Dems struggle to harvest votes

After long campaign, it's now up to Iowans

By M.E. Sprengelmeyer, Rocky Mountain News (Contact)

Published December 28, 2007 at 12:30 a.m.

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A supporter waves a sign during an appearance by New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton in Council Bluffs on Dec. 16.

Photo by Photos by Chris Schneider / The Rocky

Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton has her picture taken with a group of visiting Chicago high school students at a campaign event in Des Moines earlier this month.

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SECOND IN A SERIES

MASON CITY, Iowa - A shudder went through the Hawkeye State on a Wednesday afternoon in late May.

A memo by Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton's deputy campaign manager, Mike Henry, was leaked to the press.

It suggested the unthinkable.

"My recommendation is to pull completely out of Iowa and spend the money and Senator Clinton's time on other states," Henry wrote.

With so many states moving up their presidential nominating contests, "this old system" of Iowa as the make-or-break lead-off state was about to collapse, he predicted.

The former first lady was riding high in the national polls. Why gamble on enigmatic Iowa?

In the first-caucus state, she trailed former Sen. John Edwards of North Carolina - who had been stumping here since 2003 - and the new face on the scene, Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois.

Henry figured it would take $15 million and 70 days of Clinton's precious time to become competitive in Iowa. "Worst case scenario," he said, "this effort may bankrupt the campaign and provide little if any political advantage."

The national Republican front-runner, Rudy Giuliani, was thinking about skipping Iowa, too. Would the state's beloved caucuses be rendered moot?

Some Iowans took the memo as an insult. Clinton might as well have referred to the cornfields as "fly-over country."

To contain damage, Clinton placed a call to one of the more reassuring voices on the Iowa airwaves, veteran political reporter O. Kay Henderson of Radio Iowa.

"I'm unequivocally committed to competing in Iowa," Clinton told Henderson, saying she flatly rejected the memo's advice.

Henderson asked what Clinton might say to "Mr. Memo Writer."

That was the first time Henderson remembered hearing Clinton's now-famous laugh. "I'll keep that between me and him," the former first lady said.

But it was no joke.

Clinton's decision to fight in Iowa was a pivotal moment in the long march to the 2008 Democratic National Convention in Denver.

And it creates an intriguing set of "what-ifs."

What if she doesn't finish first? The race could be thrown wide-open.

What if she had just taken her lumps and skipped Iowa?

"In retrospect now, things would have been different if she skipped Iowa," Henderson said. "The firewall (for Clinton) in New Hampshire would maybe be a lot taller today."

Instead, Clinton put her chips on the table. Now, the presumptive national front-runner has the most at stake going into the Jan. 3, 2008, caucuses.

She, Obama and Edwards still are locked in a fierce - and costly - battle for the top spot.

And, with the momentum he first built in Iowa, Obama has erased Clinton's once-substantial lead in the state that votes five days later: New Hampshire.

As the caucus approached, Clinton was on the defensive. She was asked whether her campaign was on a downward trajectory, if a staff shake-up was in the works.

Meanwhile, at a news conference in Johnston on Dec. 17, Clinton was asked about that old memo. Did she ever second-guess the decision to compete in Iowa?

"No," Clinton replied without hesitation. "You know, I guess I've been in enough campaigns over a lot of years to know that there is no predictability and there certainly is no inevitability. You have to get out and work for every single vote . . ."

The long march to the nation's first nominating contest has always been about the former first lady.

She began with the biggest name - and the most political baggage. Her challenge was to get off the pedestal, soften her image, transcend her polarizing past, ride the political organization her husband had built but ultimately stand up for herself.

If she could do that, she'd stay the odds-on favorite to accept the party's nomination in Denver.

But a big question emerged as the political analysts were busy debating Clinton's inevitability. Could she fend off an insurgency?

Obama greeted like a star

On a sunny Saturday in April, Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois walked out of the University of Iowa's student union building and greeted a few dozen volunteers who had just finished some Earth Day chores.

"How many trees did you plant?" he asked a child named Madison, who was standing next to an elderly man. The kid answered quietly, eyes locked on Obama's face.

"You'll be able to say one day, 'I went out with grampa and planted all these trees,'" Obama told Madison. Then he moved on to greet another admirer.

For 20 minutes, he posed for pictures, clasped hands and chatted with volunteers standing there in the grass.

It was the very same, narrow riverside park where, a couple months later, Clinton would hold one of the biggest rallies of her campaign - a July 3rd rally alongside her husband, former President Bill Clinton.

But on that Earth Day in April, that little park wasn't near big enough to contain an Obama- sized crowd.

