Kerry kept eye toward a win
WASHINGTON -- On a late December night in Iowa, as the wind howled on Interstate 80 and his campaign bus rattled over frost heaves every quarter-mile or so, John F. Kerry mulled the question: In his heart of hearts, did he think he could rise from the political dead, from so far down in the polls, and somehow win Iowa, much less the 2004 presidential nomination?
"I've been in politics long enough to know when a campaign is basically over, when you're just running through the motions," he said between sips of a homemade elixir of ginger root, honey, lemon, and water that kept him going despite a nagging cold. "I really believe that hasn't happened here. At every stop, voters -- sometimes just one person -- come up to me and say, `I was for this other guy, but now I'm for you.' I feel I can still do this. If we do it right, I think we can surprise people and do well."
Last night, the 60-year-old junior senator from Massachusetts -- who had survived the bloody rivers of Vietnam, emerged from the Kennedy shadows to stake his own claim in Bay State politics, been passed over for the vice presidency in 1992 and 2000, and beat prostate cancer -- made good on his own belief in himself as he became the presumptive nominee of the Democratic Party.
With his remaining rival, John Edwards, planning to bow out of the race as Kerry dominated the vote in nine of the 10 Super Tuesday states, Kerry has taken his greatest step yet to fulfilling a life-long ambition to lead Americans in times of war and peace.
"I don't think he's feeling that this was destiny, and I don't think he's feeling surprise, but rather a sense of awesome responsibility to move this country in a new direction," said Alan Solomont, a leading Kerry fund-raiser and friend who spent time with the senator on Sunday. "He's a man who takes his duty very seriously -- he was trained that way, his father being a diplomat, he being a soldier. He very much wants to see this campaign through."
Shortly after 8 p.m. yesterday, inside Kerry's conference room suite at the Old Post Office Pavillion in downtown Washington, people began applauding around Kerry as CNN reported that Edwards was dropping out of the race. But the senator shushed them, watching the television closely as his wife, Teresa, held on to his left arm.
On television, text kept flashing Edwards's decision.
"It says he's quit," Kerry said in a low voice, to no one in particular. "I didn't think he'd say that."
And when Edwards quipped last night that, not so long ago, political pundits predicted that there would not be two men named John still in the race on Super Tuesday, Kerry himself applauded.
Kerry tracked his victories last night surrounded by key allies, including his campaign cochairman, Senator Edward M. Kennedy, and Kennedy's wife, Vicki; campaign manager Mary Beth Cahill, who took over Kerry's organization in November when he was well behind in most polls; and his daughters, Vanessa and Alexandra, and his step-son Chris Heinz, who campaigned energetically for him. He was also joined by a large group of aides who huddled over nine laptops working on campaign plans.
"Super Tuesday has lived up to its name," Kennedy told reporters. Even President Bush placed a congratulatory call to Kerry at 8 p.m., after weeks of being the target of the senator's attacks on the campaign trail. Kerry advisers said last night that they had begun pivoting to a general-election strategy.
They said he would turn down any new debate challenges from the two remaining Democratic candidates, Rev. Al Sharpton and Representative Dennis Kucinich, and looking ahead, they cited two goals in particular: Focusing hard on fund-raising to catch up to Bush's $104 million warchest and his reelection ads that are expected to begin airing tomorrow, and developing additional themes on foreign policy and other issues for the campaign to broaden Kerry's speeches from his primary season "Bring it on!" challenge to Bush to a big-tent message that will draw independent and Republican voters.
A Kerry campaign official said last night that the Senator has asked his staff to begin the process of selecting a running mate, and that one may be named by late spring in order to unify the party and share campaign responsibilities.
Political analysts and friends of Kerry said yesterday that, for a man tested in battle and challenged in his home state to define himself outside of the back-slapping, gregarious political atmosphere, the senator had moved with stunning swiftness this winter to create a banner for the Democratic Party that voters would flock to.
His message, they said, boils down to one word -- security -- that he can apply to foreign affairs, the war on terror, and voters' concerns about the economy and health care.
"My campaign is about replacing doubt with hope, and replacing fear with security," Kerry said in a speech to about 2,000 supporters last night.
Peverill Squire, a University of Iowa political scientist who closely tracked Kerry's rise, fall, and rebound to victory in the state's Jan. 19 caucuses, said Kerry has come a far distance from the entitlement to the nomination that he often projected through the first half of 2003. "For so long he behaved as if he would get the nomination because it was his due rather than something he had to struggle for," Squire said. "Now he has that passion, though it still ebbs and flows a bit, but he has come to the point where it is fair to say he has earned it."
