CUMBERLAND -- From a distance, the Stephen Laffey neighborhood campaign "blitz" looks like this:

First comes the patriotic music, from PA speakers on the back of a pickup truck, interrupted frequently by the smooth voice of campaign volunteer George Lavoie.

"Cumberland, come meet the next senator from Rhode Island!"

On either side of the street, several campaign volunteers run from house to house, knocking on doors and leaving literature from the Republican mayor of Cranston, who is trying to pry U.S. Sen. Lincoln Chafee from his seat, in the September GOP primary.

Laffey's wife, Kelly, pushes daughters Audrey, 2, and Jesse, 1, in a double stroller, and polices occasional bouts of hair pulling. A third daughter, Sarah Grace, 9, rides in the pickup with brother Sam, 10, who is interviewing volunteers, documentary-style, and filming digital movies on his camera.

Campaign staff track progress on voter lists, recording Laffey's contacts with voters, for follow-up calls and campaign mailings. Laffey's RV, which he likes to call the Rhody Reformer, is parked nearby like a mobile billboard.

At the rear of this campaign parade is the candidate: the 44-year-old, two-term mayor, slathered in SPF 55 sunblock, and wearing shorts, white tennis shoes and a sweat-soaked polo shirt in his campaign color, canary yellow.

Each time a campaign door-knocker finds a voter who wants to meet the mayor, they holler for Laffey, who jogs down driveways and across front lawns. He shakes hands and makes his pitch, which goes like this:

We fixed the City of Cranston. It was a mess. Now we're going to fix Washington.

"Here's what we're going to do for you . . ."

He pounds three bullet points:

U.S. dependence on foreign oil is ruining the country and enriching its enemies.

The tax code should be rewritten, and pork spending eliminated.

Drug companies are gouging the elderly.

"Come see Senate candidate Steve Laffey," the announcement rings out. "The only Senate candidate on Sun Valley Drive, Steve Laffey."

This kind of door-to-door campaigning is what Laffey likes best; he's been doing it statewide since September when he announced his run for Senate. In his two successful runs for mayor of Cranston, he figures he has knocked on thousands of doors.

The Republican primary is a unique animal in Rhode Island politics. With so few voters expected to participate, Laffey believes it's possible to meet enough people and swing the outcome by way of the "ground game."

In a state that elects far more Democrats than Republicans, the GOP primary is known for low turnouts. Four years ago, in a state with 655,000 registered voters, fewer than 26,000 cast a Republican primary ballot to decide the bare-knuckled fight between gubernatorial candidates Donald Carcieri and Jim Bennett. Carcieri won easily with just 17,000 votes, and then won the office that November.

The record turnout for a Republican primary is 45,000, in the 1994 gubernatorial contest between Ronald Machtley and Lincoln Almond, which Almond won.

The neighborhoods Laffey "blitzed" last Sunday evening in Cumberland were thick with single-family homes on quiet, wide streets, with lots of lawn sprinklers and driveway basketball hoops.

Laffey met Mike Walsh, a 43-year-old independent who says he tilts Republican. In Walsh's driveway, Laffey gave him the pitch, "We fixed up Cranston . . ."

"Who you running against?" Walsh asked.

Later in an interview, Walsh acknowledged that he has not yet tuned closely to the election. "I know I'm not too crazy of Lincoln Chafee," he said. "I haven't heard too much about Steve Laffey, but I'll check out his Web page."

"Shake hands with the man who saved the City of Cranston!"

Back on the street, Laffey warns his son to watch out when he crosses the road.

Then he buys a drink from two young girls at a curbside lemonade stand. They charge him 15 cents.

"You guys have to raise your prices," advised Laffey, the former president and chief operating officer of the investment firm Morgan Keegan. "There's a very inelastic demand for lemonade on a hot summer day."

He meets 76-year-old Norman Bazinet, who says he's concerned about public corruption, Medicare and the stability of pension funds. "He's showing what he is," Bazinet said of Laffey. "I think he's going to be all right, to tell the truth. We need a change. We've got to get Bush out of there also."

Upon completing the loop through the neighborhood, the Laffey troops piled back into cars and the RV, and headed to the next neighborhood. Laffey changed his soaking shirt for an identical dry polo.

"Steve Laffey is campaigning with his family on Sleepy Hollow Drive."

The door-to-door campaign, Laffey explained as he walked, is part of a "mosaic," designed to catch the attention of people busy in their daily lives. Not everybody, he says, is a political junkie, analyzing every word written about the campaign.

"Two weeks before the vote, these people are going to start talking about the election," Laffey said. "They're not focused on it now. They have jobs, and kids to raise. But when they focus, they're going to talk about it. And they will say, 'I saw that guy [Laffey] on a street corner at 6 a.m.' 'Oh yeah, I remember he came through our neighborhood.' "

"Steve Laffey is the only candidate who will fight the special interests in Washington."

"I might have 75 conversations tonight," Laffey said.

He spoke briefly with homeowner Todd Smith, who has solar panels on his garage. Laffey is an advocate for solar energy.

"I like a lot of the things he's done," Smith said later. "He gets up and isn't afraid to say it. It's nice to see him out there with his family and friends. You see someone on TV and it seems they're somehow a little different than you. It's nice to see him in the neighborhood."

After knocking on thousands of doors, Laffey says he has developed an instant feel for whether a voter will support him. After a brief, pleasant encounter with a voter, he reported:

"That guy's not coming out in the primary. He likes me. He'll vote for me in the general, but he's not that connected to what happened in Cranston. That's OK. He works hard for a living. You can tell by his hand when you shake it. He's a guy who probably votes for the Democrat in the general, unless there's someone like me running. He'll vote for me in the general."

Laffey had a short conversation with a woman through a screen door, over the whoofs of a barking dog.

"I can't open the door," she said. "My dog bites."

"You've watched when I took over in Cranston, it was a mess. We stood up to people then and we will in Washington."

She listened politely, and then questioned him about his public fight with unionized crossing guards. "Quite frankly," she confessed, "I've been a Chafee supporter and I like Sheldon Whitehouse," the leading Democratic candidate in the race.

"Just give me a chance."

"I'll definitely consider you."

Back in the street, Laffey figured: "That lady probably won't vote for me."

He had better luck at another house. "Those people are coming out to vote, they're voting for me," he said. "And what did they say? 'You did a good job in Cranston.' "

Sweat droplets raced down Laffey's face. His shirt was soaked again. The parade marched on.

"Shake hands with the only U.S. Senate candidate you'll find on Eisenhower Street, Steve Laffey."

marsenau@projo.com / (401) 277-7231