Pick One!

Nice try: Glazer's Web site, www.stanglazer.com, lists the phone number for his campaign headquarters as 753-MAYOR. It probably doesn't hurt to dial an extra digit, but for the record, the number is really 753-MAYO.

Should be embarrassed about: As of 40 days before the primary, Glazer's campaign had just $861 cash on hand.

Hair: "It's not a toupee," Glazer says. Rather, it's a small hairpiece on his forehead, covering the scar from an injury during his military training. To prove it, he bends down to show off the top of his head, where the hair is clearly real.

Strengths: Glazer would be an energetic, enthusiastic salesman for the city.

Weaknesses: His cat, Princess; the ladies

Rolls in: A Chrysler 300C SRT8

Looks like: Cesar Romero

Jim Glover
One-line bio: A three-term city councilman, Glover is an urban pioneer who brought hardware and bulk toilet paper to midtown.

Campaign guru: His kitchen cabinet includes Democratic strategist Michele Lahr (John Kerry), consultant and former TIF Commission chairman Bob Mayer, and retired Star reporter and editor Jim Fitzpatrick.

Base of support: Costco members

Rich and powerful donors: Developers Brad Nicholson ($2,500, counting his spouse's contribution) and Terry Peteete ($3,000)

What he has that others lack: Glover has been endorsed by the influential Citizens Association.

First real job: Glover was an economist and transportation planner with the Mid-America Regional Council. He left MARC in 1974, after the City Council decided not to pursue light rail. "It drove me to law school and politics," he says.

Ich bin ein Northlander: Glover likes to say that he lived north of the river when he was an assistant Clay County prosecutor.

Ich bin ein East Sider: Glover likes to say that he lives only a block from Troost.

Dork factor: In his first stint on the City Council, Glover and some colleagues worked late in order to find an extra $10 million for neighborhoods. He later called the session "a magical night."

Proud moment: The Glover plan used tax-increment financing (TIF) to build the Costco and Home Depot at Linwood and Main and the Westport Sunfresh. The plan has also provided money for housing.

Should be embarrassed about: The Linwood and Main portion of the Glover plan sat empty for years. His original vision called for a Kmart and a Payless Cashways (yawn). Groups such as the Urban Society complain about the Costco-Home Depot development's remorselessly suburban character. The idea is 15 years old, prompting questions about what he's done for the city lately.

Delusion: At a candidate forum in December, Glover said the city ought to be able to redevelop Bannister Mall into "a masterpiece."

Sign of cautiousness: Glover married for the first time at age 50. (The Rev. Emanuel Cleaver presided at the 2002 ceremony.)

Marked characteristics: He's perpetually hoarse and boring.

Looks like: The Simpsons' Milhouse

Henry Klein
One-line bio: Klein, a former sales executive for printing supply company R.R. Donnelley, emphasizes his résumé and experience in business and volunteer work as evidence that he doesn't need political experience to be mayor.

Base of support: He says he'll get votes from people who don't want their mayor "coming from City Hall."

Campaign guru: Sean Spence, a campaign manager from Columbus, Ohio, who ran Susan Montee's successful campaign for Missouri state auditor last year

Rich and powerful donor: Himself. Klein says he's contributing $150,000 of his own money to his campaign.

Somewhat revealing personal detail: He is engaged to his girlfriend of nine years, legal assistant Betsy Spears.

Why he's running: Spears says Klein has been thinking about running for mayor and honing his campaign issues for years. And when he filed, back in March 2006, no one figured the field would be this crowded.

Center of gravity: Brookside. Klein owns a home seven blocks south of Loose Park and hangs at the Plaza Library.

Questionable campaign strategy: He has made education one of his top campaign issues, but the mayor has no jurisdiction over schools.

Should be embarrassed about: His campaign announcement ran in the Briefs column of the Star, under five crime items with headlines such as "Suspected meth lab" and "83-year-old assaulted."

Shocker: Klein was an unknown with no political experience but has been impressive in public forums and appears to be a contender.

Smart move: In October, Klein released a TV ad depicting a crowd of "candidates" fighting for the final seat in a game of musical chairs. He was the first to hit TV, a ploy that may have helped his early surge.

Dork factor: Early on, Klein proposed a major initiative to (drum roll, please) build a WiFi system that would broadcast the Internet across the city.

Hobby: He swims at the Jewish Community Center of Greater Kansas City, trades stocks on the Internet and has four cats that, he says, "I could tell you all kinds of interesting stories about."

Delusion: When asked what celebrity he thought Klein resembled, Spence said, "In the right light, Henry looks exactly like Brad Pitt. I'm serious."

Actually looks like: Greg Kinnear

Becky Nace
One-line bio: Despite her two terms on the City Council, Nace is positioning herself as the anti-City Hall City Hall candidate.