The First Lady

At the conclusion of our visit with Obama Nation, it was dark outside and chilly. The lights from the upper windows of the complex spilled onto the street, and we were unafraid. Marra and I were energized by meeting the volunteers and the paid staffers, and of course, signing the wall. For a few minutes that evening, we were a part of something larger than ourselves. Don't all the candidates for world leader hope to inspire, in fact need to inspire, the populace like this?

Despite the upbeat ending of our political day, we crashed quickly. We went for traditional Italian at a pizzeria on Elm Street, just a few blocks down from home base. We talked, watched the Red Sox playoff game, and called it a night. Tomorrow, Tuesday, would be our last day in New Hampshire. We needed the rest. After a shower for Marra and a beer for Daddy, neither of us struggled falling asleep.

Tuesday morning began like all the other previous mornings in the hotel. I woke to find Marra sitting legs folded on the edge of the bed watched "Saved by the Bell" with the sound almost inaudible to my middle aged ears. I was grateful that she was considerate enough to let me sleep. I was equally disappointed that she was exchanging classroom time in Virginia with time watching Zack and Screech engage in a variety of middle school hi jinx. Marra was learning about climate change, immigration policy and the Iranian threat at the same time she was studying bad situation comedy and worse 1980s styles. Perhaps expecting to wake up to her watching McNeil-Lehrer is too much to ask...yet.

I was keyed up about our itinerary for the day. It would be Hillary all day, beginning with a policy address in the morning, then a visit to a child care center, an afternoon house party, and finally a 5:30 PM Town Hall meeting. When we had arrived on Saturday, none of these events were scheduled. Clinton was not even scheduled to be in the state all week. It was a gift to us when these events were added. While Marra and I would have made the best of the situation and visited more campaign headquarters, it would not have compared to seeing the Democratic front runner, the presumptive nominee of her party, and the former First Lady up close and personal. Raising a daughter in America, this day was taking on greater significance for me. I could have Marra's picture taken with the woman most likely to be the first female President of the United States. That would be something she would cherish for the rest of her life. I wanted to give that to her.

We did another breakfast at the Merrimack. We were greeted by what appeared to be a homeless woman in the vestibule. This particular woman had been there the day before as well, and the staff knew her and called her by name. She even seated Marra and me in a booth and handed us menus. She talked a bit crazy, running some nonsense words together from time to time and raising her voice occasionally. No one minded, so neither did we. At least she was helping out.

The waitress recognized us. We were regulars now on the Manchester scene. I thought I would miss the welcome feeling of familiarity when we left the next day. I thought I would especially miss hanging with my daughter, my rapidly growing up daughter. It may be cliche, but she was growing up before my eyes. I was so glad we were doing this.

The Clinton policy speech was planned for 10:30 AM, with doors opening at 10:00 AM. I wanted to get there early and guarantee a great seat. We were only 5 city blocks away. Marra insisted we stop at a used book store along the route so she would have something to read while we waited for the speech to begin. She was browsing at her signature leisurely pace, and I was jumping out of my skin. "Let's go, let's go, " I nagged. We have to get a great seat.

As I dragged Marra from the bookstore and we rounded the corner towards the YWCA, I recognized a man driving a late model town car, idling as he prepared to make a left onto Elm. "Marra, look! That's the guy who was papering cars with his JFK conspiracy manifesto at the Giuliani Town Hall in Exeter!" I recognized the wrinkled blue pinstripe suit, the bad complexion, and yellow tinted hair. Looks like Marra, me and the crazy conspiracy theorist have the same itinerary. Should I have been scared?

There was already a small line outside the YWCA, and my heart sank. 35 minutes early, and we're not even inside on line. Fortunately, the doors had not opened yet, so we were actually among the first 20 or so attendees. I couldn't believe it. The presumptive nominee, former First Lady is speaking for free, and no one is really here yet? It's a free country, but let's not take that for granted, people! The place should have been packed.

Inside the lobby of the YWCA, we saw several of the ladies who had been working in the Hillary for President headquarters the day before. The lead woman from that office, Katie, was wandering around with her coffee and Dunkin' Donuts bag, looking important with her all-access pass around her neck. The two women who were inhaling the toxic spray paint fumes were looking well, too. We spoke briefly to those who remembered us. All of these women, however, were huddled together for the most part, chatting and watching the crowd swell to a dangerous size in the limited space. In contrast to the Obama operation, this crew seemed content to just be there. The Obama crew would have been working the crowd for volunteers, winning votes. It smelled of complacency, and it was disappointing. I already thought Hillary was coasting through the debates, playing defense, and now I see her staffers acting the same way. New Hampshirites can be fickle. She has a lead in the polls now, but she'd better step it up and get her team to step it up as well.

