Kicking Into High Gear
Pedal to Metal: Drafting behind Bush has worked—so far. But it's time Kerry made his move. The plan for July
By Howard Fineman
NewsweekJuly 12 issue - The Heinz family estate, north of Pittsburgh, is rustic baronial: 90 acres of rolling farmland, woods and streams, crowned by a columned white mansion with swimming pool and oversize carriage house. Through the decades, various Heinzes have tended its garden plots (in the tradition of the Founding Heinz), and there are trails on which the present man of the house, Sen. John F. Kerry of Massachusetts, can ride his bike. He and his wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry, went to ground there last week with a skeleton crew of aides. Kerry's agenda: to swim, pedal and finalize a plan—it runs through July—to sell himself to the American people in ads, at campaign events and at the Democratic convention in his real hometown, Boston.
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In Hollywood parlance, Kerry is "opening wide"—and none too soon in the eyes of many Democrats. Ever since he effectively wrapped up the nomination last March, he and his advisers have been content—too content, some Democrats fret—to operate in the shadow of the president. Like a racing cyclist conserving energy, Kerry has been drafting behind the president, who in turn has been struggling to climb a long hill made ever steeper by Iraq. The war there has severely damaged Bush—his job-approval rating is below 50 percent in most polls—and left the race in a dead heat, despite a barrage of attacks on Kerry from Republicans. But Kerry himself is not better known than he was in March, and those who have gotten to know him well often like him less. "Kerry's really got to start making his own case to the voters," said Terry McAuliffe, Democratic Party chairman. "The campaign isn't just about George W. Bush."
As Kerry lingered over a final decision on his vice-presidential pick, Democratic kibitzers offered their two cents, or more, on how he can and must present himself anew. The party's master salesman, Bill Clinton, told Kerry that he had to stop focusing on Bush's vulnerabilities and instead "campaign as though Iraq was stable, the economy was going great guns and bin Laden was dead." Columnist and author Arianna Huffington, personally close to the candidate (and closer to Kerry's wife), suggested that he needed an overarching theme rooted in the 1960s idealism that inspired him to enter public life. "He has some good individual proposals but he needs a bold vision," she said. Consultant Joe Trippi, who tapped into the Internet for Howard Dean, said Kerry has done a good job of raising money in cyberspace, but has not generated the kind of grass-roots buzz that now is possible. "So far he just isn't conveying enough of a sense of energy," he said. Even Kerry's skill as an inside player was questioned last week when he angered Boston's mayor by honoring an "informational" picket line set up by city police seeking what the mayor sees as an extortionate raise.
Though they have spent $60 million on TV ads without boosting their own guy's standing, the Kerry campaign exudes an eerie confidence as the fall election's summer preseason begins. Kerry's decision to lay low was both a matter of choice and necessity. He needed to raise money (he accumulated an astonishing $150 million), to concentrate on ground organization (the campaign has top field hands in all 21 of its targeted "battleground" states) and to sit still during overwhelming events (Abu Ghraib, Ronald Reagan's death, the Clinton book and the Iraq handover). "I have to say I like where we are right now," insists Tad Devine, part of the troika of top consultants to the campaign. "I agree that we can't just rely on Bush to self-destruct," he said. "But Bush's numbers have cratered—and now we are going to have the chance to really tell his story."
It's not an easy tell. Kerry can seem like a character in a Hawthorne story—a dour, beset New Englander forgetting to smile as he thinks deep thoughts. So step one, now that fund-raising in closed banquet halls is done, is to surround him with people who put him at ease in situations he likes. In Iowa, where he rocketed to the top, that meant mastering the form of the small town hall. Now, that means family and friends. Last weekend, when Kerry embarked on a July Fourth bus tour, the campaign shrewdly asked his two daughters to come along. He dotes on them and they dote back. "I wish people could get to know Dad the way I do," Alexandra Kerry told NEWSWEEK. Now she will have a chance to help them.
The convention at the Fleet Center in Boston will be a visual town hall writ large, McAuliffe told NEWSWEEK. For the first time, risers with seats will be incorporated into the stage, so several hundred "real" voters—not fat cats—can form a human backdrop and also interact with speakers and guests. Below and around the podium, windows will show party officials at work—a beehive of activity. "The idea is not to have some dictatorial podium alone on the stage, but people everywhere," McAuliffe said.
A new round of ads—by law, Kerry has to spend his entire remaining horde of $28 million this month—will portray Kerry as a man of personal strength. The ad previewed in a test rollout last week trumpets Kerry's alpha-male credentials as a "hunter, pilot, hockey player" and war hero praised by former chairmen of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The goal: to take command of the bridge of the ship of state from Bush. In this election, says Devine, voters aren't seeking a philosophical paradigm shift. "They are looking for answers to very immediate problems," he said, "one of which is the war."
Any successful campaign needs an image to encapsulate it, and Kerry is ... a boat—and not just the Swift Boat he commanded in Vietnam. The breakthrough, aides say, will come if and when Kerry can convince Americans that the real boat is the one we are all in together. "There is incredible power in that," said Devine. All Kerry has to do is convince us that he deserves to be captain. |
