Where's the beef, Kerry?
boston.com
By Brian McGrory, 9/9/2003
John, put that hairbrush down and pull yourself away from the mirror for a second. We need to have a little talk.
What's that, you're not sure you want to sit? You'd like to sit some of the time and stand some of the time? You're saying that by sitting, that in no way means you don't like standing?
OK, but that's exactly what we need to address. You were supposed to be a maverick, a thoroughbred, galloping toward the Democratic nomination with all those glue horses in futile pursuit.
But what's happened is, you're starting to look like a jackass. In New Hampshire, you're 12 points down in a Globe poll to a guy nobody knew back in May. Howard Dean? When you were railing on the Senate floor about huge national issues, he was, what, speaking to the Montpelier Elks? When you were fighting in Vietnam, he was, where, in a white coat learning how to give a flu shot?
So how did this happen?
All that stuff in your speeches about you being a courageous soldier with years and years of experience in international affairs -- can it. Can the impatient air of entitlement. Biography rarely wins an election, especially in modern times. Ask John Glenn. It gets you a seat at the table -- and in your case, a seat at the head of the table. But voters are fickle. They take your past for granted; they care more about their future and what you're saying about it.
Can, too, the campaign of inevitablity. The scariest aspect of the Globe poll wasn't that you're down by 12 percent in a state that's turning into a Boston suburb. It's that people believe Dean is as capable as you of beating Bush.
All that blather from your staff about Dean being from an insignificant state? You've heard of Bill Clinton, right? Before he was a New Yorker he came from Arkansas.
Forget, as well, your creed that we can't afford a president who needs on-the-job training. Prancing around Washington with a Senate pin on your lapel is not the best preparation to live in the White House. In fact, the last senator to get there was John Kennedy; meantime, four of the last five presidents were governors. Hate to say it, but your resume is not your friend.
It's early, you like to say, and in some ways you're right. But perceptions have already been formed by opinion leaders. Campaign contributions have already sculpted paths of little resistance. Heading into the final stretch, every candidate has been assigned a role, and yours is of the waffling patrician disconnected from the common man.
So what to do? First, heat up. Dean looks angry, like someone just wrecked the car. You look confused, like someone just stole yours. Second, lighten up. This should be fun, running for president, one of life's great experiences, and win or lose, you're still going to have houses in Georgetown, Beacon Hill, Idaho, and Nantucket.
Third, give us clear reason. Nearly every president had a short message. Richard Nixon was law and order; Jimmy Carter was honesty; Ronald Reagan was strength and optimism; Bill Clinton was economy and empathy; George W. Bush is -- well, I'm not sure, which is part of the point. Your slogan -- "The courage to do what's right for America" -- is one of the worst ever.
Fourth, speak from your heart, not your memory. The public wants conviction, not know-it-all nuance.
To that end, quit letting all those former staffers and -- wink, wink -- friends, so many of them mere cling-ons, define who you are and what you represent. Look within, not without. The voters not only know sincerity, they demand it.
There's a lot of politics to be played in the next four-plus months, and you've proven in the past that you know how to play it well. The lip-lock between Dean and the national press will inevitably end, and be sure that some tearing down will begin.When that happens, it will again be up to you.
Brian McGrory is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at mcgrory@globe.com.
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