The crowd started in a line back from the door to the auditorium, but as the numbers grew, it became more of a senior citizen mosh pit. This was a work day and a school day, so retirees dominated the scene. And retirees do not like being pushed around by anyone looking to gain a better position on the floor, especially when the room heats up. And retirees will speak up when someone cuts in line. No profanity, but they were freely expressing their dismay about the Hillary for President team's ability to organize a room. That kind of stuff will influence a vote. Why didn't Katie and the girls see that and take charge? They just sipped coffee and shared donuts.

The rumor in the hall was that the Secret Service was holding things up, checking out the premises. They had to give the all clear before opening the room for us. Serious stuff, and a far cry from a John Edwards event, that's for sure. Finally, the room was cleared of threats (like regular people asking unscripted questions, right , Hillary?), and we were allowed to enter at 10:45 AM. Our early arrival paid off. We found ourselves with 2 open seats in the first row, right on the left hand corner of the stage behind the thick purple ropes. We could touch the stage with our hands. Of course, the Secret Service would shoot us if we tried, but the point is, we were close.

The room was a petite gymnasium, circa 1920. Polished brown cinder block walls, hardwood floors, high ceilings and natural light. It seated approximately 150, but there could have been more if not for the bank of TV cameras along the back wall. Everyone in our section was asked to sign a waiver stating that our likeness may be used in a future Hillary TV commercial. We were about to be propaganda props, and we signed away like lemmings. Anything to be on TV.

Senator Clinton was scheduled to speak at 10:30 AM, but she didn't grace the stage until 11:20. I chatted with an elderly gentleman to my left, a fountain of New Hampshire political information. He pointed out all the local and state dignitaries in the crowd, such as the Democratic mayoral candidate front and center. He also pointed out 2 NH Democratic giants standing together against the wall, Bill Shaheen, husband of former Governor Jean Shaheen, and Kathy Sullivan, chairperson of the state Democratic Party. I still regret not leaving my seat to have my picture taken with these two, but I do realize that I could be the only person that would ever care about such a photo. At that moment, I confirmed my political geekness. My seat neighbor also shared with me his brush with New Hampshire political lore. He was at the Town Hall meeting when Al Gore claimed to have invented the Internet. Now, this nice man was clear that Al Gore had said no such thing, but he watched and listened as those innocent comments at that event were spun into proof of Gore penchant for exaggerating his accomplishments. I wondered if Marra and I would be a part of something like that during our brief stay. A moment that would live beyond this election cycle - Muskie's tears, Dole's "Stop lying about my record", anything. Maybe we had already been at such a moment, and didn't know it yet.

Marra never opened her new book. She was absorbing the atmosphere. As I looked at her, I could tell that the excitement was building. Even the casual observer knows who Hillary Clinton is. I was glad we were so close with an unobstructed view.

At 11:20 AM, the Senator from New York mounted the stage in a finely tailored brown pants suit with a turquoise necklace and matching earrings. This was not your mother's pants suit, definitely not off the rack. Very flattering. She looked good. I will admit, my expectations were low. Frankly, I expected her to look older in person. She was almost 60, and had been through quite a tumultuous life to date. She was bright, energetic, and dare I say pretty. She was introduced by a single mom, struggling to make ends meet. The policy address was billed as a discussion of the next phases for the Family and Medical Leave Act, and this mom's story set the emotional mood.

As for the issues, she had lots to offer the masses. She proposed expanding FMLA to include paid leave and lowering the employer threshold to 25 employees (it is currently 50 employees, and leave is unpaid). She offered up $1 billion to start state initiatives around paid leave. California already has paid family leave for workers, and several states have proposals before their legislatures. She talked about her Model Workplace Initiative, using the federal workplace as a model for promoting flexible schedules and tele-commuting. She promoted more funds for Childcare Development Block Grants, and vowed to open access to these funds to stay at home moms. Her main applause point: if you are really pro-family, you'll be behind these types of programs for building and protecting the family (take that, Mitt Romney!).

Hillary finished her speech to the middle class the middle class, the middle class (the woman can stay on message), and walked off the stage to the theme of "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" by The Police (sorry, Tim). Hillary was headed our way, and we were in the front row. All the planning was going to pay off. I was going to get a picture of Marra with Hillary.

She walked right up to me and Marra, and I told her that we had traveled over 600 miles from Virginia to see her. She was very gracious and asked, "Would you like a picture with your daughter?" She's worked these rope lines before, she knew exactly what to do. She crouched behind Marra, placed both hands on her shoulders and smiled. Click. We have a winner! I also quickly shoved my notebook in her hands and got her autograph. Both Marra and I were busting. Hillary was the rock star of the candidate field, and we just got the handshake, the photo and the autograph. Politics aside, that's pretty neat.

