A logical man

Baker Kurrus says he’ll decide by June 1 whether to enter the race for mayor of Little Rock. A columnist wanting to avail himself of the entertaining period of speculation should act now, before Kurrus announces with honest regret that his leadership style is not the right fit for the limitations of that hybrid office.

Is that a prediction? Oh, no. It’s a mere application of logic, coming from a place well outside Kurrus’ personal contemplation, whatever that might be. Sometimes illogic can raise its glorious head, even among otherwise logical people like Kurrus.

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I was talking to a group the other day about the prospect of Kurrus’ running, which I called “Warwick Sabin’s worst nightmare,” owing to Kurrus’ heroic and martyred status in the community from his ferocious and noble work as the state-appointed Little Rock school superintendent.

It was a level of heroism made even more pronounced by the state’s haughty and ill-advised decision to dump him—a local lawyer and businessman with an uncommon work ethic, public-school commitment, command of information and ability to relate—just when he was getting going.

Speaking of logic, Kurrus had dared to tell the “school-choice” mavens of this Republican state administration that charter schools can be fine, but it would help in trying to turn around a half-dozen academically distressed Little Rock public schools if the state would stop—if but for a time—granting charter applications willy-nilly and building a competing school district right next to, and draining resources from, the district the state had assigned him to try to save.

Anyway, I told the group of a single extended anecdote that demonstrated Kurrus’ leadership style.

While acting superintendent, he invited me to meet him at 7 a.m. at Baseline Elementary, which he already was turning around. I got there about the time the first bus arrived to unload mostly Hispanic and Latino children. Moments later, Kurrus came from across the way, through the field of youngsters, smiling, slapping hands, saying “hola” and stopping to embrace this kid and that, one of whom hugged his leg. Then, reaching me, he told me a couple of touching stories about specific children.

We met the principal, Jonathan Crossley, a former teacher of the year whom Kurrus had given carte blanche to assemble an all-star faculty, which we then watched work as we toured the classrooms. Then Kurrus was showing me the modern library, at which point he saw a woman, a member of the state-dissolved local school board, who was waiting to read to a class. As it happened, she had sent out an email blast the day before warning people that Kurrus was getting ready to close certain schools that she identified.

Kurrus had lost sleep over it.

He marched toward the woman to give her what-for—because, while school closings were inevitable, he had made no decisions or recommendations. He said the process couldn’t work if people pre-emptively put out divisive falsehoods. He was of a sufficiently combative nature that the woman advised him to calm down because there were children around trying to learn.

I was rendered mildly uncomfortable, even as I knew I was witnessing a richly revealing moment that I’d be able to use in my work—this being the third time.

Compassion, passion, high energy, empathy, competence, boldness— they’re all there in Kurrus and in that anecdote. Also there is an ill-advised temper in the face of detraction, which a mayor gets and can’t always address because Little Rock insists on having a mayor who is burdened with full public responsibility while given a relatively modest share of power to meet that responsibility.

After my presentation about Kurrus to the group, a man told me he knew Kurrus better than I did—and was a longtime friend of his—and could offer two observations: Kurrus was pretty much the smartest man he’d ever known, but his problem will be “keeping his ego in check.”

The state replaced Kurrus as superintendent with a good man named Michael Poore, who would lead this school district out of the wilderness if the resentful community would follow. As he prepared to take the job, Poore told me he was intending to offer Kurrus a job as basically his co-equal overseeing operations.

The men met. It didn’t go well. The two-man team Poore was proposing just seemed to Kurrus to be … well, illogical.

So, I’m thinking about those times I’ve gone into the neighborhood coffee shop and encountered Mayor Mark Stodola meeting with City Manager Bruce Moore, the latter of whom has more operational power in the hybrid two-headed system. They meet monthly to compare notes. I’m trying to substitute Kurrus for Stodola in that picture, and I’m running again into illogic.

One other thing: As soon as Kurrus states a position as a mayoral candidate on the I-30 widening project, he’ll lose heroic status with one side or the other.