Rebel Mayors No More

Kwame Kilpatrick, Detroit's "hip-hop mayor," said yesterday that he'll stop wearing the diamond earring that has been his trademark for the past four years. It may be cool to be hip. But hip might not be electable.

kwame-kilpatrick-1.jpg It used to be that the bling worked to Kilpatrick's advantage. Back when he was an up-and-coming 31-year old mayor, the gleaming rock in his lobe gave him credibility with many constituents in his predominantly-African American city. With his smart suits and French cuffs embroidered with the word "mayor," Kilpatrick dressed the part of the dapper rappers whom he went out of his way to mention he admired. When Ebony glowed about Kilpatrick in 2002, his diamond stud made the headline and the lead.

Now, with the mayor facing a tough re-election battle, he talks about the earring as a liability. "That little insignificant thing in my ear gave off a bad spirit of rebellion," Kilpatrick told the Detroit Free Press. "And it overshadowed the fact that I have a law degree, that I was leader of the [state] House, that I've written policy, that I'm great at appropriations and grant programs, that I'm able to do things like put together the best emergency operations plan in the country."

The earring, of course, isn't Kilpatrick's real political problem. His problem, among other things, is that he didn't know when to stop using his city-issue credit card. Still, as the Free Press notes, the earring was seen as not winning him many fans among women aged 40 to 55.

Kilpatrick isn't the only mayor who's been weighing the relative value of coolness. For years, Baltimore Mayor Martin O' Malley has been milking his Celtic rock band for all the imagery of youth and energy he could get out of it. Back in March, though, while laying the groundwork for his gubernatorial run in Maryland, he called it quits. Mayors of big cities, he calculated, can get away with hanging around in bars and rock clubs late at night. But is that fit for a governor? Rural and suburban voters might wonder why he's not at home with the wife and kids.

O' Malley's instinct was probably right. One potential challenger from the suburbs is ridiculing him with a flier showing the mayor on stage, decked in sunglasses and a sleeveless shirt. O' Malley, the flier reads, was "strumming the night away as his crime-plagued city lost another life to violence."

Tonight, the debate over whether O' Malley looks hunky or silly as a rock star may resume. His band is reuniting for a Hurricane Katrina benefit.