As we were angling to escape the crush of other well-wishers, we turned to climb over some of the folding chairs. Just before Marra crawled out of the scrum, I grabbed her attention. "Marra, look who's there!" At this moment, the crazy JFK conspiracy guy was handing Mrs. Clinton a copy of his 5 page manifesto. I couldn't hear him speaking but I did hear Hillary say, "I'll be sure to take a look at this." For a fleeting second, I imagined we were going to be eyewitness to a George Wallace campaign moment. I'm glad I was wrong.

Event Number One with Hillary was complete. I will admit, her proposals seemed very Big Government, a far cry from Bill's heady days with the centrist DLC (Democratic Leadership Council) when he played down expanding the size of government. She lacked the passion of Edwards, but in some ways, the trappings of former First Lady made up for that by making her seem more "presidential". Between the security presence and the limited access to her, you got the feeling that she was already President. It takes a lot of passion to overcome that kind of a head start.

The day stalking Hillary had just begun. We still had questions to ask.

JS

Barack the House

It's easy for me to get caught up in the daily political currents and drift away from the world of day-to-day responsibilities and obligations. We had been in New Hampshire now for two and a half days. It was time to weigh anchor in reality, and that meant school homework for Marra and work emails for me. It also meant remembering those we had left behind, like our wife/mother and kids/siblings. We chose to procrastinate a few more minutes by shopping for family gifts.

I was having some regrets. In our rush on Sunday to be on time for Giuliani's Town Hall in Exeter, we did not spend any time shopping in Durham, home of the University of New Hampshire. We had briefly ducked into an off-campus store next to Young's Restaurant and saw all manner and variety of cool shirts, sweats and collectibles, all featuring the New Hampshire theme. I felt too pressured for time to make a smart buying decision, so we left empty handed. I wished Durham wasn't so far away, or I would have driven back. I was holding out hope that downtown Manchester would offer better, more unique, less tourist-y options.

Marra and I had scouted out 2 T-shirt shop options on Elm Street, but the T-Shirt Bodega sounded the most promising. A store that calls itself a 'bodega' will surely carry the type of personalized, out of the ordinary, subtle yet attention grabbing designs that say, "I'm an individual, and I have something to say!" I was about to be taught one of Murphy's axioms: Be careful what you wish for.

First of all, 'unique' equals 'overpriced'. This fact had little impact on Marra's shopping choices. Second, "bodega" is apparently a Spanish word for "rag". The hip style demanded that the clothing be so worn, thin and frayed that you could wear it during the day, use it to buff your car in the evening, and then blow on it like a dandelion to watch the threads spread out across the breeze. Disposable and eco-friendly.

"Attention grabbing designs" means political messaging on wedge issues that I had not directly addressed with my 11 year old. I was sticking with war, taxes, health care and the environment. The Bodega's shirts were targeting gay marriage, free speech in the form of profanity, and various Bob Marley causes. As Bill O'Reilly might say, they were "promoting their radical secular far left agenda on "us folks", the unsuspecting tourists.

I should not have been so shocked. The residents of the Live Free or Die state were not passive about their positions or opinions. We were learning a lot about New Hampshire during our stay. From my readings about the NH electorate, there were two competing groups, one represented by the working class, blue collar city dwellers and those in the North Country; the other known as the Elites, represented by those clustered near the universities and the Massachusetts border towns. In New Hampshire, car insurance is not required by law. Seat belts are only required for minor children. There is no sales tax. There is no income tax. The revolution to take back America will begin here, and this store is apparently run by free thinking revolutionary leaders. To win New Hampshire, you need a coalition of both the Elites and the Working Class. To sell T-shirts, Elites will do.

I talked Marra out of a $30 ratty T with an Apple logo on the front, and escaped without having to explain the meaning of the shirt picturing 2 woman holding hands. Isn't it enough that at age 11, she knows the term "Islamofascism"? Procrastination over - back to the Radisson for homework.

Marra poured over her math and social studies for almost 3 hours while sprawled on her Sleep Number bed. School work seemed a welcome respite from being shuttled all over a strange state in a minivan. After a Dennis Kucinich diatribe about the impact of global warring on eco-policy, even 6th grade math looks good.

We were still full from our late lunch at the Red Arrow, so we decided to check out Obama headquarters before dinner. We were really disappointed that we weren't going to see him in person. Several people at earlier events that heard our story asked if we would be hearing Barack in person. Each one praised his infectious energy, his passion and his elocution. If he is this generation's JFK as a speaker, we really missed an opportunity. Field office visit would have to suffice.

It was just beginning to get dark when we pulled up at Obama headquarters. It was only 2 miles from the hotel, down past the Romney and Dodd locations, but further off the main drag. The office was a brightly lit second floor of a building in an industrial area, the kind of area where they take your car after it gets towed away. Chain link, sparse street lights, the occasional barking dog. I wasn't scared...

