What a night. Time was, way back in the 20th century, that being mayor of Seattle was the urban equivalent of a safe congressional seat. Through the 1980s and ’90s, Charley Royer and Norm Rice swept to reelection over token opponents while jockeying unsuccessfully to move up to Congress or the cabinet. Critics grumbled about their supposed indecision and ineffectuality (the “Mayor Nice” rap), but with smug affection; Seattle was a city so blessed and harmonious it didn’t need strong leaders or care too much who led it, as long as he didn’t harsh our mellow.

Now, for the second time in eight years, the voters have (pending late votes and any recount) thrown out an incumbent mayor in the primary. No one would accuse Greg Nickels of being indecisive or ineffectual. So why is he trailing in a close three-way split behind two political newbies—one of whom, Joe Mallahan, is a newcomer to public life of any sort?

Style counts. Or, as Molly Ivins would say, Elvis lives. Nickels’ stiff collars, stiffer posture, and sourpuss expression (his jaw seemed to set harder and his jowls drop farther each year) conveyed an aloofness that alienated casual voters more than any deeds or policies: “Arrogant” was the standard, if unfair, rap. Mike McGinn vastly outscored him in the “guy you could have a beer with” sweepstakes. On those occasions when McGinn wears a tie, he looks like he just borrowed it and can’t wait to get out of it. Mallahan also rolled up his sleeves and came off as a genial Irishman.

The Elvis rule held across other races. Susan Hutchison had two decades on TV to hone her cozy charm. It might seem oxymoronic to mention Elvis and the nerdy Dow Constantine in the same breath—until you compare Constantine to Larry Phillips or Fred Jarrett, who lagged far behind for county exec. And Constantine earned Elvis cred as a DJ at KCMU (now KEXP).

It’s NOT the environment, smartypants. This is the local Sierra Club’s year. Ex-chair McGinn and, in City Council Position 8, current chair Mike O’Brien soared to the leads on a single issue, nixing the Highway 99 waterfront tunnel. And opposing a tunnel or viaduct rebuild is about switching from cars to transit, right?

Look again. Seattle turned against “America’s green mayor,” who led the drive for everything from greenhouse-gas curbs to mandatory recycling, electric charging stations, and, yes, the bag tax. It ditched the bag fee (admittedly under the influence of $1.4 million in plastics-industry propaganda.) And countywide voters spurned Phillips, a green champion with a nearly matchless record.

It’s the economy. Money jitters are the common thread, from the 20-cent bag fee to the (depending on which pieces you want to count) $2 billion to $4 billion tunnel. McGinn and O’Brien attacked the tunnel as costing too much to city coffers, not to global carbon counts. If they actually persevere and succeed in stopping the state from digging the tunnel (two big ifs), Seattle may be in for a big surprise. Will it have to pay even more to build surface routes and seawall without state help (and with much more construction disruption, and a wall of waterfront traffic in the end)? Or will the state revert to what it would rather build anyway, a new viaduct?

Finally, a lot’s in a name, especially in relatively obscure races. Years ago, without campaigning, an unknown Grays Harbor lawyer named Charles Z. Johnson unseated Keith Callow, a respected state Supreme Court justice. Best reason anyone could deduce: His name sounded nicer. This year Rob Holland and Max Vekich campaigned for the Port Commission as a reform slate. Vekich, an ex-legislator and longshoreman, has more experience and proven commitment than the engaging but protean Holland. Holland glommed more than half the votes in Position 3. But Vekich struggled for a distant second in Position 4, barely ahead of Robert Walker, an IT worker who came from nowhere and (proudly) spent nothing on the race.

One difference: "Charles Johnson," "Rob Holland," and "Robert Walker" sound like characters Tom Hanks or Jamie Foxx might play. "Max Vekich" sounds like a James Bond villain. For an offbeat, non-WASP name to win, it needs to be especially euphonious and evocative. Like "Barack Obama."