High road, low road in Iowa

CRESTON, Iowa

AT THE END, there were two approaches to the Iowa caucuses, and neither appears to have broken clearly ahead of the other.

The Dean-Gephardt contest -- between the two people who had been clearly ahead of the pack as of late last summer -- has come to resemble a wrestling match between two carnival grapplers, clawing, gouging, and kicking in the dirt before a crowd that is alternately taken aback and engaged.

This highly personal fight, fueled in the final week by the use of attack ads on television to an unprecedented extent for the historically demure Iowa game, serves as the backdrop for a campaign away from the candidates that is textbook traditional. Both Howard Dean and Dick Gephardt are depending on extensive, sophisticated networks throughout the state toiling night and day to make sure every person inclined to support them attends one of the 1,993 precinct caucuses tomorrow.

The Edwards and Kerry campaigns, on the other hand, fit the stereotype of Iowa, the patiently relentless display of detailed views and self-introductory language, backed by organizational work, that is designed to gradually attract voters. Call it Field of Dreams politics -- if you build it that way, they will come.

At the end, Dean and Gephardt are struggling mightily to hold onto what each used to have, while both Edwards and Kerry are picking up support continuously, especially among Democrats who had been committed.

Part of the ugliness of the Dean-Gephardt campaign flows from the conclusion on each side that the key to victory is the motivation of core supporters, a strategy that virtually walls each off from those whose preferences have been soft or nonexistent -- a surprisingly large chunk of people in this election cycle.

And part of the gentility of the Edwards-Kerry campaign reflects their sharp vision as they have emerged from further back. They could see that people had come to like them, think they were honest about their views, and had some empathy for their concerns. At the point of sale, it would have been madness for either to start throwing dirt.

One reason the carnival wrestling act of the former front-runners may be turning Iowans away is that it seems forced, even staged -- sometimes almost comically so.

Early Thursday evening I was with Dean in this small South Central Iowa town, ending his day with 75 Union County Democrats at The Window, which serves a wicked cheddar cheese soup. For a moment I thought the famously prickly Dean was going to lighten up as he alluded to the confusing back-and-forth of the campaign -- "First they said I would be another George McGovern; now they compare me to Newt Gingrich."

But Dean quickly proceeded to the attack on his three opponents that is designed to complement his major TV commercial down the stretch. They were all for the invasion of Iraq, they have been co-opted (by President Bush) Washington insiders, and they supported the public education initiative in 2001 called No Child Left Behind.

Just to Dean's left in the restaurant, trying too obviously not to look uncomfortable, is his newest best friend, Iowa Senator Tom Harkin, who knows several people in the audience personally. Harkin voted to authorize force against Saddam Hussein, was one of the architects of the education reform, and has been representing the state in Washington for more than 20 years (wife Ruth has been among the town's better lobbyists), and everyone there knows it. Outside, on Dean's campaign bus, the campaign's newest senior adviser, Roy Neel, is busy on the phone. Roy Neel is working to corral more Dean support from his fellow Washington insiders; he has represented technology companies in the capital and is a longtime, widely respected operative and pal for Al Gore.

Two evenings before, the atmosphere was completely different around John Kerry at a middle school cafeteria in the small town of Vinton to the northeast. Kerry is with 150 Benton County Democrats, in wonk heaven as he combined a detailed issue presentation with a good half-hour of even more issue questions from the audience. He gets so wound up in a housing discussion that he exclaims, "We've got homeless up the gazoo."

Kerry fenced on trade with a union man and then actually sat down next to Al Elliott, an uncommitted Democrat who is retired, a Coast Guard vet, and a part-time farmer, to talk education with his microphone sending their vigorous conversation throughout the delighted room. Afterwards, in classic caucus fashion, Elliott says "I'm half-way there" but wants more information.

Gephardt, by contrast, throws the kitchen sink at Dean on character grounds in person and now on TV ("the cynical politics of manufactured anger and false conviction"). And I've heard Edwards delve into the details of rural development in Cedar Rapids and into family economics down the street from here in the high school library.

The two approaches of these four campaigns have clashed to the end. The penalty Gephardt and Dean are paying is that Kerry and Edwards are right on their heels.

Thomas Oliphant's e-mail address is oliphant@globe.com.