Leading By Example

Grassroots leaders like teenage mayor Michael Sessions are making their communities better

In small towns across America, citizens of all ages have always put their ideas—and ideals—into action, answering the call to lead and making their communities better places to live, work and raise families. Here are just a few of the inspiring small-town leaders we found who weren't afraid to step up and say, "There's a job to be done, and I'm willing to do it."

Michael Sessions, teenage mayor

When the afternoon bell rings, lots of high school students head to after-school jobs. Almost none of them, however, has a job like Michael Sessions, who puts his textbooks aside to pore over police reports and minutes from last night's city council meeting.

Last November, Sessions, 18, was elected mayor of Hillsdale, Mich. (pop. 8,233), in one of the slimmest margins of any election in the city's history. He defeated incumbent Doug Ingles, 51, by just two votes.

"I've always been interested in politics," says Sessions, who's been hooked ever since touring Michigan's state Capitol in the fourth grade.

Sessions joins at least two other newly elected 18-year-old mayors, Sam Juhl of Roland, Iowa (pop. 1,324), and Christopher Seeley of Linesville, Pa. (pop. 1,155), who also took office last November. Rarely have any year's local elections yielded as many as three mayors who must split their time between city hall and study hall, according to Sherry Conway Appel, director of media relations for the National League of Cities, and she thinks it's a good thing. "It's absolutely imperative that we have young people excited and involved for the future of our country," says Appel, "because they are the future of our country."

Sessions, who is completing his senior year at Hillsdale High School and still lives at home with his mom, Lorri, 42, and dad, Scott, 47, ran on a platform of revitalizing the local economy. Hillsdale, a working-class town about two hours southwest of Detroit, has seen a decline of manufacturing jobs, a fact that hit Sessions particularly close to home. His father lost his job in 2003 when the auto plant where he worked relocated to Mexico.

"He thought he could do something to try to help Hillsdale get out of its economic slump," says Scott, who now works as a medical assistant. "That's why he ran."

As soon as his school day ends at 2:30 p.m., Sessions heads to his mayoral workspace—the family room of his home—to check messages and see what's on the agenda for the afternoon. Like a lot of smaller towns, Hillsdale does not provide an office for its mayor. The job pays $250 a month.

A typical afternoon includes attending meetings of the planning commission or the public safety committee, or returning phone calls from citizens with questions or complaints about barking dogs, garbage pickup or a malfunctioning traffic signal. Sessions' other mayoral responsibilities include authorizing city expenditures, running city council meetings and appointing individuals to serve in certain civic positions.

Improving communication between government agencies, especially police and fire departments, is one of his priorities. He also wants citizens to take renewed pride in their city, and to spur the community to attract new employers and retain existing jobs.

"Here in Hillsdale, we haven't had a vision for our future," Sessions says. "I wanted to try to do something about that."

Ironically, political defeat is what spurred Sessions' interest in government. Last May, he lost a bid to become vice president of his high school's student council.

"It made me work harder," says Sessions, who launched his mayoral campaign with $700 earned last summer selling concessions at area fairs and festivals. Using a traditional door-to-door approach and buoyed by an endorsement from city firefighters, Sessions impressed voters with his youthful optimism and gung-ho energy.

"He campaigned like a seasoned pro," says Peter Beck, Hillsdale High School's assistant principal. "He knocked on every door in the city. Nobody's ever done that before. He's fearless. He doesn't understand the word 'no'."

To balance his schoolwork and mayoral duties, some things had to give. Sessions resigned as manager of the wrestling team and dropped his spot as a sprinter on the Hillsdale track team. He also has to maintain the reputation and responsibilities of an elected official.

"I've got to watch what I do," says Sessions, whose friends refer to him as Mayor Mike. "I have to be mature."

He plans to attend a nearby college this fall to study political science while completing his four-year term as mayor—which, he says, is the ultimate internship.

"That's what I like the most," he says. "It's more than I can ever get in a classroom."

Sessions hopes to inspire other young people to participate civically, even if it's only exercising their right to vote. "I hope I am a role model for kids to get involved—anybody under the age of 25. I know it always discourages me when I'm talking to a hometown buddy from college who says, 'I wish I could have voted for you, Mike, but I never registered.'

"We fought the American Revolution for one reason: to vote," he says.

Sessions also understands all too well that, in a close election, every vote counts—like the two that made him mayor of Hillsdale.

Stepping Up to the Job

Here are six other small-town leaders, nominated by their fellow citizens for recognition in American Profile.

