The
major benefit of motoring in a rented Chevy Impala at 20 or so MPH over
the speed limit from one end of Iowa to the other--besides experiencing
endless miles of flat, icy tundra firsthand--is getting to
compare the candidates. Not just what they say; if you're interested in
policy positions, spare yourself the trip to Tama and click over to
Fred Thompson's Web site. I'm talking about how the campaigns actually
operate on the ground--and how accessible they are to actual human
beings.
An example. Today I drove from a Barack Obama event in
Jefferson to a Joe Biden event in Newton. The distance, in geographical
terms, was about 100 miles. It felt like lightyears. As always, the
Obama event was clockwork--a hulking black press bus; a filing room
with plentiful powerstrips and wireless internet; volunteers asking for
contact info at every corner; massive, well-designed banners; a stage
filled with seated supporters.
The Biden event seemed
"smaller"--even though it drew roughly the same number of people. The
posters were droopy. The room--Newton's Community Center--wasn't
particularly pimped out. But Biden's family--a son, a daughter, a
brother and others--stood, arms crossed, on the periphery, whispering
and smiling, and the candidate paced up and down the rows. No stage. No
podium. No TV crews. When I entered a few minutes late (as usual), a
staffer approached, asked my name, shook my hand and helped me locate
an outlet for my laptop. He was surprised--pleasantly--to hear the name
Newsweek. "We're not the Obama campaign," he said, unprompted. "No bus.
No wireless. Sorry." He flashed a sheepish smile. "No problem," I said.
I actually meant it.
People opposed to Obama often say that he's short on substance.
That's probably a little unfair--like all the other Democrats, his
policy proposals are pretty specific. But his public persona is
premised on stuff that's "above" substance--hope, audacity, change, et
cetera. Biden is the exact opposite. Sure, he can get airy, especially
when quoting his "favorite contemporary poet," Seamus Heany, on making
"hope and history rhyme." But he comes alive, shifting from solemnity
to bombast, when answering a question on, say, Pakistan. "I'm the only
person running in either party, Democrat or Republican, who three
months ago put out a plan for Pakistan," he begins, and twelve minutes
later--after discussing the country's religious demographics and
reminiscing about that time Benazir Bhutto worked out of his Washington
office, among (many) other things--he still hasn't stopped. Biden can
be boring, immodest (today he seemed to take credit for convincing Bill
Clinton to intervene in Kosovo) and condescending. Watch out when he
starts a sentence with "Ladies and gentlemen," which he does about once
a minute; he'll follow it up with something like "By the way, we're
talking about the Sudan. That’s where Darfur is. [Bashir] is in the
capital of the Sudan, which is a distance from Darfur. Darfur is an
area about the size of France. And there is carnage going on."
Obama doesn't bore, condescend or brag. Neither do Clinton or
Edwards. They're well-oiled machines at this point--delivery mechanisms
for the "winning" messages their handlers have devised. And that's
okay. It's the way you win. But because Biden has no shot--he currently
polls at five percent, trails everyone in fundraising and has said
he'll drop out if he finishes fourth or worse in Iowa--he doesn't have
to deliver a winning message. He isn't handled. He can't afford
handlers. Seeing him in person, the overwhelming impression you get is
of a guy talking about what matters to him, for better or worse.
Chatting with a half-dozen reporters after the event--eat your
heart out, Obama--Biden put on a brave face. Is your goal a strong
fourth place finish? one asked. "My goal is to win," he said, grinning
a bit too assertively. Everyone, including Biden, knows that won't
happen. But with the race (and the remaining candidates) about to get
very big and very distant, he still has three days to enjoy being the
little guy shaking hands in little rooms and hoping they add up--and we
have three days to enjoy him enjoying it. For most of the people
running for president, that, in the end, is what Iowa is all about.
I'm missing it already.