Back at the Sheraton bar in Burlington, Vt., after Howard Dean'sexit speech, the drunk-talk did not turn bitter. These were youngpeople who'd never been part of the system. They'd never beenWashington insiders with reputations, connections, clients tosquander, and so never had much to lose. And if they'd lately grownmad at Dean for mucking it up ("right strategy, wrong candidate" wasthe gripe from last week), that anger passed in seeing him up thereagain yesterday.
"I thought I was done crying . . . but I saw him and startedcrying again," said Karen Hicks, the New Hampshire state director nowin Burlington. "He's this great person who led this amazing movementthat's really changed the substance of how politics is conducted."
Dean was his old self, talking about the "new track to take backAmerica," taking on the same enemies he'd lately grown uncomfortablyclose to: Democratic Party insiders who must be reminded of"standards of decency, honesty and integrity," old institutionsresistant to change, the Washington types his political movement hadleft cowering in their "salons in Georgetown."
It was a speech perfectly pitched to the Burlington crowd of firstbelievers from the early days of the campaign. But it was asimplification that left no room for a second category of Deansupporters picked up along the way: those denizens of the Georgetownsalons who'd embraced the candidate, and now had to face theconsequences.
Here in Washington, Dean supporters say they endorsed him becausehe was antiwar, or because they traveled to Burlington and wereromanced, transported back to their own political awakenings. If theywere alienating their establishment friends in the party, so what?Such excitement! Such youth! Such technological wizardry!
Now they are in the same position as the lawyer who signed on tothe dot-com boom only to have the start-up go bust and was forced tocome slinking back to the firm, the accountant who joined the rockband that fizzled, anyone on the morning after a one-night stand.
Publicly, the party was one step closer to closing ranks. But forthose who had defected to the outsider, there were still somewrinkles: party leaders who had to explain themselves, consultantswho have to grovel to the winning team, lobbyists who might see theirbusiness drop off, think-tankers who might not be invited toparticipate in the next Democratic Party roundtable, especially ifthe subject happens to be the centrist legacy of Bill Clinton.
Al Gore returned from an overseas trip yesterday, landing in NewYork a few hours before Dean's speech, and he didn't return callsrequesting comment on Dean exiting the race. When he endorsed Dean inDecember, Gore cited the usual starry-eyed reasons: the candidate'sability to "inspire at the grass-roots level," his "passion andenthusiasm" for change, things Gore the candidate had never quitemanaged to do.
In hindsight, Gore's decision to jump on so early seemed baffling.Here is commentary from an old associate who spoke on the conditionthat he not be identified: "Maybe in his own mind he's nowingratiated himself with this Internet political community, but inthe broader Democratic Party people are scratching their heads as towhat the hell he thinks he was doing, when he was doing it. We expecthim to be a lot smarter than us and he just wasn't."
Sen. Tom Harkin (D-Iowa) will be best remembered for doing thedance portion of the Dean scream show in Iowa. Harkin wasconspicuously absent from the Dean entourage in nearby Wisconsinearlier this week and lately played the part of statesman, sendingthe message to Dean that he should quietly exit the race.
But Harkin has been silent so far on his own role in the affairand the risk he took by abandoning old congressional colleagues tosupport someone he barely knew. "He stuck his neck out and leftcolleagues he's known for decades hanging," says one Democraticstrategist who spoke on the condition that he not be identified. Theman compared Harkin to prominent supporters of Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) in the 2000 presidential race. "You never saw them get closeto the Bush White House."
Members of Congress are likely to be quickly forgiven, however.Rep. Zoe Lofgren (D-Calif.) was an early and zealous supporter ofDean. She'd seen him speak at a meeting in California and "peoplearound me were crying," she recalls. It took her back to seventhgrade, watching John F. Kennedy. "He made people believe and havehope again," she says.
Lofgren held weekly strategy sessions at her home, recruiting morethan 30 fellow members of Congress to campaign for him. The processrequired nursing some bruised feelings. Dean's harsh attacks oncertain congressional endeavors, particularly the No Child LeftBehind law, irritated colleagues who'd worked hard on a compromise.
"It seemed naive," said an aide to Sen. Ted Kennedy (D-Mass.), oneof the irritated and a Kerry supporter. The aide predicted no greatpayback, "nothing you'd notice," he joked.
Lofgren has no regrets -- a conference call with Dean and hiscongressional supporters yesterday morning was all thanks andgratitude. But she is realistic. "Obviously, whoever becomespresident will remember who came to their side first," she says.
Those who might pay a greater price are lobbyists, who depend onthe party apparatus to steer business their way. "When someone comeslooking for a firm, maybe my name won't be on the list," says NikkiHeidepriem, a lobbyist who helped organize an eclectic group ofWashington lobbyists, businesspeople and academics for Dean. "I maynever know who said or did what, but it will be a question ofbusiness not coming my way.
"But you just have to do what makes sense at the time," she says.
Former congressman Toby Moffett was also part of the group. As oneof the Watergate babies, and a former Green activist, Moffett saysthe Dean campaign reminded him of why he got into politics in thefirst place. "Anyone who went to Burlington had a sense that said,'Wow, something different is really happening here,' " says Moffett,now a lobbyist with the Livingston Group. In their youth, he and hisfriends had thought they were creative by campaigning insupermarkets, but here was a "revolution. We were the Model T. Theywere the Learjet," he says of the Deanies.
But, Moffett insists now, Heidepriem's group picked up on the Deanimplosion early. When Dean called Washington insiders "cockroaches,"they rolled their eyes and hung on anyway. Over time, Dean nevergrew, he says. Now he feels casually distant. "It was never aboutDean. Howard's a perfectly nice guy, but it wasn't like any of us hada long relationship with him. So it's easy to walk away."
Elaine Kamarck is not walking away so easily. A former aide toGore, she's been writing for centrist think tanks. In the fall, shewrote columns defending Dean against the Democratic establishment(although she says her support was "lighthearted," not quite anendorsement). Now, some of her fellow centrist Democrats arepronouncing the relationship awkward.
But Kamarck is impatient with this line. "I don't quite understandwhy they're engaging in this weird witch hunt," she says. "It's odd,frankly, and not what this party needs. . . . I'm not sure why he wassuch a threat to people."
John Kerry's people, meanwhile, high on victory, are feelingmagnanimous. But they don't forget. Many of them hung on even whiletheir candidate was in single digits in the polls, and such loyaltydeserves reward, they say. When former Democratic National Committeechairman Steve Grossman publicly said he was leaving the Deancampaign to join Kerry's a day before the Wisconsin primary, theyaccepted him. His father works for the Kerry campaign, and Grossmanhelped Kerry in his 1996 Senate race. But that he'd abandoned Dean soextravagantly didn't sit well. "There are codes of professionalconduct," says one Kerry aide, who spoke on condition that he not beidentified. "And sticking with your guy until the end is one of them.
"What I'm saying is, it's a very big tent," he concludes. "But howyou behave during the primary process will not be forgotten."

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