Sandusky, Michigan's Mayor Lukshaitis becomes unlikely career politician

Written by: Lindsey Romain
Edited by: Maggie Reed

Tom Lukshaitis (pictured left courtesy of www.sc4.edu) doesn’t strike a very intimidating presence. Clocking in at barely five feet, he seems an unlikely mayor. With an olive green, striped polo standing in for a suit and tie, shorts instead of slacks, a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses on his nose, he gives the impression of a gentle uncle or an old family friend.

“People think I wear these to be cool,” he says, acknowledging the odd-colored frames. “Truth is, I’m about as dyslexic as they come. These are supposed to slow my eyeballs down.”

He’s personable, stocky, a little too loud and a little, as he says, “too Polish.” There are times he laughs himself hoarse at his own jokes, and when I inform him that he’s an image of respect in the town of Sandusky, Mich., where he’s been mayor since 2005, he kindly thanks me, but his sarcasm gives way to embarrassment.

Perhaps this pride is the reason he didn’t have a citywide campaign, didn’t knock on any doors, and didn’t even expect his candidacy until two days before the election.

“I was a write-in candidate,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting a thing.”

Did that make the victory a pleasant surprise? “Oh yeah. Not only did I beat the two other write-ins, but I also beat the 34 mis-spellings of my last name.”

His position as mayor may not have been planned, but Lukshaitis is quick to point out it wasn’t exactly an accident either.

“When I heard there was no one running, I knew I wanted to try,” he says, then pauses and adds, “if only for the bragging rights.”

The first thing you pick up on when talking to Lukshaitis is his smart-as-a-whip sensibility. His self-professed “no bullshit” attitude is no doubt what’s made him a topic of praise and controversy in Sandusky, the county seat of Sanilac County.

Sandusky, a conservative, Republican city (the Michigan Republican Party shows a majority of Republican victories for Sanilac County in congressional and local elections over the past eight years) seems an odd conquest for Lukshaitis, who doesn’t name his political affiliation, but speaks highly of President Barack Obama, saying, “Do I believe he’ll do the things he says he will? Absolutely.”

Lukshaitis admits to appreciating the sense of power that comes from being a politician, likening the feeling to winning the lottery.

So what made him decide to run for mayor? Ginny Bisset, a secretary at the school he taught at encouraged him to register for a write-in mayor position.

“The ballots were just blank,” recalls Bisset of the 2005 election. “Jim Nolan, the mayor at that time, had just retired. No one wanted to fill his shoes. But I thought ‘if one guy should do this, it’s Tom.’”

“I needed a new page in my life,” he says. His kids were in college, and his wife had passed away in 2001. “I had some familiarity with politics. I used to attend city council meetings when I was a kid, and I was elected president of the teacher’s union when I’d first gotten into education.”

But it wasn’t just a political flair that attracted him.

“I knew this town by now. I knew the schools, I knew the families, I knew the people.”

After winning the election, he was met with an influx of excitement and happiness. “All seemed well,” he recalls. His daughter was off at Western Michigan University, and his son was teaching in Wyoming. The city of Sandusky was in a good place. He was mayor of the town he’d grown to love and spokesperson for the people he had come to admire.

Lukshaitis’ first challenge as a mayor was dealing with the pull-out of Swedish manufacturing giant Trelleborg, who threatened to shut down their plant in Sandusky. Trelleborg, whose plant employs more residents of Sandusky than any other institution, was the bubbling vessel of hope in the looming economic crisis. Though the company ended up keeping the plant open, it refused to build another, despite showing previous interest.

“The only reason they didn’t shut down the other plant was because Sandusky is their most profitable plant in the Americas. And do you want to know why?” Lukshaitis asks. “Work ethic. Our guys show up to work, they make their money, they do their jobs.”

It was the loss of the potential Trelleborg plant that aided in Sandusky’s current state of dissolve. According to the U.S. Census Bureau’s U.S. Census Bureau’s predictions, Sandusky’s population was 2,645 in 2007, a 3.64 percent decrease from 2000. The loss of students from the public schools has triggered new budget issues. Several teachers are on strike, and all face unemployment as the school continues to lay off positions.

Lukshaitis isn’t quiet about the ordeals with the school and city population, a fact the people close to him are quick to point out.

“My dad is good about separating home from work,” says Margie Lukshaitis, daughter of the mayor, “but if there’s one thing I’ve picked up on, it’s that he wants so desperately for people to have jobs. He watches people moving away, sees the schools losing students. I know it kills him.”

His unorthodox approach to attracting more people to the city: “I think we should build a huge casino. The people on the city council think I’m crazy for that.”

“He’s not quiet about wanting to try new things,” says Bisset, who also serves as councilwoman on the city council with Lukshaitis twice a month. “It gets him into a little bit of trouble.”

“I’m not the mayor walking around at the parades, shaking the kids’ hands,” Lukshaitis professes. “I’m the guy rallying on the sidelines for what I think is right. And it scares people sometimes. It should. But I won’t admit defeat."

When asked about the disadvantages of being mayor, he is quick to answer.

“I get the 11 o’clock phone calls from the town drunks telling me how to improve the city,” he says with a sigh, “or the couples asking me to marry them on the courthouse lawn.

“But really,” he says, his sarcasm fading, “the worst thing is being second-guessed. I’m bombarded with the sense of trying to do my best in such a lousy time. Our town is dying. I drive through the streets and see empty houses, bad roads. I hate raising water rates, but I have to raise water rates. People hate that, and people hate me for doing that, but it’s what has to be done.”

“My dad’s just trying to do the best he can for that town,” says Margie. “He has high hopes, but he’s practical. He takes into account what the people around him are saying. He isn’t cheating anyone. He’s smarter than most people I know, and what’s more, he has common sense.”

“What’s helped me remain successful and self-confident is that I’ve always showed up,” Lukshaitis says, the strength of his voice flaring. “Just like those workers at Trelleborg show up. And I’m honest. I’ve been interviewed enough to know that that blunt honesty isn’t what people always want to hear. It’s the worst, and best, of me.”

It is a policy that is working for him. Lukshaitis was re-elected as Mayor of Sandusky in 2007.
“That either means I’m doing something right,” he says, “or it shows you how much people really care.”