The Washington Independent - U.S. news and politics - washingtonindependent.com: Stories by Sridhar Pappu

Rallying for Rules

Sridhar Pappu — Tue, 27 May 2008 20:06:43 GMT

You’d be forgiven, given the holiday, if you missed the full page ad in The New York Times paid for by a group deeming itself the “WomenCount PAC,” demanding that the votes from the non-primary primaries in Michigan and Florida be counted towards the Democratic Party presidential nomination. The ad asks for people to join in a “Count Every Vote Rally” this Saturday—the same day that the DNC Rules & Bylaws Committee is scheduled to meet about what to do about the two states.

“Across this Country, Hillary has been speaking for us,” the ad reads, “Her voice has been our voice. Now, it is time to stand up and raise our voice for her!”

According to a link on the PAC’s website to a group called “Hillary Rapid Responders,” supporters will rally from 7 am to 4 pm outside the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel where the DNC committee will be meeting. Stay tuned from a blog from yours truly at the site.

The Great Tell Alls

Sridhar Pappu — Wed, 28 May 2008 17:43:53 GMT

Ah, the tell-all. That's what we woke up to this morning after the hangover of watching the Reds 21-year-old savior Jay Bruce go 3-for-3 in his Major League debut yesterday evening. Should we be surprised that former White House press secretary Scott McClellan decided to write a scathing memoir in the forthcoming "WHAT HAPPENED: Inside the Bush White House and What’s Wrong With Washington?" Probably not. McClellan still probably feels burned after meeting the White House press corps day after day, where he, "stood at the White house briefing room podium in front of the glare of the klieg lights for the better part of two weeks and publicly exonerated two of the senior-most aides in the White House: Karl Rove and Scooter Libby."

“There was one problem," he wrote, "It was not true.”

McClellan then fesses up that he had "unknowingly passed along false information" and, more important, that President George W. Bush was “not open and forthright on Iraq."

As supposed bombshells go, the actual content of McClellan's memoir seems pedestrian. That's because the public had already pretty much known what he was saying long before this. If he really wanted shock value, McClellan might have taken some pointers from famous or infamous tell-alls, like the one's we've listed below.

-"Mommy Dearest" by Christina Crawford
This memoir by the adopted daughter of actress Joan Crawford depicts her mother as a drunk tyrant, tramp and physically abusive parent. Arguably the gold-standard for the genre, the book became the basis for a movie that provided stand-up material for Bob Hope monologues for years to come.

Most interesting thing learned: Using wire hangers instead of the good stuff when living with a complete lunatic can only lead to trouble.

-"Little Girl Lost" by Drew Barrymore
Written by that cute little girl from "E.T." who'd go on to be a Charlie's Angel, this book chronicles her childhood drug and alcohol addiction, before getting clean at, um, 14. Yeah.....

Most interesting thing learned: On the Set of "E.T.," Barrymore used to sit down besides the puppet during lunch and talk to it about her problems. And this was before the drugs.

-"Juiced: Rampant 'Roids, Smash Hits and How Baseball Got Big" by Jose Canseco
One can argue that without this book we wouldn't have seen the crackdown on steroids in Major League Baseball. Written by a guy whose rookie cards are all pretty worthless now, Canseco names names of everyone he ever encountered doing roids with, thus explaining the exponential home run growth in the mid-1990s and early 2000s.

Most interesting thing learned: There was a reason my grandmother hit for 54 dingers in her over-70 softball league in 1989. It would also explain why her head grew to the size of Pluto.

McCain's Base Problem Continues

Sridhar Pappu — Fri, 30 May 2008 19:52:49 GMT

In late January, just days before her son would win the Florida Republican primary, 96-year-old Roberta McCain—who in another era might have been called a real broad, a pistol — was asked by a C-SPAN interviewer how much support her 71-year-old boy had among “the base of the Republican Party.”

"I don't think he has any," said Mother McCain. "I don't know what the base of the Repub--maybe I don't know enough about it, but I've not seen any help whatsoever."

Pressed about whether, given that, he could take the nomination, the elder McCain snapped: "Yes, I think holding their nose, they're going to have to take him."

Since then Sen. John McCain has gone through a Russell Crowe in "Gladiator"-like journey: from front-runner, to broke-and-destitute has-been, to the man who would win the GOP presidential nomination. Yet little has changed for the Arizona senator when it comes to the base -- the internal light at the center of the modern Republican Party, whose foundations were laid in the successful presidential runs of Richard M. Nixon in 1968 and 1972, and fully-realized with the triumph of Ronald Reagan in 1980.

In it's design, the GOP base is a three-legged chair, wobbly at moments, but effective if put together by the right assembler. One leg consists of social conservatives -- those members of the evangelical movement and Moral Majority, who seek to eliminate abortion and restore Christian values to the environs of the public school system and to government at-large. Then there's the fiscal/small government types, which includes Wall Street, people who spend their off hours debating the tax code at The Palm, with expense accounts ... of course. The final leg are defense hawks -- the folks who pushed for a build-up of military strength as a way to outspend the Soviets, who advocated the war in Iraq and consistently push for increased defense spending during dinner parties in McClean.

Banded together, with a leader they believe in, these three are like the Avengers under Captain America, seemingly able and ready to defeat any opposing candidate. But McCain--his heroism in the Vietnam War not withstanding -- is not Captain America, much less Ronald Reagan.

Indeed, you could say that McCain has spent his career alienating the base. Running against George W. Bush in 2000, McCain accused his rival of pandering to leaders of the religious right, whom he called "agents of intolerance." Specifically, he said Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell -- fixtures in the religious intellectual movement that surrounded Reagan -- were "corrupting influences on religion and politics." All three parts of the GOP base bristled at McCain's biggest achievement, campaign finance reform -- which they saw as an instrument of limiting their influence in the corridors of power.

McCain's litany of sins against the party goes further. Last year, his support of immigration reform, that -- no matter the couched language -- included a form of amnesty, didn't win him any favor with social conservatives opposed to the influx of millions of illegal immigrants. His initial opposition to Bush's tax cuts in 2001 and 2003 still irks those who wish to shrink the size of the federal government.

While Grover Norquist, head of Americans for Tax Reform and member of the NRA board of directors, for one, is enthused by McCain reaching out to conservatives--by supporting sizable tax cuts and attending the National Rifle Assn. national convention -- the perception remains that McCain is still a man unable to win over the party base. Yes, he is the likely nominee and his military credentials give him street cred with the national security folks. But he is still struggling to find words that will earn him the support of the base's other two groups who reside on two streets--Wall and Main.

To understand this, all you have to do is spend a little time talking to Richard Viguerie--the 74-year-old conservative stalwart who's deeply proud of his affiliation with Barry M. Goldwater and Reagan and the Contract with America. He is a man who can't stomach what Mrs. McCain's boy is serving.

"It's a rare person who considers themselves a conservative and is enthusiastic about McCain," said Viguerie. "There's just a disconnect. He's had three months to try and bridge that gap and he's done nothing. He's made a couple of speeches, but people look at him and don't see conservatives around him. He's got a brand, and that brand is the maverick who says, 'I am not partisan and I reach out to Kennedy, to Feingold, to Joe Lieberman, to the other side.'"

Ed Rollins, campaign director for Reagan's thumping of Walter Mondale in 1984 and, more recently, the campaign chairman for former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee's presidential bid, agrees with Viguerie. "He still has to prove himself to the conservative base," Rollins said, "He hasn't reached out to them as much as I would do. They're still not sure whether he's one of them."

Indeed, you can't blame any one-time foot soldier of the Reagan Revolution, who believes in the Moral Majority or sees deregulation as the cure to society's ills, if they wake up each morning, see the word "nominee" and "McCain" pushed together on television and scream "What happened?" How did a candidate, who, only months before, stood on the opposite side to the populist tide against illegal immigration, who championed campaign finance reform, win the GOP nomination?

What happened, as Rollins puts it, was a Republican primary contest that resembled a NASCAR race -- where people moved ahead, were taken back and moved ahead again. The overflowing coffers of former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney couldn't win him Iowa or New Hampshire. Fred Thompson and Rudy Giuliani's apparent lack of interest cost both men deeply, as did the lack of a national network for family-values friendly Huckabee. McCain was simply the guy who was left, the man whom Republican voters simply thought could win.