At the top of the stairs, we rounded the corner and came to a plain open entrance. A woman was sitting behind a small card table sized desk, obviously the gatekeeper; however, the room was wide open, maybe 30' by 20', with 4 volunteers at separate desks working the phones. We could hear all their secrets! The gatekeeper listened to our story with suspicious ears, and asked me to wait while she found someone to help us. This was a new experience. At all the other campaign office stops, we had the upper hand, the element of surprise. We controlled the conversation, we wandered where we chose to wander. This was more like visiting a business. We needed an escort on the premises.

We were introduced to Garrett, one of the field volunteers. Finally, a person of color in lily white New Hampshire! Garrett should run for office himself. He had a presence as he spoke, a genuine enthusiasm for his candidate, and a deep understanding of Obama's message. He was happy to answer all of our questions, and made it a point to personally introduce us to just about everyone working that evening. And there were a lot of people volunteering, maybe 20 in all. He showed us the political research section, the voter turnout section, and he introduced us to Jack, the state Field Director. The place was humming. We were part of the wave now. Garrett was sucking us into the World of Barack.

Garrett and I spoke about the recent Senate resolution labeling part of the Iranian army as a terrorist organization. I asked where Obama stood on this issue. We had already heard Edwards rip into Hillary for voting in favor of the resolution. According to Edwards, Hillary was giving Bush an excuse to move militarily against Iran in the future. Edwards said Obama missed the vote, and I wanted to know why. Garrett said that the resolution was non-binding, and that the Senator believes that these types of contrived votes that are non-binding serve only political purposes, and distract the Senate from doing the people's work. (Sounded good, but I have not heard Obama use that defense for missing the vote since that time.)

Garrett also invoked the memory of JFK to us, comparing Obama's rise in popularity and his calls to sacrifice and action among the youth of America to the former President's ability to connect with the disenfranchised. I had to then caution young Garrett. Careful with the JFK comparisons. JFK made many foreign policy mistakes during his brief tenure in the Oval Office. We romanticize his Presidency now, but at that time, his legacy was far from secure. If I have figured that out, I am sure Hillary has, too.

The final close of the sale was Garrett's invitation for Marra to sign the wall. Throughout the entire area where the staffers worked on behalf of their candidate, the walls were covered with either campaign posters or signatures. Every dignitary and every volunteer that helped the Obama cause had their autograph on the wall - and the walls were full of signatures. It was powerful in its simple message of belonging to something bigger, and Marra gladly accepted the Sharpie and signed. She was now forever part of Obama Nation, New Hampshire 2008. I signed ,too.

On the way out, we asked if we could have one of the call scripts that the volunteers were using. The call script outlined the exact message being delivered in every call being made. We wanted to review it at a later date. We had already been treated to 30 minutes of dialogue, handshakes and smiles, and we wanted to let them get back to the candidate's business. Armed with posters, stickers, buttons and call scripts, we left Team Barack.

As Marra and I walked out into the hallway, I said, "Marra, so tell me which was the best headquarters operation you saw today." Her response without hesitation, "Was it even close?" She was right. Right then and there, give us a ballot and we might have pulled the lever for Senator Barack Obama. If he could inspire that type of following, if the people in that room represent Barack Obama's America, then count us in.

Our visit convinced me that he has a chance in New Hampshire with the Elites. And if he wins the Elites, he could carry the state. The real question is whether the Elite sensibilities of the T-Shirt Bodega shoppers will translate to votes in South Carolina, Nevada and beyond. The Obama Revolution to take back America may end here, but just for 2008.

JS

Nothing Could Be Finer Than Being in Your Diner

Time to eat.

I wanted to completely submerge us in the warm waters of NH political history while in Manchester, so that meant diving into a meal at the Red Arrow Diner. The Red Arrow, besides being voted one of the Top Ten Diners in America, has had a rich legacy as rest stop for the rich and powerful. Here, it would be easy to share an intimate moment with an aspiring Presidential candidate or B-list entertainment figure.

Once inside, the diner fit us like a glove - mitten is probably a stronger image. We customers were the little fingers all pressed together against the New England chill outside. The entryway was the size of a phone booth, so you had to hang onto your wallet as you passed satisfied patrons leaving the eatery. The interior consisted primarily of a long, narrow sandwich counter lined with low swivel stools. There was a small section of five booths just to the right of the front register. I was reminded of the diner in "The Blob", starring Steve McQueen, the diner completely covered by the alien amoeba at the end of the movie. The decor was a cacophony of red and silver, broken by unpretentious marketing for Red Arrow gear. Coffee mugs, T-shirts, sweats were all available in a variety of colors and sizes. Don't forget to try the home baked Twinkies or the signature Moon Pies.

