That was the mission statement of twenty-first-century Obama. As a black candidate, he’d been too inhibited, too embarrassed, to force out such phrases as “our community.” Finally, he was comfortable in his own skin, now that he’d accepted that the skin was half white. As a multicultural politician trying to find a unified theory of racial politics, he was rolling like Tiger Woods at the Masters. The aloofness was gone as well. Intently, he laid out his plan for a federal children’s health insurance program.
“I think it’d be a good opportunity to lay the groundwork toward expanding health care to all the uninsured,” he said.
Obama was no longer selling himself. He didn’t mention Harvard once. This time, he had a legislative goal and a strategy for making it happen. Or maybe, because he knew I’d been one of his skeptics, he was selling me on the idea that he wasn’t selling himself. Just as he was looking two moves ahead politically, I’m sure he was two moves ahead of my expectations. It was working. I was impressed that he finally seemed to believe in something more than the fact that being president of the Harvard Law Review is a pretty big deal. He was a big-government liberal, and he was unafraid to confess it.
“How would you have voted on the Iraq war resolution?” I asked.
“I would have voted no.” And then, repeating his assertion from Federal Plaza, he said, “I’m not opposed to all wars. I’m opposed to dumb wars.”
Finally, we got around to his race against Bobby Rush.
“I got a good spanking,” Obama said evenly. He’d obviously thought out that response. “I think that was youthful impatience on my part.”
Later, when I called his office for follow-up questions, Obama jumped on the line to drill me with more details of his health care plan. He also repeated his “E pluribus unum” speech, tweaking a few words. He was proud of that one.
In a Chicago Tribune poll taken that month, Obama was the choice of 14 percent of Democratic voters, tying him for the lead with Dan Hynes and Maria Pappas. Blair Hull was just behind, with 10 percent.
“Statewide, the poll showed some gains for Obama, who was the choice of only 9 percent of Democratic voters in October,” the Tribune reported. “Most of the growth in his support was among black voters, with 29 percent backing him.”
These were meaningful gains, but with two months until the primary, Obama had not broken out of the pack. He hadn’t united the black vote behind him, either.
In the fall of 2003, Obama’s campaign had been cultivating an endorsement that would have put him in the lead for good. Paul Simon had retired from the Senate in 1996, but his name and his word were still golden among Illinois liberals. Simon had even handpicked his successor, Dick Durbin. In this contentious primary, his blessing would be decisive.
Simon had worked with Obama on the ethics reform bill and served on the death penalty task force that recommended videotaping interrogations. Obama showed courage and skill in promoting that, Simon thought. Illinois had a tradition of progressive senators going back almost to World War II: Paul Douglas, Adlai Stevenson III, Simon, Durbin. Obama fit that lineage. Simon’s only reservation about making an endorsement was his long friendship with Dan Hynes’s father, who had served in the state senate when Simon was lieutenant governor.
Abner Mikva also thought Obama fit the state’s senatorial tradition. At a private fund-raiser on the North Side, Mikva heard Adlai Stevenson III give a powerful speech about Obama’s virtues as a candidate. That gave him an idea. Excitedly, he called Simon.
“You know, it would be a great press opportunity and marvelous publicity for Barack if we could have a press conference with you and Adlai endorsing him,” Mikva said, giving him the pitch.
It would, Simon agreed.
“If you can get Adlai, I obviously will do it,” Simon told Mikva. “I’ve tried to avoid a public endorsement because of Dan, but if you get Adlai, I’ll absolutely help you.”
So Mikva called Stevenson. So enthusiastic at the fund-raiser, Stevenson now hemmed and hawed about making a public statement.
“Well, I know the Hynes family so well,” he said. “They’ve been so good to me.”
“Adlai,” Mikva responded, “Paul’s in the same position. He’s going to do it.”
“I’m going to have to think about it some more,” Stevenson said finally.
While Stevenson dithered, Simon checked into a Springfield hospital for open heart surgery. He was still hale enough