He is the choice property among Democrats in New Jersey, the Rhodes scholar mayor with a long list of undeniable accomplishments, the one person who might have a prayer in a matchup with Gov. Chris Christie.

But Newark Mayor Cory Booker has a problem. Outside the city, everyone seems to love him. But inside Newark, his support is eroding. And it’s not just because he had to kill 1,000 city jobs and raise taxes to make ends meet. He deserves credit for taking that heat.

Something deeper is at work. A number of his former allies have morphed into critics who see him as a big-shot celebrity, a man who has abandoned his roots and is using the mayor’s office to build his own fame and wealth.

He has no pull in city elections when he is not on the ballot, so he has no control over the party machinery, or the school board.

And the city council is in a state of revolt, even though seven of its nine members were elected on Booker’s ticket.

“I’m seeing a growing discontent with him,” says Councilman Ron Rice. “It’s becoming a real problem you can feel and touch. It’s palpable in the community.”

A recent Star-Ledger article by staff writer David Giambusso examined Booker's travel and reported that he left the city on 22 percent of the days over an 18-month period. That feeds into a long-standing criticism of Booker as an absentee landlord.

Worse, Booker is making lots of money on the speaking circuit during trips he describes as pilgrimages for Newark. His fee is listed at $20,000 to $40,000 per event, and he refuses to reveal his total earnings.

“There are really two Corys,” says Clement Price, professor of urban history at Rutgers-Newark. “When I travel, you mention Newark and they say what a wonderful mayor. The perception is he’s all but fixed Newark. Inside the city, the view is much more cynical, in some quarters very cynical, holding that Cory is not really about Newark at all, but is all about Cory.”

Politics in Newark is an unforgiving sport, and Booker gets more grief than he deserves. His suburban childhood, his elite education and his national celebrity cause some resentment in town. Even his light skin color labels him as an outsider to some.

"Pigment matters," Price says.

In Booker’s first campaign for council in 1998, his opponent, George Branch, used Booker’s education to fan resentment. “He may be a Rhodes scholar, but I’m a road scholar,” Branch said.

Many years later, Booker still feels that sting and ties it to the resentment over his travel.

"That's the shadow that's hung over me for the longest time," he says. "If I was born and raised in Newark, no one would be talking about it."

Bringing home the money

Booker's travel and celebrity have a huge upside for Newark: He has raised an astonishing $306 million in philanthropy — for police and parks, for affordable housing and public schools, and more.

It works out to about $630,000 per trip, assuming he kept the same pace of travel during his six years in office.

In a dimly lit, high-tech control center in the police building on Williams Street, officers monitor a wall of huge flat-screen TVs. Powerful cameras zero-in on a drug dealer on Broad and Market, watching as he tucks a baggie into his underwear. An officer is dispatched to make an arrest.

A system of high-tech microphones covering 85 percent of the city sounds an alert when a gunshot is fired. Locators being installed in cruisers tell commanders who is closest, as the cameras pan toward the scene of the shooting.

“We’ve got a lot of bad guys with this stuff,” says Police Director Samuel DeMaio. “It’s invaluable to us.”

Nearly all of this was bought with money Booker raised in his travels. So were SWAT vehicles and bullet-proof vests.

That helps the police cope with spending cuts that have shrunk the uniformed force by nearly 20 percent since Booker took office. Despite that, shootings and murders are down more than 20 percent this year, compared with six years ago.

“I go to Aspen and Sun Valley and the Hamptons, and people think I’m going to hang with the rich and famous,” Booker says. “The truth is I am, and that’s important. These folks never gave to the city of Newark before.”

Mark Zuckerberg’s money is helping Newark offer longer school days and open innovative programs. Oprah’s money built a treatment center for female addicts. Bill Gates boosted the charter schools in town.

There is more. Affordable housing for veterans. A prisoner re-entry program. New and refurbished parks.

At Nat Turner Park on 18th Avenue last week, several locals stopped to thank Booker for turning around what had been a vacant lot with tall grass, broken glass and a steady presence of dealers. It now has picnic tables, a rubber track, a children’s playground and tended open space.

“You can see the effects in every neighborhood,” Booker says.

Private investors have finally started sinking serious money into Newark as well, with $800 million in new construction under way. Panasonic is building a $200 million North American headquarters in the downtown, and CEO Joseph Taylor says he wouldn’t have done it without Booker in the mayor’s office.

“I bet the ranch on him,” Taylor says.

Yes, Booker got help from the county on parks and generous state tax credits for business development. And complaints about management chaos in his administration are a constant.

Still, Al Koeppe, chairman of the state Economic Development Authority, says Booker has lifted the city’s game, and is capitalizing on the state tax credits more effectively than most other mayors.

"There’s no question he’s created a buzz about Newark that is favorable,” Koeppe says. “The perception is he’s running the city well. He’s not the closer, but he does get you in the game.”

Hyping city or self?

Booker's first big splash came in 1999, when he staged a 10-day hunger strike while camping out in the parking lot of a public housing complex that was controlled by drug dealers. He lived for years in a Spartan apartment in Brick Towers, a run-down public housing complex that often lost hot water and electricity. He meditates regularly and doesn't touch meat or alcohol.

So if people hold him to an impossible standard, he started it all with this Gandhi impersonation. That’s what’s odd about him making so much money now and refusing to disclose it.

Here’s the math: He gave at least 26 speeches last year. If he got $40,000 for each one, that would bring him over $1 million for the year.

“I’m not going to disclose that,” Booker says. “I’ll tell you it’s a big number. … There is definitely going to be collateral benefits to what I’m doing.”

So which is the real Booker? Is he a crusader for Newark or a relentless self-promoter?

The answer is both. He has 1.2 million followers on Twitter, he is constantly on TV, and he is on a first-name basis with wealthy elites he can tap for help when he runs for U.S. Senate or governor, which you can bet on.

He carries a wad of $100 bills in his pocket, peeling off a few now and then for a constituent with a cause.

“I like to be able to do that,” he says after giving $300 to a woman who said she was planning a community event.

On Newark’s streets, Booker’s popularity is undeniable. He won both of his terms by wide margins, and he’s still the leading politician in town. The criticism eats at him, but it’s not likely to slow him down.

“Look, I pour my heart into this and there are days I got home really discouraged,” he says. “But I get up recharged and say I’m going back out again and beat my head against that wall.”

So if you want Mayor Gandhi, you’re too late. Booker has his flaws, and his vanities. But if you judge him by the results he’s getting, then he deserves a promotion.

Tom Moran may be reached at tmoran@starledger.com or (973) 392-5728. Follow him on Twitter at @tomamoran.