John Edwards Bets the Farm

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By the time midsummer rolled around, the negative stories had crowded out substantive ones about Edwards' proposals, so most primary voters didn't know he had been leading the debate on domestic policy. He was the first to present a credible plan for universal health care. (Obama later offered a similar but less expensive plan that leaves some 15 million uninsured; Clinton still hasn't revealed hers.) He came up with a Gore-approved policy to combat global warming and a well-conceived antipoverty package, including a $1 billion fund to help people facing mortgage foreclosure. (Clinton later proposed a similar fund.)

Edwards was more in command of the details than he was in 2004, though nobody would mistake him for a wonk. On Iraq, however, he was a bit less impressive, promising that as President he would immediately withdraw 50,000 troops but not explaining which 50,000 he had in mind. "I haven't specifically identified them," he says. "I know the regions—the north and the south, not Baghdad. I think it's a mistake for the President to micromanage. Execution should be left to the people who have the expertise."

If his policy work wasn't yet doing Edwards much good, his "change in Washington" rhetoric wasn't either. In TIME's Iowa poll, Obama beat him, 35% to 25%, on the question of who "will take on special interests in Washington." (Clinton trailed with 19%.) Iowa Democrats seem to like Edwards more for who he is than for what he says. They call him the most likable and the one who best understands their concerns, but his toss-out-the-insiders message hasn't stuck. So by late August his campaign found itself in something close to relaunch mode as he delivered what was billed as a major speech in New Hampshire designed to reclaim his role as the authentic change agent in the race. The New York Times gave the speech 276 words on page A15. Inevitably, a certain frustration has risen to the surface inside the campaign.

"The media goes to this very engaging story about a legitimate woman candidate and a legitimate candidate with an African-American heritage, and that drives up their fund-raising numbers," says Elizabeth, the unfiltered voice of the campaign, during an interview on the bus a week before that speech. "Then the media folks say, 'See, that proves we were right to focus on these two candidates' ... It's enough to make you tear your hair out." Soon she's pressing the argument that her husband is the most electable candidate, the one who will help other Democrats win in the South and West—and she's managing to attack Clinton while defending her. "I want to be perfectly clear: I do not think the hatred against Hillary Clinton is justified. I don't know where it comes from. I don't begin to understand it. But you can't pretend it doesn't exist, and it will energize the Republican base. Their nominee won't energize them, Bush won't, but Hillary as the nominee will. It's hard for John to talk about, but it's the reality."

John Edwards always knew Clinton was going to be formidable, but he didn't bank on Obama. Edwards' plan was to run a transformational campaign on Hillary's left flank, but then a fresher transformational change agent set up shop alongside him. Obama's message is more cerebral and less specific than Edwards'—it sounds a lot like Bill Bradley's in 2000—and Edwards believes that Obama will fade, as Bradley did, giving him a clean shot at Clinton. So far, Obama isn't cooperating, and Clinton is trying to triangulate her differences with Edwards and Obama by being the candidate of "change and experience," someone who sees the "invisible people"—a theme Edwards used off and on for months.

Edwards joins us on the bus, and soon he's musing on electability too. "I think most journalists would agree that I'm the most progressive, Senator Obama next, and Senator Clinton closest to the center. But I'd be willing to bet that if you ask most Americans the same question, they'd reverse it." That's not only, he says, because "she's a woman and he's an African American and Ah talk lahk thee-is. It's simple geography. Ask Middle Americans: You've got three Democratic candidates. One's from New York, one's from Chicago and one's from rural North Carolina. Who do you think is most like you?"