PONTIAC, Mich. - How's this for weird: John Austin badly wants to be Michigan's secretary of state. He campaigned hard for the job four years ago. He's doing the same this time, and indications are that he has some popular appeal.

Yet not a single person got the chance to cast a vote for him in either a primary or a general election in 1998 - and the same could very well happen this year.

That's because the way in which Michigan picks nominees for secretary of state and attorney general is a throwback to the era of party bosses.

These are, by the way, terribly important jobs. The attorney general is the chief law enforcement officer of the state - and you could easily make the case that for most Michiganders, the secretary of state's office is more important than the governor's.

Few citizens deal with governors very often, but virtually every adult in the state needs a driver's license or license plate. And most are registered to vote, all functions administered by the oldest department in state government.

Four years ago, Mr. Austin, a young public policy expert who moved here after working for Gov. Michael Dukakis in Massachusetts, took the unusual step of campaigning for the Democratic nomination for that job, which would have meant taking on incumbent Candice Miller. With little money and lots of energy, he beat the bushes and stirred up the grass roots statewide, earning a bit of name recognition.

Nobody else campaigned. Had there been a primary election, he might have been home free. But though there are primaries for just about everything else, down to unpaid local school board positions, candidates for secretary of state and attorney general are picked by the political parties at their state conventions in late summer.

What that means is that unless there is an incumbent, the candidate for governor mostly selects who he or she wants for those slots. Last time, that was flamboyant lawyer Geoffrey Fieger, and “he wouldn't even talk to me,” Mr. Austin remembers.

Mr. Fieger had made up his mind the ticket had to be “balanced” with an African-American candidate. Mr. Austin, knowing it was hopeless, bowed out “in the interest of diversity.” The eventual nominee, term-limited State Rep. Mary Lou Parks, behaved erratically, refused to campaign, and lost every county in the state.

But even if he was robbed, not getting the nomination in 1998 was probably a blessing for Mr. Austin. The incumbent was unbeatable. Two years later, as a consolation prize, the Democrats nominated Mr. Austin for a seat on the state board of education. He won that race easily. And now, with term limits meaning there is no incumbent secretary of state, John Austin's running harder than ever for the job.

This isn't all that easy. For one thing, his wife is a homemaker and three small children and not much money. His day job is as a policy specialist with an Ann Arbor think tank, Public Policy Associates. He makes perhaps $90,000 a year.

What he does have is a lot of experience in education, economic development, environment, and land use issues. He's been a member of the Genesee County Road Commission and a town planning commission.

Generously, he gives Ms. Miller high marks for streamlining the motor vehicle part of the secretary of state's office. What he would concentrate on is campaign and election reform. “I guess the biggest difference between me and the other candidates is that I believe we must change the political `game' to better reflect our best hopes for democracy and to make good public policy,” he says, driving the state in his Ford Taurus to talk to Democratic clubs.

Will he get that chance to take his case to the people? Frankly, probably not. This time there is another candidate: Melvin “Butch” Hollowell, a 41-year-old Detroit lawyer who was close to both Detroit Mayor Dennis Archer and former Vice President Al Gore.

Mr. Hollowell is especially close to one of the two Democratic front-runners in the governor's race, Jennifer Granholm; their families, in fact, are close social friends. Asked about the secretary of state's race, she said “Butch can have whatever he wants.”

Mr. Austin is backing U.S. Rep. David Bonior. But Mr. Bonior is running a poor third in the polls. It isn't known who the other major candidate, James Blanchard, would want for secretary of state, though he's said nice things about Mr. Hollowell.

John Austin suggests a solution. “Why not run Butch, who is a lawyer, for attorney general and me for secretary of state?” Far stranger things have happened. The odds might be against it. But there is something appealing about a 40-year-old guy taking off in the family car with his 7-year-old son in tow, asking small groups of people to help him make democracy work better.

After all, once upon a time, wasn't that how the system was supposed to work?

Footnote: Mr. Austin does have one advantage: his name. Richard Austin was Michigan secretary of state from 1971 to 1995. And John Austin's dad was Richard Austin. “But not the same one,” he says, grinning. They aren't likely to be confused. The candidate is white; Michigan's late longtime statesman was African-American.

Jack Lessenberry is The Blade's ombudsman and a member of the journalism faculty at Wayne State University in Detroit. E-mail him at OMBLADE@aol.com or call 1-888-746-8610.

First Published March 30, 2002, 3:25 p.m.