But when Gore got to the podium, Kinter–an independent, undecided voter–found himself liking what he heard. Gore’s speech wasn’t World Wrestling Federation, but far more muscular and combative than Kinter expected. He and his fiancee, Kirsten Held, nodded approvingly when Gore vowed to defend abortion rights. They liked his promise to protect–and even to expand–the governmental support systems of everyday life: schools for kids and Social Security and Medicare. They even liked his potshots at Big Tobacco, Big Drugs and Big Oil. Kinter voted for Bob Dole in 1996 and remains undecided, drawn to George W. Bush’s “bubbly,” upbeat style. But the vice president impressed him. “Al Gore is dry, but with both feet firmly planted on the ground,” he declared.
It was the newest and, his supporters said, the innermost Al Gore: a bull-market populist vowing to use prosperity (and the big budget surplus) for programs that benefit “working families.” At least for now, voters liked the message. Gore got a big convention “bounce.” He had trailed Bush by 10 points (48 to 38) heading into L.A. But as Gore left the City of Angels for a four-day boat trip down the Mississippi River, the new NEWSWEEK Poll showed him with a 48 to 42 percent lead, a statistical dead heat. Convention bounces tend to fade, but in the meantime Gore gained among white men and suburbanites, and wooed back wavering Democrats. His personal image improved too. Sixty percent now see him as a “strong leader”–up seven points from the previous week and only two behind Bush.
Dubya and his aides plan to fire back quickly, dissing Gore’s proposals as warmed-over liberalism and his attacks as “class warfare.” This weekend, NEWSWEEK has learned, the Austin Powers plan to launch a huge TV ad buy in Michigan and other key states. It will criticize the Clinton-Gore education record and tout Bush’s proposals for tough new school standards. The GOP, meanwhile, was planning an ad attack calling Gore a corporate-sponsored phony populist. Now comes the living-room war, a frenetic, 11-week battle on the airwaves to woo a rapidly expanding bloc of sophisticated and plugged-in voters like Kinter and Held–the “wired workers” who have become a key source of swing votes. The ones who matter most–at least in a presidential race–tend to live in big media markets in a handful of big states (mostly in the Midwest) that are always up for grabs. Michigan, where Bush narrowly leads and enjoys the backing of a GOP governor, may be the most crucial. Democratic campaign guru James Carville is blunt. “I don’t see how we win without Michigan,” he says.
To win there–or anywhere–Gore first had to move out from behind the looming presence of Bill Clinton. The president delivered his powerful valedictory speech on the convention’s first day. And on the very day Gore was to speak, word leaked that a new federal grand jury had been impaneled by the independent counsel to re-examine the Lewinsky case. Still, Gore’s speech was bold enough to escape the shadow of his boss. Ignoring the cacophony of his many speechwriters, Gore tapped a 12,000-word address (cut in the end to 7,500) into his laptop. It was a State of the Union preview of a Gore presidency. “I stand here before you tonight as my own man,” he said, “and I want you to know me for who I truly am.” If that’s so, then this is who Gore really is: a back-to-the-future liberal with a tinge of Southern populism, a Gladiator of Government and the political heir to his own dad, the late Sen. Albert Gore Sr. of Possum Hollow, Tenn.
This presumably final release of the new Al Gore was also notable for what he didn’t say. He didn’t try to reach for lofty visions or overarching themes. He didn’t try to share his pain by revealing his own family emotions. (Instead, he’ll be airing new “bio” spots this week.) He outsourced the tears–highlighting the stories of “working families” in a tradition started by Ronald Reagan 20 years ago. He did not pay much homage to the centrist New Democrat cast, of which running mate Joe Lieberman is a leading member. He called the other side the “old guard,” but didn’t bother calling his own the “new.” Nor did he attack Bush by name, focusing instead on the past and presumed iniquities of the Republican Congress.
The speech, together with the selection of Lieberman as running mate, underscored the Democrats’ two-part strategy. The first is to target Michigan and other industrial states vital to the base. Gore is all but writing off the South, with the important exception of Florida and its large Jewish population. But the core of Gore’s approach is to take Bush at his word: that he really wants an 11-week debate on the issues. While promising a raft of new spending programs, Gore is also trying to sell a conservative message with a small “c,” arguing that most of the surplus should be set aside to protect and expand Medicare and Social Security–and not used for the large, across-the-board income-tax cut that Bush favors. Gore’s stance allows him to offer positions pointillistically, focusing on key voting blocs in key states. The Medicare drug-benefit plan–and his vow not to raise the Social Security retirement age–should play well in states with older populations, such as Florida and Pennsylvania. And Gore can try to win the “family values” argument on material grounds, by offering expanded day care and a new tax deduction for college tuition.
In Austin, Texas, Bush and his small circle of advisers said they were ready to wage the war on Democratic ground–both literally and figuratively. “They’ve poll-tested and focus-grouped every one of the things he mentioned in that speech,” said top Bush adviser Karl Rove. “But there was no theme or vision to what he had to say.” Bush thinks he has both: that willing hearts and free markets–not government and courts–are the real engines of national renewal.
Bush’s strategy, says Rove, is still to fight the war “on their turf.” Bush began his first postconvention campaign in Memphis, Tenn., and he planned to continue the swing this week in the traditionally Democratic-leaning states of Wisconsin, Iowa and Illinois, home of the Daley clan and the Gore campaign chairman, Bill Daley. Bush will be visiting the same states that the Gore-Lieberman ticket toured by riverboat after L.A.
The Austin Powers were poring over the same Electoral College map as the crowd in Nashville, Tenn. The Bush team still had reason to like what it saw. The Texas governor has a virtual lock on 16 states, with 135 electoral votes–halfway to the 270 needed for victory. He will campaign heavily in wavering states–including not only Iowa and Wisconsin but also Washington and Oregon–that by historical standards should already be in the Democratic column. The idea is to force Gore to spend crucial time and money in places that shouldn’t need defending–and hope that the GOP’s superior resources will leave Bush with a financial advantage.
The October wars could be uniquely wild this time, since the Summer Olympics in Australia could obscure the campaign for most of September. The race will re-emerge with the crucial debates. Rove says that Bush wants at least five, three for the top of the ticket and two for the veep candidates. And there was talk last week that Bush might agree to network “joint appearances” with Gore. But some Democrats saw this as a ploy to confound the official debate schedule.
Things could get nasty–fast. The Gore campaign is planning a heavy assault on specific aspects of Bush’s Texas record. The most likely targets: air quality in Houston, the large number of Texas children who lack health insurance and poverty in the Hispanic colonias along the border with Mexico. The Gore camp hopes to force the Bush campaign to “go negative” and then blast it for tactical hypocrisy. For his part, Bush will tie the vice president to the Clinton-Gore fund-raising story. In Gore’s acceptance speech, Bush himself noted, the Democrat’s first promise was to offer a bill to reform campaign finance–an admission, Bush said, that Gore knows he has some serious explaining to do.
Ken Kinter and Kirsten Held plan to be listening and watching. They live in prosperous Oakland County, in a new development carved from farm fields only a few years ago. They plan to be married by next month, and once again will be in their living room, in front of the big-screen TV, when Gore and Bush square off in whatever debates they decide to hold. The couple say they want to hear more specifics about who can offer them the most hope–and security. They’re not looking for stirring rhetoric, they say, but for specifics that make sense. And they won’t make up their minds–and pick the winner–until they get the answers they want.