"What it says is there was not one candidate who could command the base," Rollins says.

National Review editor Rich Lowry sees this as well. "I don’t want to take too much away from McCain," said Lowry, "but everything broke exactly the right way."

Moreover, as much as the Republican candidates -- including the virtual nominee -- evoked Reagan, his "Morning in America" ended a long time ago. Even for a man like Lowry, a man literally following in the tradition of William F. Buckley Jr., the never-ending evocation of the Gipper was, well, a bit much.

"None of them had new ideas," Lowry lamented. "Reagan didn't talk about Taft all the time, or being Reagan. On one hand, it's great he's so honored, but at times risks becoming a backward-looking obsession."

While Lowry says conservatives are starting to to "come home," to support McCain, the fact remains that the GOP's almost nominee must run against his own past. To many, he's still that cranky independent -- no matter how much he says he admires Reagan, or supports Bush's efforts with the war and the economy.

The problem is that this has served him well outside the party. But how does McCain earn the trust of the base, while staying the maverick, the man willing to come to compromise with Ted Kennedy?

He could do it, as his would-be predecessor did. After all, Bush rallied the GOP base in 2000 and 2004 at the cost of other voters. The result were razor-thin victories.

"I think anything he does to win the love of the conservatives would be very costly for him in the general election," said Bill Schneider, the CNN senior political analyst. "He has a lot of appeal to the center, to the moderates, to some Democrats. He cannot win the election the way Bush won in 2004. He faces the same dilemma most candidates face, getting enough support from them while reaching out to the center."

Maybe McCain can find guidance from the history books. Franklin D. Roosevelt won in 1932 largely because he wasn't a Republican president who, on his watch, had seen the complete erosion of the U.S. economy. Like Roosevelt, McCain has the distinct advantage not of being who he is -- but who he is not.

"The best thing he could do is remind people what their alternative is," said FDR biographer David Kennedy, a history professor at Stanford. "He's a man of personal honor, but I tend to think this campaign will get quite negative. What he can say is, 'I'm not Barack Obama. My pastor's not crazy.'"

But that may not be enough for a win. "Sooner or later," said Rollins, "he'll have to make efforts to have the base work hard for him. There's not enough independents out there that can help you win if you lose 10 to 15 percent of your base."

As far as Viguerie is concerned, the latter is a strong possibility. Because those who consider themselves the true believers just don't like him. "McCain can go out there and try and get people who don't like the Republican Party to vote for him," he said. "Fine, let him try. We are not a wing of the party. WE ARE THE PARTY."

Clinton Supporters Rally at Rules Committee Meeting

Sridhar Pappu — Sat, 31 May 2008 18:09:29 GMT

Buoyed by the sight of Reds rookie phenom Jay Bruce scoring the game winning run at Fireworks Night in Cincinnati last night, we lept outta bed this morning and headed to the stately environs of the Mariott Wardman Park Hotel in northwest Washington, where the Democrats Rules & Bylaws Committee was meeting. As surrogates for the Obama and Clinton campaigns as well as representatives of the state Democratic Parties of Florida and Michigan debated the fate of their state delegates, people gathered in the hotel bar, cheering like they do at this city's Bengals Bar--the Bottom Line--on Sundays in the fall. At the bottom of the hill, Clinton supporters had gathered doing what protesters do--holding placards ("Nifty is Fifty." "No nomination Without Representation." "Count and Honor our Votes."), chanting slogans like "We Will Not Fall in Line."

Chicago-1968 it wasn't. One event supervisor wandered up and down between the group divided on both sides of the street asking protesters to stay on the sidewalk. Policemen, standing in the street occasionally glared at the crowd, but mostly hurried people as they tried to cross from one side of the street to the next.

Coming all the way from as far as, um, Northern Virginia, Carol Kearney and her daughter Meghan stood in the midst of the crush of people. Said the elder Kearney: "These rules weren't etched in stones."

"In Florida it was the Republicans who moved up the [primary]," said her daughter, a 31-year-old elementary school teacher from Alexandria, her sunglasses perched on the top of her head with a digital camera dangling from her left wrist. "It's not our fault."

As people on the street debated the strengths of the Obama campaign, Judy Herzog, an insurance claims examiner said in response to a question about the outcome of the day, "Am I optimistic? No. We want all the votes to be counted and it doesn't look like that's going to happen."

Winning Without Your Base?

Sridhar Pappu — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 20:45:00 GMT

In the course of reporting Friday's story on the relationship between John McCain and the base of the Republican Party, we talked to a number of historians, most of whom didn't make it into the piece, but whose astute observations deserve some examination. The primary question we asked them: is there historical precedent for a candidate winning in November without full support of his base? The most interesting response came from Michael Kazin, a professor of history at Georgetown and author of The Popular Persuasion: An American History, who brought up Jack Kennedy's problems with the more progressive parts of the Democratic Party in 1960.

"John Kennedy was mistrusted by liberals," Kazin told me. "His father had been good friends with Joe McCarthy. He had to convince Eleanor Roosevelt (still a major force within the party fifteen years after her husband's death) who was very unsure about him. There was a real push to have Adlai Stevenson run for a third time. It's funny because we now think of John Kennedy as a liberal, but he really did have to do a lot to have them trust him."

Esquire EIC: 'Why Is Everyone Calling Me?'

Sridhar Pappu — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 17:11:55 GMT

How about saying, "No comment?" Or "We've got bigger issues to deal with?" Or "We're moving on to South Dakota?" That's what we felt in looking at Bill Clinton and the aftermath of the Vanity Fair piece about him.

More troubling than the actual piece though was the response Clinton gave to the Huffington Post. Yes, the reporter didn't identify herself and began by asking Clinton what he thought of the "hatchet job." But for Clinton to engage in name-calling only strengthens the core thesis of Purdum's piece. Moreover, Clinton went on to say, "The editor of Esquire-- he sent us an email yesterday and said it was the single sleaziest piece of journalism he'd seen in decades. He said it made him want to go take a shower and he was embarrassed to be a journalist when he read it."

This prompted us to reach out to Esquire editor-in-chief David Granger who quickly said: "Why is everybody calling me on this?" Granger explained to The Washington Independent that he did no such thing and that an editor on his staff had merely reached out and offered some sympathies to Doug Brand, counselor to the former president, who received harsh treatment in the piece.

"Apparently [Brand] mentioned to the president and it spun into something different," Granger said. "I did not reach out to the president, nor was I critical of the piece. I wasn't even aware [Clinton] had said it when someone called me to confirm last night."

Clinton's Hollywood Ending

Sridhar Pappu — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 21:30:10 GMT

How should Hillary Clinton end it? That's the question we've been pondering as we grouse about having to watch returns on MSNBC instead of the Reds-Phillies game in HD tonight. For heaven's sake, they told us during those freezing months driving around Des Moines that this contest would be over by February 5. In the meantime, the cherry blossoms have come and gone, Juno got passed over for Best Picture and Reds rookie center fielder Jay Bruce has brought fresh meaning to the word messiah.

Meanwhile, the race has come to its climax tonight. Certainly there are bad ways to end things (Read: girlfriends, ex). But as she ponders how to put a stop to her campaign--if she puts a stop to her campaign--we thought we'd look at some cinematic examples Clinton might be looking to for guidance on how to say "No mas!" should she chose to concede this evening. The three that worked best are:

Bring It On: In this modern teen classic, newly chosen cheerleading captain Kirsten Dunst is horrified to learn that her team's been stealing moves from an African-American school. Trying to rectify the situation, Dunst pushes her Toros to the absolute limit where they compete in the national championship...only to finish second to the inner-city team, whose routines they had previously used, led by Gabrielle Union. Surprisingly, even the most jaded members of the squad rejoice at their finish, understanding they did their best and that was enough. In this ending we could see Clinton taking to the microphone tonight, screaming to her supporters "Second Place!" Then Bill Clinton and Harold Ickes could do back flips over the occasion before the whole crowd breaks into singing "Mickey!"

Superman--The Movie: Originally intended for the sequel simultaneously being filmed, Director Richard Donner chose to have Superman--against the wishes of his dead Kryptonian father Jor-El played by Marlon Brando--to reverse the polarity of the Earth so that it would spin backwards in time in order to save the life of Lois Lane. In this conclusion, Clinton will reverse the course of human history just enough so that her run for the presidency never existed, her husband's financial dealings and personal life wouldn't be plowed through by Vanity Fair and she could save at least a half-dozen pant suits.

Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade: As the structure housing the Holy Grail falls to pieces, Harrison Ford makes one desperate last lunge to get the cup before his father played by Sean Connery tells him that it's enough, that his life is worth more than the object. Afterwards, the two, along with two friends, ride triumphantly into the sunset. Clinton might be pondering paying Connery --or whomever played him on those SNL Jeopardy skits--to tap her on the shoulder, remind her that there's more than just winning the presidential nomination and cede the spot to Obama. Subsequently, the two could jump onto horses with Chelsea and Bill alongside and head home to Chappaqua, New York.

Boss Clinton

Sridhar Pappu — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 12:39:58 GMT

It was meant to be a culmination for a new political power—formed from the audacity of hope, fervent young people and a spirited movement. It was supposed to be—on the same spot where the Republicans will proclaim their presidential nominee a few months from now — Sen. Barack Obama’s coronation.

Never before had an African-American reached such political heights. One-hundred forty-three years after the last shots of the Civil War, 40 years after Bobby Kennedy fell to the ground in Los Angeles -- taking the last vestiges of optimism of a generation with him — Obama’s remarks, on the final night of 2008 primary voting, were supposed to mean that the Democrats internal party struggle had ended, and the one for the country had begun.

But far away, in New York. another power had finally found its voice, and crystallized its power. Yes, Obama had earned the necessary delegates to be the presumed nominee for the Democratic Party in the race for the White House. But he had stumbled in key states and lost badly in South Dakota. Some 18 million people — depending on whom you ask — had voted for Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton. She had, in her own way, built a formidable coalition of middle-class whites, Latinos and women. Speaking to them last night, not conceding the race to Obama, Clinton stood as their leader, their avatar and their voice within the Democratic Party’s corridors of power.

“In the coming days, I’ll be consulting with supporters and party leaders to determine how to move forward with the best interests of our party and our country guiding my way,” she said in the middle of congratulating Obama and thanking her supporters for welcoming her into their homes.

Any reporter covering this campaign knows that as devoted as Obama supporters are, Clinton’s can be just as passionate. Those of us with the privilege of covering the contest have seen Clinton rise to Obama’s eloquence and precision, as well as the warm feeling that emanates from a room of Clinton supporters.Talking to them, you realize that they're not there out of some vague sense of pragmatism or a longing for her husband -- but out of a belief in the woman and her cause. As such they are, as Chris Matthews suggested on MSNBC late last night, hers to lead.

Perhaps not since Teddy Kennedy’s failed bid for the Democratic nomination against the incumbent President Jimmy Carter in 1980 has a second-place finisher generated the kind of support Clinton has over the course of this campaign. In some ways Clinton last night became what Obi-Wan Kenobi did on his defeat to Darth Vader in Episode IV of "Star Wars" -- she morphed into figure more powerful than any of us could possibly imagine. Tuesday night, confronting numerical defeat, Clinton transformed herself from a candidate for president to something, someone, more important: a political boss.

We like to think of the “boss” as a figure of another era — those older, usually heavy-set white men, draped in a haze of cigar smoke, huddled high above a convention hall, deciding the fate of their party and, in turn, the country. Our lasting image is of Richard J. Daley shouting down poor Abe Ribicoff at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Within a decade, Boss Daley and, it seemed, the entire machine system would be dead. That is, until now.

Enter Boss Clinton. During the campaign, as she moved away from the fading memories of her husband’s era, she formed a base of her own, one that seems, at the very least, skeptical of the man that the rest of the party -- including both Kennedy and Carter, as well as John Edwards and John Kerry and Tom Daschle — have welcomed into their hearts.

Her people will not support Obama just because he is the party's nominee for president. They will not do it because they are Democrats, or because they fear Sen. John McCain will be the proxy for George W. Bush. No. They’ll do it if Clinton tells them.

In the hours and days to follow, we will learn much. We’ll learn whether a party fractured can heal itself. If Clinton will officially concede, as many have wanted, or whether she’ll take her fight forward in some fashion. We’ll learn whether she, like Lyndon B. Johnson and Edwards before her, can sublimate her own presidential ambitions and take the vice president slot. More important, we’ll learn what Clinton wants, and what the party leadership and, especially, Obama are willing to give her -- in return for the support of those she now represents.

What will happen remains, at best, unclear. What we do know is that millions will be waiting for her to announce her decision, to heed her call. We know that, for the first time in American political history, a woman has in her grasp the faith and hope of millions who, by giving her their vote, have empowered her to change the party as she sees fit.

Oh, and something else. No matter what happens, the whole world’s watching.

McCain and Obama, Buddies

Sridhar Pappu — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 17:24:40 GMT

Ten townhalls---seriously? That's what John McCain has suggested having with Obama instead of the traditional debate format. Now, we're all for an open discussion of ideas and candidates talking in frank and candid forums with the American public, but this seriously cuts into the number of Reds games we can watch as the boys from Cincinnati begin their historic comeback to overtake the Cubs, win the National League Central and defeat the Boston Red Sox in a rematch of the 1975 World Series. Before people write in, the answer is yes, we're on our medication. Face facts, rookie outfielder Jay Bruce is a golden god, and perhaps the closest thing to a son we'll ever have.

There has to be a better way of doing this, and gosh darn it, we've found it! Instead of taking questions from Julie in St. Louis wanting to know about her health insurance now that the call center she works for has shut down its operations and moved overseas, we thought a better way for the candidates to show off their skills would be to make remakes of some of the better buddy movies of all time. It would show off their cognitive abilities, their reactions to perilous situations the overall chutzpah they'll need to lead this country. Here are some suggestions:

Road to Morocco (1942): what better way to display the two candidate's middle eastern diplomacy skills than having Obama and McCain traveling like Bing Crosby and Bob Hope did through the desert with turbans? Hello! In addition, by riding a camel together, they can both demonstrate their commitment to alternative energy and fuel efficiency.

Some Like it Hot (1959): Reprising the roles of Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in drag would give the likely Democratic and Republican nominees a chance to address gender issues in the United States. We assume Hillary Clinton, should she not be the vice presidential nominee, could take the part of Marilyn Monroe.

Lethal Weapon (1987): We know what you're thinking. This is some play on racial dynamics. No, quite the opposite. In this remake, Obama would take the part of Mel Gibson--the wacky, young maverick cop willing to break any rules to catch the bad guy. McCain, on the other hand would perform in place of Danny Glover as the older, more prudent policeman who's seen it all and then some. Here we could see how the two react to the actuality of violence on American soil. We could also learn which of the two is better at surviving explosions. Our bet is McCain.

Iglesias Talks Scott McClellan, Heather Wilson

Sridhar Pappu — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 19:20:36 GMT

The last time I saw former New Mexico U.S. attorney David Iglesias, he was standing in the middle of his home in Albuquerque watching his four daughters scamper around, while his wife Cyndy prepped spaghetti for dinner. Months had passed since Iglesais became one of eight U.S. attorneys fired by the Justice Department, for, it turned out, political purposes by the Bush administration. In the scandal's aftermath, Iglesias had become a kind of matinee idol, appearing on "Meet the Press" and and "Real Time with Bill Maher," among other shows. Literary agencies had approached him about writing a book and he was faced with the dilemma of whether he should do it or not. I cautioned him against it.

Iglesias then proceeded to join the cadre of my nieces, the Northwestern University athletic department and Bengals head coach Marvin Lewis, as people who don't take my advice. Last month Wiley published his book-- "In Justice: Inside the Scandal that Rocked the Bush Administration." While on his book tour, Iglesias and I sat down for coffee in downtown Washington yesterday, where I asked him about a more prominent tome aimed at the Bush administration--former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan's "What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and Washington's Culture of Deception."

"I think he's got a lot of guts," Iglesias said, sipping a cold mango tea. "I took a lot of heat from local Republicans, but not so much from the national Republicans. In Scott's case they trotted out Bob Dole to take shots at him -- which is pretty amazing since Dole's been retired and pushing Viagra.

