In Peter Baker and Susan Glasser’s masterful biography The Man Who Ran Washington, we meet James A. Baker III—not through the lens of elected office, but as the unelected force behind power. Baker never won a single vote, yet he helped orchestrate a Republican revolution, outmaneuvered rivals in the Reagan White House, and shepherded the elder Bush through war and peace.
Knox County has its own version of Baker.
His name is Chris Caldwell.
He doesn’t campaign. He doesn’t grandstand. Most voters wouldn’t recognize him at the grocery store. Yet for over a decade, Chris Caldwell has been the quiet engine behind the largest budget in East Tennessee—nearly a billion dollars strong. Since 2012, he has served as Chief Financial Officer and now Co-Chief of Staff, making him the longest-serving and arguably most influential figure in Knox County government.
The Unelected Executive
To understand Caldwell’s reach, follow the money. Every road project, school budget, pension decision, and capital plan passes through his hands. While County Mayors come and go—Mike Ragsdale, Tim Burchett, Glenn Jacobs (aka “Kane”)—Caldwell remains. He has outlasted them all, a testament not only to bureaucratic competence but to political survivability.
He is to Knox County what James Baker was to Washington: indispensable, unflappable, and largely invisible by design.
He’s the ultimate inside man.
But like Baker, Caldwell’s accumulation of influence hasn’t gone unnoticed—or uncriticized.
Brian Stansberry, CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
The Critics Speak
Local firebrands like Brad Mayes and longtime political commentator Brian Hornback have taken aim at Caldwell, accusing him of consolidating too much authority in a role never intended to wield it. They argue that Caldwell’s dual position as CFO and Co-Chief of Staff blurs the line between fiscal stewardship and political maneuvering. Some whisper he’s the real mayor of Knox County, with Glenn Jacobs merely the public face.
But that criticism misses the larger picture.
A Republic Needs Steady Hands
In a system that too often rewards political performance over policy execution, Chris Caldwell has been the adult in the room. He didn’t pick fights over Twitter. He didn’t grandstand during budget hearings. He made the numbers work. He kept the trains running. And he did it through three different administrations with different political priorities.
If James Baker was the man who could walk into a room and get Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill to shake hands, then Caldwell is the man who could get Ragsdale’s capital projects, Burchett’s austerity, and Jacobs’s libertarian flair to balance in a spreadsheet that actually worked.
His critics may grumble, but ask yourself this: What happens to Knox County without Chris Caldwell?
Budget chaos. Pension panic. Departmental gridlock.
Instead, we have had a decade of financial stability. No drama. No collapse. Just competence.
Final Word
Chris Caldwell isn’t running for office. He doesn’t want the spotlight. But like Baker, he has managed to become the most powerful man most people have never heard of. And maybe that’s the point.
In a time of performative politics and short attention spans, there is something deeply admirable—maybe even noble—about a man who just does the job. A man who serves not for applause, but because the work matters.
Knox County doesn’t need another showman.
It needs more Chris Caldwells.
Absolutely. Here’s your standard ChatGPT disclaimer in your usual voice, adapted to the tone of the blog post:
Disclaimer: This blog post was written with assistance from ChatGPT, my ever-faithful digital co-author. It doesn’t have a vote, but it does help keep the commas in line and the metaphors mixed just right.
