photograph by chris mccoy
Paul Young greets well-wishers on election night.
As chance would have it, I was one of the first people Paul Young saw when he emerged to greet his supporters on the night he became Memphis’ mayor-elect. He had run a campaign unlike any other in recent memory, besting 17 candidates, at least four of whom were serious contenders.
Caught between out-of-control crime and out-of-control police, public trust in law enforcement and government plummeted. Meanwhile, MLGW’s aged power grid was bested by a winter ice storm and a series of powerful spring and summer derechos. Being literally powerless during a summer of unprecedented heat only added to a pervasive sense of paralysis and decay.
For the past two decades, Memphis has meant to shake off the malaise that settled on the city after 1968 by concentrating on the positive stories and embracing the struggle, the grit and the grind. Then, our city’s most visible hero, Grizzlies center Ja Morant, was seen flashing a gun on Instagram. In the big picture, maybe it was a small thing, but it felt like a gut punch.
The election presented a moment of possibility to some, but voter turnout was dismal. In the end, thanks to a crowded field with clear ideological divides, Young didn’t break 30 percent of the votes, but it was enough to win.
On election night, Craig Brewer, a prominent Young supporter, texted to invite me to the victory party. I live in walking distance from Minglewood Hall, the party location, and I thought, “When will you ever get a chance to see something like this again?”
I arrived just in time to see Young take the stage for his victory speech, and promptly bumped into District Attorney Steve Mulroy, who had backed his longtime ally Van Turner for mayor. While disappointed, he nonetheless said, “I think I can work with him.”
But the most important factor behind Young’s win may have been that Memphians were tired of feeling bad about themselves. Young told the story of a Memphis that can help itself get better. It was all there in his victory speech. We’re not just victims of history and economics. We have agency to affect our own future.
A decade ago, Memphians voted twice to implement ranked-choice voting, also known as instant runoffs, because they wanted a mechanism to choose the best candidate from crowded fields where none would be able to score a clear majority. Like many other home-grown initiatives, that was nixed by the Tennessee State Legislature. Still, I believe that Young would have won in an RCV scenario, because for most voters, if he wasn’t your first choice, he was your second. Young is energetic, charismatic, and a consummate hand-shaker and baby-kisser.
photograph courtesy paul young for memphis
Mayor Paul Young
But the most important factor behind Young’s win may have been that Memphians were tired of feeling bad about themselves. Young told the story of a Memphis that can help itself get better. It was all there in his victory speech. We’re not just victims of history and economics. We have agency to affect our own future.
When Young left the stage to ecstatic applause, I saw Brewer across the crowded room, and went to say hello. He was talking to Renee Parker Sekander, Young’s field director, who was all smiles. I congratulated her for successfully getting out their voters in the Poplar corridor. “Oh no, we got out the votes in all parts of town. We got them in Orange Mound and Frayser and Boxtown, too,” she said.
At that point, Mayor-elect Young emerged from a side door. The man who was so accessible on the campaign trail was now flanked by security. His expression was different, too. He seemed to stare through the increasingly jubilant crowd. I thought of the pictures I had seen of presidential candidates who had just learned they won. Most share that vaguely haunted expression, even as the room around them explodes in applause. Maybe it’s the realization that they’re about to have to transform their rhetoric into action. Maybe it’s the ultimate expression of imposter syndrome. Or maybe they’re just overwhelmed — and exhausted.
I was standing directly in the mayor-elect’s path, so I instinctively smiled and extended my hand. I typically approach politicians with a healthy skepticism. But in this moment, my cynicism melted away, and I felt a sudden urge to reassure this tired human being. He, and I, and everyone else in this city needed to believe that Young could renew Memphis.
“It’s okay, Mr. Mayor,” I said. “You’re going to do a great job.”
I’m not sure if he heard me.
