Bill Clinton trumpets folksy message in N.C.

Bill Clinton campaigned for his wife at a private residence in North Wilkesboro, N.C., on Tuesday. He now commands the respectful, restrained welcome offered to a former president. (jason e. miczek/Associated Press)

DUNN, N.C. - Sporting a well-tailored suit and arriving in a chauffeured black car, Bill Clinton is quietly working to win over small-town crowds with a populist message: Don't diss Wal-Mart shoppers.

At one of a dizzying series of appearances this week on his wife's behalf in rural North Carolina, the former president scoffed at an unnamed "snooty" columnist who had poked fun at his wooing of ordinary working folk.

"They think we're dumber than we are," Clinton said from the front porch of a local museum, drawing hoots from the crowd. "I grew up in a place like this. I know people here are as smart as anywhere else. They haven't figured that out yet," Clinton said of the political and media establishment.

Rural towns like Dunn are Hillary Clinton's best hope to wrest the Democratic nomination from Barack Obama, who leads in the delegate count but trails the New York senator among lower-income people. These are the voters who spurred Clinton to victory in Pennsylvania last week and could boost her on Tuesday in North Carolina and Indiana as well as in later contests in West Virginia and Kentucky.

While Bill Clinton's gaffes have been frequently spotlighted in the national media, he appears to be building good will among rural voters, who are vital to keeping his wife's campaign alive. And although Clinton's rock star appeal may have faded since his own candidate days, the 11 small communities he visited in North Carolina this week were thrilled to have a political celebrity in their midst.

The former president frequently noted that Senator Clinton won more than 60 percent of the vote in Pennsylvania towns where he had held a "front porch" event. "Please don't break my string," he pleaded, half in jest, to a couple hundred voters in Lumberton after a grueling day of small-town campaigning.

Although Bill and Hillary Clinton are now New Yorkers who earned $109 million in the past eight years, the former president still connects with rural audiences. He bashes the Washington elite, "glittery" Californians and lofty folks who don't understand that paying a little less for gasoline makes a big difference to struggling families.

Describing himself as "from the backwater," Clinton spoke nostalgically in Lumberton, a struggling town of 22,000 situated in North Carolina's poorest county, in the southeastern part of the state. He recalled the Southern wisteria and dogwood he so loved seeing during his childhood springtimes in Arkansas. He bemoaned the loss of jobs in the country and voiced the crowd's collective frustration over high gas prices that he said make it too expensive for employees to drive to work - a comment that wins enthusiastic applause from rural voters.

The former president was greeted warmly by the crowds, but it was not clear that he succeeded in drawing undecided voters or Obama supporters to his wife's side.

Clinton, whose charisma and connection with voters had people lining up for hours on roadsides just to see his bus caravan go by in 1992, now commands the respectful, restrained welcome offered to a former president.

Clinton was greeted in each town by raised cameras and cellphones; some voters left while he was still speaking. And some said that while they still had affection for Clinton, they thought Obama embodied the message of change Clinton espoused so passionately in his early campaigns.

Harrisson Ridgell, a 47-year-old African-American who runs a home improvement business, said he voted enthusiastically for Clinton in 1992 and 1996, but would cast his vote this year for Obama.

"Over time, I think he's joined the system, become one of the boys on the yacht," Ridgell said. "I think it's time for a change."

Sharon Holt, an undecided voter in Sanford, said she was impressed with the energy of Obama's campaign and his promise to shake up Washington. "With Obama, you get the same feeling you got with Bill Clinton in '92," she said.

But Holt, 42, still stood in line after her all-night shift as a nurse to secure a ticket to see the former president. "I had to see Bill Clinton," she said.

Clinton artfully wove those memories to connect with rural North Carolinians. He even managed to connect with low-income voters by acknowledging his own wealth, saying the tax burden should be spread out more fairly. He told a crowd at Lillington Town Hall: "People in our income group should pay the same rate as they paid when I was president."

The former president - whose 1992 campaign was built on the themes of hope and change - has engineered a complete reversal since his upstart run for the White House. Dismissing Obama's hope-and-change message, Clinton implored voters to go with the more experienced Hillary Clinton, spelling out in great detail the plans his wife has for veterans, higher education, and healthcare.

And that argument seemed to resonate.

"Bill Clinton's been real good," said Larry Scarboro, a 50-year-old Lumberton man who now sells items at a flea market to pay the bills since he lost his factory job two years ago. Obama "doesn't have enough experience," while Hillary Clinton will bring jobs back to the region, he said.

At a baseball field rally in Hope Mills, an artist displayed enormous paintings of Bill and Hillary Clinton, a visual testament to the longing many Democratic voters in the area feel for the Clinton era.

Clinton has clearly learned from his controversial performance in South Carolina, where he suggested Obama's win was largely due to African-Americans backing someone of their own racial background. Now, the former president studiously avoids commenting on race, and he barely mentions Obama on the front-porch stump.

Instead, Clinton delivers what low-income voters say they want from all three remaining presidential candidates: explicit plans for bringing back jobs and lowering the costs of healthcare and gas.

Tanya Williams, a 29-year-old African-American woman wearing a large button promoting Bill Clinton as "America's First Gentleman," said she had a good job in a factory when she was 19, but now her division has been moved to Mexico, leaving her unemployed.

"I remember when I was in eighth grade and he was put into office. It was better times," Williams said.