The diner was full and busy, but we were the only ones waiting for a seat. The hometown atmosphere hung in the air, from the Red Sox caps to the accents to the smells of fresh baked goods. I had a sense that everyone in the restaurant knew each other, like they were sitting and chatting in the owner's private kitchen. We felt welcomed into their underground club.

The middle window booth vacated almost immediately. We were comfortable enough to start clearing the table ourselves. Maybe we were just ready to sit and eat. Marra slid into the booth, right next to the stenciled words on the booth back: Adam Sandler Sat Here. Not a candidate for Leader of the Free World, but pretty cool nonetheless. Marra began to giggle and said, "Daddy, look. Bare Naked Ladies sat over there." I explained that BNL was a band, but it didn't quiet our laughter. Bare naked ladies had sat in this diner and had a meal. I hope they at least had napkins on their laps.

We ordered traditional diner fare. I had home style fried chicken with slaw. Marra ordered the children's portion mac n' cheese. This was a significant moment. Perhaps you parents out there remember your child's awkward transition from kid's menu to adult menu. Child believes children's menu is for babies. You think adult menu is too expensive and portions are too large. You give in so child feels grown up. Child then doesn't eat the entire meal, and you're stuck with the larger bill and the wasted food. Child does not learn this lesson the first time, so you give in a second time, hoping that today is the day she eats the whole adult meal. No. And the larger check comes again. "If she would only get passed the children's menu stigma," you silently pray.

On this day, Marra ordered the appropriate portion size, without as much as a hint from Daddy. Ordering from the kid's menu for Marra was a very adult decision to make. As a reward, I insisted that she not get the cup with a lid. I think Marra noticed.

We regrouped. Marra was still interested in Edwards. She liked his "No Nukes" pledge. She did not like Romney, although I didn't know why. We had only seen his local headquarters. She told me, "He's mean." She mocked his voice, "When Republicans start acting like Democrats, Republicans lose." That's from one of Romney's NH ads. I guess it ran a few times on TV during the trip, and Marra nailed the text cold. I was finding that whenever any candidate spoke negatively about another candidate, she really picked up on that instinctively, and it turned her off. Pollsters will tell us that negative ads work. They never polled the pre-teen crowd.

I wanted to get Marra focused on the next day with Hillary. We had 4 chances to see her tomorrow, which meant 4 opportunities to ask a question. Marra's question: "Why do you keep acting like George Bush?"

"Marra, what are you talking about? Hillary is many things, but she's not exactly George Bush."

She replied, "But that's not what Edwards said." OK, I thought, I'd be interested to read in the NY Times about the upstart pixie who challenged the former First Lady's record versus the Bush record, and dragged Hillary into a fight with Edwards. I encouraged her to think of another possible question, just in case. I already had several.

We finished up and paid the woman who was the same woman prominently pictured on the wall sitting on Al Gore's lap, and bought a Twinkie for the road. Everyone in town seemed to be close at one time or another to the vagabond candidates who trolled for votes every 4 years up here. And now we were, too.

JS

Shifting from Left to Right

To maintain my balanced presentation of all candidates and all views, I felt that a visit to Giuliani headquarters was necessary next. According to the media, he is the anti-Hillary, and his headquarters was just down the block another mile or so. Marra needed to know that I was still open to other positions, and what better way to to do than a trip to the GOP front runners home base. My guess was that all women and pink walls would not be what we found. I was betting on a combination of Yankees blue and Republican state red.

Rudy's campaign office was easy to find - right on Elm Street, same as our hotel, only a couple miles north. I saw it on the left at the last minute, and continued to the next traffic light to make a safe u-turn. While idling at the light, I noticed a Victorian home with a lawn covered in Fred Thompson signs. These were the first advertising Thompson that we had seen during the trip. I was feeling adventurous. "Marra, I think we're going to make another stop before going to Giuliani headquarters. I think that house over there might be Fred Thompson headquarters."

To prove to all you readers how late Fred was in entering the game, even Marra didn't know who he was. "Who's Fred Thompson?"

"He's the former Senator from Tennessee, and now he does TV and movies."

"So he's an actor not a President." Marra is very quick on the uptake. From what little I had seen, read and heard, she was correct in her assessment. But, we're open-minded...

We pulled into a small 4 car parking lot to the left of the house. As we got closer, we realized that this old house served as a law office. Right now, it looked to also be pulling double duty as Thompson's Manchester headquarters. I might not have GPS in the car, but I can hone in on obscure political offices pretty good (except for that pesky Paul's office!).

