Two years ago, when Chris Ferrell decided to run for an at-large seat on Metro Council, he mounted a stealth grass-roots campaign. Utilizing neighborhood volunteers and using some old-fashioned shoe leather, Ferrell, then 25, beat out candidates with much greater experience and wealth.

His supporters included young hikers and writers, environmentalists and animal welfare activists, not to mention older landlords who had grown weary of trying to gentrify neighborhoods without the help of the city. This curious mix of artists and activists worked the phones and nailed up signs; they ran errands and held open houses.

Now, when Ferrell has legislation to consider, he listens to these people. After all, he knows he’s going to need them again when 1999 rolls around. In the meantime, he must perform a balancing act. He must maintain his mutually supportive relationship with Mayor Phil Bredesen’s office, and he must maintain the goodwill of his progressive supporters.

On Jan. 21, when the issue on the table was the Thermal Plant, Ferrell ultimately decided to go with his constituency and voted against the mayor, even though he had given the mayor’s office some hope that he would vote their way. Instead of signing off on a multimillion-dollar band-aid plan to upgrade the city’s garbage-burning facility, Ferrell voted to defer action. Rather than deciding to keep Thermal going or get rid of it altogether, he wanted his fellow Council members to get the cost for another, more politically correct option.

But Ferrell was in the minority. Even some Council members who tend to agree with him on many issues opposed him when it came to Thermal. Ferrell even found himself voting against one of Council’s leading progressives, at-large Council member Ronnie Steine.

It was, in fact, Steine who sponsored the resolution that called for a $39 million bond issue to upgrade Thermal. Bredesen has said that “there are good people on both sides of the issue,” and opinions about Thermal have spanned the spectrum. Opponents of the plant describe it as an aesthetic and environmental nightmare on the waiting list for certain demolition; they argue that it should be replaced by a smaller, better-looking facility fueled by natural gas. On the other hand, Thermal’s proponents defend it either as a truly forward-thinking means of handling solid waste or as a necessary evil whose existence is dictated by economics.

Ultimately, Ferrell will be able to sleep at night, confident he voted his conscience. He can also rest easy, knowing that he has once again managed to disagree tactfully with Bredesen, whom he also opposed on the stadium vote. Meanwhile, Steine, who shares many supporters with Ferrell, may not rest so peacefully. Many who opposed the Thermal upgrade are saying privately that they won’t support Steine in any future political race. They’re also saying they won’t support anybody who voted with him the next time an election rolls around.

Steine’s star, they say, has fallen. Steine is hearing their message loud and clear, but he says he won’t knuckle under. He says he sticks with his best judgment, even if it upsets people.

“My belief is that virtually every decision I have to make as a Council member probably has some kind of repercussion if I ever decide to run for office again,” Steine says.

“I would hope that individuals would make decisions on the collective of someone’s record rather than on one vote. I understand that there is validity in both positions [on Thermal]. It is as complicated or difficult an issue as I have faced in the Council.”

Steine has built a solid reputation over the years, and it may seem unfair to judge him on his position on this one issue. But the reaction to his vote speaks worlds about the intense passion on both sides of the Thermal issue.

Most Nashvillians do not wake up in the morning worrying about Thermal. But those who do raise hell, no matter what side they’re on.

Steine, who wanted to stay on the short list of Bredesen’s friends in Council, felt secure in sponsoring the Thermal upgrade based on the information he had. But he also had to consider the decision’s impact on his political future. The Thermal debate may plague Steine for years to come.

But there were other kinds of politics involved in the Thermal issue. A number of people influenced the vote in favor of the upgrade, and some of those same influential people may benefit from Council’s pro-Thermal decision. Most of these people are not likely ever to run for public office. That does not mean they do not know how to play the political game.

Cliques and claques

The Council chamber was conspicuously crowded last Tuesday night—and not just in the back section reserved for everyday citizens, activists, and Metro department heads. On the floor of the Council Chamber, it was lobbyist central. Representing the mayor’s office, legislative liaison Rip Ryman was exerting some last-minute muscle. So was Bredesen’s press secretary, Shannon Hunt.

