"On the Campaign Trail With Elizabeth Edwards" (with video)

NY Times, with video (2:51):

Elizabeth Edwards was holding court in the sweltering basement at the Cedar County Courthouse in Tipton, Iowa, where local Democrats fanned themselves under fluorescent light. Her husband, John Edwards, watched and winced as Mrs. Edwards quizzed her audience about what they knew about the biography of her husband, who is making his second bid for the presidency.

“How many know how many members of his family went to college before he did?” Mrs. Edwards inquired.

The correct response emerged in the form of murmured guesses from a few members of the audience: None.

Mrs. Edwards nodded approvingly, and went on to question No. 2.

“How many people know what his father did?”

Again, the correct response could be heard from a few people in the audience who recalled the stock line from Mr. Edwards’ 2004 campaign speech: Worked in a mill.

Mrs. Edwards nodded proudly, so she moved in for the final question.

“How many people know the price of his most expensive haircut?”

The room burst out in a roar of laughter. Mr. Edwards grinned, barely if gamely, at the reference at the $400 hair cut that made him the subject of some derision here.

“She’s been doing this joke all day,” Mr. Edwards said to the audience.

Mrs. Elizabeth was laughing at her husband with her audience. “I’m having fun,” she said. “How about you guys?”

Indeed she was. This was supposed to be Mr. Edwards’ big splash across Iowa this past weekend – 14 communities in three days, a signal to Iowans and the political world that he indeed views victory in this state as critical to his hopes of winning the nomination. (He lost the state by a whisker to Senator John Kerry in 2004).

But even when she wasn’t talking, Mrs. Edwards was often the center of attention. Mrs. Edwards has always been a dominant figure in Mr. Edwards’ political life; the news that she has been diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer has also made her a riveting figure in her own right, and her swing through Iowa produced moments that broke the mold of traditional behavior for political spouses.

Typically, Mrs. Edwards would introduce her husband at the campaign events with the joke about the haircut, reflecting her own keen political instincts and her role in the campaign. Who better to force feed Mr. Edwards a little humble pie, and make a few jokes at his expense, than his wife, who presumably felt she could do those things without undermining him as a person or a candidate. The introductions over, she would then sit at the side of the stage and whisper advice -- and corrections -- to Mr. Edwards when he spoke. Mr. Edwards kept one eye on his questioner, and one eye on his wife.

When he arrived for an interview Friday evening at a hotel in Des Moines, Mrs. Edwards was with him. She sat at the next table, out of camera shot and away from the microphone. Yet she was as much a presence at the interview as he was, checking him – and checking his questioner – on matters large and small..

Mr. Edwards was answering a question about the evolution of his views on foreign policy. “I have more clarity,” he was saying, “ about the specifics of particular issues that affect the rest of the world and affect America as a result, and the connectedness.”

Mr. Edwards stopped and turned nervously to his wife, looking like a student seeking approval from a teacher. “Is that a word? Connectedness?”

Mrs. Edwards nodded. “Yes,” she said.

When Mr. Edwards was asked about his increasingly aggressive stance in confronting opponents this year, he somehow sensed a rise at his side “No you can’t answer the question, Elizabeth,” he said, smiling and nodding his head and never even looking her way.

Mrs. Edwards laughed. I suggested they both answer the question

“Let me answer the question first, then I’ll be glad to let Elizabeth chime in,” he said. “She always has her own opinion.”

Mr. Edwards proceeded with a lengthy, if earnest, response in which he talked about his essentially positive nature, and said that he thought it was important in a campaign like this to point out his differences with opponents on issues like the war in Iraq and providing universal health care.

And then it was Mrs. Edwards’ turn. Her response was sharper.

“Early in that debate, Mrs. Clinton said something about basically we’re all the same about this and that wasn’t actually accurate,” she said. “They weren’t all the same and if everything all looks like it’s packaged like butter but some of it’s oleo, you know, or margarine, you’ve got to -- voters need to know what it is they’re buying.”

Mrs. Edwards broke with her husband’s motorcade soon after she arrived here on Saturday – to go shopping, he said. She smiled demurely at the end of events when, at times, more Iowa residents were gathered around her than her husband, offering her words of support and hope.

Mr. Edwards these days seems more fatigued than he did four years ago; he does not smile as often as he did during the last campaign. But there was one stirring moment Saturday afternoon at the Johnson County Fairgrounds, where Mr. Edwards was conducting a town hall meeting alone. Suddenly, he glanced across the hall to see who was walking in, and then practically rose on his feet.

“Here comes Elizabeth!” he said, in a voice that amounted to an exuberant roar. “Did you get your shopping done?”