I walked Marra up the stone steps, explaining Fred's place in the continuum of political ideas. I told her that he is a Federalist, and that means he is usually against the government doing anything to encroach on the lives of private citizens. Kind of a mainstream Ron Paul, if you will, with the notable exception their deep foreign policy differences. Marra always asked the candidate's position on the Iraq War, and I said that he is in favor of continuing our role there. She said nothing, but I was sure that she was crossing his name off of her mental short list as we walked.

We didn't knock. We entered the main hallway, and it was like an abandoned B&B inside. Narrow halls, grand stair case front and center, Colonial style. Our voices echoed off the plaster walls. "Hello? Hello?" We creaked along the hardwood floor down the hallway toward the back of the house. Some office furniture appeared to have current equipment on it, like modern phones and computers, so at least we knew we weren't just wandering through someone's private residence.

Halfway through the main level, a heavy set gentleman appeared, and we introduced ourselves. He confirmed that we had indeed discovered the newly opened Thompson 2008 campaign office. I only had one question for him. "When is Fred coming to New Hampshire? Looks like he isn't planning to compete here." This is a big New Hampshire issue. If the populace thinks that you are not taking them and their "rightful" place as first in the nation primary seriously, you are dead in the water. Thompson already had the reputation of being a lazy campaigner, and rumors were that his heart wasn't in the race to begin with. He had cancelled scheduled NH visits in October, so people were suspicious.

Our host did not have a good answer. "We're working on some dates now, he'll be here." Not very convincing, given his track record. His headquarters looked a perfect metaphor for his candidacy - old, tired, hollow, and in some disarray. The office and his campaign needed some immediate sprucing up, and our host didn't seem up to either task. We asked for our token photo op behind a desk, and then got out of there. Truth be told, it was a little creepy. I'll give him this, though - the card stock for his campaign signage is far superior to his competitors. The signs should last longer than his chances in New Hampshire.

We got back in the car and drove the 200 feet to park in front of the office building housing the Rudy juggernaut. Nice big sign in front, and the office exterior was a big improvement from the "This Old House" fixer-upper we had just visited. It was glass and brick, a home for insurance offices, doctors, and Team Rudy.

The office was on the first floor, a hard right (I'm sure he planned that) off the lobby. It was small, but at least the few people (4) there were working the phones. Dave came up first, and we shared our story for the 6th time that morning (7th, if you count the old woman at the Visitor's Center). Dave did not seem impressed, but he had a kind of Eeyore-like infectious enthusiasm that was hard to ignore. As we chatted, I think he might have dozed off a few times. He could recite many of the Giuliani stump speech platitudes, like "low taxes stimulate growth" and "the proven leadership to fight Islamo-fascism". I wanted to point out that Rudy didn't actually fight the terrorists on 9-11, he just led the clean up effort, but I'm not sure that would have gotten through Dave's concrete exterior.

As he spoke, I kept hearing the New Yorker volunteer behind me working the phones. She had energy, she had enthusiasm, she oozed New York. Olive skin, thick jet black hair, dark red lipstick, fashionable shoes. A touch of Fran Drescher. Not a native of the Granite State, that's for sure. She appeared to be everything Dave was not. I wanted Marra to talk to her.

When the woman put down the phone, I interrupted Dave's droning with, "Excuse me, but we'd really like to speak to this woman about what she is doing." I introduced myself and Marra, and the volunteer explained her task for the afternoon. She was calling potential volunteers to help raise Rudy awareness. She stopped by on her lunch hours to support her Mayor. She found Giuliani's stand on issues to be well-thought out and nuanced. She said, "He sees shades of gray with his positions, everything isn't so black and white. I like that." This was our first regular person doing their part to support the candidate of their choice. Here was an example I wanted Marra to see.

We got our picture and headed for a well-deserved lunch. We had a lot to process. You can learn much about a candidate by visiting their headquarters, and we had formed some opinions. We still had one more office on our list for the day - Barack Obama. Back to the left we'd go!

JS

Giuliani's White Whale

Reprinted from www.nh2008.blogspot.com. Written by Brian Lawson, aka Cosmo. Well done, so I wanted to share this glimpse into the next phase of the campaign cycle:

How he flashed at me!--his eyes like powder-pans! Is he mad? Anyway there's something on his mind, as sure as there must be something on a deck when it cracks. -Moby Dick

Herman Melville’s epic novel, Moby Dick, is a story centered on an obsessed whaling boat captain who wants to kill the white whale that took his leg. It appears that Rudy Giuliani has discovered his Moby Dick. That is, a character who he has become obsessed with.

While campaigning in northern New Hampshire, Giuliani made it a point to criticize Hillary Clinton at every event. The trip began with a stop at the diner Northern Exposure, which features a menu showing a moose exposing himself. In response to a question on allowing illegal immigrants to have driving licenses, Giuliani took direct aim at the New York Senator.

