In Iowa, rivals grab, gab, repeat

Democratic presidential candidates spend long days looking for leverage in union halls, coffee shops and garages.

VINTON, Iowa - In the sleepy little towns tucked amid Iowa's oceans of corn, it's no huge deal for big-shot politicians to amble into local coffee shops these days.

So John Wickman, a burly heavy-equipment operator grazing on bacon and eggs, barely looked twice when U.S. Rep. Dick Gephardt of Missouri walked into Cafe 218 the other day. Wickman is a Democrat who isn't ready for another presidential contest. He might not even bother with Iowa's crucial caucuses six months from now.

But like a lot of his neighbors in the state that will play a key role in winnowing the field of challengers to President Bush, Wickman is worried about the state of things.

"They still haven't found weapons of mass destruction, and every day you read in the paper there's another two or three of our guys getting killed over there," said Wickman, who a few months ago gave the president high marks. "Bush keeps saying, "Hang in there.' How many of his kids does he have over there?"

A hundred miles to the west, Jacky Bresnahan of Newton noted how often she sees U-Haul trucks moving displaced workers out of town on U.S. 6.

Everybody is fretting about more layoffs from Maytag, the Newton appliance company that has been moving jobs to Mexico. Asked about the presidential election, Mrs. Bresnahan shook her head.

"I don't think many people are paying attention to the election. They are more worried about their own survival."

Six months from now, about 100,000 Iowans will trudge through the January cold to gather at schools, town halls and churches and help select America's presidential choices.

Already the state is crawling with Democratic contenders pumping hands in coffee shops, standing in people's living rooms and touting their affinity for working men and women in union halls.

What the candidates are hearing from Iowans sizing them up are anxieties that likely will define the race well beyond Iowa's borders. Particularly outside the bigger cities, people talk about an endangered way of life that goes beyond the long-dwindling number of family-owned farms.

"It seems like we're turning into a different place," said Ann Rolston of Marshalltown, where manufacturing jobs are drying up and Spanish language signs keep sprouting for the growing number of Mexican immigrants moving into town for meat packing jobs.

Iowans are worried - deeply, in many cases - about their job security, about paying for their prescription drugs and health care, about rising college tuition, about what's happening in Iraq.

That goes for Democrats pining for a candidate capable of beating Bush and for Republicans who worry about their future even as they tout the president's leadership.

"For the most part, the candidates are going to hear the same things here that they'll hear elsewhere. Iowa is not particularly out of step with the rest of the nation," said Peverill Squire, a political scientist at the University of Iowa. "The economy and jobs are a very big issue here, and so is health care, perhaps more than other areas because we have a lot of seniors."

Early polls show Missouri Rep. Gephardt, Massachusetts Sen. John Kerry and former Vermont Gov. Howard Dean leading the pack in Iowa. But at this stage, the state's Democratic electorate seems like a giant new batch of Jell-O, unformed and waiting to take shape.

"I'm for whoever has the best chance of beating George W. Bush," said Evelyn Roths of Vinton, echoing a sentiment heard throughout the state.

Nine Democrats are vying for the presidential nomination and most of them are campaigning hard in Iowa, including Florida Sen. Bob Graham. That means come Jan. 19, this state is almost sure to snuff the ambitions of several contenders.

Since Iowans started kicking off the presidential primary season in 1972, no candidate who finished worse than third has gone on to win their party's nomination.

In downtown Waukee, which has a grain silo, funeral home, coffee shop and little else, North Carolina Sen. John Edwards smiled amiably when a plaid-shirted farmer approached. Jerry Burger apologized about being late to Edwards' speech and wanted to know about Edwards' environmental platform.

"Come walk with me, and we can talk," Edwards said beaming, heading toward the coffee shop in search of shakable hands.

"A lot of your stuff that I've seen is a little wacko. It seems to come out of left field," Burger said, as Edwards' smile faded. "I think maybe you need to go back to North Carolina."

