On The Wild Ride

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CHRISTOPHER MORRIS--BLACK STAR FOR TIME STANDING BY THE FISH TANK: McCain gives a phone interview while waiting for poll results

By last Tuesday, the joking had returned, but the campaign was on pins and needles again. In his heart, McCain thought he was going to lose the crucial Michigan primary. His wife Cindy tried to lighten the mood, saying that since it had rained that morning, a rarity in parched Arizona, they had an omen of victory. Early Tuesday afternoon, McCain gathered with his staff in the sprawling kitchen of his Phoenix home, where he had just had a haircut. His four younger children ran in and out of the room. "Jack's a pork-barrel spender," joked 11-year-old Jimmy about his 13-year-old brother, using one of his father's favorite insults. Aides chowed on grilled cheese sandwiches while McCain cycled through a round of radio interviews on the phone. Political strategist Murphy got a call from a network-television source and while on the cell phone held up four fingers and shot a thumb's up. McCain was leading in early exit polls. Aides started celebrating. McCain rushed off the phone. "What? What? What?" he said, his necktie still around his chest from the haircut. When he heard the early numbers, his eyes bugged out as if he were wearing novelty glasses. While his staff traded high fives and bear hugs, McCain said, "Wow. Wow. Wow."

By evening, as guests snacked from glass plates of cheese and filet mignon, the early-afternoon euphoria seemed to have worn off. "Why haven't they called it, Murph?" the candidate asked at 8:20. The polls had closed nearly half an hour earlier in Michigan, but the networks still hadn't declared a winner. McCain walked across the 150-year-old Navajo rugs to the sofas, where some of his aides were seated. He was fretting. Maybe the exit polls, which had been close all day, were wrong. Maybe the Michigan Governor had been able to pull something off for Bush after all. Then came the whistles. McCain's friends, many of whom were with him 20 years ago when he won his first House race, erupted when he was named the victor. McCain and his aides shot up from the couches and the grins started. "Whew," he said. His arms, which his war injuries keep him from lifting over his head, shot out in double fists as if he were clutching an out-of-control steering wheel. He shook hands and hugged his staff. He was smiling so broadly you could see the gold caps on the teeth at the back of his mouth. Cindy turned to the campaign's bus driver, whose presence the couple consider a lucky omen, and said, "You're never going home."

It was time to indulge in a little self-satisfaction. Unbeknown to McCain, his supporters passed out a song sheet with words written to the tune of the Elvis hit Are You Lonesome Tonight? The lyrics were a broadside aimed at Arizona's Republican Governor Jane Hull, who had not only backed Bush but also publicly embarrassed McCain by pointing to his famous temper. "Are you lonely tonight as you're losing this fight?" sang the chorus. McCain barely joined in, fearing he might appear to be gloating. "Are your eyes teary blue?/ Darling Gov, is it true?/ Tell me, Jane/ Are you lonely tonight?"

By week's end McCain was looking ahead to the next contest. Leaning back on the $1.95 plastic chair he had bought at Wal-Mart, the grillmaster mused about returning to his Cottonwood sanctuary.

"If it all goes well Super Tuesday, we'll come back here," he said. "Ah, it will be perfect. The daffodils will be blooming. The flowers will be out. It will be beautiful."