After thanking the tree-planters and taking a short break, he left the riverside, walked a couple blocks uphill, turned a corner and then found himself in a sea of about 10,000 people gathered in front of the old State Capitol.

Obama took the stage to "rock star" cheers.

"In the midst of these big rallies, I've had to step back and ask myself, 'What am I doing here?' " he told the hushed crowd.

"Why now? Why us?" he continued. "The answer is because the country is calling us. History beckons us."

In the early days of his march to the caucuses, Obama was a phenomenon, if not a fully formed candidate.

He offered audiences hope and more hope. He drew pictures of the country's challenges in big, broad strokes. Critics asked, "Where's the beef?" - just as former Vice President Walter Mondale once asked of another insurgent candidate, then-Sen. Gary Hart, in 1984.

Over time, and on his own terms, Obama put out the more detailed policy papers that the critics had been demanding. His rivals questioned the fine print - particularly on health care. But on many topics, from renewable energy to foreign trade, the Democratic candidates' positions seemed to blur together.

Obama's speeches stressed the biggest difference he had with Clinton, Edwards, Sen. Joe Biden and Sen. Chris Dodd. While they voted for a war powers resolution prior to the Iraq invasion, as a Senate candidate in 2002, he made a speech opposing it.

Still, from the earliest days of the campaign, his movement seemed to be built on something besides policy points.

"Obama is so different," said Dean Fluker, who introduced Obama on Earth Day in Iowa City. "I've talked to a lot of young folks. The big thing is, they think he's cool."

'John Edwards country'

Out in the middle of nowhere, on a stretch of highway outside Cedar Rapids, there's a weathered billboard that looks as if it has been standing forever.

"This is John Edwards country," it says.

It marks some of the rural, Iowa turf that Edwards has been trying to claim since 2003, when he was the fresh-faced alternative in the Democratic contest.

Back then, with a broad smile and a stump speech focused on the "two Americas," rich and poor, Edwards stayed above the fray between the supposedly "inevitable" nominee, Vermont Gov. Howard Dean, and Rep. Richard Gephardt of Missouri.

Being tagged an optimist helped. And on a cold night in January 2004, Edwards finished second in the Iowa caucuses, just behind the eventual nominee, Sen. John Kerry.

Though the Kerry-Edwards ticket was doomed in 2004, Edwards never dismantled his old Iowa operation. He had shaken hands in all 99 Iowa counties that election cycle. So he was an early Iowa favorite when he began his second lap.

But there were new challenges.

No longer the fresh face, Edwards was fighting the "been- there, done-that" mentality among Democrats who've grown tired of losing.

The media was dominated by the "big first" story lines: the prospect of the first woman president (Clinton), first African-American president (Obama), or first Hispanic president (New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson).

Then, last spring, there came word of a cancer recurrence for Edwards' wife, Elizabeth.

A grim prognosis prompted whispers - and then a famously false report - that Edwards might have to drop out. Instead, his wife's fight became a rallying point - frequently used to great effect on the stump.

He and Elizabeth began talking about a decision in a hospital room to dedicate "the rest of our lives" to fighting for change - taking on special interests, ending poverty, bringing universal health care.

Edwards delivered his populist message with a dose of urgency that was missing in 2004. Invariably, he began solo appearances by saying he had just gotten off the phone with his wife, who was doing "fine" and "sent her love."

With the outpouring of support she received, Elizabeth Edwards drew crowds that would make some of the second-tier presidential contenders envious. And, perhaps in a hospital room somewhere, she discarded the old notion that would-be first ladies should be quiet and polite.

It was she who went toe-to-toe with conservative author Ann Coulter. It was she who first went on the offensive against Clinton, telling an interviewer, "She's just not as vocal a women's advocate as I want to see. John is."

And it was Elizabeth Edwards whose retort during (yet another) trip to Ottumwa, Iowa, summed up her husband's advantage in the first caucus state: "You know," she told him at a stop sign, "I think if someone asked me, I could give directions here."

Deep interest in contest

Rank-and-file Democrats were a motivated bunch. In a deep field, even some of the party's second-tier candidates regularly drew bigger, more vocal crowds than Republican contenders.

Iowans turned out to see New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson. His memorable "job interview" advertisements stressed his one- of-a-kind resume as a governor, congressman, ambassador, cabinet member and everyman not afraid to poke fun at himself.

They jammed into diners to hear Sen. Joe Biden, an old- school orator, share the lessons he had learned in three decades on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.

They showed up to hear Sen. Chris Dodd, who recalled his Peace Corps service in Central America and talked about launching a diplomatic "surge" to regain the country's respect in the world.

All the Democratic contenders used opposition to the Iraq war as a rallying point.

