Clinton hones tough-gal, beer-and-shot persona

Hillary Clinton tossed back a shot of whiskey at Bronko's restaurant in Crown Point, Ind., last month. Finishing strong in the primaries has given the stubborn candidate street cred. (carolyn kaster/Associated Press)

FORT WAYNE, Ind. - At O'Donnell's, a watering hole a few blocks from the fort where General "Mad Anthony" Wayne marshaled his men for war with the Indians in the 1790s, patrons were weighing in yesterday on today's battle between the Democratic presidential candidates.

Only a few had heard of the old adage that people vote for whomever they'd rather have a beer with - the test that George W. Bush supposedly passed with flying colors - but some were willing to offer their preferences.

"I think Hillary," said Kevin Mashaus, 43, a wine-and-spirits representative from Fort Wayne. "I think she'd loosen up better."

Fifteen months ago, at the start of the campaign, almost no one would have imagined that so many people would be sidling up to the bar with Clinton. Few politicians in American history have carried less of a reputation for "Cheers"-like camaraderie than the senator from New York, who was widely seen as cold and calculating.

But that stereotype has been cast aside by many voters, replaced by its positive twin: The same steely-eyed characteristics that made Clinton seem cold now make her seem purposeful; what was once seen as calculation is now determination.

Part of the transformation has been a matter of comparison. Some people think her opponent, Barack Obama, has an academic aloofness to him. Next to him, Clinton's grittiness stands out in far sharper relief. And her campaign has - through what might reasonably be deemed calculation - made a strong appeal to working-class voters in states like Ohio, Pennsylvania, and now Indiana.

But watching Clinton on the campaign trail, it's obvious that her campaign's appeal for blue-collar votes has struck some deeper chords within her. By now, it no longer seems forced to hear her droppin' her g's, throwing back shots of whiskey, and telling off the powers that be.

Her disdain for the elites seemed downright palpable when ABC's George Stephanopoulos suggested on Sunday that no economists supported her plan for a summer gas-tax holiday. She shot back that she had cast her lot with "hard-working Americans" who needed a break at the pump.

At a rally Sunday at Indiana Tech, Clinton thanked organizers who have been "workin' so hard for me" and talked about tooling around South Bend with a supporter who had to pay "sixty-three dollars to fill up his pickup truck."

People in the audience began shouting numbers at her - "Ninety-five dollars!" yelled one, followed by one saying "one hundred and two!" - as the senator looked on in sympathy.

This was probably not the dialogue that Clinton envisioned when she launched her campaign in a January 2007 video filmed in what appears to be her living room. As viewers were invited to gaze through glass doors at a leafy garden, Clinton sat on an expensive-looking couch, her arm resting on a fluffy pillow, and said, with girlish effusiveness, "Let's talk, let's chat, let's start a dialogue about your ideas and mine."

Despite all the upper-class accoutrements, working-class women were quick to spot something in her. The Clinton campaign dubbed them "women with needs," and some observers suggested that such women identified with the struggles in Clinton's personal life.

But while working-class women crowded into Clinton campaign events in Iowa last winter, their husbands and boyfriends were listening to John Mellencamp playing guitar at rallies for John Edwards, drawn by his meaty populist rhetoric.

Now that Edwards is long gone and Mellencamp is showing his Hoosier sportsmanship by playing at both Obama and Clinton rallies, she is the red-meat candidate in the race, with the rougher edge to prove it.

"I have a lot of baggage and people have been rummaging through it for years," she quipped at the Pennsylvania debate, as if claiming a badge of honor.

About a week later, when asked how she would handle an Iranian attack on Israel, she offered a classic GOP-style from-the-gut response: "We would be able to totally obliterate them," she said.

Clinton has clearly gained some traction heading down the stretch, but the numbers still suggest she can't erase Obama's lead in elected delegates. The party's superdelegates, who will provide the winning margin for either her or Obama, aren't rushing to her side.

So all the political gains of her tough-gal persona may be for naught - or at least not the presidency. But finishing strong has given her some unexpected street cred and cemented her reputation as a damn-the-torpedoes political warrior.

If Obama secures the Democratic nomination but loses the presidency, the Clinton 2012 campaign will start up next January - and she won't be making her announcement from a fancy living room.

Peter S. Canellos is the Globe's Washington bureau chief. National Perspective is his weekly analysis of events in the capital and beyond.

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