Edwards Plays Well to Party Faithful

Laura Harper had been dying, just dying, to meet John Edwards. With her retirement on the near horizon, the 66-year-old schoolteacher wanted to know whether she could count on receiving her full Social Security benefits.

Not only was Harper unfazed by Edwards’ tepid response at a town hall meeting last week, she seemed charmed by it -- accepting the North Carolina senator’s explanation that too many other knotty priorities awaited the next president and vice president to find a quick fix for Social Security.

“I’ve got a big porch back in Metairie,” Harper said in a coy invitation to the candidate, drawing a big laugh from the 160 people filling the union hall in New Orleans.

“It’s like he is one of us,” Harper explained afterward. “It’s like he is the common man on the street. He is just that homespun guy next door. I believe him. I just believe him.”

The teacher was one of thousands of Democrats inspired and charmed by Edwards over the last six days, as he completed his first solo tour of the nation since presidential candidate Sen. John F. Kerry chose him two weeks ago as his running mate.

As the North Carolina senator hopscotched around the country -- from Des Moines to Chicago to New Orleans to Houston to Los Angeles -- he generated a wave of enthusiasm among the Democratic faithful. And though the crowds were self-selected, the palpable fervor around Edwards -- if sustainable -- could be critical to Democrats in a close election.

By rallying the Democratic base, the 51-year-old Edwards might be able to secure money, volunteers and votes from Democrats who were otherwise grudging in their support of Kerry.

In a swing that ended Monday in his home state, Edwards brought in more than $3 million in contributions for the Democratic ticket and the party. His stump style won him frequent comparisons to Bill Clinton and the Kennedys.

The euphoria seems solid for now, but a number of difficult questions could burst the bubble.

Among them: Will Americans rally around a self-described “man of the people” who is a multimillionaire trial lawyer? How long can Edwards speak in broad generalities before telling voters specifically how the Democrats would govern differently from the Republicans? And how will he respond to questions -- particularly at a time of international unrest and terrorist threats -- that he is too young and inexperienced to lead?

Already, Republicans have seized on Edwards’ pop-star qualities to suggest that their candidate is a man of more substance.

Said Arizona Sen. John McCain last week: “Vice President Cheney is not just another pretty face.”

Such barbs have done little to dampen Democratic enthusiasm in recent days, however.

Democrats reached for gushing adjectives to describe Edwards. “Charismatic,” “sincere,” “charming” and “eloquent” were among the favorites.

Tom Brooks rushed away from his job as a waiter at the Los Angeles Farmers Market on Friday to greet Edwards. “I love watching politicians work their magic,” said Brooks, 35. “And he’s got the spark. He’s just got it.”

Onetime screen siren Sally Kirkland surged forward with the rest of the crowd at a fundraiser in Los Angeles and stood on her tiptoes to reach out to Edwards.

“He has already captured our hearts. He has already won!” she declared afterward. “He reminds me of a young Bobby Kennedy. Not only truth, but fairness -- to fight -- fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves.”

Edwards has displayed a knack for making audiences believe his words are fresh and tailored just to them, said several commentators who had watched him since the primaries.

His “son of a millworker” biography was already well-established with most audiences -- the boy who became the first in his family to go to college, worked his way through school, and, after a hugely successful career as a plaintiff’s attorney, won a U.S. Senate seat.

In speeches, which rarely stretched beyond 13 minutes, Edwards felt free to paint with broad, sunny strokes.

“We have a common set of values,” he told 250 people at a fundraiser in a Houston hotel. “And at the core of that vision and those values is a very simple thing: We believe that tomorrow can be better than today -- that in our country, if we put our hearts and minds to it, everything is possible.”

Such proclamations can look trite on paper. But on his initial foray, audiences said they loved the upbeat rhetoric.

“You can see the sincerity in his eyes and the way he carries himself,” said William Morrison, who saw Edwards at a dinner in Universal City on Friday night. “It’s not like a promise, it’s more like a guarantee.”

One political analyst from the South said Edwards was “going to [have to] switch gears and get more specific going forward.”

Several voters said Edwards’ attention to the personal touches helped win them over.

“He stops and really fixes his eyes on each person, like he is really trying to look into each person,” said Mike Maloney, an attorney who met Edwards in Houston. “That’s an unusual thing -- to shake 1,000 hands a day and still do that.”

When Edwards took to the stage, it seemed to be with relish. He often bounded right over the stairs to his mark, landing and raising both thumbs high as a toothy grin split his face.

His hands, ceaseless partners in persuasion, gestured far off to indicate “them,” clutched close to his heart to suggest “us” and arced across the horizon when Edwards wanted to symbolize all of America.

Women who watched him, from Des Moines to Los Angeles, judged him variously as “a hunk” and “a handsome devil.” One said he looked a lot like actor Dennis Quaid, only with less mileage.

Edwards assumed an intimacy with his audiences that seemed to transcend gender, age and ethnicity.

At the New Orleans union hall, he urged the 160 people attending to ignore the presence of television cameras.

“Try to forget about them for a minute,” he urged. “You’re just talking to me. And I need to know what you’re worried about -- with your families, with your kids.”

Edwards made such personal appeals seem guileless. He said with a straight face at the town hall gathering that only the Republicans screened their campaign audiences. He made the claim to a group of union members and party activists -- all invited, at least indirectly, by the campaign.

Not a single voter he met over the last week suggested any incongruity between his populist message and his own wealth -- $27 million earned as an attorney in the four years before he joined the Senate.

Many voters said it didn’t matter as much where Edwards had ended up as where he had come from. They agreed with the Iowa voter who said during primary season: “Nothing was given.... He got his by his own gumption.”

Pundits once speculated that Kerry, the Massachusetts senator, worried about being eclipsed by Edwards’ charisma. But the Democrats’ No. 2 made sure he spent a good part of his week building up No. 1.

He called Kerry “a fighter, a man who has backbone and strength and courage.” The centerpiece of his pitch was that voters could learn about the real Kerry by studying his service as a Navy lieutenant and the loyalty of those he led.

“The men who were with John Kerry on that boat in Vietnam -- 30 years later, today -- they’re still with him,” Edwards said at virtually every stop. “They knew that he would never leave them behind. And that is exactly the kind of president he will be: He will never leave any American behind.”