Vote Luther Campbell for mayor

Nassie Shahoulian, AKA Notorious Nastie, the quintessential Renaissance man of Miami's hipster scene, is MCing the second annual Miami New Times Brew at the Zoo, where a 4,000-plus horde of beer-swilling Dionysian degenerates is sampling a potent variety of ales, pilsners, lagers, and stouts. There is even a Four Loko stand.

Michael McElroy

Campbell and Miss Miami New Times Caroline Schwitzky talk about reforming Miami-Dade County government.

Michael McElroy

Luke hobnobs with potential voters at Brew at the Zoo.

Details

Read "Will the real Julio Robaina please stand up?" "How Luther Campbell Will Win," and "Luke's Miami pop quiz."

Related Content

• Cam Newton Could Become the Black QB Role Model That Michael Vick Never Had
  January 3, 2012
• Happy Birthday, Uncle Luke! The Funniest and Filthiest Moments From Luther Campbell's 2011
  December 29, 2011
• In 2011, Luther Campbell ran for mayor, sued Nevin Shapiro, and called out rappers
  December 29, 2011
• Tim Tebow should quit now
  January 19, 2012
• FAMU Is Not Penn State: Hazing Should Not Kill A Storied Program
  December 6, 2011

More About

• Tio Luke
• Luther Campbell
• Ke Fuerte
• Politics
• Local Politics

Like this Story?

Sign up for the Weekly Newsletter: Our weekly feature stories, movie reviews, calendar picks and more - minus the newsprint and sent directly to your inbox.

Privacy Policy Cancel Continue

The promoter/actor/hot dog maker is wearing a toga to augment the Delta Tau Chi Animal House vibe he has brought to the celebration. As the booty track "Shake What Yo Momma Gave Ya" plays in the background, Nastie's raspy voice booms through the microphone:

"I have had many dreams in my life, and all of those dreams have come true tonight... We have a very, very, very, special surprise guest for you, my dear friend and yours, the one and only Uncle Luke!"

A couple hundred revelers cheer madly as Luther Campbell makes his way to the front of the stage. Dressed in a white linen short-sleeved shirt, white cargo shorts, and dark brown boots, he comes out chanting, "Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Nastie, pumping his fists furiously in the air, interjects with his own "Toga! Toga! Toga!" Campbell joins in. "Toga! Toga!"

But the crowd comes up with an even better one: "Luke for mayor! Luke for mayor! Luke for mayor! Luke for mayor!"

That was the scene April 30, two months after New Times decided to back Campbell for Miami-Dade County mayor. Our "Luke's Gospel" columnist is one of 11 candidates on the May 24 ballot. As the only staff writer with more than a decade of experience covering Miami-Dade politics, I was charged with assisting Uncle Luke in his first run for elected office.

Watching the crowd chant his name sent a jolt of bona fide Obama hope up my spine. I threw conventional wisdom out the window, believing that the onetime raunchiest entertainer in hip-hop — the guy who came up with the memorable lyrics "face down, ass up" — could actually win a countywide special election. And why not? County government is a freak show, so might as well get the freakiest ringmaster the community has ever known to run the circus.

Videos of Luther Campbell on the campaign trail:

Wednesday, January 26, 3:46 p.m.: The editor of Miami New Times, one of those old-school shoe-leather journalists who was part of a Miami Herald Pulitzer Prize-winning team in the '90s, is cooking up a tongue-in-cheek idea for a cover story. The boss man calls me and the managing editor into his office. "Let's run Luther Campbell for county mayor and write about it," he gleefully asserts. "There's no chance he'd win, but this would be great publicity for the paper and for Luke's column."

He assigns me the task of running and chronicling the campaign. Great, more work, I think to myself. The managing editor, who cut his journalistic teeth covering public housing for the Chicago Tribune in the '80s, immediately senses a problem. "Wait a minute," he says. "We're gonna have our own reporter cover a political campaign he's running? We can't do that."

The editor-in-chief is unfazed: "Relax! No African-American has ever won countywide office in Miami-Dade. We'll use it to spoof the political process!" The managing editor is unconvinced. He was in Chicago in 1983 when Harold Washington stunned the city's political establishment by winning the mayor's seat. "I was the only reporter to cover Washington's first press conference," the second-in-command affirms. "No one took him seriously. Then the two Irish candidates split the vote, all the black folks turned out, and he won."

The chief notes that our sister newspaper in 2003 ran the late child star Gary Coleman for California governor as a joke. "C'mon, this is gonna be a good show," the editor says. Little did we know that Luke was deadly serious or, as he would tell WLRN radio, "serious as a heart attack." He would make that his campaign slogan.

Wednesday, February 2, 11 a.m.: Campbell calls me at the New Times office. "Hey, man, I just heard on Hot 105 that y'all are having a press conference with me to make an announcement." He is clearly not happy. "Hell, nah. I'm not gonna look like a joke. This is my life we're talking about, brah!"

"But you're the one who wants to run for mayor," I reply.

"I don't want to do it until everything is in place," Campbell counters. "I'm not going in there to be the joke, brah. I'm not doing it."

He abruptly hangs up.

I call him back ten times. I kept getting his voicemail. Frustrated, this ink-stained wretch wonders how in hell he became the de facto campaign manager. I'm no Karl Rove, that's for sure. Now I have to contact every assignment editor and political reporter in town to cancel a 2 p.m. meetup at New Times HQ. FML.

Meanwhile, the press conference's mastermind, my editor, sulks in his office. "See, I knew he was gonna bail on us," he grouses. "C'mon, Luke. Goddammit! We're supposed to make fun of the political process!"

The managing editor, who spends his free time writing macabre short fiction stories featuring hobos, hermaphrodites, and exiled Cuban spies, walks over to my desk. "What are you gonna do now?" he asks. "Do we still have a story?"