On The Wild Ride

CHRISTOPHER MORRIS--BLACK STAR FOR TIME BARBECUING: McCain relaxes at one of his four grills. His seasoning: Hog's Breath

"Weaver, come out here!" barked John McCain from somewhere on the front porch of his mountain retreat. The candidate's political director fired back, "You were supposed to be napping." "Nah," said McCain, "we've got grilling to do." Some candidates golf, others jog. John McCain spent his first day off the campaign trail since New Year's doing what he loves best--twirling the grill tongs at his Arizona retreat nestled in the hills of Cottonwood, with gnarled sycamores and fruit trees everywhere. Dressed in blue jeans, his Arizona Wildcats hat and a white sweatshirt, McCain bounced on the toes of his shoes as he dropped 3-lb. chickens over one of four crusty gas grills. Covered with Hog's Breath--a dry seasoning of salt, pepper, garlic and paprika--the hunks browned over low heat for an hour and a half while grillmaster McCain constantly applied fresh squeezed lemon juice to keep them moist. "You know that putting green Clinton had installed?" the candidate joked. "We're turning that into a grill."

Even joking about becoming President is rare for a candidate who is so superstitious that in mild Arizona he wears the heavy winter shoes from New Hampshire, just for good luck. But McCain is giddy because he was supposed to be dead by now. From New Hampshire to South Carolina to Michigan, his mood has hit highs and lows. The banter on his bus started to go dry in ferocious South Carolina; he was testy with reporters. Before a TV interview the night of his defeat, he was so agitated by delays and a technical glitch that piped a celebratory George Bush into his earpiece he threatened to walk out of the interview. He quickly apologized, but it was a rare slippage for a candidate who admonishes his staff to "keep a steady strain."

Careening with him on this emotional ride are the four top aides who joined McCain for his one-day Arizona break last week. Unlike traditional campaigns, in which those in power stay behind at HQ, McCain's brain trust surrounds him on the road, huddling with the candidate in the galley of the bus or sprawling over the beds and sofas of his hotel suites to chart strategy. As McCain brought each of them into the campaign, he made one thing clear: "We're going to have fun." And they do, partly because they have convinced themselves that they are part of the Hollywood version of their political adventure. When they talk, you can sometimes hear the theme music too.

After the drubbing in South Carolina, the pranksters weren't having any fun at all. That Sunday, McCain and his crew sat in the Hyatt in Dearborn, Mich., facing the challenge of clawing their way back into contention. He would have to face a grilling by Tim Russert on Meet the Press. He was down. "The whole country is watching," said political strategist Mike Murphy. "They'll see whether you're mopey or if you're ready to be President." McCain quickly started to come out of it. Aides could see him say to himself, "What? A fight?" as if he could hop into the ring at that moment. Soon the candidate came up with the first line he would use with Russert. "I've crashed a couple of planes and slept in a hotel where they don't leave a mint on the pillow," he said to aides who could almost hear the sound track beginning to play. "Losing South Carolina is like a day at the beach." When he walked out of the room, McCain was on the balls of his feet. "He's not going to take it away from me like this," said McCain about his rival. "Not like this." It's that kind of moment--corny, a little histrionic--that makes one want to say, "C'mon, guys, save it for the screenplay."