Peter Skillern was a menacing defensive end at Tucker High School in Georgia. He ran fast, hit hard and regularly toppled ball carriers who dwarfed his 150-pound-when-fully-suited frame.

"Yeah, I was smaller, but I guess I was meaner, or at least more aggressive," Skillern, 43, says. "It's really about having the ability to hit harder than your weight, and your opponent."

It's that ability -- or will -- to whack opponents no matter their size that has made Skillern a formidable force as head of the nonprofit Community Reinvestment Association of North Carolina.

In that role, Skillern makes a living sticking up for low-income borrowers and chasing unscrupulous lenders out of poor neighborhoods. Under his leadership, the Community Reinvestment Association fights what he sees as unfair practices among banks, predatory mortgage lenders and payday lenders -- those who make high-interest short-term loans to people between paychecks. His targets have included major banks such as Citigroup, Bank of America and Wachovia Bank, and he was among those instrumental in getting payday lending banished from North Carolina this year.

"There are tremendous imbalances in the financial field between consumers with money and people without," Skillern says. "And we are all called on to be social witnesses."

Now that North Carolina is one of a dozen states that have outlawed payday lenders, Skillern says he will lobby federal regulators for reform nationally.

"More than any other person, Peter leads the battle to stop payday lending," says Martin Eakes, president of the Center for Community Self-Help in Durham, a credit union and national advocacy group for low-income borrowers.

In North Carolina, Skillern persuaded legislators and politicians to scrutinize the complex financial ties with out-of-state banks that payday lenders used to skirt the law.

"When I talk to regulators about changes they've made, they often mention Peter by name," says Jean Ann Fox, a financial services specialist for the Consumer Federation of America in Washington. "He's uniquely talented at getting messages to legislators and consumers that make sense."

Skillern is slight in stature and has a disarming Ned Flanders mustache, of "Simpsons" fame, but he is reputed to have a formidable temper when lobbying or negotiating with lenders and policymakers.

"Peter is certainly feisty," says Paul H. Stock, a lobbyist for the N.C. Bankers Association, who has worked opposite Skillern on several issues. "I think when he was younger, he took a confrontational approach more quickly than today. Now he tries to find common ground first, and that makes him an even more effective advocate."

Target: H&R Block

This year, Skillern is pointing his five employees and some of his nonprofit's $400,000 budget at H&R Block.

The Community Reinvestment Association, an activist investor in that company, has filed a shareholder resolution urging the tax-preparation company to quit making loans that the CRA says are exorbitantly priced. H&R Block makes loan advances on tax refunds and helps sell mortgages to people with troubled credit.

His crusade coincides with a lawsuit filed this month by New York State Attorney General Eliot Spitzer that attacks H&R Block's financial service operations.

"We're trying to get H&R Block to be more responsible," Skillern says.

Skillern says he was put on Earth for one reason: to organize for social justice.

"There are significant inequities based on race and income," he says. "One of the great challenges is for people to realize their potential and fullness of spirit, and still a lot of times our society doesn't allow people to do that. ... When we say equality, we ... mean a level playing field, and sometimes when there's not, there's a need for social systemic change."

Skillern sees himself not as a liberal democrat but rather a radical, progressive and activist. He believes in the message of egalitarianism more than any political institution. Though he votes Democratic, he is not a party activist because "no one political party has a lock on social justice."

He developed his civic awareness early in life. In the fourth grade, he organized a student petition to improve the cafeteria food at Smoke Rise Elementary School in Stone Mountain, Ga. Although the petition won no direct concessions, he recalls, it spurred "meaningful dialogue with cafeteria staff" and improved school-student relations.

He was also fearless. He remembers hopping a freight train headed to Snellville, Ga., when he was about 17 and being chased off by railroad workers. He ended up hitchhiking home.

Much later, in the early 1980s, he hitchhiked through Central America, the Middle East and Europe to see the world and gain perspective on his own experiences.

The waiter was cute

He met his wife, Marcy Lowe, in Washington in 1987. "He was a waiter at a hippy-dippy cafe," Lowe says. "He brought me the wrong salad dressing, but he was very cute."

They turned out to have friends in common and were reunited at a wedding soon after. They now have two children -- son Zan, 13, and daughter Robin, 10, with whom Skillern studies karate.

He also coaches soccer and cycles on weekends with friends. But it's not uncommon for him to spend his free time checking out mobile home parks in Orange County, which he thinks are no-win situations because the people who live in them have little or no control over their investment. He wants to buy a park and transform it by giving the trailer owners control of the land.

The research he does, whether on trailers or mortgage loans, has earned him the respect of those who work with him.

"What gets people's attention about Peter is the quality of his information," says Andrea Harris, president of the N.C. Institute for Minority Economic Development in Durham. "He's always been good at marshaling research expertise and getting across an effective message. Yes, he can be adversarial, but he's very clear about what he wants. When you look at him you see determination and passion."

Others see a wicked sense of humor and a knack for ludicrous stunts and publicity.

Through the Community Reinvestment Association, Skillern regularly stages public events to spotlight social injustices.

Two years ago, he produced a "March Madness basketball game" in front of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp. building in Washington. The FDIC regulates the state-chartered banks that had enabled payday lenders to make loans in some states.

In full costume, the Peeps team represented victims of payday lending and the Sharks team represented the perpetrators. This year, after waves of criticism, the FDIC eliminated the policy that let out-of-state banks finance payday lending operations.

"Humor humanizes, and it helps tell a story," Skillern says. "Before there was just confusion in the marketplace."