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Jessie
Appleby, a senior at the University of Iowa and
an intern in Rudy Giuliani's campaign office,
stands outside the campaign's office, October
26, in Iowa City, Iowa. Giuliani's office is
located right next door to the Hillary Clinton
campaign office and around the corner from
Barack Obama's office in downtown Iowa City.
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I was
sitting with a hundred fidgety kids in a high school
gymnasium in Exira, Iowa, with Bachman-Turner Overdrive
blaring "Takin' Care of Business" as Sen. John
Edwards' volunteers, scrubbed as clean as baking spuds,
charmed the town and warmed up the crowd.
"Welcome,
sir, thank you for your service to our country,"
one strapping lad said to a man in a veterans' cap. The
kids poured in, many giddy and clutching cameras like
they were going to a Hannah Montana concert. The music
thumped and even some of the adults gasped when Edwards
appeared in the doorway.
Then the
adults actually quieted the crowd by going: "Sshhhh."
Maybe I
was stuffed on apple pie from a nearby cafe, but I
hadn't felt so full of America since Neil Armstrong set
foot on the moon.
After a
brisk speech, Edwards plowed through the crowd, signing
kids' arms and T-shirts.
A nice
woman figured I was not from the area and suggested I
could grab lunch at Darrell's, just a few miles away.
"They were voted Iowa's finest pork
tenderloin," she said proudly.
"And
the taco salad is wonderful," added her friend.
There is
no place like Iowa in the months preceding its
presidential caucuses, the first in the nation, slated
for Jan. 3. Between now and then, the state becomes an
odd carnival of political bravado, Americana and
patriotic theater. The men and women who want to run our
country hold pigs and kiss babies (and sometimes vice
versa) in a frenzy of farm visits, small-town rallies
and get-to-know-me chats at mom-and-pop cafes.
The Des
Moines Register tracks which candidates have been to
which city, and how many times. Democrats and
Republicans have dodged questions in Fort Dodge 20 times
so far, for example. They haven't exactly been coming
and going in Cumming (two times), but they've met their
Waterloo 29 times.
A recent
Iowa Poll found that one-fourth of Iowans had already
shaken the hand of a presidential candidate, whether
they wanted to or not.
Visitors
from other states who come for the meet-and-greets get
an added benefit: They also get to shake hands with
Iowa. They experience Winterset and Woodward (Go,
Hawks!), Story City and Shenandoah, Pleasant Hill and
Pleasantville and even Pocahontas along the way.
I must
have passed through Iowa a hundred times, but I don't
remember the last time I got off a main highway unless I
had to. Iowa to me was always two rest stops, a Culvers
and an ice storm around Thanksgiving on the way to
somewhere else.
The most
fun I can remember having is making up fictional
characters out of the names on the freeway exit signs:
Dexter Manley. Eldora Jewell. Maxwell Slater.
But as I
cut a diagonal west on a lonely road toward the campaign
trail, the rain stopped and shafts of sunlight burst
through the clouds like a divine strobe on fields that
dipped and rolled in front of me. Hay bales looked
arranged by Mondrian, in Rembrandt's light. A man on a
tractor waved. A kid wobbled on a bike in a farmyard. On
the radio, someone with a small-town radio voice was
giving the market report (soybeans were down two).
Then I
noticed the signs on a fence.
I scream
You
scream
We all
scream
For pork
loin
---
The day
after Edwards' appearance, I was in a larger auditorium
at Drake University in Des Moines, the Mecca of
political discourse. Or, "where people wear
three-piece suits and dark socks, often
simultaneously," as Iowa author Bill Bryson once
wrote.
Rudy
Giuliani wore one of those suits, and the socks. He
talked about taxes, health care, education. Nice college
kids who smelled of patchouli got up and asked him
thoughtful questions and laughed at his jokes. One
student, dressed in a newsboy cap, made up her mind and
bought a "RUDY" button afterward.
And there
you had it. The magic and majesty of American retail
politics. In a newsboy cap.
The
caucuses have been around since 1846, but it wasn't
until the Iowa Democratic Party moved it up to Jan. 24
in 1972 that the nation noticed. George McGovern made
his move there, R.W. (Johnny) Apple Jr. of the New York
Times wrote about it, and Iowa became the place to break
from the pack or recede into ignominy. And Iowa has
never been the same since.
An
exhibit at the Iowa State History Museum in Des Moines,
just down the street from the lovely gold-domed Capitol
building (tours daily), tells the story of Iowa's
political lineage. You walk through faux diners and
homes filled with life-sized cutouts of pols, newsies
and "folks," with historical details and
interactive political polls.
At the
museum, you can learn:
-Why the
"Muskie bandwagon slid off the icy road" in
1972.
-How
Ronald Reagan surprised Gerald Ford in 1976.
-You can
even relive in photos the infamous Howard Dean scream.
The
exhibit is great. But if you want, you can see the real
thing many times over.
Take a
long weekend in Des Moines, and it's a good bet you'll
be able to take in a half-dozen candidate speeches.
Maybe the notion of 45 minutes with Joe Biden sounds
like something to get away from, not a getaway.
