Little Big Man The totally unpresidential, but strangely appealing, campaign of Dennis Kucinich. By Charles Bowden
Valets park the cars in Sherman Oaks as the guests and their checkbooks slowly arrive. Inside the house of James Cromwell (Farmer Hoggett in Babe), a B or C list of about 150 celebrities waits. Some are here looking for the Beautiful Loser, the candidate with a perfect stand on every issue who will die nobly in the arena of American politics. Some are shopping for the True Liberal, who can make a run for the money, or at least score some points in the rating system called votes. At the moment, Howard Dean is leading in the polls with up to 24 percent of the Democratic vote. The man the crowd waits to hear has 1 to 3 percent. His anti-war speeches and recent support of abortion are also costing him support in his rust-belt Cleveland congressional district.
The summer heat of August produces faint trickles of sweat on perfect faces and perfect breasts and perfect noses. Lush coral roses anchor the patio, a blue Buddha watches over a swimming pool swept clean of leaves. Morgan Fairchild stands poised on stiletto heels; Mike Farrell of M*A*S*H fame stands arms crossed, his smooth face projecting a serious gaze. Farmer Hoggett himself looms like a tall, thin tree as he explains the moral underpinnings of veganism; Elliott Gould, already a supporter, frowns like a mortician in a black suit as he surveys the herd of potential endorsers and donors.
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He ends his talk in eight minutes flat -- always he ends in eight minutes flat. He uses no notes, never falters. He never skips his points: bring the troops home now, cut the Defense budget by 15 percent, found a Department of Peace, withdraw from NAFTA and WTO, cancel the tax cut, fully fund health insurance, sign the Kyoto Accords and the land-mine treaty. And always, take back our country. He plays off the word "fear" as if it were a chord in a blues song.
He began sounding like someone in a high-school speech class, then became a union rabble-rouser, then soared into some ghostly presence of Huey Long, and now he is walking through the crowd with the smile and grace of Phil Donahue. Their eyes say this is too good to be true, too good to ever win the nomination much less the presidency. Hector Elizondo (Chicago Hope, Tortilla Soup) confides that Kucinich can't win but "he's got big cojones."
Dennis Kucinich, totally engaged, totally exact in his answers, seems somewhere else. He always seems somewhere else, some place that is hard and cold and where the roses never bloom. And he always seems alone.
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http://www.motherjones.com/news/feature/2003/11/ma_562_01.html
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