Presidential campaigning is often unscripted and unpredictable in the Hawkeye State. As in New Hampshire, which holds its primary a week after the Iowa caucuses, voters get one-on-one contact.

Candidates accustomed to deferential treatment in Washington can't count on that in Iowa. Instead, they stay in $50 motel rooms and gratefully stand before a dozen voters in someone's cramped living room. Voters interrupt their stump speeches to question them on arcane Medicare rules or offer friendly advice.

Caucuses tend to be dominated by liberal Democrats, but the electorate often defies stereotypes.

Gephardt recently stood before 150 labor activists in a Cedar Rapids union hall to offer a red meat labor speech. Unlike Dean and Kerry, he noted, he had fought hard against the North American Free Trade Agreement in 1993.

When he finished, retired union plumber and ardent Democrat James Adair stood up in his overalls to query the candidate: "Are you a Christian person? Do you know Jesus?"

Iowa's unemployment rate, 4.2 percent, is lower than the nation's and slightly down from May. But it is near the highest point in more than a decade, with nearly 70,000 Iowans without work and unemployment rates in parts of Iowa higher than the national average. When Wells Fargo held a job fair last month in Des Moines, more than 2,000 people showed up.

Past miles of corn and soybean fields are struggling little towns with downtown water towers and empty two-story brick buildings. Job security concerns are especially acute among residents relying heavily on nearby manufacturing plants for their paychecks.

"People are wondering how safe are their jobs," onetime farmer Gary Corkery, now a street department employee in Independence, said after listening to Gephardt address a group of neighbors in a garage. "I've got two kids in college, and tuition's gone up at least 50 percent in the last few years. Our salaries aren't keeping up with insurance costs and everything else going up."

Similar sentiments were common outside the Newton Wal-Mart, where some retirees work to help make ends meet.

Retired nursing home administrator Jo McClelland doesn't take prescription drugs but worries about what happens when she needs them. She says she can't afford any extra expenses.

"All of us are very, very worried about Medicare," said Mrs. McClelland, an avid Democrat who confessed she's trying not to pay much attention to this presidential campaign. "I guess I'm fatalistic. Why waste my energy, when George W. is raising these tremendous amounts of money and is going to get back in?"

Nearby, waiter Cheryl Gardiner spoke of several relatives serving in Iraq, and how for all her worries, she appreciates Bush for being a strong supporter of the military. Still, she sees little to be optimistic about.

"I've got a friend whose husband got laid off from Maytag. Now he's going to computer school in his 60s. It's very hard for people like him," said Mrs. Gardiner, a Republican.

A few blocks from the heart of downtown Des Moines, 20-somethings filter into and out of former auto dealerships and computer supply stores. The parking lots are dotted with cars from Pennsylvania, Texas, Colorado.

Inside these campaign offices, walls are covered in big Iowa maps. Young men and women work the phones, reaching out to activists across the state. They're filling envelopes with information to answer questions of people from Rock Rapids to Mount Pleasant.

The goal is to find a plugged-in local Democrat to get behind your candidate and start pulling other Democrats onto a local campaign committee.

"It's like hand-to-hand combat," said Jessica Vanden Berg, Bob Graham's Iowa state director. "You go to (Democratic) central committee meetings in rural Iowa and there are more campaign staffers than central committee members."

Graham so far is barely a blip in the Iowa consciousness, though he is gearing up to play hard there. He has opened nine campaign offices and next month he and a small army of his children and grandchildren will descend on the state for a 10-day RV tour.

It's not too late, say Iowans who have grown accustomed to the political courtship. Many caucusgoers wait until the last minute before making up their minds and switch candidates several times. It's not unusual to find people who say they want to personally see every presidential candidate before making a decision.

Mike Stohr, a Marshalltown business consultant, recently sat in a friend's living room listening to Edwards. He nodded in agreement as Edwards, a textile worker's son turned trial lawyer, talked about how eager he is to debate Bush about American values. Stohr came away impressed.

Had he found his candidate? Stohr looked incredulous.

"This is Iowa," he scoffed. "We don't pick until we've really seen the crop."

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