How Mitt Romney at his worst could kill his wildest dream
GRAND BLANC, MICH — At his first event on the eve of the day that could decide Mitt Romney's fate, the Republican presidential candidate implored 2,600 students at this local high school - "absolutely no use of laser pointers will be tolerated," they were warned - to get married before having kids.
"It's the greatest happiness you could ever imagine," he assured them, and then paused and waited, and waited, until, giggling, they reluctantly applauded.
It was Mitt Romney at his worst, the man who hasn't made it past 1975, who has souped-up Elvis as his campaign music, who dismisses his opponents' claims as "baloney," who talks about life choices by evoking the lessons of a television show, Let's Make a Deal, that first aired when many of these kids' parents had not yet been born.
There is another Mitt Romney, the confident, assured, thoughtful candidate who spoke to business leaders later that day in Detroit, who vowed to reverse the decline of this, the most troubled state in the union, the state where he was born and raised, the state where the name Romney has political roots as deep as oak.
"What Michigan is feeling will be felt by the entire nation unless we win the economic battle here," he told the mostly middle-aged, mostly male members of the Detroit Economic Club.
"But I can tell you this: If I am president, I will not rest until Michigan is back."
Today, either the Republican - and some Democratic and independent - voters of Michigan will believe their native son and give him his first win in a presidential primary, or they will hand the state to another, most likely John McCain, shattering Mitt Romney's dream of becoming president.
Michigan is hurting. As the American automotive industry staggers under the twin burdens of foreign competition and domestic regulation, the state that tied its fate to making the American car is years into what has been dubbed a one-state recession.
The unemployment rate, at 7.4 per cent, is the highest in the nation, about 2½ points above the national average. Family incomes, after adjusting for inflation, have been stagnant throughout the decade and are expected to stay that way indefinitely. More U-Hauls leave the state than enter it.
The young of Grand Blanc, about 100 kilometres northwest of Detroit, have already made up their minds. A quick survey of students at the high school after Mr. Romney's talk revealed that most had decided to leave Michigan after graduation.
"I'm probably not going to stay in the state," Brittany Crayton, 18, announced. "I'm going somewhere where there are more jobs."
The fear is that, as Michigan goes, so goes the nation, that the outsourcing of jobs to Third World countries, the cheap goods they sell into the United States, combined with the cascading crisis in the mortgage markets, could push the country into a recession and even long-term economic decline.
The economy is working its way up the list of voter concerns, prompting both Democratic and Republican candidates to rush out economic platforms. In Mr. Romney's case, that platform focuses on eliminating the tax on earnings from interest, dividends and capital gains on incomes under $200,000, while targeting federal assistance to basic research in new fuels and automotive technology.
But it won't be platform planks that determine the outcome of today's primary. Michigan voters will base their support on the intangible qualities of leadership and trust. And like their cousins in Iowa and New Hampshire, when it comes to the former governor of Massachusetts, they have their doubts.
Mitt Romney is hurting. After spending many millions of his own dollars on advertising and organizing in Iowa and New Hampshire, the 60-year-old politician and executive was stripped of both victories by insurgents: former back-of-the-packer Mike Huckabee in Iowa, then the once-left-for-dead John McCain in New Hampshire.
Mr. Romney simply must win one of the early states, and Michigan offers the best chance. It should be easy. Here, the name Romney has all the recognition it lacks in much of the rest of the country. His father was president of the late American Motors, governor of the state and a candidate for president. Romney Jr. has a solid local organization, deep pockets and an intimate grasp of the state's political dynamics. No one should be able to touch him.
But there are problems. The first is self-inflicted. Mr. Romney's conspicuous wholesomeness - he has five sons, a devoted wife, no known vices (he doesn't even drink coffee) - comes together as a package that for many voters appears concocted. Instead of focusing on his formidable record as a self-made multi-multimillionaire, saviour of the troubled 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics and governor of Massachusetts, people seem to latch onto his policy vacillations, his born-again conservatism and the nastiness of his campaign's attacks on Mr. McCain and Mr. Huckabee. (That nastiness is increasingly being returned in full measure.)
Another problem is beyond his control. State Democrats and Republicans co-operated to move the Michigan primary to Jan. 15, well in advance of the Feb. 5 limit for most primaries set by the national party committees. In revenge, the parties stripped the state of some or all of its delegates. Unless that decision is reversed - and reversed as well in Florida, which committed the same offence - this primary will have largely symbolic significance.
The Democratic candidates agreed to boycott the state (though Hillary Clinton allowed her name to remain on the ballot); the Republican candidates chose to fight it out anyway. In Michigan's case, that means that independent and Democratic voters can, if they choose, vote in the Republican primary. That was the cohort that handed the state to John McCain in 2000. (It was for naught; George W. Bush would ultimately take the nomination.) In 2008, they could do it again.
The polls are all over the place: Some show Mr. McCain ahead; others favour Mr. Romney. All we can do is wait for the returns.
If Mr. Romney fails to win Michigan, he can probably forget about taking any significant early state. (He did sweep the Wyoming caucuses, but nobody noticed or cared.) Mr. McCain and Mr. Huckabee are duking it out in South Carolina, along with Fred Thompson. (Mr. Huckabee, by the way, is in a strong third place in Michigan, but surely not, surely not ... .) Former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani is expending his last dollars (his senior staff are no longer being paid) in a do-or-die effort to win Florida.
If Mr. Romney wins today, he heads to South Carolina, hoping to use the Michigan bounce to place a respectable third there in Saturday's vote. If he loses, his advisers say he may well switch to a national campaign, in preparation for Feb. 5, when more than 20 states vote. He still has more money and better organization than his opponents. Maybe it will finally pay off for him there.
But the odds will be long. Why should Mr. Romney hope to prevail in a nationwide contest after he has failed to prevail in a Midwestern state, a New England state and a Great Lakes state?
Maybe it's the Ward Cleaver sweaters he often wears. Maybe it's his Mormon faith. Maybe it's his artful shuffles on the trinity of God, gays and guns. Maybe it's his off-kilter jokes. (He loves to tell the story about asking his wife Ann whether, in her wildest dreams, she ever thought he'd be running for president. "Mitt," he says she replied, "You weren't in my wildest dreams." Who was?) Regardless, the voters of Michigan have the future of one of their most famous sons in their hands.
If they give him their state, he'll be right back in the thick of it. If they don't, that may spell the end of Mitt Romney's wildest dream.
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