He was fresh out of Special Forces training with the Utah National Guard and awaiting departure to Scotland for an LDS mission when he turned to his younger sister for help. He spotted a yearbook photo of April Thompson - who became his wife of 31 years - and prodded his sister to ask her out for him. He was so bashful around girls he even wound up taking a friend along on the date.

Yes, Dan Snarr, Murray's outspoken, sometimes outrageous chief executive - a man who occasionally wears a T-shirt that reads, "I AM THE DAMN MAYOR" and tools around town in a 14-year-old state-surplus pickup - used to be shy.

No more.

He once led high-schoolers in a chant of "go to hell."

He planned to take a dip in a newly created pond during an opening ceremony, so the City Council banned swimming in it.

At the prompting of teachers, Snarr drove his Harley-Davidson motorcycle through the halls of an elementary school, and he may do a repeat ride later this month.

He choreographed four shopping-cart routines for Murray High's dance team.

Then there is Snarr's seemingly nonsensical poetry. The "go to hell" chant was the final line of an anti-smoking poem he delivered at Murray High in 1999.

His most popular verse is a six-liner he penned soon after taking office seven years ago. He still performs it today complete with full-body gestures:

When driving through Murray

Don't be in such a hurry

Sloooow down and spend a buck or two

That would be a nice thing for you to do

It! Would help our tax coffers swell

So our city won't go to hell.

OK, so he's no Shakespeare or Seuss. But Snarr says his poem has a purpose: To get motorists to recognize suburban Murray, slow down and spend some money in the retail-rich - and retail-reliant - city.

"He loves to tell his tales," says Trisha Beck, Snarr's sister and a former Utah lawmaker. "Thing is, they are all true. That's what's so scary."

Snarr's antics don't bring smiles to everyone. Some accuse him of defiling his post.

"He's a kid that's never grown up," says Leon Robertson, a former councilman who lost to Snarr in the 1997 mayoral race. "He does some really strange things. Immature."

Even Snarr's staff has to rein him in at times.

"We understand his personality," says Jan Wells, Snarr's top aide. "We just have to remind him to be mayor."

Snarr shrugs off the criticism. "I'm just a kid at heart." Besides, he adds, his record of service should allow him some eccentricities.

"If you work hard and get something done, then you've earned the right to have some fun."

The miscast mayor: Snarr doesn't have a pedigree for politics.

In 1997, he had a successful landscaping and snowplow business when he ran against seven other candidates to replace Mayor Lynn Pett.

Snarr turned to Scott Howell, a Democratic Utah senator with whom he grew up in East Millcreek.

"This guy was so green," recalls Howell, who has since moved to Northern California. "He thought he could just tell people he loved Murray and he would get elected. . . . You have to give people a reason to vote for you."

Snarr didn't heed the advice. In a meeting between Snarr and his future chief of staff, Darcy Dixon Pignanelli, the political newcomer repeatedly said he was running because "I just love Murray."

Even so, he persuaded Pignanelli, now the director of the state's Department of Administrative Services, to manage his campaign.

In exchange, he landscaped her yard.

On the night of the primary, Snarr expected to lose, so he went to bed. Pignanelli roused him with a call at 10:30 p.m. and reported he had advanced by 29 votes. A month later, he won his first term by 261 votes. In 2001, he won a second term by 1,125 votes.

How did he do it?

"He had the work ethic like no one else," Howell says.

On the job: While Snarr shows up some days wearing motorcycle leathers, rarely wears a tie and often drives a 1991 Chevy pickup with a door that doesn't stay shut all the time, few can argue with his mayoral record.

With its location in the heart of the Salt Lake Valley at the crossroads of two major freeways, Murray has been a commercial heavyweight for years with its successful car dealerships and the state's most profitable mall.

Expanding residential neighborhoods have boosted utility bills of late, but the city continues to boast one of the county's lowest property tax rates.

And more development is on the way, especially where the landmark smokestacks used to stand. Intermountain Health Care is building a flagship medical campus - some are dubbing it the Mayo Clinic of the West - that promises to bring thousands to the city daily. The hospital won't directly bolster to the city's bottom line - it's a nonprofit exempt from property taxes - but nearby developments already pump $1.3 million a year in sales taxes into Murray's coffers.

Most of the money is coming from a Costco on the corner of 5300 South and State Street. Across the street, a run-down parcel known for seedy hotels and drugs has blossomed into a thriving commercial enterprise anchored by restaurants, a bookstore and a Best Buy.

Redeveloping that area - which also has seen the reconstruction of Murray High - topped Snarr's wish list when he became mayor.

"Our city was stigmatized by all the unattractive, blighted elements," Snarr says. "It had to go."

Now Murray is going head to head with Utah's capital in a high-profile race to land a 22,000-seat Major League Soccer stadium for Real Salt Lake. The team plans to announce any day which city will win the sweepstakes. But Snarr sees Murray's proposed site - at 4400 South near a light-rail station - as key to redeveloping that part of town.

"The biggest problem Murray has is its success," says Pett, the former mayor. "Because Murray has been really successful, you have to protect the residential areas of the city."

Snarr ran into that concern when he took some heat for backing a commercial development that wiped out a handful of homes.

"I don't care about my political future," he says. "What I care about is the future of Murray."

Not that he's done being Murray's "damn mayor," a slogan that grew out of an exchange he had with a businessman who was complaining about development without realizing he was talking to the mayor. Snarr already has announced plans to seek a third term. But he rules out higher office, joking that he already has risen to his "level of incompetence."

Win or lose, Snarr says his antics won't change.

"How can I be someone else?"

jsantini@sltrib.com

Dan Snarr

l Job: Murray mayor.

l Age: 55.

l Family: Wife, April; five

children.

l Military: Demolition expert in Utah National Guard.

l Education: Bachelor's degree in organizational communication from the University of Utah.

l Business: Co-owned Snarr Brothers Landscaping.

l Politics: Elected Murray mayor in 1997; re-elected to the post in 2001.