“Hillary was against it and for it and then partially for it and partially against it, all in the same answer within a minute.” While answering the question, the diner’s phone rang and Giuliani said, “maybe she’s calling right now to change her position.” “Her positions change more frequently than anybody I've ever seen in politics. I remember, last time, John Kerry used to be accused of being a flip-flopper. S he makes him look like an amateur. I mean he does look like an amateur, when compared to Hillary.” Giuliani said. He added, “I don’t know what she’s thinking trying to be all things to all people.”

At his next event in Dixville Notch, Giuliani criticized Clinton’s healthcare proposal saying, “socialized medicine would be a shame.” Rudy expanded his criticism to include all of the Democratic presidential candidates. He told the crowd of 50 people that the nation should remain “on offense against the socialistic ideas that the Democrats are purposing.”

During the question-and-answer part of the Shelburne town hall meeting, Giuliani was again asked about the driving license issue. Giuliani, openly mocking Clinton’s response, told the crowd “raise your hands and tell me what you think.”“Oh, gee, I can't figure out what to think. Don't pick on me by asking me that question. That's a gotcha' question.” “If you think a question about driver's licenses is a tough question, a gotcha' question, you're not ready for Ahmadinejad,” Giuliani said.

The Republican presidential candidate ended his visit to New Hampshire’s North Country with a stop at the Dairy Bar. There Giuliani was greeted by 15 supporters and again was asked about Hillary’s stance on driving licenses for illegal immigrants. “I’ve never seen that before. I’ve seen her take different positions in front of different groups. But I’ve never seen her take two different positions before the same audience,” he responded.

Returning to his theme of experience, Giuliani said, “If you can’t answer a question on driving licenses, what the heck you’re doing running for president.”

Rudy should beware of the consequences of focusing so much attention Hillary Clinton. At the end of the classic Melville novel, Captain Ahab was dragged into the ocean depths, by his archenemy.

The Heiress of Inevitability

We spent about 15 minutes wandering through the back alleys of Manchester near Elm Street looking up for any sign of the Ron Paul for President headquarters to no avail. Paul had the most lawn signs posted across the state in our unscientific counting, but his Manchester office was apparently a well kept secret. He is the true rock star persona in this campaign, so this was a big disappointment for us. Someday a Ron Paul for President button might fetch a fair price on eBay, but it was not to be. We're off to Hillaryville! We're pretty sure that will be easier to find.

The Clinton headquarters was very close to Edwards, maybe 10 blocks. Her office was tucked behind some trees off Elm Street towards the river in a miniature business park. There was no missing this one - a huge "New Hampshire for Hillary" sign graced the building front. I waited in the car to jot down some notes about our day thus far, and Marra insisted on jumping out to take a picture. I had been pretty stingy with the camera, not allowing her to take anywhere near as many pictures as she had wanted. It's hard to break the habit of worrying about running out of film, even when we've had a digital camera for years. So I let her go ahead.

She was back in moments. "There were some women watching me when I was taking the picture." "Of course there were," I thought to myself. "They think you're a spy from the Obama camp." I guess when you believe you are the inevitable nominee and odds on favorite to be the next President of the United States, it never hurts to breed a little paranoia amongst the worker bees. More members of the vast right and left conspiracies coming to photograph the operation.

As we walked in the front door, there were two women spray painting pro-Hillary bedsheets for some future rally backdrop. The entire enclosed entryway smelled of the toxic fumes. Surely the Senator from New York wouldn't allow even the undocumented among us exposure to such poisons in an enclosed space. Maybe we should film this blatant OSHA violation and sell it to the highest GOP bidder (unless Edwards was interested first). The poor paint crew seemed happy enough, though, and they directed us up a staircase to the main office. Maybe they were too happy. We hoped they'd still be breathing when we returned.

At the top of the stair, we were in Hillaryville. Pink walls and signs, signs, signs everywhere. Two women were pouring over a computer screen discussing either Hillary's plan for world peace or the correct font for their on-screen flier. Based on the intensity of their focus, could have been either one. A tall woman with straight black hair emerged from behind a wall of signs to intercept us. She introduced herself as Katie Sullivan, the head of this field office for the campaign. I say the "head" because her exact title and authority was unclear, but she did take charge of Marra and me. Once again, I told our amazing story of traveling 600 miles from Virginia just to see the candidates and process up close, and accepted their sincere "oohs" and "ahhs" and "that's so cool"s.

Believe it or not, that was about it. No one was interested in engaging us in policy discussion. No one seemed interested in giving us a quick tour. There were uncomfortable silences, like we were on some kind of blind date that wasn't working out so well. We had had such luck with all the other office visits, good conversations. We both felt like we learned some at each stop. Not so here. I asked if I could take Marra's picture at one of the desks, and Katie readily agreed. I asked for a campaign sign, and they had none to spare. That's a good thing, I thought. It means they are being used to drum up buzz and support. I'll bet the Dodd camp wishes they had the same problem. They had enough extra signs to line the road all the way to Des Moines and back.

