Ex-NBA star finds politics can be a rough game too

The smart money is that Fargo, whose tenure is marked more by nuts and bolts than big vision, could take it all Tuesday, garnering the 50%-plus-one-vote margin needed to avoid a November runoff.

But some political observers aren't so sure.

Barbara O'Connor, director of Cal State Sacramento's Institute for the Study of Politics and the Media, believes Johnson's door-knocking campaign could turn the tide. With $1 million, he's poised to outspend Fargo 3 to 1.

His hometown devotion also might help, she said. "With Kevin, you have someone who could have gone out and lived the jet-setter life after the NBA. And he didn't."

Johnson's back story is legend around the capital city.

Born to a 16-year-old mother, KJ was raised by his white grandparents. His grandfather, George Peat, was a union sheet-metal worker who instilled in him a steely work ethic and devotion to good deeds: money for the needy, help to a stranded motorist. "His actions spoke so loud," Johnson says today.

At UC Berkeley, Johnson earned good grades and became a devout Christian.

In the NBA, he spent most of his career with the Phoenix Suns, a three-time All-Star on the court with a straight-shooter reputation off it.

Early on, Johnson made a habit of returning to his old neighborhood, bent on philanthropy. He set up a charity, St. Hope, and began mentoring Sacramento teens after school.

He also established a development company, using Magic Johnson's multi-pronged business model, and began the painstaking task of tapping government money to spur urban renewal in Oak Park.

His biggest success is the 40 Acres project, which transformed a decaying block into a home to businesses missing from the threadbare neighborhood: a bookstore, a 225-seat theater, a Starbucks.

"Kevin is the hardest-working individual I've ever met in my life," said lawyer Kevin Hiestand, a Johnson friend since junior high and, with his father, a longtime legal advisor.

Johnson retired in 2000 and moved back to Sacramento for good. Soon, he took on his most ambitious effort: assuming control of his old high school.

With test scores and spirits flagging at Sacramento High, Johnson's St. Hope in 2003 won the right to convert the campus into a charter school. His campaign brags about the results: Seven of 10 graduates go on to college.

But his efforts haven't been free of controversy.