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Posted 07.03.07 Chris Dodd's Quixotic Quest for the Presidency I want you to pay attention to me By Freda Moon Maybe Paul Johnson is right. Johnson, a Nashua, N.H. man who says his life was changed by Howard Dean's campaign in 2004, called it as he saw it as he watched Sen. Chris Dodd shake hands on the steps of Nashua City Hall. There's a curse, Johnson says. Senators don't win the presidency. Senators from New England definitely don't win. And a Democratic Senator from Connecticut? In so many sad words, Johnson was saying Dodd doesn't stand a chance. But like who knows how many others, Johnson would like to support Dodd. Or, at least, he'd like to consider it. "I haven't found my Howard Dean in this campaign yet," says Johnson. Dodd has an appeal among people like him-people who were drawn to Dean's populist message (Dean was fond of calling on the "Democratic wing of the Democratic Party," a line that never failed to invoke hoots and hollers). For those who want to hear a candidate say something, not just lounge in the soft light of media adoration like a pretty prom queen, Dodd has an appeal. "He's a true progressive," says Johnson. "He's not only talked the talk, but he's walked the walk." But Johnson also wants a candidate who can win, and he seems convinced that Dodd can't. And today-with a bronze bust of J.F.K. in the foreground and an old brick building behind-that Chris Dodd, the Dodd who's more progressive than Hillary Clinton and more experienced than Barack Obama and John Edwards combined, isn't immediately apparent. The Dodd on display in Nashua is appealing but unexciting-Baskin Robbins, not Ben and Jerry's. In town to give a speech on his proposed National Service Plan, Dodd seems like John Kerry all over again-not Howard Dean, not someone who changes lives or energizes that "Democratic wing." He's just another politician with some decent ideas and an impressive resume. He's the walking, talking embodiment of The Curse, and Johnson's not the only one who knows it. That's what Dodd has to contend with-and despite his big ideas and moments of passion and fire, he's not doing a very good job of proving himself. In a year when looking like every other American president-old, rich, white, male-isn't as popular as it once was, Dodd very much looks the part. At 63, he has a shock of white, seemingly airbrushed hair with yellowing temples from too much make-up or too little attention to his otherwise flawless coif. And he's speaking in that droning senatorial style of staid and staged political oratory. It's what you'd expect from a senator-a man who gives speeches for a living, a man who's lived his life being careful about what he says. It may be that what Dodd needs to do is subvert expectations. Turn them on their heads. Say the things that one would think an old, rich, white, male senator would never, ever say. Maybe if he said those things-things he might actually believe-he'd find his own following. Doddiacs, anyone? I arrive a half-hour before the noontime event. The chairs are already set up, but there are only a dozen or so people mingling at the site of today's big announcement-and half of them seem to be Dodd campaign staff. But, before long, the city hall's patio begins to fill up. There are plenty of older folks. Paul Johnson's mom, Lydia, a native of Hamden, has come to hear what her home state senator has to say. And there's Henry Mullaney, Democratic Town Chair from New Boston, who says today's speech will be a "historic event." But there's also a spattering of young people-mostly representing City Year, a public service initiative like the one that Dodd's about to tout as a centerpiece of his campaign. When the seats finally fill, Dodd finally arrives. Nearby, there's a collection of anti-war protesters, silently holding signs that call for an end to the war in Iraq. The protesters want to make it clear: They're not protesting Dodd-they do this every Saturday. Even so, their presence is a reminder of the issue that is foremost on the minds of many Democrats these days. Dodd stands at the podium-with the fresh-faced crew of City Year alumni flanking him on one side and Nashua's deputy fire chief, Michael O'Brien, on the other-and launches into his speech. He lays out a national service plan that would mandate all Americans participate in some sort of public service. It'd require high schoolers to do volunteer work before graduating, double the size of the Peace Corps by 2011 (and again by 2050), bring the number of AmeriCorps members to one million and create a "Rapid Response Reserve Corps" for national disasters. It's a big idea, Dodd says, that transcends ideology and the individual issues of the day-Iraq, immigration, health care. It's a long-term strategy to solve those problems and repair our country. The speech was every bit what one would expect from a U.S. Senator, but it wasn't exciting. It wasn't historic. And when Dodd referred-over and over again-to the legacy of John F. Kennedy, who announced his intention to run for president on the steps of this same New Hampshire city hall in 1960, the allusion wasn't in Dodd's favor. Comparing oneself to J.F.K. is always risky (take Dan Quayle's infamous gaffe in the 1988 vice presidential debates, for instance, when he said that he had as much experience in Congress as Kennedy had prior to his presidential bid, only to have his opponent, Senator Lloyd Bentsen, famously quip, "Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy: I knew Jack Kennedy; Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy"). By calling for "an initiative that invokes the very best of the American character in common purpose and noble cause, and creates nothing less than a new American patriotism," Dodd was reaching for Kennedy's "Ask not what your country can do for you," but it was when he criticized Bush for his response to 9/11 that he seemed most impassioned. "Instead of calling on America-instead of asking all of us to step up, sacrifice and rise the occasion-our president advised us, asked us, to go shopping." A few hours later, after the post-speech press conference, photo-ops and some time spent painting murals of brightly colored, smiling fruit for a local elementary school, Dodd hit his third stop of the day: A lawn party at the end of a lush and quiet cul de sac in Manchester and the home of state Senator and local legend Lou D'Allesandro. It was here that Dodd seemed like the proven progressive that Johnson and his ilk have been searching for. It was here that he seemed like a candidate that Democrats could get excited about. Earlier in the day, he had the eyes and ears of the local media-as well as some national press. But by the evening, when he was alone with his would-be supporters (many at the party were noncommittal about their choice for the nomination), he seemed