Representing the Thermal Plant itself, Ingram Group aces Jane Alvis, Beth Berry, and Joe Hall were reinforcing the efforts of the mayor’s staff in lobbying for the thermal upgrade.

But that’s not all.

Bredesen crony Byron Trauger was hard at work too. His law firm, Doramus Trauger & Ney, represents Wheel-abrator, a company that has proposed to run Thermal if the city ever privatizes it. Trauger had a direct interest in making sure that Council voted to keep Thermal pumping. As if that weren’t enough, former Bredesen chief of staff Dave Cooley, now a partner in the high-powered political and public-relations firm McNeely Pigott & Fox, was also making the rounds on behalf of Wheelabrator.

Advisory capacities

For good or ill, Metro Council relies heavily on the advice and background information provided by its top staffer, Council Director Don Jones. A worn and weary golf fanatic with a reputation for sometimes cynical slants on administration initiatives, Jones provided an unusually detailed analysis on the Thermal question.

At one point in the explanation, which ran to several pages, Jones wrote, “Staff is of the opinion that the energy production facility has been and continues to be a great asset to the Metropolitan Government in its solid waste disposal plan, as it results in less cost to Metro Government, it provides an alternative to landfilling of solid waste, and it allows Metro to maintain some control over solid waste disposal in Davidson County.”

Perhaps Jones is right. And perhaps everything he says about the economic and control issues is well-grounded. But it’s worth noting that Jones has always been, and continues to be, a Thermal booster. Jones was working for Metro when Thermal was in its heyday, and in his mind, circumstances haven’t changed enough to consider closing it.

Taking charge

Bredesen’s victory on Thermal is hardly surprising, particularly given the various parties who were working in his favor. What is a little curious, though, is his rapid decision to champion the issue. For months Bredesen had been saying that he recommended the upgrade but that the decision was really in the Council’s court.

“If we could figure out a way to stop burning trash there, I think that would be very desirable,” Bredesen told select Council members during a briefing in his conference room in November. “I’ve looked at that very seriously because I would love to do that.”

What doesn’t jibe is that, until the weekend before the Council vote on Tuesday, Jan. 21, Bredesen wasn’t adamantly opposing a deferral. In fact, Council sources confirm that, the week before the vote, the mayor said he would agree to some sort of deferral—if not the 60 days some Thermal opponents were requesting. The weekend before the vote, he changed his mind.

Critics say Bredesen’s motives for getting the deal done—and done now—was to clear his plate in anticipation of the upcoming Metro Council debates over the tax increase that will almost certainly be required to fund his next pet project—a new downtown library—and other Metro needs.

Staff members in the mayor’s office argue that they weren’t so much lobbying for the Thermal upgrade as they were pushing for a resolution of the issue one way or the other. Some Council members counter that the mayor’s push made it impossible to consider the gas-conversion option. To determine the cost of a conversion to natural gas, Council would have had to obtain a set of competitive bids. That’s why they wanted a 60-day deferral.

Meanwhile, Bredesen’s staff also argued that, if Council didn’t vote one way or the other, Metro could be fined for not meeting deadlines set by the Metro Board of Health. Dissenting Council members argued convincingly that it was lunacy to think that the Metro Board of Health would fine the city.

“It was our view that the board would not ultimately fine the city itself,” says Council member Stewart Clifton, who helped lead the deferral effort.

Bredesen and his staff deserve credit for winning a tough battle. If mainstream environmentalists and Nashville Neighborhood Alliance members are to be believed, Bredesen had to work quickly to convince several Council members to switch their votes in the hours leading up to the Council meeting.

Perhaps it’s too soon to tell how the vote will shake out politically. For its part, the Council seems to be pretty level-headed about the whole matter. Council members from both sides of the debate were seen sharing a table and a few drinks at TGIFriday’s after the meeting.

In short, it looked like politics as usual. And in the end, Bredesen got what he wanted, and we all got Thermal.