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Coffee to Go
Part III:
Many who come to see him are more groupies than supporters, attracted to him for his newfound fame. Mary Durant was wavering between Clark and Kerry when she came to this event. When asked which issues she's interested in, she names all of them. After today, she's leaning toward Kerry.
"I don't know. There's just something about Mr. Kerry. He seems so honest." By the third or fourth press interview, her position has hardened. "After tonight, I'm definitely going for Kerry," she tells the local news.
Already Kerry is facing the unreasonable burdens that go with power. Durant's sister, Sarah Jacques, came here, too, with a load of troubles on her mind. She has diabetes and can't afford an insulin pump, her son is handicapped and she can't afford his medicine, she can barely afford the monthly bus pass she wears around her neck. As she runs through her woes, she is tearing up. "I don't know. I was hoping maybe Mr. Kerry can do something about it."
Later that afternoon Lieberman, Clark and Dennis Kucinich speak at a forum on health care. Here the candidates are onstage and the voters invisible in the distant dark of theater seats; a moderator will ask each of the candidates a single question submitted on paper. In polls New Hampshirites say health care is their most pressing concern; for each of the candidates, it's become a centerpiece of their populist message.
Except for Kucinich they all have similar plans, promising full coverage for kids, defined as under 18 or 22 or 25; they all oppose the recently passed Medicare reform. Kucinich is a passionate advocate of a single-payer plan; he is is helped by the sober forum. He indulges in one gimmick moment: "I'm going to turn around. Watch carefully. I won't go too fast," he says, turning in a circle with his arms up. "See, no strings attached," he says, meaning no lobbyist contributions. But otherwise Kucinich is buttoned down; David Corn of the Nation pronounces it his best performance to date.
Clark will have a roller coaster of a day. In the morning at a forum at Rivier College in Nashua he was greeted by a less-than-full house; in the evening he is feted by raucous crowds at a rally in Derry. Now that Howard Dean is no longer the front-runner, Clark's place is more murky; last week he was the clear alternative, but now he has to fight to distinguish himself from Kerry.
One title Clark holds for sure, though: Most Improved Candidate. His staff used to dread sending Clark to forums like these, where he would read dryly from a prepared text, drift into professorial digressions. Today he begins with biography, talking about all the times he's been a patient, from getting his tonsils out at age 3 to his many war wounds. The audience is a beat behind his applause lines but eventually catches up.
"Republicans talk about free trade, but I've never heard them complain when it cuts into the price of prescription drugs," he says, confusing his audience, but eventually they clap. By this point in the day you notice how campaigns are like jazz riffs, candidates picking up on one another's themes and weaving them into their speeches.
"It's high time we give families and elected officials the same coverage," says Clark. This line originated with Kerry (or maybe Edwards?), who talked about how he could afford the best treatment because he's covered by a federal government health plan.
In the past two weeks lobbyists have popped up a lot: "These Washington lobbyists are taking your democracy away from you," says Edwards. "Every meeting with a lobbyist should be a matter of public record," echoes Kerry. Kerry started with his Real Deal, his chili feeds. Edwards perfected the theme with his "two Americas" speech. Now Kerry has picked that up: "We have separate school systems, separate tax systems," he said at Friday's event. By now everyone has co-opted Dean's message of giving power back to the voters. "I don't think I can change this country by myself. I think you and I can change it together," Edwards says.
If Edwards has his sunny optimism, Dean is a candidate who is at his best at night. Getting to his town hall meeting at Keene Middle School requires a long drive on a one-lane road, just as the sun is vanishing, the deep chill setting in. The horror over his Iowa scream has died down a bit, but this is still a crucial moment for him. Polls this day show him switching places with Kerry; now he is 20 points behind, and Clark is fast catching up. To his supporters Dean is less a candidate than a belief system, someone who channels deep rage about Bush, about the political system, the environment. This is shaping up as a moment when some people fall away and others harden in their beliefs.
Bob Drumm is a town leader for Dean in the small town of Acworth. He'd planned to make calls these next two days to supporters to make sure Dean still had their votes but decided to wait. "After that disastrous scream, we decided to let things cool off a bit." Drumm says he is deeply disappointed but understands. "He is a very human person, he has the same foibles we all have. He was cold, exhausted. This was the first time he'd lost a race."
Does he still think Dean can win New Hampshire?
"I don't know," Drumm says after a long pause. "I don't know."
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