like a different man. This time he had the energy, charisma and even some of the abrasiveness of a figure like Howard Dean. And Dean, love him or hate him, was a man who never could linger at less than one percent in the national opinion polls. When Dodd was approached by the eager New Hampshire Democratic base and asked questions, he took the time to answer each with candor-even when his answer was not what the asker wanted to hear. He was asked about Michael Moore's new movie, Sicko, and whether he saw a continuing role for insurance companies in a new and improved American health care system. He said he was for universal health care, but that it wouldn't be practical to do away with insurance companies altogether. The insurance option should be there, he said, for people who want it. Later, May Gruber-a monied remnant of Manchester's manufacturing days and a key "get"-approached Dodd wearing a black T-shirt with 1-20-09 (the date W. leaves office) in white lettering across the chest, and asked where Dodd stood on Cuba. "In order to win the election," she said, "you've got to win Florida, and you can't win Florida without the Cubans." Dodd didn't hide his frustration. First, he explained, he's been voting against the embargo for 30 years. Second, he said, that doesn't mean he supports Castro. "Make no mistake about it," he said, "He's a dictator." Gruber (maybe fresh from a screening of Sicko herself?) countered with a line about the superiority of the Cuban health care system. "I don't care about Castro," she said. But Dodd shot back, "Well, you should. Cubans care." Maybe Dodd didn't know who the old lady in the oversized glasses was. I like to think he did. But besides the 50 or so people who were at the house party to hear Dodd speak on the war ("This is not a time for waffling along on issues. We gotta get out of Iraq. We're not secure, we're not safe, we're in far greater danger today because of Iraq"), about the environment (he advocated a corporate carbon tax to "allow alternative technologies to compete, pricewise") and-again-about the war ("We've got to talk about the Iraqis. Imagine their fear and terror"), does anyone get a chance to see the Chris Dodd who pounds away on issues like these? The one who takes strong, forceful positions and who lets the "damn its" slip out as he gets carried away with himself? One thing's certain: This Chris Dodd isn't getting a lot of air time. Paul Johnson-and virtually everyone else I talk to today-blames the media, with its 24-hour news cycle and pack mentality, for the Paris Hilton-level hype surrounding the Clinton-Obama rivalry, and for the marginalization of the larger field of Democratic candidates. They feel that the media's decided the race for them, making it impossible for all but the top three Democrats to have a chance of winning the party's nomination in November. The other six candidates aren't getting enough coverage to appear on radar. They're not being heard. "People don't know him," says Lydia Johnson of Dodd. "Nobody outside of Connecticut knows him." Why, after 26 years in the Senate, hasn't Dodd developed a national profile? "He's kind of quietspoken," says Johnson. "He doesn't pump his hand and wave his arms." Maureen Nagle, a New Hampshire state representative who sits on Dodd's steering committee, sees Dodd as a "statesman." And she's frustrated with the lack of attention he's received from the press. "The media is focusing on the top three. Unless somebody in the lower tiers does something to bring attention to themselves in a negative way, it's like they're not even there." Even so, Nagle thinks there's hope for Dodd. "People who start out with fireworks sometimes fizzle," she says. Henry Mullaney, the Democratic town chair from New Boston and another member of Dodd's New Hampshire steering committee, seconds Nagle's complaint. "The media," he says, "they like to be kingmakers." With President Bush in 2000, he says, "They picked him and they shoved him on us. They feel the American people are too stupid" to choose for themselves. Ultimately, though, Dodd's not doing a lot to help himself. When I asked his national political director, Scott Arceneaux, why the Dodd that I saw on the lawn of Lou D'Allesandro's house wasn't on display earlier in the day when the cameras were rolling and the public was watching, Arceneaux said, "That was sort of a staged event"-as if the presidential campaign template is so fixed and sacred that it can't be diverged from, even when there's nothing to lose. Dodd's been a professional politician for most of his adult life (though he worked as a reporter in northern Virginia for a brief stint after he returned from the Peace Corps in 1968). Now, at 63, he's nearing retirement age, with two small children (two and five years old, which can only be seen as a testament to his&vitality) and another two years in his Senate term. Dodd's the son of a U.S. Senator, who's made a career of being consistent and hard-working, but rarely making national news. Sometimes, he's stood up: Countering U.S. foreign policy in Latin America through the civil wars and turbulence of the 1980s, working on the Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993, condemning (if belatedly) the war in Iraq, voting with the League of Conservation Voters 100 percent of the time in 2006. But he doesn't have a presence on the national stage-for good or ill-like that of his Connecticut colleague Sen. Joe Lieberman. And it might be too late to develop that profile now. During the recent Democratic debates in New Hampshire, Dodd's web team designed a "Talk Clock" to show how much time each candidate got to speak. Dodd was given 8.5 minutes to Obama's 16 minutes and Clinton's 14. The nonprofit media watchdog, Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting, editorialized on the editorializing in an April article, saying, "Much of what voters are seeing is reporting and analysis of early polls&But if history is any guide, the polls are a complete waste of time." The story pointed out what the Dodd campaign has been saying all along: Early polling is a lousy predictor of who'll win the primaries. Even so, FAIR says, "The press attention to these early polls can amount to a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy: Polls are primarily measuring name recognition, so high-profile candidates tend to do better. 'Winning' the polls encourages more media attention, much of it about how a given candidate is maintaining their lead." So, Dodd's in a position to shake up a race that already-seven months before New Hampshire's Jan. 22 primary-feels like old news. But he'll have to do something to get the attention of a media (and, in turn, a public) that's got its eyes elsewhere. He can't be quiet. He can't just sit back and be "presidential." It's just not enough. |
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