But then
again, you may get a rare "eyeball-to-eyeball"
stump speech that is some day coined historic, something
you can tell the grandkids about, just like your
grandparents talked about Adlai Stevenson's campaign, or
Ronald Reagan's barnstorming.
The
candidates visit large halls, but they also show up in
small cafes, schools and shopping malls, like when
Hillary Clinton dropped into the Gigglin' Goat
Restaurant in Boone.
"I've
even seen footage of Barack Obama going door to
door," said Bridget Finnegan, an Iowa native who
follows local politics. And for big events, such as Tom
Harkin's steak fry, "people come from all over the
country," she said. "Even Colorado."
There are
scores of "house parties," which are often in
a cornfield or someone's home, and many are open to the
public.
So, you
can also actually sit on a davenport in Davenport for
the "Ask Mitt Anything" tour. Anything? OK,
Gov. Romney, what about that sacred Mormon underwear?
(Of
course, an Iowan would never ask that.)
---
Had I
been feeling a tad more precious, I could have followed
Edwards to Madison County and dawdled for a peek at
those covered bridges. Another candidate was pumping
hands in Amana, and that guy with two first names was
rumored to be in Clinton.
Instead,
I poked around Des Moines, where everyone in every bar
and restaurant seemed to be on their Blackberry. I
realized I was surrounded by political operatives. I
eavesdropped on one conversation at Centro, a posh
Italian restaurant popular with the people you see on
the evening news, doing stand-ups at the White House.
"We
have to monitor our benchmarks," one guy said.
A couple
huddled at the next table, discussing their colleagues.
"She gets drunk and then returns press calls,"
the politico cautioned.
(Why
don't I get sources like this?)
In Des
Moines, you might find Bill Clinton - or any number of
current candidates - sitting in the lobby of the Hotel
Fort Des Moines. You're also likely to find political
types at the bar there, or at the Renaissance Savery
Hotel, according to local political junkies. Obama has
had events at a sleek new Mexican restaurant, Dos Rios,
in the small warehouse district along Court Street.
Obama
caught some flak earlier in the campaign for a comment
he made about the price of arugula. The critics'
implication was Iowans didn't know arugula from Algona.
Dos Rios' excellent duck sausage empanadas and ceviche
with nopales is evidence that the city is not without
its own sophistication. On the other hand, Eric Woolen,
state head of Mike Huckabee's campaign, reminded me of
how down-home Iowa can be, by recommending a cheaper
alternative.
"You
can get five coneys for five bucks after 5 p.m. at the
Coney Island in the skyway," Woolen said, like a
man who works for a candidate who promises not to waste
other people's money.
Brushing
up against the powerful was fun. Bumping into a reporter
from the BBC was interesting. My fantasy of schmoozing
with Ann Curry, alas, was not to be.
But I was
reminded of the best reason to go to Iowa one day when I
stood in the rain and asked someone how far it was to
the History Museum.
"About
12 blocks," he said. "I'll give you a
ride."
So I got
to the museum relatively dry. One of the first quotes I
saw on the wall, attributed to journalist David Broder
while he was covering the caucuses one year, summed up
how I felt about Iowa:
"These
people are so straightforward, so uncynical, they are
irresistible."
---
IF YOU
GO:
Planning
a political-junkie trip to Iowa takes some quick
planning and flexibility. For reasons of security and
strategy, candidates usually announce visits only a
couple of days in advance.
If you
want to see a specific candidate, it's best to check his
or her Web site. Otherwise, the Des Moines Register
lists all the appearances every day throughout the state
(www.dmregister.com; click news, then Iowa Caucus).
As Jan. 3
nears, candidates will likely be clustered around Des
Moines and will be going to bigger venues.
HOTELS:
You have to make some quick calls to get a hotel room -
many are booked tight with candidates, handlers, spin
masters and media.
Centrally
located hotels include the Des Moines Marriott
(1-800-514-4681) and its sister hotel, the Renaissance
Savery Hotel (1-800-798-2151; search for both at
www.marriott.com).
EATS: Des
Moines has grown up. The newest, flashiest restaurant is
Dos Rios, which was crowded on a recent Tuesday night.
Gorditas made with Neiman Ranch pork, beef ribs in
banana leaves. Great margaritas (316 Court Av.;
1-515-282-2995).
Centro is
a favorite of visitors; pizza, pasta, steaks and chops
(1007 Locust St.; 1- 515-248-1780).
I asked
several maitre d's and chefs where they would eat
besides their own. The ones that made all lists were:
-Splash
Seafood Bar and Grill (303 Locust St.; 1-515-244-5686).
-801
Steak and Chop House (801 Grand Av.; 1-515-288-6000).
-Tursi's
Latin King, for old-school Italian (2200 Hubbell Av.,
1-515-266-4466).
-Tumea
and Sons (1501 SE. First; 1-515-282-7964).
BEYOND
THE CANDIDATES: When you are not chasing candidates, the
State Historical Museum is very good, and free (600 E.
Locust St.).
The Des
Moines Art Center has the work of Mexican-born San
Francisco artist Enrique Chagoya through Jan. 6 (4700
Grand Av).