For surefooted Dean, task is staying course
SACO, Maine -- Howard Dean begins his stump speech like a wedding singer welcoming the guests: "We're going to have some fun with President Bush tonight," Dean assures the crowd, but "we'll also be talking about what we're going to do" to improve this country, "which is important, too."
This audience, about 500 Democrats sitting tightly at boarding-house tables, passing plates of chicken over one another's shoulders, includes more supporters of Senator John F. Kerry of Massachusetts than of Dean. Kerry himself is sitting in the back of the room, eyeing his rival with a mixture of lockjawed wariness and politeness. But even some Kerry supporters perk up at Dean's words: His repeated use of "we," which can seem condescending in a politician, knits this crowd together, as if they suddenly realize that yes, they are looking forward to any chance to have some fun at Bush's expense.
A semicircle of ardent supporters stands behind Dean. They're not senior politicians but organizers whose respect seems genuine: There are none of the thousand-yard stares and lightly clapping hands of elected officials who've heard these kinds of addresses a few too many times.
Dean doesn't vary his stump speech much. On this night he's so certain of his lines that he's in perpetual danger of skipping ahead; he has to pause and enunciate every word. His lines are, by now, familiar to many: his criticism of Bush's tax cut of "$3 trillion for Ken Lay and the boys" ; his solemn declaration that "I supported the first Gulf War and the war in Afghanistan, but I did not believe we should have gone into Iraq" ; his replacement of the term "No Child Left Behind" with quips like "No School Board Left Standing."
Amazingly, six months into a campaign, these lines don't feel hollow. Dean's confidence gives them force. And while Dean's personal appeal seems far less obvious than, say, that of John Edwards, Dean knows how to draw people along. There are almost no jokes in his speech, but his very formulations ("$3 trillion for Ken Lay and the boys") suggest a wicked wit.
Those who saw Dean on the premiere of the HBO series "K Street" know that he likes to do impersonations. His James Carville was dead on. Impersonations can be a harsh form of humor, but they draw on audiences' collective memories and make those listening laugh in total sympathy and understanding with the jokester.
Dean brings people together on the stump in much the same way: He reaches into the subconscious of so many Democrats and plays back their feelings about Bush with dead-on accuracy.
After Dean finishes his speech and makes a long departure through the crowd, Kerry takes the stage to a cascade of applause. His speech addresses many more issues than Dean's, including such Democratic staples as the environment and energy conservation. He ties many positions to personal experience, such as his service in the Vietnam War and his work as a prosecutor. And he reaches for the mountaintops with a lot of "we can do better" rhetoric.
But Kerry gets to the Iraq War late in his speech, and approaches it in an odd way: He declares that the true test of a decision to go to war is whether a leader can look parents in the eye and explain why their children have to fight. Presumably, Kerry means to imply that Bush has flunked this test, but he never really says so. The obliqueness of his presentation seems to remind the audience that Kerry is still ironing out his position on the war.
After the speech, Kerry acknowledges that while he appreciates the audience's warm response, he feels he spoke for too long. This, it turns out, is just two days before Kerry fires his campaign manager, then gets stung by leaks that he was chewing on food during the conference call to announce the changes and that he mispronounced a staffer's name.
Such dissension seems impossible in the Dean campaign, where every supporter seems to revel in the sense of community. At the Saco event, one Democratic Party volunteer, so young he was fast outgrowing his jacket, solemnly took tickets as the guests flowed in. Later, the same youth sparkled with eagerness as, his party chores complete, he pasted a Dean sticker on his lapel.
What now can trip up Dean? Probably only Dean. As the crowd dispersed, Dean's supporters eagerly passed out invitations to a party at the local Holiday Inn Express. They frolicked beside the van where Kerry, in a gentle and pensive mood, was saying goodbye to a few supporters.
There was, amid the eagerness of the Dean crowd, just a whiff, a hint in the air, of something unpleasant: smugness.
It's November and Howard Dean remains on a roll.
But there are still 70 days until the New Hampshire primary.
Peter S. Canellos can be reached at canellos@globe.com. 
