The Gleam Team
In his choice of running mate, Kerry made the gamble that a fresh face would electrify the campaign. An inside look at the battle plan.

In May 2001, when Washington's political wags were the only ones playing the parlor game of presidential prospects, John Kerry, who has learned the value of forward observation in war and politics, went on a scouting mission. He and his wife Teresa invited John and Elizabeth Edwards over for an intimate gathering at their Georgetown home. Dining just one floor below a collection of Dutch paintings and beyond a perfectly tended rose garden, the Senator from Massachusetts had reason to be worried that the golden-tongued Senator from North Carolina, who had the raw talent that people were saying they had once seen in Bill Clinton, would steal the show. But as guests recall, it was Kerry who was relaxed, and Edwards who was eager to impress.

Perhaps Kerry also sensed after that dinner that Edwards, who would become his most dangerous rival in the primaries, was a man who would respect his elders and tackle the often thankless work of vice-presidential nominee with relish. The pick clearly thrilled the Democratic Party, but Kerry too seemed all smiles and hugs about it. He chose the fresh face that his party had wanted all along, over others who offered him longer rŽsumŽs and a more comfortable personal chemistry; then he launched their joint venture almost flawlessly, bathing it in the light of values and optimism, stretching the media coverage for three days and introducing the country to a camera-ready blended family that includes what are surely the two cutest children to stand on the national political stage since Caroline and John-John.

By the time Kerry and Edwards sat down for an interview with TIME—in a cluttered conference room off the Hudson River piers where they had just raked in $2.2 million from exultant New Yorkers in back-to-back fund raisers—their romance had blossomed to the point where they were finishing each other's answers and sounding as though this was always meant to be. Kerry described a connection of two former adversaries who came to realize that they "really understood each other"; Edwards talked of "a powerful and growing trust between the two of us."

The latest TIME poll, conducted over the three days of media frenzy that followed the Edwards announcement on July 6, shows it did little to budge the race from the margin-of-error territory where it has been pretty much stuck since Kerry secured the nomination in March. He now leads Bush 49% to 45% among likely voters; in early June, the margin was only slightly tighter, with Bush leading 49% to 48%.

Kerry's pick of a charismatic newcomer whose entire public life consists of 5 1Ú2 years in the Senate reveals two things: Kerry's confidence that, even in these serious times, his foreign-policy credentials are enough to stack up against a wartime Commander in Chief, and his calculation that what he most needs to turn the race his way is a heart transplant. In Edwards, Kerry hopes he has found a surrogate who can connect with swing-state voters in ways he has not been able to, who has the working-class roots and the political gift to touch the frustrations and aspirations of that small slice of the electorate that is truly up for grabs in a polarized country. While history suggests vice-presidential picks can only nudge the race at the margins, those margins this year look particularly small and crucial, with only 6% of likely voters declaring themselves undecided.

The near universal verdict among Democrats and Republicans last week was that Kerry had gone with his strongest choice. But Edwards is not without his vulnerabilities. As the Kerry campaign played up Edwards' stint on the Senate Intelligence Committee, his sessions with world leaders and his foreign trips, Republicans moved in to portray him as little more than a pretty face, who is still at heart a slick, millionaire trial lawyer. Bush, campaigning in Edwards' state, compared his running mate with Edwards with a withering one-liner that showed how rough his team is planning to play: "Dick Cheney can be President."

That comparison could come back to haunt Bush, given how sharply Cheney's numbers are plummeting these days. Asked in the TIME poll who would make a better President, Edwards or Cheney, nearly 47% of registered voters surveyed answered Edwards, while only 38% preferred the Vice President, who wields more influence than any other Vice President in memory, and who came to the job with more impressive credentials than the Governor of Texas, having already been a member of the House Republican leadership, Secretary of Defense and White House chief of staff.

However eager Kerry and Edwards are to stoke the idea of Cheney as a force of darkness, Edwards has yet to make much of an impression at all. Nearly 55% of registered voters say they know little or nothing about him, and nearly half—49%—say they're not sure whether the impression they do have is favorable or not. That's a situation the Kerry campaign set out to rectify last week, with a new $17 million advertising blitz in 20 states, including its first buy of ad time in Edwards' home state of North Carolina. For all that is being made of Edwards' Southern roots, having him on the ticket isn't likely to change the Election Day forecast in the region all that much, though it might force the Bush campaign to spend some more time and money protecting its turf.

If there is any geographic calculation in the selection of Edwards, the place to find it is in the economically stressed Midwest. When Edwards makes his first solo campaign swing, it will start not in the South, but in Iowa. Exit polls from Wisconsin—a state whose Democratic primary Edwards came within six points of winning in February—suggest that Edwards and his message of "two Americas" could have strong crossover appeal in the swing states where anxious voters are feeling left behind by the resurgent economy. He trounced Kerry among Republicans and independents, who are allowed under Wisconsin rules to vote in the Democratic primary, and edged him out among white males, a group that Democrats have found hard to get in the past few elections.

There are signs that, as in every marriage, each is already working subtle changes on the other. When asked by TIME to name the hardest question he posed to Edwards before picking him to be his running mate, Kerry instead launched into his stump speech about giving the country a better direction. It was then that his new partner interrupted, most gently: "Don't you think it's fair to say we wanted to both be sure that we both believed in that going forward?" To which Kerry answered, "Obviously. We wanted to make sure there was a connection between us, that we're on the same page, that we really understood each other." It still wasn't an answer exactly, but somehow, it felt as though—together—they were getting closer.

—from TIME, July 19, 2004

Questions

1. What assets does Edwards bring to the race?

2. What are Edwards' liabilities?