"People thought I wasn't eating enough," he grins, "so they dropped off these snacks."

But based on the ever-wafting gourmet coffee - the Becker camp switches between Millcreek and Jack Mormon beans - it is clear this crew's relentless door-to-door effort is fueled mostly by caffeine.

In the neighborhoods, the green-hued urban planner delivers vision. He sees Salt Lake City as his latest sketch - an open slate for smart growth - that he, not longtime City Councilman Dave Buhler, should shepherd.

It is a strategy Becker has employed since spring: canvass the city by foot - or by bike - to meet the most possible voters. It helped launch what one political scientist calls a "tsunami" win in the September primary.

Still, the soft-spoken former park ranger scoffs at conventional wisdom that calls him the favorite. Instead, he remains focused on the city's urban forest, dancing across countless doorsteps to peddle the Becker blueprint.

That recipe of retail politics, observers say, may prove too rich for Buhler to swallow.

And since the leaves have turned, Becker mostly has refused to retaliate against the Buhler barrage.

***

Shoe-leather man: Crammed into a cozy room at his environmental-planning-firm-turned-campaign-headquarters, Becker signs thank-you letters while a staffer rips open envelopes.

"Another $1,000," Becker's aide bellows. "We could go to Vegas."

Personalizing notes on a makeshift desk stacked with checks, Becker shares space with a toy Hillary Clinton action figure and a paperback Bush satire titled simply "Bad President."

"What a great position to be in, huh?" he says, flashing his trademark dry humor.

Indeed, Becker out-raised Buhler by more than $100,000 since the primary, $125,000 overall, according to campaign-finance disclosures. He says he often cold-called residents, which proved surprisingly effective.

"That turned out to be almost like walking door-to-door," he says. "They were surprised to get a call by a candidate himself. And they usually had something on their mind."

But neither the cash nor the 11-point primary triumph gives Becker much comfort.

Down the hall, a precinct map splashed with colors and curvy lines shows how busy the Becker camp has been. Standing next to it, Matt Lyon, the candidate's field director, explains that five to 20 Becker volunteers have crisscrossed capital streets every night since March.

"We've covered an enormous amount of ground," says Lyon, adding some areas have been hit three times. "The best way to turn work into votes is to knock on people's doorstep."

The campaign estimates that by Election Day, volunteers will have visited every house in the city - twice.

Becker's campaign manager says nothing much has changed since the summer, except the volume. Now there is more energy, more money, more volunteers.

"The strategy," David Everitt says, "is to continue the strategy."

***

Massaging Mr. Nice Guy: Political observers say Becker's Achilles' heel may be in his spine.

The Democratic House leader, they say, is an expert at consensus and always nice, perhaps to a fault. They wonder whether 11 years of Republican beatings on Capitol Hill hasn't stripped the fight from the man who came West to fight fires around the Grand Canyon.

Becker says he won't change his "quiet" demeanor. But the father of two grown sons has been much quicker this fall to defend his record when challenged by Buhler or others.

Still, his is mostly a high road, even if that path costs a little traction.

At a downtown law firm during lunch hour last week, Becker fielded questions from a roomful of hungry lawyers. It was a bold move, considering the candidate had just missed a bar association debate because of a scheduling glitch.

"You'd think I'd be scared to show up in front of a group of lawyers," quips Becker, gripping a bottle of V8 vegetable splash as three-dozen attorneys wolf down their sandwiches and chips.

He forges on, unfurling his figurative "blueprints" for the city.

Grilled about downtown development, Becker says his "bullish" plans bode well for the future. Pressed, he concedes that some details - from bike trails to trains to green design - seem "wonkish."

"It's the planner in me," he smiles before borrowing Buhler's campaign dig. "Some would say the dreamer in me."

Since March, Becker also has coined a catchphrase for the campaign that offers another window. At every chance, the mayoral hopeful pledges a "Great American City," a tag line he insists is more about planning than a vow to remold the capital's Mormon image.

"I never thought about it in those terms," he says when asked whether "American" carries any secular symbolism. "It had a ring to it. It seemed to encapsulate the theme we wanted to capture as an umbrella for the whole campaign."

***

Frowning at front-runner: Becker bristles at suggestions he is a shoo-in to replace outgoing Mayor Rocky Anderson.

Almost to prove that he isn't lounging on a lead, the campaign rented The Depot two weeks ago and raised $50,000 in one afternoon. During the after-party, Becker waited to thank the bands on stage, but butchered one name. (It's the Legendary Porch Pounders, not "Porch Sitters").

Still, campaign volunteers say such commitment is the norm, noting Becker has worked twice as hard since the primary. The candidate also has leaned on paid media, tapping a Seattle firm to produce a slick TV spot.

But, as in the primary push, Becker eschews billboards, opting instead to pedal yellow Becker placards around town on bikes.

Kirk Jowers, director of the University of Utah's Hinckley Institute of Politics, says Becker's "retail" campaign is the best he has seen in a while.

"His door-to-door efforts have been absolutely remarkable," Jowers says. "People like him. They trust him.

"He doesn't want to make a big mistake, and he's not the type of person who would," Jowers adds. "There's kind of a universal like of both candidates, which is a great situation for Becker and a horrible one for Buhler."

On a rare break last weekend, Becker took campaign staffers to his beloved San Rafael Swell. There, for once, the unflappable planner was riled when the wind ravaged the tents in camp.

Telling the story later, Becker concedes his staff was spooked, but managed to keep the mood light.

"The margaritas saved them."

djensen@sltrib.com

PERSONAL

* Born May 30, 1952, in Washington, D.C.

* Two sons, Derek and Will; one granddaughter, Tiana

* Bachelor's degree in American civilization, University of Pennsylvania

* Law degree, University of Utah

* Master's degree in geography (planning emphasis), U. of U.

* Fellow, American Institute of Certified Planners, 1982-present

* Vice president, Bonneville Associates, 1978-81

* Special assistant to executive director, Utah Department of Natural Resources and Energy, 1981-83 (Project BOLD Coordinator)

* Deputy director and state planning coordinator, Utah Office of Planning and Budget, 1983-85

* Co-founder, owner, Bear West, 1985-present

* Adjunct professor, College of Architecture and Planning, University of Utah, 1986-present

* Utah House Democratic leader, state representative, 1997-2007

* Salt Lake City Planning Commission, 1988-1996

* Member, Governor's Blue Ribbon Advisory Committee on climate change, 2007

* Salt Lake City Housing Appeals and Advisory Board, 1986-98

* Memory Grove Oversight Committee, 1998-2001

* Capitol Preservation Board, chairman

* Advisory board member, Rocky Mountain Land Use Institute

* Co-chairman, Utah Arts Caucus, 2002-04