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There are the moments -- some out of public view, others not so private
-- that reveal a little more about the person behind the practiced politician. Associated Press writers who have been covering the White House hopefuls for the past year share some memorable moments as the 2008 election year begins.
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM
John McCain likes reporters, certainly more than most politicians.
The Republican presidential hopeful invites them onto his campaign bus. He huddles with them on the trail. He talks with them, endlessly, about almost anything. He will debate William Faulkner with writers, Iraqi politicians with policy wonks and politics with reporters.
He'll also call their moms on their birthdays.
McCain mistakenly started his Pearl Harbor Day speech a day early, on Dec. 6. Lumbering back to the bus, reporters teased him about it. He turned it around, asking whether any of us knew what day it was.
I did. It was my mom's birthday. I told McCain I remembered the date because it was on my calendar.
McCain, smiling, pulled out his golden cell phone and asked for her number. I balked. He insisted. He wasn't kidding.
"Arlene, I'm John McCain," he said to the answering machine. "I'm on the bus with your boy, whose behavior has been marginal, but he did tell me that your birthday is today, Dec. 6. I called to congratulate you and say happy 31st birthday. I know you're proud of your son and
'Happy Birthday.' I look forward to meeting you some time. Bye, bye."
--By Philip Elliott
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TRAINING FOR A RACE
I'm in a hotel gym in Manchester, N.H., before heading out to cover Mike Huckabee, when in walks the Republican presidential candidate himself, there to train for his next marathon.
Spokeswoman (and trainer) Alice Stewart is there, carrying a clipboard and sporting a Huckabee campaign baseball cap.
A man on a stationary bike recognizes him and asks how the campaign is going.
Huckabee answers, glancing at the TV screen on the wall and realizing he is being criticized on Fox News. His rise in polls is still new, and critics are chewing over his Southern Baptist view that women should "submit graciously" to their husbands.
Huckabee's attention is riveted, even as he greets me and starts running on the treadmill. I make small talk.
But the criticism is bothering him. Fox should disclose the politics of one commentator, Huckabee tells Stewart. She agrees.
We chat a little more, but Huckabee persists, repeating to her that the commentator has a conflict.
I'm left to reflect on stories about Huckabee being thin-skinned as Arkansas governor; he does not seem to be enjoying his new good fortune, at least at this particular moment.
--By Libby Quaid.
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FACE TO FACE WITH HUMAN SUFFERING
The grief emanating from the women huddled under the blue plastic tarp was so palpable that it hit me like a wave as soon as New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson and I encountered them.
They were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in the dirt, with their grim-faced children in their laps, waiting to be processed into a camp in As Salaam, Sudan, for those fleeing the violence in Darfur last January. The camp meant for 25,000 people already had 43,000 residents, and the women had been waiting to get in for a month in these conditions not suitable for livestock.
Richardson, preparing for a presidential run, was visiting Darfur in hopes he could help resolve the
four-year-old conflict between rebels and government-backed militias.
The 6-foot-1 governor had to bend over to see the women under the tarp, and at first they remained fearful and silent in response to his questions. Then one explained they walked from 50 miles away after militias stole their livestock and looted and burned their homes. She mentioned nothing about rape, although we had learned later that this was the standard experience for female victims of militia attacks.
"Where are their husbands?" Richardson asked the interpreter. The woman replied that some were elsewhere in the camp, but many were killed by the militias.
Our next meeting was with state government officials who said life in Darfur was "stable" and "normal" and that reports of violence were exaggerated. We had seen the devastation with our own eyes, and I grew angry at their lies. But Richardson did not confront them and instead politely thanked them for their hospitality.
On the flight home, he said his goal is to keep the dialogue open. "What goes through my mind is what is my ultimate objective? It's to make a difference, to achieve something that will make the lives of somebody else better," Richardson said.
--By Nedra Pickler
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CAMPAIGNING IN THE DARK
On Aug. 15, Republican Rudy Giuliani found himself campaigning in the dark during a stop at the Chuckwagon Cafe in Cumberland, Iowa, a tiny town in the southwest corner of the state.
It was a typically hot, muggy summer day in Iowa, and the small room was packed, shoulder to shoulder with about 50 people wanting to hear Giuliani speak. The owners of the cafe had the air conditioning cranked to try to keep customers cool.
Giuliani began to outline the goals he would work toward if elected president when the room was plunged into darkness. Only a dim glow from two small windows provided a glimmer of light.
Giuliani took advantage of the moment to inject a little humor into his speech about fighting crime and terrorism and putting an end to illegal immigration.
"I would promise to keep the lights on," he said, drawing laughter from the crowd.
--By Mike Crumb
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CEDING THE SPOTLIGHT
Alone on the campaign trail, Democrat Hillary Rodham Clinton is a model of discipline, efficiency and order. But add her husband to the mix, and campaign events turn into unpredictable free-for-alls that vividly illustrate the couple's vastly different styles and personalities.
What was to be a carefully staged photo opportunity with the Clintons and NBA legend Magic Johnson at a Des Moines, Iowa, coffee shop veered into near-bedlam, as Bill Clinton broke away from the small dining area and wandered through an adjoining grocery store, chatting up patrons and salespeople along the way.