One of the more festive days of the entire campaign involved the long-shot Dodd. A white-haired baby boomer, he invited a longtime friend, music legend Paul Simon, to play a series of mini concerts for him.

When Dodd's wife, Jackie, introduced Simon at a packed diner in Mason City, it came with a special welcome to the new faces in the crowd - "especially the press," she said with a tinge of sarcasm.

The reporters took it with a laugh. Even though her husband had 33 years of congressional experience, chaired a Senate committee and had gotten nothing but good reviews in debates, it took "Rhymin' Simon" to bring out a media gaggle about half as large as the one that typically chased Clinton and Obama.

"As his spouse, I never think he gets his due," Jackie Dodd said this month in metro Des Moines, where the couple moved their family for the final months of Dodd's Quixotic campaign. "There has been an obsession with celebrity in this race, and I'm not sure that's what we're looking for in a president."

As the race dragged on, Dodd, Biden and Richardson took turns claiming modest amounts of momentum. Dodd won the coveted endorsement from a major union: the firefighters. Biden won praise - and a Senate vote - for his Iraq-stabilization plan. Richardson gained buzz as someone who offered "experience and change."

In Iowa's expectations game, any one of them could score big headlines on caucus night by sneaking into a top-three finish.

But in a year when campaign spotlight was brighter than ever, most of that attention went to two big, national names - Clinton and Obama - and to the populist who was trying to cling to his Iowa turf, Edwards.

Bill Clinton shows up

Two days after the skip-Iowa memo leaked, Clinton refuted it at Northern Iowa Area Community College in Mason City.

"I'm going to spend so much time in Iowa, I'll be able to caucus for myself by the time January comes around," she said, prefacing her usual remarks about growing up in the middle class, in the middle of America.

This was Clinton's "conversation" tour, a not-so-subtle attempt for one of the most famous - and polarizing - women in America to reintroduce herself on her own terms.

In those days, she flew solo. She might mention her husband's name to remind Democrats of the days before Republicans took over the White House.

But she made a conscious effort to stand on her own. Former President Clinton was nowhere to be seen.

"I had to get out and make my case to the people of Iowa" - and without him, she told Iowa Public Television this month.

The former president is a potent weapon - but he's a double-edged sword.

On a warm night in early July, his arrival on the campaign trail was treated like the second coming of Elvis. Admirers swooned as he led his wife down a pathway lined with hay bales, hopped up the steps to a small stage and then gave a short, gushing speech as her warm-up act.

He called his wife the best prepared, nonincumbent he had a chance to vote for in 40 years.

Just by being there, he reminded folks of that bargain of the 1990s - "two for the price of one." And when he singled-out a man in the back of the crowd who was ready to hold up a "Husbands for Hillary" sign on cue, women in the crowd cheered.

But that night, the next day at that riverside park in Iowa City and later in the campaign, each time Bill Clinton appeared, there were those who interpreted it as a sign of something else: fear that Hillary's campaign was flagging.

All-out spending war

In July, the second-quarter fundraising figures struck like lightning.

In just three months, Obama had taken in $32.5 million, topping Clinton by about $10 million and throwing her invincibility into question.

She'd eventually overtake him in the money chase, but not by much. On the ground in Iowa, it was an all-out spending war - akin to an arms race between Cold War superpowers.

Across the Iowa map, campaign field offices started proliferating like missile silos.

Obama was on his way to opening 36 offices across Iowa - from the converted old hockey arena in Des Moines' East Village to remote field offices from Algona to Maquoketa. Clinton matched him nearly office for office.

The buildup could be seen on the streets, where glossy, white "Hope" signs for Obama and bold blue "Hillary" signs for Clinton overwhelmed a landscape dotted with other candidates' colors.

They stepped up their air wars, too. By the fall, it was tough to turn on a television without seeing the message of the week from Clinton or Obama.

But the real battle was high- tech and less visible.

As all the candidates circled the state - often more than once in a single week - their campaigns aggressively coaxed audience members into filling out detailed supporter cards to help build massive computer databases of names, phone numbers, e-mail addresses and issue interests.

Turn in a card, and a person could count on being contacted, again and again. They'd get invitations to get more involved. They'd get information on where to caucus. And they'd get all their questions answered.

Clinton-Obama skirmish

Clinton and Obama began skirmishing over the summer.

She jumped on his answer to a diplomacy question during a televised debate, saying it was "naÃve" for him to say he'd negotiate face-to-face with some of the world's more notorious dictators without preconditions.

Though both candidates had long talked about the need for a new era of diplomacy, one that included talks with bitter adversaries, the flap set up the narrative that would dominate the rest of the campaign.