"Scott's been around politics long enough to know what was coming," Iglesias continued. "I knew, to some extent, people were going to be taking shots at me. But Scott knew exactly who would be taking shots at him, and he did it anyway. I think it’s a bit cynical to think he only did it for money. I‘m sure he got a nice advance --and I’m happy for him -- but I completely sympathize with him wanting to clear his conscience, despite what it was going to do to his reputation."

Iglesias also had some pointed words for Rep. Heather Wilson (R-New Mexico), who was instrumental in his firing. She recently lost her primary bid to replace retiring Sen. Pete Domenici (R-N.M.), who was also a figure in the scandal.

"I can tell you I’m very happy Heather Wilson lost her primary race," Iglesias said. "I knew it would happen. This is a good consequence [of the scandal]."

Obama, Dingell Make a Deal

Sridhar Pappu — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 22:52:08 GMT

Debbie Dingell seemed frazzled. Yes, she was, as always, color coordinated -- sporting a knee-length lime green skirt with a lime green necklace and watch. But she had not slept the night before. It was the afternoon of June 4, the day after Sen. Barack Obama's declaration of victory in the Democratic presidential primary race, when she--as a Michigan superdelegate--finally chose to endorse the junior senator from Illinois, someone perceived as a threat to the very industry she works for.

While the evening before was triumphant, with Obama clinching the nomination, it had begun badly. General Motors, where she is a senior executive and vice-chairwoman of the General Motors Foundation, had announced it would be closing four truck and SUV plants. She'd spent the night flipping between MSNBC and CNN, watching the regurgitation of the evening's events, unable to find real peace.

"I'm tired," she said. "I haven't had a night like that, where you just can't sleep. It was a tough day because we had the announcement and I endorsed Obama. All the women are mad at me."

It had been a rough week for Dingell. That weekend, she'd sat in the day-long, epic Democratic National Committee's Rules & Bylaws Committee meeting where the fate of delegates from her home state and Florida were decided. After announcing that the DNC--of which she is a member-- would seat all the delegates, but give each only a half-vote, she gathered with the Michigan delegation to determine the next step.

She herself had also decided months ago that since her husband, the venerable congressman and fellow superdelegate John Dingell (D-Mich), had supported Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, she would support Obama. But she only made that pledge public after Obama made one of his own to her.

"He said he will fully restore [our delegation]," Dingell said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have endorsed. He promised me." (A few days earlier Obama told The Associated Press, "I want to make sure that the Michigan delegation is happy. I want them to feel good. When they come back from that convention I want them to say, 'We are fired up and ready to go,"' he added. "And so I'll be in close consultation with the Michigan delegation to make sure that happens.")

Dingell's voice--which can hit a piercing pitch--was barely above a whisper. Outside her office on Massachusetts Avenue, rain pounded the sidewalk and the wind whipped a tarp from construction nearby. Perky she was not -- but she had earned that disposition. She is not only a member of the DNC and a superdelegate, she is influential in the Democratic hierarchy at the state as well as the national level. She is a true power-broker in Michigan -- her husband has represented the state in Congress for 54 years and she herself appears on two weekly television shows in Detroit. For years, as Michigan's fortunes have fallen, she pressed for the state's concerns. In many ways her latest battle--to move the Michigan primary up--has been her most taxing.

As the months wore on, so did the pressure on Dingell, who has always tried to fully engage in both the bare-knuckle, internal politics of Michigan and Washington society. One has to remember that Dingell's fight is seven years in the making. That's how long it's been since she and Sen. Carl Levin pressed the DNC to change the presidential primary and caucus system that gave preeminence to Iowa and New Hampshire. When they felt the two states had cheated by moving their spots ahead of where they were originally slotted, fellow Democrat Michigan Gov. Jennifer Granholm signed a law last fall that called for a Jan. 15 primary for both the Republican and Democratic Parties.

In many ways, to those not living in Des Moines and Manchester, Michigan had a point: here was a Rust Belt state whose problems -- the loss of blue-collar jobs, financial strains on the white-collar workers, inner-city meltdowns, health-care costs -- served as a bellwether for the rest of the country. Why shouldn't a big central state weigh in early?

"Ethanol is an issue in this country for one reason--the cornfields of Iowa," Dingell said. "Nobody thought that this election would be the one that it was. The pundits. The candidates. If Rosa Parks hadn't refused to give up her seat--I don't know if I should be comparing it to the civil-rights movement, but sometimes you have to break the rules to get change. And we need change. People don't understand how we nominate our candidates. It's not a representative process.

"I think they'll be real change," Dingell continued. "Both candidates want to see real change in the nomination process. Not only in terms of Iowa and New Hampshire, but proportional voting and superdelegates. They've both said to me they'd be pushing for real change and the only person who can push for change is the candidate and [Obama] did say he'd be pushing for change in the system."

But the way each party reacted to Michigan moving its primary date was not new. The Republican National Committee took away half the state's delegates, and the DNC stripped Michigan of its entire 128. All candidates signed a pledge not to run in the state and Obama, John Edwards, Gov. Bill Richardson and Sen. Joe Biden took their names off the ballot. Only Clinton's remained. While she won the state, the other 44 percent of participants voted "uncommitted." Clinton supporters argued that not seating the full delegation put the state in play for the GOP and Sen. John McCain, who did campaign there in January.

"They weren't coming here anyway!" Dingell bellowed to crowds around the state in the days before the primary, explaining why they had to push the event up, while lashing out against both Iowa and New Hampshire.

Of course, we'd later learn that both candidates probably would have come -- given the closeness of the election. Watching the process unfold, Dingell, along with three other Democrats -- Levin, Rep. Carolyn Cheeks Kilpatrick, and United Auto Workers President Ron Gettelfinger -- formed a committee to explore every option...which they did. There was a push for a "mail-in" caucus, for a do-over "firehouse primary" conducted without money from the state. Nothing took.

As the months wore on, so did the pressure on Dingell, who has always tried to fully engage in both the bare-knuckle, internal politics of Michigan and Washington society. In many ways she's a figure from another time, when congressmen spent more time in the District and mixed easily with members of the other party. Today she and her husband are among the few office-holders who attend both Democratic and Republican social events.

"She's been very stressed over the whole thing," says her friend Marlene Malek, a Republican with whom Dingell holds an annual bipartisan, women-only lunch each holiday season. "It hasn't been easy for her and it's understandable. She's just been under a lot of pressure.

Despite the aftershocks, Dingell still defends the decision to move the primary up. As candidates stumped in Pizza Ranches in Iowa and the homes of wealthy benefactors in New Hampshire, Dingell says the problems Michigan faces -- rising unemployment, a stagnant economy, a mortgage meltdown -- were being ignored.

In this process, Dingell might have irrevocably damaged her relationship with the Clintons, whom she used to fervently support. While her endorsement of Obama came late, it was contrasted by the support her husband and Granholm gave to the New York senator. While remaining "neutral," for most of the primary process, most figured she would support Clinton's nomination. Um, so here's the thing.....

"I love Bill Clinton," Dingell said. "You can't not love Bill Clinton. But people are tired. She's a good woman and would have made a good president. And she's smart and she's thoughtful and reflective.

"I think we have to work through this divide and she's got a big role," Dingell continued. "How this plays out is dependent on what she does in the next few days. She's a significant factor. A lot of that's in her hands. I'd like her to reach out and become part of the healing, be part of the future too. I want the two of them to represent hope and change."

Had she spoken to Clinton about her decision?

"No," Dingell said. "I've tried to call her the past two days and she hasn't called back. I'm not in what you'd call the inner circle right now."

Now Dingell might be faced with a bigger challenge than re-seating the Michigan delegates. After admittedly alienating herself from women friends within the Democratic Party, she has to sell Obama to the state's voters. Obama's decision to keep his name off the ballot miffed more than a few Democrats in the state. His problems with the blue-collar workers who gravitated toward Clinton will certainly be magnified in Michigan, where unemployment has spread like a terrible virus, where even as late as January, people were complaining they could no longer afford such luxuries as Detroit Red Wings tickets. Making matters worse is the perception that Obama is an enemy to the Detroit auto industry.

"I went to Detroit and told the automakers that they're going to have to raise fuel-efficiency standards on cars," Obama said as recently as last month to a crowd in Indianapolis. "And I have to say that when I delivered that speech, nobody clapped. The room was really quiet. But that's OK, because that's part of what is the task of the next president."

