headed.