We told the staffers that we would be following Hillary's itinerary the next day, beginning with her policy speech at the Manchester YWCA, and they smiled, "Great!" OK, I guess you're busy, so we left down the stairs. As we descended, I pointed out to Marra the large black and white head shot of Hillary facing us. Marra said, "It looks like Princess Diana." And it did. It was, frankly, kind of eerie to have this large glamour shot portrait staring us down as we left the office. I could have sworn the eyes were following us. Stereotypically Orwellian.

The ladies at the bottom of the stairs had stepped away from the painted sheets, hopefully inhaling some of that delicious, crisp New Hampshire fall air. After that visit, I think we all needed to breath some fresh air.

Once in the car, Marra commented, "There were all women working for Hillary."

"There were women in the Romney office, too," I replied.

"Yes, but they didn't speak."

Another feminist victory.

JS

"Who Do You Trust?"

After attending 2 Edwards events in 2 days and experiencing the candidate's energy up close, our expectations for his Manchester operations were high. We needed a lift after 2 mediocre visits to the Romney and Dodd offices. When you are this close to the political playing field, you want to feel the electricity.

We backtracked to the center of town, a few blocks from our hotel, to find the Edwards '08 office down a busy side street off Elm Street. The circa 1930s buildings were home to overpriced art boutiques and hidden ethnic restaurants street level, and law offices scattered across the 2nd floors. This was a higher rent district with lower visibility than our previous stops. Our destination was down a poorly lit narrow hallway badly in need of a fresh coat of paint. Handmade "Edwards for President" signs lined the hall. Inside, it had a much more low rent feel. I'm glad it was daytime.

Upon entering, it was clear that this operation was much more compact, and work appeared to be happening. Good sign for Edwards. Maybe the staff just knew that the boss was in town. That always motivates workers. The room was about 25 feet square, and looked like a regular office space with white boards on the walls and several desks either along the wall or in the center, back to back.

We were greeted by Matt and Ben, but others were doing their own thing, ignoring the distractions that were interrupting their efforts. Matt took the lead. I told him our story again (I was getting good at my 'elevator' speech), and expressed my doubts about Edwards right away. "Everyone has a bold plan for everything, but Edwards self described "bold" plan for tax reform doesn't seem that bold to me. Soak the Rich is not a bold plan for tax reform."

Poor Matt, all of about 21, did his best. Without directly confronting the candidate on this issue, however, I was not going to leave satisfied. He told me what I already knew - that the plan included rolling back the Bush tax cut for those making over $200,000 (I'm safe there, but that doesn't make it wise policy), and raising the capital gains tax from 15% to 27%. The Republican counterargument rings true in this case to me, that a higher cap gains tax will mean less investment and will hurt everyone in the long run. This kid was barely legal to drink, so I was not about to debate capital gains tax rates with him.

I asked him the Giuliani question - does Edwards have the executive experience to enact anything he is proposing? He only served one term in the Senate, and, as Giuliani pointed out, he has never run anything other than a law practice. I granted him that Edwards was staking out a real, tangible leadership position on many issues important to me, and his populist rhetoric was beginning to resonate with me. But was that enough when choosing leader of the free world?

Matt began a rant against the entrenched main stream media having a bias against his candidate, but I had to cut him off. Both liberals and conservatives LOVE to rail against the media because they are a politically convenient target. It's easier to blame NBC News than examine why your message is not changing voter's minds. In a polite way, I said, "Don't try selling me that line, I'm not buying."

Marra was absorbing all of this, sometimes without me knowing. Her eyes were darting all around the space, but her ears were present in the conversation. She seemed interested, not just indulging her old man. I think part of this interest right now was because she was leaning Edwards.

We asked for permission to have Marra's picture taken with Ben the Staffer in front of the white board that had campaign goals written on it. I assured them that I was not taking pictures in order to steal ideas for other candidates, and they assured me that there wasn't anything confidential in the office I could steal. In a way, that was disappointing. I was hoping that some new strategy memo would fall into our hands, accidentally of course.

Ben was nice enough to give us directions to the Ron Paul office, which he said was nearby down some alley. We joked about whether it would be safe to bring an 11 year old in contact with the Paul Crazies, but I really wanted to hear their case. Paul devotees have passion for their candidate, that's for sure.

We had already collected a poster from the Town Hall meeting in Tilton, so we loaded up on stickers instead.

We left, but there was a sense of loss. We had seen Edwards twice, visited the headquarters, but no direct questions. I was lamenting that fact especially because Marra seemed so taken with him. That's OK. We were on vacation, right?

JS