I am reluctant to write this column because I would never wish to discourage good people from running for office, but reading about threats to the life of Commissioner Curtis Adams reminds me how hazardous political jobs can be. It also reminds me of some of my own experiences in 16 years as county mayor.

One Friday night, I came home to find a half-dozen phone messages from Sheriff H.Q. Evatt on my machine. I returned his call, and he asked, "Are the lights on in your house?" I told him they were, and he said, "Turn them off and come back to the phone."

He told me he had to fire a man, and the man told his partner he thought I was responsible for his firing because he was in a divorce suit with a lady who was my friend. He said he was going to kill me. His suspicions were not true, but I had no idea how to find him and tell him that fact. The sheriff said, "I am sending an officer, and he will take you where you will be safe until we can find the threatening officer."

In minutes an officer pulled in my driveway. He took my wife and me to the Read House and checked us in under another name.

The next day I was scheduled to play a street dance in Ducktown, Tenn., and the officer urged me to cancel. I told him I had never failed to show up for a booking. I played the gig, but I realized how ironic it was to be playing in a place called Ducktown because I was a sitting duck standing on a flatbed truck in the middle of town.

After two days I told the sheriff I did not want the officer to remain with me. I sad, "I am not going to let any man or any job make me live in fear. I think dying would be better than living your life like that."

I had an even hairier experience during my second re-election campaign, but my focus today is to create thought around the question, "What makes politicians so vulnerable to hate and violence?"

It's real simple: They control our lives. They decide the quality of the air we breath, the jobs available to us, the condition of the roads leading to our jobs, the quality of the schools our children attend ... need I go any further? So we have a love-hate relationship with them. It is absolutely impossible to serve a term in any high-profile office without generating a lot of hate.

Once, a real-estate man told me he had sold a house to a nearby neighbor of mine. He said, "I thought they'd love living near you, but they told me they both hate politicians." Sure enough, they never responded to my attempts to be a good neighbor.

When the county was debating installation of metal detectors, I spoke against it. I said, "Judges are in no more danger than the county mayor and commissioners, and any angry fool with an IQ of 80 can find a way to harm you."

It's not that I am so brave. It's just that I always knew it's one of a politician's job hazards, like black lung is to a coal miner.

E-mail Dalton Roberts at DownhomeP@aol.com.