Dingell conceded Obama has his work cut out for him. Her loyalties are clearly divided -- between her longstanding ties to car manufacturers and the appeal of a candidate, brimming with possibilities, who seems to stand against the policies and practices of the industry that held together her home state for so long.

She clearly thinks she can help reconcile her chosen candidate and her state's key business. "I think his impression of the auto industry is 40-years-old," she said. "I think he has to understand what's going on within the industry, the research and development. That's what his problem is."

"I think Michigan's going to be tough," Dingell said. "People like me have to be loyal to someone and convince people that even though he didn’t want to run on the ballot they should vote for him."

And how do you do that?

"You can say, 'He's here now and you can talk Michigan issues'," Dingell said. "You can say, 'Do you want to continue what's happened with this country in the past eight years? Did George Bush care about the auto industry? Or do you want somebody who says he'll meet with CEOs of the autos within the first month of being here?'

"[Obama] has no choice," Dingell said. "He has to talk about these issues. You're going to see both of these candidates. It's Michigan's time. You're going to see policies talked about, issues developed -- and both candidates have to deliver."

Clinton Exits, But Her Time Begins

Sridhar Pappu — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 19:05:08 GMT

Her own voice. That's what we heard from Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton as she left her effort to run as the Democratic presidential nominee. Standing in the National Building Museum, surrounded by several thousand supporters and her family, Clinton didn't much end a campaign but define her role in the future of national politics. In our story as a nation, never before had a second-place finisher garnered as much support as she had in the the primary campaign and perhaps, never before had someone bowed out with the kind of fervent spirit and eloquence that Clinton did this afternoon. It was less of a concession speech than it was a stake in the ground declaring her true arrival as a force in American politics.

She was no longer the former first lady. She was not the surrogate who would return Bill Clinton to the White House. She became a power broker in her own right. Elanor Roosevelt, in the years that followed her husband's death, helped build the liberal base that would define Democratic politics in the 1960s. But Clinton went much further. In the 17 months since Clinton announced her candidacy on the Internet, she had shaped a new, formidable base of women, blue-collar workers, and Latinos who would follow her to the end of the world.

And now she's gone. At least for now. And people, as the late Mike Royko once wrote upon the death of Chicago mayor Richard J. Daley, are writing that the era of Hillary Clinton is over. Just like that. But she's left behind one of the most unique coalitions ever built in American politics and the coming months we will learn whether it will stay together and throw its support behind Obama, following her endorsement of the Illinois Senator today.

But we will also learn who she will be going forward. Will she, should she be offered it, form the second-tier of the Democratic party's dream ticket? Will she stomp relentlessly across the country for the Obama campaign? Will she stay in the her current position, becoming a Lyndon Johnson-like master of the Senate?

No matter what, this much is clear: The era of Bill Clinton and his Democratic Party has finally come to a close. Hillary's time has just begun.

Not-So Dynamic Duos

Sridhar Pappu — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 21:15:00 GMT

It really does take two. For all the talk of a "dream" presidential ticket, Sen. Barack Obama, the Democrat's presumed presidential nominee, is now hounded by talk that he should choose Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton as his running mate. Indeed, as Clinton's final fortunes were sealed, one couldn't blame Obama if he had begun to bristle at the idea that he must somehow make room for her. The talk that she would help his ticket might not thrill him. Let's face it, Clinton wasn't so nice to him during the campaign.

Obama has good reason for being cautious, and less than crazy about the situation. History, after all is filled with paired partnerships that were supposed to bring about triumphant returns. We here have assembled some examples of a few not-so dynamic duos, Obama could point to.

Dan Rather and Connie Chung: What better way to boost your ratings of your evening newscast in the mid 1990s than have the slick-talkin' Texan paired up with the girl of David Letterman's dreams? Let's see, actually having them paired on the same newscast. The two displayed awkward chemistry at best and at times Rather seemed threatened by Chung's presence on the set, and the partnership lasted less than a barbecue without baked beans (that's the best Rather we can do). Rather of course would go on to provide some of the most memorable media commentary ever during the 2000 election, before his hasty departure from CBS in 2006. Chung, meanwhile was demoted by CBS in 1995, leaving for ABC soon after.

Frank Thomas and Albert Belle: When the Chicago White Sox signed Belle from the Cleveland Indians following the 1996 season, people predicted that he and Thomas (winner of the 1993 and 1994 American League MVP awards) would sell out new Commiskey Park, lead the Sox to the pennant and chase each other in pursuit of Roger Maris' single season home record. Instead, the two posted paltry numbers as Belle turned surly against the South Siders' loyal fans. Thomas--always a large man--seemed to grow even bigger as he struggled with marital and weight problems, prompting this reporter to yell during one summer evening at 35th and Shields, "C'mon Frank, she's not worth it!" Their first year together, with the Sox 3 1/2 games behind the Indians for first place in the division, management went on to trade the team's closer and best pitcher to the Giants, thus ending any hope that this marriage could be salvaged. The two would never come close to the playoffs ever again, as Belle bolted for Baltimore at his first chance out and Thomas continued to scare teammates who thought he was about to eat them.

Harvey Weinstein and Tina Brown: It was the apex of synergy. When Weinstein and Brown launched Talk in 1999, it was meant as a beacon, a symbol of how print magazines would operate in the future. Brown had become the celebrity editor of her age with her revitalization of Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, and Weinstein along with his brother Bob had reinvigorated the independent film market with their distribution company, Miramax. Talk was designed as a true general interest magazine in the age of niche publications, something that would cover politics and celebrities, wealth and power and trailer parks. The stories would then be launching off points for the Miramax film division and be the basis for films.

Well, one could dream. Brown oversaw constant staff turnover, insane budgets and constant rumors of the magazine's demise from its second issue on. Weinstein, it was said, would constantly make his presence known around the editorial offices. The result was a magazine that suffered from a lack of ad pages, disgruntled employees and the lack of stories of real import, which ultimately led to a short shelf life. Its death in 2001 probably made more news than any of the issues ever printed.

Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman in Ishtar: Ah, Ishtar. How we waited for this grand collaboration of arguably the best actors of their generation in 1987 movie directed by the great Elaine May. Known mostly for its outlandish budget ($30 million) and its box office failure ($14.375 million in North America), it's sometimes mentioned on lists of the worst movie ever made.

"If all of the people who hate 'Ishtar' had seen it," Elaine May said. "I would be a rich woman today."

EMILY's List in the Aftermath

Sridhar Pappu — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 13:21:56 GMT

Editor's Note: The original version of this story has been updated to include a quote from Jessica Arons of Center for American Progress, a liberal think tank in Washington.

Ellen Moran began to laugh. This wasn't a snicker or a snort, but a full-throttled laugh that caused Moran to jerk her head back toward the ceiling as she contemplated the question before her. It was the early afternoon of June 6 and the 42-year-old executive director of EMILY's List had just been asked whether she believed if the political group could have done anything differently during the presidential run of Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, in which the political group played an integral part.

As a reporter you look for the most vivid scene to give a story based around an interview some oomph. But as I scribbled in my notebook, I realized that I had become part of the Clinton-parsing-by-proxy. Over the course of Clinton's campaign, writers ran out of thesaurus entries looking for ways to describe her laugh. It was ridiculed on "The Daily Show," broken down by pundits on cable television, psycho-analyzed by eminent political reporters. Then all this analysis was itself analyzed over more news cycles -- was it due to some latent sexism in the culture, would the media ever have discussed a man in this fashion? Forget her positions on health care or the war or even Sen. Barack Obama. What was up with the laugh?

But that had now passed and Moran and I were in campaign post-mortem and I am describing her laugh on the eve of Clinton's final bow from the primary stage. No, she said, she didn't think that EMILY's List could have done anything differently in their efforts to elect the first woman to the office of the presidency. But, she conceded, "I think we’re too close to it now."

Moran, wearing a white blouse with printed capri pants gives off motherly vibes but is a political heavyweight with a powerful reach. She'd served on Tom Harkin's staff and, after initially working for Emily's List in the early 1990s, wound up at a series of influential positions. One stop was the AFL-CIO, where she not only ran the union's "Wal-Mart corporate accountability campaign" but voter mobilization efforts in battleground states. In 2004, working with the Democratic National Committee, she oversaw the allocation of $100 million in presidential advertising and direct mail and phone efforts.

