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Nonstop optimists

For Bob Graham's campaign staffers in New Hampshire, every waking moment is an opportunity to win over a potential voter.

NASHUA, N.H. - On a cool September afternoon, Lenorae Atter is walking door-to-door in a neighborhood of wood-frame homes. The front yards are decorated with ceramic statues of gnomes, cherubs and frogs holding umbrellas.

This is Atter's first day going door-to-door for Bob Graham's presidential campaign. Her goal is to find CG's, the campaign's abbreviation for voters who are Considering Graham. She hopes she won't find many G's: Grouches.

She knocks on the door of a brown house. A man in a maintenance uniform answers.

"Hi, my name is Lenorae Atter, and I'm working for Sen. Bob Graham of Florida," she says. She is perky. She is positive. She put off everything else in her life - romance, a law career, everything - to do this.

The man stands there, frowning and silent.

Atter keeps going, her voice trembling slightly.

"He's a two-term governor of Florida and has served three terms in the U.S. Senate. . . . "

Still no reaction.

Atter says Graham has been chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, that he voted against the Iraq war and that he can win Florida.

Finally, the frowning man speaks up.

"It sucks everywhere," he says in a thick New England accent. Everyweahhh.

"Why?" she asks.

"A dollar-eighty-two a gallon is why."

She asks if he'd like more information on Graham or would like to meet the Florida senator.

The man says, "I don't have any interest in Bob Graham. And never will."

Bob Graham's presidential bid is a long shot, but try telling that to the loyal 20-somethings who have put their careers on hold to help Graham get elected. Their lives are a blur of 12-hour days, greasy burgers, harsh rejections and boundless hope.

In New Hampshire, the campaign is a ground war that is fought door-to-door. Atter is one of Graham's soldiers.

Yes, we live in an era of sophisticated polls and glitzy TV commercials, but old-style canvassing still plays a key role in the early stage of presidential campaigns. New Hampshire has about 1.3-million people, fewer than the combined population of Hillsborough and Pinellas counties, but it hosts the nation's first primary and has tremendous influence in presidential politics. The state is small enough that grass-roots work can make a difference.

"There's nothing more important than person-to-person contact," says Steve Bouchard, Graham's New Hampshire coordinator. "It's the foundation for the entire campaign."

To make those contacts, Bouchard relies on young workers. Most are in their mid 20s and fresh out of college. The 20 people on Graham's New Hampshire staff have come from Florida, California, Texas, Wisconsin and six other states.

They earn $1,500 to $1,800 per month and get free health insurance. They sleep on the floor in crowded apartments and survive on a diet of Taco Bell and Burger King.

Some, such as Al Yorston, are veteran Democratic activists. Yorston has managed local campaigns in Brevard County and is fueled by chocolate ("It makes me work faster") and the belief that he can make a difference in the balance of power. He is a nomad who doesn't mind sleeping on the floor because, when you work such long days, there's not much time to sleep.

"This is the big leagues," Yorston says of the New Hampshire campaign. "I view it as an absolute necessity we get George Bush out of office."

Others, such as Atter, are here for the first time.

She is a loyal Democrat because she believes the party cares about ordinary people. She is a devout Graham supporter who likes the senator's intellect and long political resume. "He blows everyone else out of the water," she says.

As she goes house to house, she encounters a wide range of reactions: several people who prefer Howard Dean, a few who might vote for Graham and one woman with an extraordinary collection of Beanie Babies.

Graham's New Hampshire headquarters is in an industrial section of Manchester, around the corner from a store that sells "good, bad and ugly" office equipment. The campaign is in a building with a printing company and a parole office.

Like all campaign offices, it has a temporary feel, as if the entire operation might pack up and leave at any moment. The furniture is second hand. Computer and phone wires are strung around the office like the strands of a spider web.

The staffers use the computers to target the best voting precincts and keep track of their calls and door-to-door visits. The male staffers joke that they can also find dates by using databases to find "strong-performing Democratic young women in Ward 1."

The campaign's goal is to contact 125,000 people by Sept. 30. A tote board on the wall has a thermometer to measure the progress, with "WE WIN TODAY" at the top.

The chief of the field operation is Manuel Medina, 29, who tries to inspire the troops with humor and constant prodding, and by blasting Mexican love songs. The office number-cruncher, Medina says he isn't discouraged by Graham's low poll numbers because Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter were also behind at this point. "Give us time," Medina says.

A veteran of many campaigns in Texas and Mexico, Medina is like a pesky foreman on an assembly line. He wanders around the office and prods the staffers by saying, "Let's pick it up a little bit!" He holds up signs to remind them when they are not calling enough people.

"YOU ARE IN 10TH PLACE," one sign says.

Hello, my name is Al. . . .

The soundtrack of the office is the rhythm of sales calls. It's similar to what you would hear at a telemarketing company peddling ChemLawn or subscriptions to Time.

The staffers say hello, explain the product and try to close the sale.

. . . I'm calling on behalf of Florida Sen. Bob Graham, who is a Democrat and candidate for president of the United States. Bob Graham is a proven, successful leader . . .

Sometimes the staffers get to only I'm calling on behalf . . . before they hear the click. A few people spout obscenities before hanging up. Some just don't seem to appreciate a proven, successful leader. The staffers don't get many of those, however, because they are calling Democrats who are usually willing to listen to a pitch. Medina won't reveal how he selects people to call - it's a secret recipe he doesn't want to share with the other campaigns - but the list appears to be people who have voted before in Democratic primaries.

. . . as governor, Bob Graham led his state to prosperity by helping create over a million new jobs. . . . In the United States Senate, Bob Graham has had the courage to challenge George W. Bush on issues like the deficit and the war on Iraq. . . .