Reporters, who had been stuck behind a rope line so as not to disturb the coffee shop customers, scurried to follow the garrulous former president as he meandered through the store. He stopped at one point to speak with a TV crew from "Entertainment Tonight," ignoring his handlers' pleas as he described how he and his wife spend their private "human being" time.
Hillary Clinton, meanwhile, stayed in the coffee shop area, nearly alone and mostly ignored amid the mayhem her husband created. It took several more minutes, and entreaties from her campaign staff, before he returned to stand by her side and cede the spotlight ... if ever so briefly.
--By Beth Fouhy.
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 DAD'S COMPETITIVE INSTINCTS
"Another one! Another one!"
Barack Obama pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and thrust several into the hand of a woman running a midway game at Iowa's state fair last summer. "Another one!" he said, crouching over his 6-year-old daughter, Sasha.
Obama and Sasha had just lost the game to Sasha's mother, Michelle, and sister, Malia, 9. The hyper-competitive presidential candidate wanted a rematch. "Another one!" he said again, kissing the top of Sasha's head.
Father and daughter grabbed the handles of a water pistol and aimed it at the target.
This time, their aim was certain and Sasha won.
"We won!" Obama said, high-fiving the midway worker and embracing Sasha in a joyous hug.
He slipped the worker a tip, then left for the nearby rides with his family.
--By Ron Fournier
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GOING THE DISTANCE
An avid runner, Mitt Romney carves out time for a three-mile jaunt every other day no matter where the campaign takes him. But a funny thing happened six months ago during a run at Gray's Lake Park in Des Moines.
"I bumped into a very attractive young woman coming the other direction," the former Massachusetts governor told an audience.
"Going incognito" in a hat, Romney said, "I was running along and she said
'Wait, wait, stop. Are you Mitt Romney?' And, you know, I felt like saying 'I hate it when people say that about me.' But being truthful at the moment, I said to her
'Well, yes, I am.'"
Laughing along with the crowd, Romney said the woman asked to shake his hand and "she was so excited just to meet me."
Then, he said: "She started to scream, just scream, holding onto my hand just screaming."
"All the joggers are looking around like 'What's going on?'" Romney said, chuckling.
Turns out the woman, Diane Herndon, of Bondurant, was in the audience at a coffee house just outside Des Moines.
"She is here! Diana, come say hi!" Romney prodded, holding out the microphone and asking her to demonstrate the scream.
Herndon let loose with an "AHHHHA!" as the audience exploded in howls and cheers.
"Is this a true story?" Romney asked.
"Very true," she said, appearing slightly embarrassed.
"She screamed, and I smiled, and she screamed some more, and we let go of hands," Romney said.
"I think it was a runner's high, though," Herndon joked.
"It was a runner's high," Romney agreed, then hamming it up for the audience, he said: "I took off, let me tell you, I took off!"
--By Liz Sidoti.
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FAMILIAR FACE AT THE FREEZER CASE
It was an only-in-New Hampshire sort of moment.
As food editor for The Associated Press, I get most of my presidential race news at the dinner table
-- from my wife, AP Writer Holly Ramer. So I wasn't expecting an up-close view of the race from the frozen foods aisle at my local grocery co-op in Concord.
I was there one day when I noticed a familiar face checking out the freezer case. It was Rep. Dennis Kucinich, a Democratic hopeful from Ohio whose vegan diet makes him as natural a fit for that shop as the blocks of tofu on the shelf.
The congressman was overjoyed at being recognized, though a bit crestfallen when he realized it was because I'd interviewed him during his previous primary run in 2003.
We chatted briefly about the state of the food world, a subject he is passionate about. We both expressed dismay that few serious issues, including food safety, were making the campaign coverage. Then he asked me his most pressing question of the moment.
Did I know where the prepared foods aisle was? He needed lunch.
--By J.M. Hirsch.
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A BACKUP PLAN
One of John McCain's earliest campaign rallies was at the packed Sugar and Spice Drive In. The Spartanburg, S.C., restaurant was packed with nearly 800 people inside and out waiting to see the senator from Arizona. He rolled up in a big rental van with former Oklahoma Gov. Frank Keating and former Texas Sen. Phil Gramm.
McCain lingered as the crowd thinned. But when he got into the van, it wouldn't start.
The campaign said a volunteer had left the key on for a couple of hours and the battery was dead.
McCain didn't miss a beat. He and the others packed into cars and headed for the next stop.
--By Jim Davenport.
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MAKING A GOAT COUNT
For John Edwards, every vote -- and every goat -- matters.
It was Aug. 26, the final day of the candidate's four-day bus tour through New Hampshire. His second-to-last stop was the Rochester Common, a small patch of grass in the middle of the city. Waiting to greet the former North Carolina senator and his wife were a woman and a goat lying on a blanket on the sidewalk. The
Edwardses appeared a bit surprised, but took it in stride.
Elizabeth Edwards smoothly incorporated the encounter into her introduction.
"It was great seeing the goat out there," she said. "We're big North Carolina fans
-- the North Carolina Tar Heels -- but there is no mascot Tar Heel ... so we have a ram as our mascot that we bring to the field. So it's really great to see a ram greeting us here."
--By Holly Ramer
[Associated
Press; By ELAINE GANLEY]
Copyright 2008 The Associated
Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published,
broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
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