His audience – her audience -- rose in a hail of applause, flashbulb snaps and more than a few tears.NY Times, (with video, (2:51)):
Elizabeth Edwards was holding court in the sweltering basement at the Cedar County Courthouse in Tipton, Iowa, where local Democrats fanned themselves under fluorescent light. Her husband, John Edwards, watched and winced as Mrs. Edwards quizzed her audience about what they knew about the biography of her husband, who is making his second bid for the presidency.

“How many know how many members of his family went to college before he did?” Mrs. Edwards inquired.

The correct response emerged in the form of murmured guesses from a few members of the audience: None.

Mrs. Edwards nodded approvingly, and went on to question No. 2.

“How many people know what his father did?”

Again, the correct response could be heard from a few people in the audience who recalled the stock line from Mr. Edwards’ 2004 campaign speech: Worked in a mill.

Mrs. Edwards nodded proudly, so she moved in for the final question.

“How many people know the price of his most expensive haircut?”

The room burst out in a roar of laughter. Mr. Edwards grinned, barely if gamely, at the reference at the $400 hair cut that made him the subject of some derision here.

“She’s been doing this joke all day,” Mr. Edwards said to the audience.

Mrs. Elizabeth was laughing at her husband with her audience. “I’m having fun,” she said. “How about you guys?”

Indeed she was. This was supposed to be Mr. Edwards’ big splash across Iowa this past weekend – 14 communities in three days, a signal to Iowans and the political world that he indeed views victory in this state as critical to his hopes of winning the nomination. (He lost the state by a whisker to Senator John Kerry in 2004).

But even when she wasn’t talking, Mrs. Edwards was often the center of attention. Mrs. Edwards has always been a dominant figure in Mr. Edwards’ political life; the news that she has been diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer has also made her a riveting figure in her own right, and her swing through Iowa produced moments that broke the mold of traditional behavior for political spouses.

Typically, Mrs. Edwards would introduce her husband at the campaign events with the joke about the haircut, reflecting her own keen political instincts and her role in the campaign. Who better to force feed Mr. Edwards a little humble pie, and make a few jokes at his expense, than his wife, who presumably felt she could do those things without undermining him as a person or a candidate. The introductions over, she would then sit at the side of the stage and whisper advice -- and corrections -- to Mr. Edwards when he spoke. Mr. Edwards kept one eye on his questioner, and one eye on his wife.

When he arrived for an interview Friday evening at a hotel in Des Moines, Mrs. Edwards was with him. She sat at the next table, out of camera shot and away from the microphone. Yet she was as much a presence at the interview as he was, checking him – and checking his questioner – on matters large and small..

Mr. Edwards was answering a question about the evolution of his views on foreign policy. “I have more clarity,” he was saying, “ about the specifics of particular issues that affect the rest of the world and affect America as a result, and the connectedness.”

Mr. Edwards stopped and turned nervously to his wife, looking like a student seeking approval from a teacher. “Is that a word? Connectedness?”

Mrs. Edwards nodded. “Yes,” she said.

When Mr. Edwards was asked about his increasingly aggressive stance in confronting opponents this year, he somehow sensed a rise at his side “No you can’t answer the question, Elizabeth,” he said, smiling and nodding his head and never even looking her way.

Mrs. Edwards laughed. I suggested they both answer the question

“Let me answer the question first, then I’ll be glad to let Elizabeth chime in,” he said. “She always has her own opinion.”

Mr. Edwards proceeded with a lengthy, if earnest, response in which he talked about his essentially positive nature, and said that he thought it was important in a campaign like this to point out his differences with opponents on issues like the war in Iraq and providing universal health care.

And then it was Mrs. Edwards’ turn. Her response was sharper.

“Early in that debate, Mrs. Clinton said something about basically we’re all the same about this and that wasn’t actually accurate,” she said. “They weren’t all the same and if everything all looks like it’s packaged like butter but some of it’s oleo, you know, or margarine, you’ve got to -- voters need to know what it is they’re buying.”

Mrs. Edwards broke with her husband’s motorcade soon after she arrived here on Saturday – to go shopping, he said. She smiled demurely at the end of events when, at times, more Iowa residents were gathered around her than her husband, offering her words of support and hope.

Mr. Edwards these days seems more fatigued than he did four years ago; he does not smile as often as he did during the last campaign. But there was one stirring moment Saturday afternoon at the Johnson County Fairgrounds, where Mr. Edwards was conducting a town hall meeting alone. Suddenly, he glanced across the hall to see who was walking in, and then practically rose on his feet.

“Here comes Elizabeth!” he said, in a voice that amounted to an exuberant roar. “Did you get your shopping done?”

His audience – her audience -- rose in a hail of applause, flashbulb snaps and more than a few tears.