And while the openness accentuated by rattan furniture of Moran's office gave off the feeling of a sunny living room, one could sense defeat looming just beyond her doors. Looking around the rambling offices of EMILY's List on Connecticut Avenue in Washington, you could still see Hillary Clinton presidential signs hanging, and got the sense that Clinton's and, by proxy, the PAC's, narrow defeat still hung over those who worked there.

EMILY's List -- which stands for "Early Money Is Like Yeast" (It makes the dough rise) --was formed more than two decades ago to support pro-choice women candidates. Over the years they'd raised millions for them. They helped, among others, political tyros like Diane Feinstein, Jennifer Granholm and Clinton (during her Senate run) reach their desired end. But Clinton's presidential run was the largest endeavor the group had undertaken, the most important campaign they'd ever helped. Now, a day before Clinton announced the official suspension of her campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination, Moran and the office were in the aftermath, wondering what would come next and what Clinton's failed candidacy meant for the future of their organization.

"Is there a lot of disappointment here?" Moran said. "Sure. We don't like losing. We're pretty competitive. You don't go into politics if you're not."

A loss is never a loss. Just ask the Cincinnati Bengals following Super Bowl XXIII. But For Emily's List, Clinton's candidacy might have provided a jumping off point for the group's future endeavors.

"Ultimately the fact that we had a viable pro-choice woman candidate is a stepping stone for EMILY's List," said Jessica Arons, director of the Women's Health and Rights Program at Center for American Progress, a liberal think tank in Washington. "And it only furthers the goal of having a pro-choice woman in the White House."

For those who had never heard of EMILY's List before Clinton launched her campaign, you sure as hell learned about them during her run. Even before Clinton's official announcement last year, the group's higher-ups had begun to meet to discuss strategies on how to allocate their internal resources to the campaign, what efforts would mean for the other campaigns they were working on and how they could best raise money for her.

By the time the Iowa caucuses came around, EMILY's List had fully landed in Iowa. Moran and others were in direct contact with the campaign and helped raise money. They'd set up an independent expenditure group that did the real groundwork--including setting up a website (www.yougogirl.com) and establishing a relentless direct-mailing and advertising campaign. Many in the organization used their holiday break to campaign for Clinton.

Most prominent among the group was its founder and president Ellen Malcolm, who became a kind of super-surrogate for Clinton, to the ire of some in the Democratic Party, who said her efforts were divisive. Before a debate in Iowa in December, Malcolm held a news conference in which she said that while she recognized Obama as being pro-choice, he had not been fervent enough in defending the cause in either the U.S. Senate or the Illinois State legislature.

Near the end of the campaign, when another group devoted to abortion rights, NARAL Pro-Choice America, came out to endorse Obama, Malcolm lashed back, calling NARAL ''tremendously disrespectful'' by not giving Clinton ''the courtesy to finish the final three weeks of the primary process.''

NARAL president Nancy Keenan told The Washington Independent, through a spokesman,"We are confident that the entire progressive community will unite behind Sen. Barack Obama's campaign. Voters, especially women, will move to Sen. Obama as the contrast between his strong support for a woman's right to choose and McCain's 25-year history of anti-choice votes becomes even clearer."

Malcolm was unavailable to comment for this story. But Moran, while declining to comment on the NARAL flap, said of their overall tactics during the campaign, said, "Look, primaries are tough contests and we play to win, to help a candidate win. That's what we do."

Moran also addressed the issue of sexism which, during the course of the campaign played the role of the gopher chased by Bill Murray in "Caddyshack" -- popping up and down, up and down, as the weeks and months went by. One example regularly cited occurred when MSNBC's Chris Matthews suggested that Clinton had been elected to the Senate because voters felt sorry for her after the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Another was when David Shuster, a correspondent for the same cable network, said of the senator's daughter, "Doesn't it seem like Chelsea's sort of being pimped out in some weird sort of way?"

"It's clear there were some very low moments of this campaign and there was sexism," Moran said. "There were moments where our members saw it, responded to it and some voters took notice and responded to it. It's something we take very seriously. We're in the service of women candidates and we've got a role to make sure when we think there's unfair media coverage to point that out, so that we can talk about it."

However, despite its best efforts, EMILY's List saw their biggest and best chance to date for the ultimate prize fall short. Now, as with many Clinton supporters, they'll be throwing their resources behind a man they tried to keep away from the Democratic nomination, while helping women in lower levels get elected.

Karin Johanson, a former EMILY's List political director who has also served as executive director for the DCCC, talks about this time as a period of necessary reflection. "It's disappointing," Johanson said. "People in politics are going to be talking about what happened to Hillary Clinton for a long time. I think people are going to be analyzing it from the perspective of what it means for women running for office and I think EMILY's List will do that."

But Moran says, despite Clinton's ultimately falling short, much that is positive has come out of this tough primary campaign. "The notion of a woman commander-in-chief isn't hypothetical anymore," Moran said, "She gave us a vision of what that would be, and she came ever so close. That's an important threshold for us."

Moran asserts that the political careers of all women will be different after Clinton's strong race. "As someone who's been working in politics for 30 years, I'm struck by how fast the assent can happen now," Moran said. "I'm optimistic that many of these women we've helped elect and have yet to elect can emerge and be ready. Again, 10 years ago where was Barack Obama? He was just finishing up his freshman term in the legislature. Helllllllllloooooooooooooo! That is profound."

And what of Clinton's role in the general election?

"This is his decision and he's got to get this decision right," Moran said when asked if Obama should choose Clinton as a running mate. "And to a degree it's her decision, if asked, about whether she wants to do this. I believe she will be helpful to this ticket -- no matter if she's on the ticket or not. She got 18 million votes in the primary process and has a serious following of people who care about this a lot. She's got a critical role to play and she has power of her own to bring to bear so that we elect a Democratic president -- and I'm confident she'll do that."

But for Moran and EMILY"s List the question that caused her to break into laughter will continue to influence how the PAC operates for years to come--hoping that the next time she throws her head back it will be in the simple delight of the thing they most enjoy. Winning.

McCain, Not Exactly the Come Back Kid

Sridhar Pappu — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 18:35:00 GMT

"It seems like Barack Obama's running for Jimmy Carter's second [term]?" That's the best that Sen. John McCain could come up with when confronted with Obama's constant attack saying that to elect John McCain would, in effect, re-elect George W. Bush for a third term? Dude, seriously. Now we understand snappy comebacks are hard, but McCain's heard this so many times he must have had time to prep. And while we really don't have a dog in this race, we thought we'd offer up a few responses for the next time McCain's Democratic rival tries to link him with possibly the most unpopular political figure of our time. After meeting with our own team of consultants which included my "tween" nieces Maya and Samsara, the creative team behind the epic television series "Benson" and a 6-foot rabbit named Harvey who shows up at our house after not taking our behavioral meds, here's what we came up with:

Instead of tying me to Bush all the time, how about finding a new church, dude? Man, Senator you can really get him on that one. You could even argue that Sen. Obama will be so distracted by finding a new place for Sunday worship --this isn't something you just find in the yellow pages-- that he will forget his responsibilities as commander-in-chief, gas prices will reach $10.00 a gallon and millions of people will be forced to set up shanty towns across the country, hoping that a mystical horse named Seabiscuit will buoy our fortunes and rise up our spirit from the ashes.

Oh yeah, well I went to war! This one stings. It's a comment that strikes at the heart of the central argument for the McCain presidency during this election -- that of a man with honorable military experience who knows the brutality and loss and suffering and costs of combat in the field verses a relative neophyte who still gets lost walking around the Senate (if you believe McCain).

And what's wrong with that? With this simple statement, McCain could shore up those members of the evangelical movement who've cooled to him so far, but mobilized with great enthusiasm for Bush. It would also solidify his cred with the anti-tax crowd and the neo-conservatives who favored going to war and are still in favor of keeping a significant military presence in the region. It's all about the base baby!