Major contributor

John Saraga dropped out of high school at age 17 to join the U.S. Marine Corps. He earned his diploma and a bachelor's degree while serving his country and rose through the ranks to retire as a highly decorated major in 1994. It's no doubt military training helped make Saraga an effective leader during his two terms (1997-2005) as mayor of Xenia, Ohio (pop. 24,164). From improving schools and city services to encouraging business development, Saraga attacked Xenia's problems aggressively. When a tornado devastated the town in 2000, he went into battle mode and had the damage cleaned up in two weeks. (FEMA later used his disaster response plan as a model following the 9/11 terrorist attacks in 2001.) Today, Saraga, 50, continues to expand his horizons, training to be a financial adviser. He and his wife of nine years, Donna, have a 2-year-old son—presenting him with yet another welcome challenge. "I've got to figure out how to get him through college," he says with a smile.

More than one of the "guys"

"Some might say I'm doing a guy's job," says Debbie Preston, supervisor of Conklin, N.Y. (pop. 5,940). "But everything I've done in my life has been a guy's job." Well, not everything. Preston, 51, who sells big-rig trucks for a living, also is a wife and the mother to a 27-year-old daughter. In 1995, she accepted a position on the Conklin City Council, and five years later was elected town supervisor. Under her leadership, the town restructured its water and sewer department, completed its master plan, enhanced the infrastructure, brought its budget into the black and is now building a senior center. But some might say Preston's toughest job was getting Conklin through two natural disasters and leading by example in the aftermath of Hurricane Ivan in September 2004 and another devastating storm seven months later. During one major flood, she spent an entire night standing guard at the entrance onto a washed-out bridge, alerting unsuspecting drivers of the danger. "I'm hands on," she says, "and not afraid to get in the water to help people."

Senior mayor

"I've always had a problem saying no," says Crawford "Joe" Wyatt, mayor of Mountain View, Ark. (pop. 2,876). And the town's residents couldn't be more grateful. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II, Wyatt operated a pharmacy in Mountain View for 30 years before retiring. But it wasn't long before he was urged to run for mayor in 1990. Today, at 81, he's Arkansas' oldest sitting mayor, and has made a plethora of contributions during his three terms—creating police and sanitation departments, a water treatment plant, paving the streets and improving city parks. "It's not the retirement I envisioned," Wyatt says with a laugh. He and his wife of 59 years, Maxine, have a son, Kenny, who's an optometrist in town. Some would say Wyatt's greatest accomplishment occurred last year when he performed CPR on a heart attack victim and sprinted several hundred yards to summon assistance. "He's doing fine," reports Wyatt of the man whose life he helped save. "In fact, he was just in my office this morning."

Renaissance man

Doctor. Councilman. Veteran. Actor. Pilot. Some might call Carlton Cook a modern-day Renaissance man. The citizens of Tecumseh, Mich. (pop. 8,574), are happy just to call him their friend. After serving in the Army Air Corps, Cook graduated from medical school at the University of Michigan and moved to Tecumseh to set up a private practice in the early 1950s. "I practiced hard for 38 years," he says, "then came in one day a week for another 12." During that time, Cook also served on Tecumseh's city council for nearly 20 years, raised money with the Kiwanis Club for another 20, performed in some 40 local plays, sang in a barbershop quartet and piloted his private plane around the nation with Lynn, his wife of 55 years. Looking back, Cook readily calls his six children his greatest achievements. "None are in jail," he says with a laugh. "Two are doctors, three trained as nurses and another's a flight attendant."

Dynamic minister

Since Don Stribling became minister of the First Presbyterian Church in Lamesa, Texas (pop. 9,952), in 1997, he's been a one-man dynamo of community activism. He is the director of the Lamesa Area Chamber of Commerce and serves on the boards of the Northridge Retirement Center, the Lamesa Community Players theater troupe and the local Boys and Girls Clubs. Stribling, 48, also served as director for the local United Fund, played a role in building a new hospital, developed a program to renovate low-income housing and saved the local theater from bankruptcy by heading a volunteer drive to refurbish and operate it. Although his father was a minister, young Stribling was initially more interested in politics. He earned his college degree and worked as an aide in the state Legislature before making a bid for the Democratic nomination for Congress in 1986. He lost the nomination, but was offered a job the next day as youth director for a church in Amarillo. "That's when it hit me that the ministry was what I wanted to do," he says.

Giving back

As a scoutmaster, president of the local Lion's Club, arts supporter and member of the Thomaston-Upson Board of Education and PTA, Ed Bell always has been involved in Thomaston, Ga. (pop. 9,411). After retiring as an insurance agency director in 1995, he took his community involvement to the next level and was elected to the city council. "People encouraged me to run," says Bell, 76, now serving his ninth year on the council. "It's my way of giving something back." Following service in the Navy, he graduated from Georgia State University with a business degree and moved to Thomaston in 1958. "My greatest challenge was coming to a strange town and building a business," he says. He confronted a more personal challenge in 1996 when he was diagnosed with cancer. "I got a clean bill of health nine years ago," he says proudly. Bell also is proud of his three children, six grandchildren and his wife of 49 years, Pat.

Doug Goodnough is a writer in Pittsford, Mich.

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