The Rev. Tim LaBouf doesn't advertise healing services at First Baptist Church, and so there are no weekly testimonials about the blind seeing, the lame walking and the poor winning at Quick Draw.

And yet by putting his name on the ballot for Watertown mayor earlier this year, LaBouf managed to bring about a political redemption for Jeff Graham, the self-proclaimed "workhorse" who in three years has gone from pariah to patriarch in city government.

You have to give LaBouf credit: not many ministers can make a Lotto-busted barkeep/used car salesman look so attractive. But if you fire Sunday school teachers for being female, and your wife threatens to fire you for being inattentive, you're going to have a difficult time firing up voters.

Like a one-man lost tribe of Israel, LaBouf spent the past three months wandering from event to event, children in tow, searching for someone who would listen to his stories of what his grandfather or some other relative once said.

Failing to gain traction, he recently produced a faded circa-1985 clipping from the Watertown Daily Times showing a young Tim LaBouf and other students promoting Catholic Schools Week while in the office of Mayor Karl Burns.

Unlike the dozens of other photo ops the late mayor held with hundreds of other kids, this was no chance meeting, LaBouf claimed. Rather, it set in motion a date with destiny in which last week's election would reveal the greatness that God — if no one else — has ordained for him.

In a city of fractured sidewalks, a bludgeoned downtown and a housing crisis in which only soldiers can afford the rent, there is no way in eternity that voters were going to turn the reins over to someone having trouble keeping his own ministry and marriage intact.

Preacher, heal thyself!

Still, the electorate can never really be trusted to understand the difference between platitudes and progress. What if it made a mistake?

The very thought of a LaBouf mayoralship scared the bejesus out of Watertown's political, business and social leadership, who saw his possible ascent as a potential 11th plague: a city atrophying under an ever-thickening vapor of vapid vagueness for which there is no known cure.

And thus began a bizarre "maybe Jeff's not such a bad guy after all" kiss-and-make-up session, the kind generally held among Arab nations after they've killed off half of the next generation.

Support for Graham this year came from wide and far. It ranged in political clout from county Legislator Kent Burto to state Sen. Jim Wright; in I.Q. range from Glenn Curry, the clown prince of Watertown's radio Romper Room, to legislative know-it-all Scott Gray; and in enthusiasm levels from former City Councilwoman Roxanne Burns to, well, former City Councilwoman Roxanne Burns (staid Graham endorsement in the newspaper, gushing Graham endorsement at public appearances).

On paper, Graham's support — a 5-1 margin over LaBouf in Tuesday's election — appeared to be a mile wide. But it's really only an inch deep. And that's because for all those special moments when Graham has shown savvy leadership (turning the airport over to the county, saving the Clock Building, advocating annexation and consolidation), there have been so many other odd adventures, such as quixotic runs for governor and U.S. senator, convincing a convicted rapist to run for Congress and extending mayoral support to the rantings of porn-crazed Howard Stern.

Consider Burto and Wright, who both attended the campaign kickoff event for their very close, personal friend Jeff Graham.

Just three years ago, Burto became so vexed at Graham's duplicity during the sales tax debate, he blurted out at City Hall, "Damn it, I'm pissed now. I'm pissed, Jeff."

And in 2005, it was Wright who sicced the state Lottery Commission on Graham. In a short time, Graham lost his Quick Draw license — and the 6 percent commission that goes with it.

Wright and Burto backing Graham? As Tim LaBouf's grandfather most likely never said, always keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Graham's lottery debacle certainly took the wind out of his sails along with money out of his pocket. His slouch became more noticeable, his attire more ratty and his handshake even less firm than usual. He spent months trying to find some culprit to blame rather than acknowledge his own avarice.

On his radio show, "The Hot Line," he wondered aloud about how his obituary would one day read in the Watertown Daily Times. And his political death certainly appeared imminent as the squeaky clean, Shapiro Award-winning, savior of all things historic Rande Richardson was lining up supporters without even trying.

Graham's zest for the public arena waned to such a degree that his radio boss, Jim Leven, began calling around town, trying to find someone to take over "The Hot Line" show.

But then Richardson's political plans hit a snag — his job as director of the Jefferson Community College Foundation precluded him from political activity. (City Councilman Pete Clough also flirted with running, but cited job and family reasons for not seeking the job.)

With no viable opposition surfacing and LaBouf bouncing from foible to foible, Graham became revitalized. Win another election, he realized, and he would make history as Watertown's longest-serving mayor. And as any businessman will tell you, if you can't guarantee quality, at least give them quantity.

Graham calls himself Watertown's workhorse. Fair enough. But what has actually happened is that he's become Watertown's gelding. Neutered from his own dreams of grandeur (neither Republicans nor Democrats worry about his out-of-city political aspirations anymore), he now appears more focused on being the mayor Watertown really needs, one who takes advantage of the Fort Drum buildup to oversee the revitalization of streets, sidewalks and downtown.

Get rid of the straying rambunctiousness — it worked for Funny Cide! — and maybe what remains is a politician who works only for good instead of just working the angles.

The real horse race was never between LaBouf and Graham; it has always been between the lesser demons and better angels that lie within Jeff Graham.

Bob Gorman is the managing editor of the Times.