She said Obama was too inexperienced, unprepared to be president "from day one." He said Clinton was too closely tied to old thinking and old institutions to take the bold steps needed for real change.

The conflict spread to issues like health care and the role of lobbyists in the campaigns.

Edwards mostly stayed on the outer edges of the Clinton- Obama conflicts.

At times, he'd express agreement with Clinton. (On health care, for example, he agreed with her that Obama's plan did not offer universal coverage.) But more often, he'd side with Obama, echoing charges that Clinton was too closely tied to entrenched Washington lobbyists.

By the fall, when Clinton took the lead in the Iowa polls, she became the main target for attacks.

After she stumbled over an immigration-related question in one debate, her campaign accused the others of the "politics of pile on."

At her all-women's alma mater, Wellesley College, she talked about taking on the "all-boys club of presidential politics."

Still, Obama was coming under pressure from his own backers to strike a more combative pose. Edwards stoked the fires, portraying himself as a fighter and implying that Obama wanted to "sit around the table and be nice" to special interests.

That set the stage for the Jefferson-Jackson Dinner, Iowa Democrats' last big fundraiser in November. As the final speaker of the night, with thousands of his supporters filling the upper decks, Obama replaced his upbeat tone with sharp phrases directed right at the heart of Clinton's campaign.

"Triangulating" on principles - as he had accused Clinton of doing - "just won't do," Obama said. Instead of "talking about the outrage" of uninsured Americans, Obama said he wanted to start doing something. And he said he was "sick and tired" of Democrats trying to look tough on national security by acting "like George Bush Republicans."

That night, Clinton said she was more interested in attacking the problems of America, rather than her opponents. But in coming days, after Obama slipped into the lead of most Iowa polls, the gloves came off.

A race too close to call

With aggressive counter-punching, Clinton's campaign appeared to lose its balance at times. She had to admit going too far - including when an aide used an essay Obama wrote in kindergarten to attack him, and then when another brought up Obama's teenage drug use.

Obama accused her of desperation. There were rumors that Bill Clinton wanted a shake-up in her campaign.

"I called my campaign and said, 'Are we having a shake-up?' I don't know anything about it," she told reporters in Des Moines.

Clinton brushed off the story line about a stumbling national front-runner. She regained some footing when The Des Moines Register handed her a glowing endorsement that echoed her "ready to lead" slogan.

Still, as the holidays approached, the race for Iowa remained too close to call. The national contest started looking that way, too.

So she was asked again whether she still thought it was worth the gamble coming to Iowa.

"I always knew it would be hard," she said. "There's nothing surprising about that to me. But just because it's hard doesn't mean you don't do it. And I'm happy I'm doing it."

On a cold night in January, the nation will be watching to see whether that mood changes.

Handicapping the Dems in Iowa

* Sen. Joe Biden of Delaware: Folks say he could be the true sleeper in the race - and not just the ones who've heard him talk and talk and talk.

* Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton of New York: Taking on the "boy's club of presidential politics" - with a little help from her own boy, a former president.

* Sen. Chris Dodd of Connecticut: Being an out-of-towner wasn't working, so he moved his family to Des Moines. Still acts like he's having more fun than anyone.

* Former Sen. John Edwards: His old Iowa lead took a trim, but in the country barbershops they say he could win by a hair.

* Former Sen. Mike Gravel of Alaska: Promised to give rivals "adult supervision," then mostly played with the YouTube kids.

* Rep. Dennis Kucinich of Ohio: Being morphed into a regular character on Saturday Night Live was not the attention he was seeking.

* Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois: Hoping against hope that he's as popular as Oprah Winfrey the day after the caucuses.

* Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico: Could sneak up on the top tier, even if he never answered the question posed in his job interview ads: "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"

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Comments

December 28, 2007

9:50 a.m.

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JohnSWren writes:

Why isn't this posted on the Rocky Mountain News Online front page? The article doesn't come up when I click on "Extra" only the pictures associated with the article.
December 28, 2007

10:54 a.m.

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jkojs writes:

NO more Clinton dynasty and corrupted Health Industry.
Its time to end 20 years of Clinton/Bush political dynasty.

!!! ITS TIME FOR CHANGE !!!

BARACK OBAMA WAS RIGHT ON IRAQ.

BARACK OBAMA WAS RIGHT ON IRAN.

BARACK OBAMA WAS RIGHT ON PAKISTAN.

BARACK OBAMA HAS RIGHT JUDGEMENT FROM THE BEGINNING.

BARACK OBAMA's JUDGEMENT TRIUMPHS OVER HILLARY'S WRONG EXPERIENCE.

!!! VOTE FOR BARACK OBAMA !!!

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