Elite Smear Clashes with Tradition

Sridhar Pappu — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 13:20:50 GMT

It took one simple word for Sen. John McCain to rush forth images of Sen. Barack Obama as a man surrounded by gilded towers, someone far from the concerns of the common man. Standing before a town hall meeting earlier this week, McCain, a graduate of Annapolis and the son and grandson of admirals, presented himself as just one of the common folk. "My friends," he said, "we're going to get on the bus and we want a lot of you to come with us and we're going to travel all over the state of Pennsylvania, and we're going to go to the small towns in Pennsylvania and I'm going to tell 'em I don't agree that they cling to their religion and the Constitution because they're bitter."

By now, we're all aware, McCain was referring to that Obama speech in San Francisco when he used that term "bitter" -- and also, of course, the stinging outrage against Obama as an "elitist" that followed. But it is McCain's (and, before, him Hillary Rodham Clinton's) claim to a kind of authenticity, to blue collarness against all distractions, that very much strikes against who we are as a nation.

Why? Because such boasts and stances seem to run counter to the promise of the American Dream. People from modest upbringings (my own father left home to work after high school to put five brothers and sisters through college and beyond) do the jobs, perform the tasks they do to ensure that their children have a better life. To want something better, to advance in life—that’s what we’re supposed to want. We should want, like Obama, to rise from modest beginnings, get the best education possible and afford a life to provide the best for own children. We should want to be the elite, not loathe them.

Elite in America has always been a fluid notion, in any case. We are not a landed society, with vast entailed properties, passed down through the generations. In the New World, immigrants, and then pioneers traveling West, could re-invent themselves, re-envision themselves. It was not about family or heritage, hard work and the benefits of education were all you really needed.

So this attack on Obama -- who was not born to a political dynasty, or to great wealth or power; who did not spend his afternoons eating in the dining room of Marshall Field's in Chicago or summering in Southampton -- strikes not to his upbringing and wealth, but to his education. It is an attack on what the Pulitzer Prize-winning historian David McCullough, who has examined the lives of Theodore Roosevelt, John Adams and Harry S. Truman, calls the upward climb that is rooted in the very beginnings of our nation and what we once aspired to.

McCullough cited a telling letter by Adams. In trying to explain his exhaustive service to the cause of the American Revolution, our second president wrote, "I must study politics and war [he wrote] that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study paintings, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain."

"When Adams wrote that letter," said McCullough, on the phone from his study in Martha's Vineyard, Mass., "That is about as memorable, as succinct, and vivid expression of what many of the founders felt. What seems so ironic to me, so odd is that we use the word "elite" as a way of smearing someone, when, in fact, isn't the desire for a fine education, the desire for knowledge, the desire to express oneself in an articulate way, something we want? All of that we believe in. And yet, when someone obtains it, or show they've obtained it, it becomes subject for ridicule. What do we really believe?

"It seems to me that the story of Barack Obama and his wife are exactly what the founders had in mind," McCullough continued, "The ideal has been symbolized, has been a living expression through these two people."

How then did we come to this point to where those who embody the ideals of the great men who devised the American Experiment became figures of mistrust? It certainly didn't begin during the 18th-century Enlightenment -- which Jefferson and Adams and Franklin were products of. For them, the emphasis on reading and education, on bettering oneself, seemed a universal ideal. It was one shared by those who didn't share the same level of formal education, like George Washington and Nathanael Greene.

One could argue the repudiation of the founder's vision of who should lead with Andrew Jackson, but history does not bare that out. It was, after all, the very privileged and very smart Teddy Roosevelt who helped lift a nation of workers struggling beneath the deplorable conditions of the robber barons of the early 20th century. And when it came time for a nation to be saved from the Great Depression, to be uplifted from its darkest depths, it was the equally erudite, educated man from the wealthy trappings of Hyde Park, N.Y., who took the mantle.

"Franklin Roosevelt never pretended to be anything other than what he was," said historian Rick Perlstein. "The very fact Franklin Roosevelt was so secure in his class position makes him superior to Democratic politicians today, who are so insecure about their economic elitist status." (It should be noted that Harry Truman, the man who took the reigns from the great FDR never went to college but was an avid reader of Latin).

One can--and Perlstein in his new book "Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of America" does--say that it began with Tricky Dick. Richard M. Nixon, in his rise, had managed to recast elitism as a matter of culture, not wealth. The cultural, intellectual elites were not the aspirational figures of the common people but their enemies. During the mid-1960s it was the college campuses that proved to be the battlegrounds against everything traditionally conservative and deeply religious people stood against, helping Nixon's improbable political resurrection.

Nixon's victory of the everyman over those who aspire to the life of the mind, culminating with his presidential victories in 1968 and 1972, only provided the opening tear and a terrible paradox. We want our leaders to be smart, but not too smart. We want them to speak with great eloquence, but have an accent that comes out of a Chevy truck commercial. We expect them to go to good schools, but not to do that well. Perhaps when Daniel Patrick Moynihan, the last true scholar who enjoyed great political success, passed, he took the last remnants of the founder's ideals with him.

"Candidates can't be themselves anymore because they have to put on so many faces to be successful." says Michael Kazin, a professor of history at Georgetown and author of "The Populist Persuasion: An American History." "This kind of authenticity is itself a pose, because, of course, you have to be brainy and smart -- but you have to be hanging out with regular folks. One of these has to be an act. You can't be a Rhodes Scholar on policy and a great bowler and beer drinker....not at the same time."

Indeed it seems that we have betrayed our own ideals for excellence in leaders and in ourselves by craving the very ordinary.

"I love commencements," McCullough noted. "I don't know how many commencement talks I've given. We have very little ceremony left in American life -- and here's one that's commemorated every year by millions of people. It is a festival, a celebration. And what are they celebrating? Achievement in learning. Achievement in education. That is a very consistent and powerful American theme and we must never lose that.

"When people from abroad want to come here, what do they want to come here for?" McCullough continued. "It's that as much as anything. Opportunity isn't just financial, isn't just in forms of security. It's also this potential to go beyond your own experience and those who proceeded you intellectually. But that's too fancy a word."

Tim Russert

Sridhar Pappu — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 23:18:49 GMT

If ever a man was most needed during a political campaign it was Tim Russert.

With his passing today, the country lost not only a television show host or political reporter, but rather one of the last columns holding together what remains of intelligent political discourse. We live in an age of rumors and unfiltered opinion and partisan programming--where it seems more young people look to "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart" for analysis of the day's events than the nightly news or any of the cable outlets devoted to politics. There's a reason for that: We simply no longer trust many of the people who are charged with the weighty task of reporting the news.

But we could trust Russert. While voices were shouting and clammoring and debating, Russert served as that voice of calm. Maybe he was, despite his relative youth, a man from a different age--not given to fits of anger or shouting, willing to calmly, sometimes coldly look over a situation with a knowledge of history that seemed unparalleled. When I chronicled the growing disconnect between the Washington press and the Bush administration as a media columnist for The New York Observer, Russert didn't share the anger of some of his other colleagues. He spoke with a self-confidence that he could get what he needed from a place that reviled what he stood for.

"I have no problems with accessibility," he told me. "I can get my questions answered. Everyone has the same opportunity to talk to people the same amount of times. When it's your time to talk to someone, you have to be prepared for a tough, comprehensive interview. It's not the job of a journalist to turn over the interview for somebody's political infomercial."

Russert certainly could be tough. We counted on him not to ask a question, listen to a canned response and simply move on. He asked the questions most viewers wanted to know, and would keep asking them until he got close enough to the truth.

Political coverage--particularly television coverage--has changed dramatically since Meet the Press first aired in 1947. The multitude of news outlets has given us some great political journalism. But it's also given us a lot of bad reporting and figures whose egos overshadow the events they're talking about. As a rule, television is not an introspective medium. But hopefully in the hours and days to come people will use Russert's death as an opportunity for brief self-reflection, an opportunity for the industry to ask itself what exactly they're doing and why.

There is no perfect timing for death. But Russert's passing at the onset of the general election process is particularly awful. When we needed a man like Edward R. Murrow to take down a man like Joe McCarthy we had him, just as we had Walter Cronkite when we needed a voice of authority to tell us the war Vietnam wasn't a war to be won. In that same vein, in this utterly hostile, toxic environment we needed a man like Russert to swat a way partisan rhetoric and shouting and on-air bickering we've come to sadly accept.

We needed--and still need--a man who could give us the facts.

