Ellington

The late-model black Jeep Cherokee pulls into the parking lot of Central Mississippi Medical Center in Southwest Jackson. It is covered with green cardboard signs that read, "Who is Clinton B. LeSueur?" and the license-plate frame announces that the vehicle's owner is a Rust College alumnus. An emblem on the bumper shows membership in a Masonic organization. A tall, thin, immaculately dressed African-American man steps out of the Jeep. He is Clinton B. LeSueur and, like his campaign signs suggest, many people in the Second Congressional District wonder who he is.

One of 15 children—11 boys, four girls and three sets of twins—LeSueur, 33, is a minister's son from Holly Springs. After earning a degree in print journalism from Rust College, he went to work for the Washington Afro-American, a newspaper in Washington, D.C. He subsequently worked for USA Today, TV Technology and as a legislative analyst for the District of Columbia. LeSueur earned a master's degree in political science at American University. He says he has come home to run for Congress because he believes he can help the people of the Second District of Mississippi.

Described by his opponent, Democratic incumbent Rep. Bennie Thompson, as "a ghost" and a Republican "import from Baltimore," LeSueur knows his constituents need to discover him before they will vote for him. After winning a special election in 1993, Thompson has been re-elected five times and, in 2000, held off three opponents with 65 percent of the vote. When asked what he thinks his chances are against a well-financed and popular incumbent, LeSueur bristles.

"That's a stupid question. I know there are not supposed to be any stupid questions, but that is a really stupid question." Calming down, LeSueur continues, "Why would I do all of this if I thought I was going to lose? I am going to win. I fully expect to win. 100 percent."

By now, we are in the hospital corridor. It's "Meet the Candidates" day. Several candidates for Hinds County district judge are handing out literature. The smell of fried chicken filters from the cafeteria where employees are waiting for food.

"Hello, sir," LeSueur says to the first person in line. "My name is Clinton LeSueur, and I hope you'll give me a chance on Nov. 5." He hands a brochure to the man, and his assistant places a green LeSueur sticker on the man's shirt.

Moving to the next person, "Hi, ma'am. My name is Clinton B. LeSueur. I won't let you down." Some people are interested and take the brochure, but most of the employees show indifference. Several tell him that they live in Rankin County, which is the Third Congressional District. LeSueur tells one, "Well, tell your friends in Hinds to vote for me, and you make sure you vote for Chip (Pickering)."

Loyalty may be a one-way street for LeSueur. President Bush came to Madison and raised a tremendous amount of money for Pickering, the Republican candidate in the Third District, but the LeSueur campaign has received only $5,000 from the national party. A photograph with Bush appears to be the sole tangible benefit LeSueur received from the president's visit.

LeSueur says that he came back to the Second District because "the man that has the job now is not doing the job." According to LeSueur, Mississippi's Second District gets more federal money per capita than any of the 435 congressional districts. Yet, it is the third poorest. "What have we gotten in the Delta in the last nine years?" he asks rhetorically. "Prisons. And prisons are full of young black men. So all we have in the Delta for jobs is black people guarding black people. I believe we can do better than that."

To get his message to his potential voters, LeSueur has an exhausting campaign schedule. After the hospital, he will attend, in little over 24 hours, a meeting of 100 Black Men, the Hinds County Community College homecoming, a festival in Vicksburg, Valley State's homecoming, a hayride in Glen Allan, and a dinner in Indianola. His faith, he says, is what sustains him through this campaign.

"This is my ministry," he says, pointing a finger for emphasis. "My faith is why I'm doing this. My parents taught me to prioritize my life in this order: religion, education, hard work and perseverance. The first bill I plan to introduce…" He stops himself and says with emphasis, "No, the first bill I will introduce will be a bill to allow prayer in public schools."

As he continues through the litany of moral issues he feels are important—character-based education, opposition to abortion, family values—LeSueur begins to develop the tempo of a sermon one might hear in his father's church.

While most political observers agree that Thompson's seat is safe, LeSueur believes they are wrong. And he will convince anyone who listens long enough of one thing–he really does believe he is going to win.