The Dean Factor

(2 of 3)
T

he crowds at Dean's appearances are growing, and they are far more diverse than their "Deanie Baby" caricature. There are more retirees, more soccer moms and even an occasional wayward Republican mixed in with the twentysomethings and peaceniks. In Riverside County, Calif., Lou Stark, 86, is spending three hours a day distributing flyers for this week's Meetup and says, "You're never too old to be a Young Democrat." His newfound political activism has taken him from poring over the obits in the morning paper to surfing on the computer: "I want to see what's on the blog." Among Dean's supporters back in Vermont is businessman Bernard Rome, who raised money for George Bush's father in 1980—and hoped to unseat Dean in an unsuccessful bid for Vermont's G.O.P. gubernatorial nomination five years ago. Says Rome: "When he talked about health care, he was so damn articulate, I said, 'How can I run against him?'"

HOW HE COULD SHOOT THE MOON
The primary process is one reason that political insurgents almost always end up as roadkill. It is stacked against them, and more so in the 2004 race than in the past. After the Iowa contest on Jan. 19, the primaries and caucuses will come like machine-gun rounds, putting a premium on the fundamentals of organizing and endorsements, experience and money. Jimmy Carter was the last Democrat to come from nowhere and win. But he had nearly three months after Iowa to build momentum before he needed to lock up the nomination. Next year two-thirds of the convention delegates will be selected within the first six weeks after the Iowa caucuses. And the Establishment has bestowed upon itself disproportionate influence in the outcome. Democratic Party rules automatically award elected officials and other party leaders 800 delegate spots, more than a third of the 2,160 needed to win.

The Dean phenomenon is fueled in part by his special appeal in the first two states, Iowa and New Hampshire. Dean has challenged Massachusetts' Kerry for home-field advantage in New Hampshire, and his iconoclastic, antiwar message gives him traction in Iowa. Two public polls last week showed Dean nudging ahead of Kerry in New Hampshire. Meanwhile, Gephardt's stronghold of Iowa has become, in the words of an operative from another campaign, "a three-way dogfight between Dean, Kerry and Gephardt." If Dean runs the table in those early weeks, the political establishment may have to fall in line.

Thanks to his money machine, Dean has started building respectable-size campaign staffs in Iowa and New Hampshire. Over the weekend he moved paid workers into eight new states, from Washington to Maine. In a singularly cocky move, he is running television ads this week in Austin, Texas, as both a welcome-home present to vacationing President Bush and an indictment of other Democrats. "You know, when you think about it, in the past 2 1/2 years we have lost over 2.5 million jobs," Dean tells the camera. "And has anyone really stood up against George Bush and his policies? Don't you think it's time somebody did?"

Dean has plenty of doubters. "They've very deftly and cleverly caught a wave here, and they're surfing it pretty smart," says Kerry campaign manager Jim Jordan. As for the Internet-driven engine of the Dean insurgency: "It's like watching my 13-year-old daughter instant-messaging," Jordan says. "It's not particularly about politics and policy. It's almost like a reality show."

Nonetheless, Kerry and others have begun to copy Dean's high-tech moves. Kerry has signed a contract with Meetup.com, the commercial site Dean is using to arrange monthly meetings for supporters around the country. Kerry and Lieberman have also hired Convio Inc., which provides the software engine not only for the Dean campaign but also for the 1,100 Dean supporters who have set up their own websites to promote his candidacy.

There is a Dr. Dean-like edge creeping into his rivals' rhetoric. Kerry's economic speech last week jabbed Dean with references to "real Democrats"—evoking the Vermonter's signature tag line about representing "the Democratic wing of the Democratic Party." And in the most backhanded of acknowledgments, the R.N.C. issued a news release charting the leading Democrats' increasingly critical statements on whether President Bush misled the country about how dangerous Saddam Hussein really was. The gleeful R.N.C. headline: DEMS PLAY FOLLOW THE LEADER. FOR YEARS KEY DEMS RECOGNIZED WMD THREAT ... BUT NOW HOWARD DEAN HAS CHANGED THEIR MINDS.

WOOING THE ESTABLISHMENT
One of the forces working in dean's favor is the disarray and disenchantment within the Democratic Party. If he's angry, well, so are many committed rank-and-file Democrats, especially on the defining question of war with Iraq, on which all the other leading contenders voted with Bush. An insurgent has more room in a field as large as this one, in which no true front runner has yet emerged to marshal the party's institutional forces. Dean's outsider appeal has made all the other first-tier contenders blend into button-down sameness. Campaign manager Joe Trippi, 47, a veteran of six presidential races whose bare-knuckled style matches his candidate's, argues that the early focus on one upstart—which usually doesn't happen until January—has created "the strongest insurgency in the history of politics." Trippi also argues that the converse is true: "Whoever becomes the Washington establishment candidate will by default be the weakest in the history of the party."