It's rare that a state Senate primary captures the media's full attention. But in the 21st Senate District, the race between Sen. Douglas Henry — the aristocratic 84-year-old Democrat who's served the district since 1971 — and his 33-year-old challenger Jeff Yarbro has served up more angles than a cubist urinal.

There's the last-hurrah story, the lion-in-winter-vs.-spring-tiger story, the pragmatic-vs.-progressive story. There's old money vs. Nashville nouveau. Each can be read or written to symbolize the city at a crossroads, with the outcome a certain verdict on Nashville's Very Soul. And the Henry-Yarbro title match has played out in fiery missives over attack ads, in breathless blog wars, on front pages and network-affiliate TV news.

By contrast, at the South Nashville home of former Davidson County GOP press rep Lynda Hayes, a group has assembled to watch what passes for media hubbub in the campaign of District 21 GOP candidate James Chesser: a pre-recorded interview on Hope for the Cities of Hopelessness, a cable-access show hosted by Nashville Inner City Ministries executive director Lytle Thomas.

If the Henry-Yarbro contest is as much a media story as politics, for their GOP rivals it could be described as a lack of media story. In a year when the Republicans' projected good fortune has dominated coverage of the governor's race, the Republican side of the District 21 Senate election — Chesser against anaesthesiologist and pain-management doctor Steve Dickerson — has been fully overshadowed by the Democrats.

The Henry-Yarbro race has garnered daily media coverage as it has grown more expensive. Both candidates have raised more than $100,000 in donations, and Henry has loaned himself another $200,000. In comparison, Chesser has raised $37,000; Dickerson, $23,000.

To be sure, the contentious Henry-Yarbro match-up has made for hotter copy. Yarbro has taken the fairly novel (for this state) tack of questioning Henry's liberal credentials. The young attorney pointed to Henry's co-sponsorship of a constitutional amendment that would specify that abortion is not a guaranteed right in Tennessee; he also noted that Henry supported Sen. Mae Beavers' failed Tennessee Health Freedom Act — an attempt at opting out of new federal health care mandates — before later verbally opposing a similar bill proposed by Sen. Diane Black. Henry's most recent counter-attack links Yarbro's law firm, the mega-connected Bass, Berry and Sims, to lobbying efforts on behalf of BP, the consensus' Dr. Evil of the moment.

Even Dickerson acknowledges the Democratic primary race is media-sexier.

"I just find the whole process of the young fella taking on the old bull to be really interesting from a spectator's standpoint," Dickerson says during a canvassing session in West Meade. "I don't fault [the media] one bit." 

That answer illustrates the key difference between Dickerson and Chesser. In their own words, Chesser is a "traditional conservative" while Dickerson is a "libertarian, specifically a civil libertarian" who takes his fiscal policy mostly from the Tennessee Center for Policy Research, a conservative think-tank that calls out "wasteful" government spending.

On fiscal and economic policy, both Chesser and Dickerson reluctantly admit they would be willing, in light of a $1.5 billion state deficit, to vote for a budget that eliminates state jobs. Dickerson believes the solution to the state's fiscal woes is eliminating government programs he thinks are wasteful. He specifically mentions TNInvestco, the state's venture capital funding program.

Chesser too recommends resizing government, but is reluctant or unsure what programs or positions he'd vote to eliminate. He concentrates on tax reductions to encourage private sector investment and consumer spending — specifically, tax credits for high-tech businesses and eliminating the Hall income tax on stock dividends for the elderly. 

On social issues, both are in favor of expanded gun rights in theory (Dickerson is a gun owner himself, he says) but are reluctant to get behind the slew of carry rights expansions the legislature has pushed in the past few years. Both are pro-life, though Dickerson says he believes that the state must couple any restrictions on abortion with an easier, more streamlined approach to adoption, including adoptions to gay couples. 

Both say the federal government has failed states on immigration policy. Chesser believes the solution may be to propose an Arizona-type law in Tennessee. Asked whether he, as an attorney, believes that the Arizona law compels police to engage in racial profiling, he says, "I think it's too early to tell. We'll have to see how it plays out."

Dickerson, on the other hand, says he sympathizes with Arizona lawmakers but would not go so far as to recommend doing the same thing here.

Where you really see a difference between the two is demeanor. Chesser wants to appear polished, and he'd rather make a misstep than admit he's not sure what he's talking about. Asked what specific legislation he might propose, he tries a stylish, scholarly diversion.

"Henry Kissinger once said that when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail," he says. [Note: Do a quick Web search to find this is a paraphrase of a quote generally attributed to Abraham Maslow.] "I think that's the way it is sometimes with the legislature. Everything is about making new laws."

Fair enough — but isn't proposing legislation the essence of a legislator's job? And can't new legislation serve to undo "bad" or "superfluous" law? The only specific proposals he'll divulge come in a subsequent email. Except perhaps one: Chesser's proposal that federal Race to the Top Money be used for training programs in community colleges. Unfortunately, that money can only be used for K-12.

"Well, I don't really know the specifics," Chesser says.

Dickerson, on the other hand, admits up front that he doesn't know and can't answer — which he does a number of times throughout the interview. He does so when asked whether or not the state attorney general should be forced to sue the federal government if the legislature wishes it so. Or what specifically he would do to retool TennCare, after he criticizes the program as top-heavy and not mindful enough of the consumer or the physician.

Both men, however, acknowledge that they're waging a grassroots campaign the best they know how, against better-funded, well-entrenched foes.

"I was told that we had two ways of doing this. We could do a big, expensive scattershot campaign with TV ads ... or we could go straight to the people we know to be Republican voters, door to door," Dickerson says, holding up a map of target houses he intends to hit. "There's this thing called Voter Vault. We can purchase lists of these people. We can get maps, phone numbers, you know, the whole thing."

Almost more valuable, though, is the unbought, unsolicited attention of the media. Sizing up a Scene reporter like Livingston catching sight of Stanley, Dickerson immediately allows just how far below the radar he's flying.

"I've never spoken to a reporter before," he says.

Meanwhile, everyone at Hayes' house is super-psyched about Chesser's cable-access interview. He's managed to wedge in the most interesting parts of his bio: educated at Cambridge, degrees in law and nuclear physics, worked on an oil rig in Alaska, has worked extensively in China as a Christian-rock concert promoter, as a result believes Mandarin should be taught in public schools.

As the piece ends, the room erupts in applause. Hayes' mother snaps countless photos of the visiting Scene reporter, as if to enshrine the exotic creature.

"You are remarkable compared to the man I met six months ago," says media adviser Tim Skow to Chesser, drawing mild groans. Then, apparently unsatisfied, he adds, "I would throw in charter schools next time when you talk about education."

"I did," says Chesser, defensively. Any momentary awkwardness, though, gives way to cheer. Anytime media are in the room, it's a good step. Chesser begins dissecting the appearance the way a career politician might pick over his stint on Meet the Press.

"Lytle told me that I would be talking, that the best type of interview is one where the host lets you talk," he says. "We got about 30 seconds in, and he said, 'You're not saying a lot.' He was doing a lot of the talking. I didn't mind. It felt like Lytle really opened himself up to me."

"I think that's because you were opening yourself up," says Chesser's publicist, Dave Carew. "You definitely sold yourself, James."

He's confident now. But as the reporter leaves, the candidate makes one last plea for fairness in reporting and a positive emphasis on his campaign.

"It's a delicate little flame," Chesser says.

Email editor@nashvillescene.com.