The script for the call mentions Graham's name seven times and Florida twice. The script advises staffers to say, "Personally, I support Bob Graham because he is the only Democrat who can beat George Bush." The script then says, "Wait for response; engage them in a discussion of why Bob Graham is the only Democrat that can beat George Bush."

The staffers usually start with the script, then improvise. In a conversation with one Democrat, Yorston gets emphatic and says, "It's not going to do us any good to nominate someone who can't beat George Bush."

The goal of the calls and the door-to-door visits is to identify potential supporters. They will be courted with followup calls and mailings before the Jan. 27 primary. Grouches will not be called again.

In addition to the G's and CG's, voters are categorized as C's (still considering various candidates), L's (willing to display a Graham lawn sign) and H's (will volunteer to help). The most valuable abbreviation is the most rare: BG, a Graham supporter.

Hello, my name is Tucker and I'm calling on behalf of Florida Sen. Bob Graham . . .

Each day before the staffers leave to go door-to-door, Medina gives a pep talk and offers inspirational slogans:

"We've got to be in the game to win the game!"

"Every time you knock on a door, it's an opportunity!"

"You are Bob Graham when you're out there!"

Suitably inspired, Atter heads out into a Nashua neighborhood wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and Nikes. She carries a map, a voter list and a clipboard.

She grew up in Jacksonville and Tallahassee, and got interested in politics as a child. She says she looked up to the political figures, including then-Gov. Graham. "I just remember thinking that he was cool," she says.

Atter volunteered for a mayoral candidate and was an intern in a state senator's office while she majored in creative writing at Florida State University. She went to FSU law school and may become a trial lawyer or seek a career in politics. She says she likes the idea of helping people.

"Sounds cheesy," she says, "but it's true."

She met Graham on her third day working for him in New Hampshire. "It was almost kind of surreal because I remembered him as a kid, and here I am working for him on his presidential campaign. . . . I know a lot of politicians from working in Tallahassee, but there's something about Graham. He's just the most genuine person."

In Nashua, she gets her share of rejection. But when she finds a C or a CG, she pushes hard to close the deal.

One Democrat, Kelley Adhikari, says she likes President Bush and is glad Al Gore did not get elected. Atter doesn't give up. She mentions Graham's expertise in national security and his work on a prescription drug program for seniors.

When Adhikari mentions that the potholes in her street need to be fixed, Atter responds, "That's another thing Bob Graham is for!" and explains his infrastructure program.

After a long conversation, Adhikari says she'll keep an open mind. "I'm always up for something better," she says.

On another street, Atter tells Marty Sheil, a third-grade teacher, that Graham's vote against the Iraq war "shows his integrity" because it was unpopular with many of his constituents in Florida. She says Graham is "genuine."

At one house, a woman invites Atter inside. The owner is a retired telephone company employee and staunch Democrat who does not like Dean. Her house has several hundred Beanie Babies, each with its original tag, lined up on the couches. The woman has a flashing Christmas tree (she says she leaves it up all year), paintings of the Last Supper and one of JFK. She also has an 8 by 10 photograph of Al Gore.

Even as Atter walks past the ceramic duck wearing a patriotic vest, she remembers to offer lines from her script, such as, "Senator Graham, as governor of Florida, created over a million jobs."

Jackpot.

The woman says she not only will support Graham, she'll put a campaign sign in her front yard.

A BG and an L!

With a dozen 20-somethings working long hours and sharing apartments in Manchester, the Graham campaign has the feel of MTV's The Real World.

Atter says it's a lot like the show, except there's no "hooking up" and the apartments aren't as nice. She says MTV should do a show called The Real World: Manch-Vegas.

She isn't sure what she'll do after the campaign, but she jokes that President Graham could appoint her ambassador to Australia. She says she's qualified "because they speak English there."

The staffers were mostly strangers when they got to New Hampshire, but they have bonded quickly and have a lot of fun together. They occasionally break into song, performing verses from Graham's hokey campaign tune ("You've got a friend in Bob Graham/That's what everybody's saying/All across the good old USA . . ."). They decided New Hampshire had an unusually large population of men who don't wear shirts, so they kept a tally. But they saw so many shirtless men that they lost count.

They work 12-hour days, seven days a week. When a reporter asks Bouchard, Graham's state coordinator, if the staffers will ever get a day off, he pauses.

"Christmas," he says. "And Thanksgiving; they'll probably get a portion of the day off."

They get no overtime pay, but they don't seem to mind. They're here to change the world.

"The job itself is a rush," says David Moore, 24, the deputy field director. "I'm convinced when I get up every morning that I can influence this election."

One night, everyone gathers at headquarters to eat pizza (free food!) and watch a televised debate of the Democratic candidates. The staffers provide a running commentary as they watch.

Someone says Howard Dean has no neck. Someone else says Rep. Dennis Kucinich looks like the Keebler elf.

The funniest commentary is from Tucker McDonald, a 23-year-old Texan who describes his campaign duties as "doin' the Lord's work."

McDonald reminds his colleagues that Sen. John Edwards mentions that his father was a mill worker in nearly every campaign speech. McDonald says Edwards will surely say it during the debate.

During the first few questions to Edwards, McDonald shouts encouragement at the TV.

"C'mon, say it, John! Say it!"

But Edwards does not.

Then the senator gets a question about immigration.

"Well," Edwards replies, "let me say a word about my personal experience with this issue . . ."

McDonald shouts at the TV, "Say it! Say it!"

" . . . I grew up in a family where my father worked in a mill all of his life . . ."

"YAAAAHHHH YAAAHHHH!" McDonald shouts, as if his team has just scored a winning touchdown. Everyone cheers.

They show respect when Graham is on the screen and offer hearty applause for his answers.

When Graham responds to a question with one of his packed-with-facts answers, McDonald says, "God, our boy is wicked smart!"