Obama as Father Figure

Sridhar Pappu — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 12:56:51 GMT

OAK PARK, ILL. -- On Sunday morning in the South Side of Chicago, a man who never knew his own father, except through intermittent stories and recollections, and then through his own search to discover who this man was, addressed the nation as a dad.

Labeled a Father's Day Speech, Sen. Barack Obama's words at the Apostolic Church of God were clearly meant to carry on past midnight of June 15, when all the ties and cards and tennis balls were put away, never to be seen again. It was really the Illinois senator's first step in trying to convince the nation whether, at the precocious age of 46, he was ready to restore the fatherly mantle to the office of the president of the United States.

"I resolved many years ago that it was my obligation...that if I could be anything in life, I would be a good father to my girls," said Obama. His two daughters, Sasha and Malia, sat with his wife Michelle near where he stood on the stage surrounded by choir members in light blue robes.

Certainly this was friendly terrain. Here within the church's 3,000-seat sanctuary, Obama was greeted by a standing-room-only African-American audience. Close to his stately red-brick home in Kenwood, the inside of the church followed the blueprint of the modern megachurch--complete with an angled roof and plush benches. Those of us who have spent any time around large congregations are still awed by the scene of immaculately dressed men and women leaping to their feet during the sermon, at the emotion that can be generated in the name of faith. Today was no different, parishioners clapped relentlessly during Obama's turn at the pulpit.

But this was a speech for more than his two children, or even for those mothers and fathers and children who'd assembled on this hot Chicago day, far from the glass and steel and fire-ready towers of the Magnificent Mile and the South Loop. More than a week had passed since the real start of the general election. As Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton stepped back from her push for the Democratic presidential nomination, Obama had begun to battle in earnest with his Republican counterpart on everything from taxes at home to the war in Iraq.

Now Obama was in his first church setting since he withdrew from Trinity United Church of Christ, after a series of embarrassing statements by church leaders present and past made staying an untenable proposition. Now he was confronting a man in Sen. John McCain who seems much like many of our fathers -- balding, occasionally stubborn and suffused with sarcasm that, let's face it, can be pretty damn charming. With his speech today, Obama tried to cast himself as a national father who is both hard-driving and forgiving.

Father figures are something we no longer talk easily about when it comes to American political life. Once they were the standard--men like Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan. It wasn't their age that made them fatherly, but the way we looked at them as we have traditionally looked as our dads--as men with whom we might disagree, but whom we trusted, trusted deeply, that their actions would turn out right.

Moreover, they were men that a nation wanted to make proud. They were commanders-in-chief, yes, but also people who inspired armies and for whom individual moments of greatness were seen as an extension of their love of country and their love of us. When little Mary Lou Retton raised her arms triumphantly in Los Angeles 24 years ago, who couldn't feel the eyes of the Gipper looking at her with admiration and fatherly awe?

Indeed, what Obama must now overcome are 16 years of men who were less father figures than contemporaries. I can vividly recall the morning after Bill Clinton's presidency in 1992 when my art teacher in my hometown in Ohio declared, "Finally we have a president my age." That's precisely what he was -- a man with a full baby-boomer portfolio, including the ill-fated attempts to smoke pot. With George W. Bush many saw, whether they will admit it or not, a man they could relate to. Born of great privilege, he'd made mistakes, embarrassed his family only to find a degree of redemption at an age when many of his contemporaries were doing the same.

But it is in the time of deep crisis that we seek out not our best friend or that guy we went to high school with who seemed kind of smart, but our dads. At this stage in American history, the nation is engaged in two wars far abroad and faced with economic turmoil that many haven't seen in a generation.

During his Sunday speech, while Obama spoke about the duties of fatherhood going beyond the point of conception, he also spoke of the need not just to move from one stage of life to another, not just to get B's, but the need to excel. In so doing, he was serving as a chastising, even conservative force. He was less a buddy than a man sternly addressing a segment of the population that had not held up its share of the bargain, had not cleaned its room.

"Too many fathers are MIA, too many fathers are AWOL," he said, "missing from too many lives and too many homes. They have abandoned their responsibilities, acting like boys instead of men. And the foundations of our families are weaker because of it. You and I know this is true, but nowhere is it more true than in the African-American community."

It is a community that embraced him despite early trouble signs (In one of his moments of deft humor, he recalled a period when "I wasn’t black enough. Now I'm too black."), and whom he was addressing in harsh, definitive terms. The problems of the black community were real, he said, but they could not be simply explained away by the tragedies of the past. It was time, he told those listening, for a new sense of accountability -- to oneself and to others.

"We can't simply write these problems off to past injustices," Obama said. "Those injustices are real. There's a reason our families are in disrepair, and some of it has to do with a tragic history. But we can't keep using that as an excuse."

By so doing, Obama might have further intertwined himself with the image of John F. Kennedy, dead 45 years this November. Remember in Kennedy's inaugural address he famously reached out to a generation born within the 20th century and living in a period of Cold War peace not to make demands of the country, but rather to serve in anyway it could. He was the leader of his generation, and, as such, embodied the aspirations of an entire nation. This ideal of giving human form to the nation's hope is what Obama has to strive for should he expect the multitudes to follow.

But, as he left the pulpit, Obama recognized the shared responsibility of leading a larger family.

"Pray for me," he said. "Pray for Michelle."

And with that he was gone--at least from the formal service. Soon enough Obama with his entourage were in a small small gymnasium adjacent to the main sanctuary. Here, a group of young children, who had been watching Obama on a projection screen, ran to him.

Reaching out to them, he tried to touch as many of the kids as he could, knowing they would be following him, ever so closely, for what he clearly hoped were the months and years to come.

Obama: Michigan to be Fully Seated at Convention

Sridhar Pappu — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 10:30:00 GMT

Thursday night in Detroit, standing above the concrete floor of Joe Louis Arena, Sen. Barack Obama ensured that the Michigan delegation will be fully seated at the Democratic National Convention in Denver this August. While this was the first time he declared this formally, you shouldn't be surprised. In my extensive interview with Michigan superdelegate and Democratic National Committee member Debbie Dingell, she revealed that Obama had, in fact, promised just such an action before she agreed officially to lend him her support.

Gore

Sridhar Pappu — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 11:15:00 GMT

DETROIT -- Finally.

That's what one couldn't help thinking on seeing Al Gore last night as he stood above the iceless rink of Detroit's Joe Louis Arena and endorsed Sen. Barack Obama for president of the United States. A year and a half had passed since Obama and Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton had begun the primary process via the Net. All that while, there were those who not-so-secretly pined for the former vice president -- and almost-president -- to step down from his role of Oscar- and Grammy- and Noble Prize-winning statesman and re-enter the political arena to unify a Democratic Party growing increasingly fractured over the long, spirited primary season. Others were waiting for Gore, a man, one might argue, at the height of his popularity, to weigh in, to tell the Democratic Party whom he felt should be the nominee.

Instead he waited. He waited for Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (D-Mass.) and his niece Caroline -- despite pressure from former President Bill Clinton -- to throw their support, and the lasting power of Camelot, to Obama. He waited for former House Minority leader Tom Daschle and the man who tried to unseat the man who narrowly defeated Gore, Sen. John Kerry, to give the Illinois senator his support. He waited for George S. McGovern and Jimmy Carter; for former Democratic presidential and 2004 vice presidential nominee John Edwards. And when long-time Clinton ally Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico stopped his own presidential bid and bore the full wrath of the Clinton campaign to support Obama, Gore waited still.

The question remains: why? As we all know, since the 2000 election, the Gores and Clintons have maintained a steely cold distance -- with supporters of each blaming the other for Gore's slim and controversial loss to George W. Bush. Those in the Clinton camp argued that Gore used the president and his popularity too little, too late in his campaign. Gore disciples fired back that the Monica Lewinsky scandal left Clinton a tarnished symbol, one who couldn't be used with a split electorate.

Did Gore wait out of whatever remained of the respect he had for his former running mate? Did he consider himself above the fray? A man who couldn't be bothered?

That's a shame. In many ways this campaign was Gore's election. The causes he championed, particularly when it came to the environment, have moved beyond Democratic Party politics to become issues the entire nation cares about. Eight years ago, who could imagine the presumed nominee for the Republican nomination would be talking about the threat of greenhouse gasses and alternative energy?

What role Gore can play in this historic, terribly close race seems unclear. Hell, we're just gonna have to wait.