"Hey, what other candidate for DNC chair can get 400 people to come hear him on a freezing night," says Vicki Walker, a former state representative from Kansas City, Mo., who is supporting Dean. Like everyone in that crowd, Walker says she wants her man to run for president again. But Dean says he will not do it if he is elected chairman. If he is not elected chairman, Dean says he will rule nothing out.
He thought long and hard before he decided to seek the chairmanship, Dean says. He contemplated how he could stay most relevant to the process, say two people he commiserated with (they don't want their names attached to the details of a private conversation). He has no interest in practicing medicine or running for governor of Vermont again. Jim Jeffords, the Independent senator from Vermont, is up for reelection next year, but Dean says he wouldn't run against Jeffords, an early supporter of Dean's presidential campaign.
No, Dean says, being the DNC chair would not feel like a step down after the headiness he enjoyed as a presidential candidate. He gets this question a lot, too.
"It does not," Dean says after Saturday's caucus in response to the step-down question. He is licking a chocolate ice cream cone -- his second cone in 10 minutes -- from the iconically Vermont Ben & Jerry's stand his campaign has set up.
"Politics is politics," he says. "Obviously I'd rather be president of the United States, but that's not going to happen. So my question is: How can I bring America back to where it ought to be, both for the party and the country's sake?"
The former Vermont governor puts on his perma-grin and goes off to greet a small group of activists. "I love this stuff, so it never feels like a step down," Dean says before turning away. "The dynamics are the same. Look, the greatest thing about politics are the people." He gives people his cell phone number, home number and e-mail address. "Keep in touch with me, by all means," he says.
Running for DNC chairman mirrors the process of trying to win over Iowa caucus-goers, but on an even smaller scale, if one can imagine that. It essentially involves a lot of sucking up -- in the form of phone calls, private meetings and handwritten notes -- to the 447 DNC members who will vote on the chairmanship next month. It means constant flattery of DNC'ers such as of Jason Rae, an 18-year-old high school senior from Rice Lake, Wis., who checks his voice mail after school every day to find a flood of messages from the candidates. Rae also hears from the aspirants for vice chairman (like Rep. Mike Honda of California, who from the bully pulpit of the DNC's vice-chairmanship vows to "Restore America's Promise").
As he leaves the stage, Dean is swarmed, as he typically is. "Great job, sir," says supporter Don McAnulty of St. Louis. "I just wish I could call you Mr. President."
Dean visits a small reception across the hall hosted by Al Sharpton, who is here to support Marjorie Fields Harris, a candidate for vice chair.
Sharpton greets his former campaign homey with a big hug. Sharpton mimics the state-by-state rant that preceded Dean's infamous scream -- "We're going to South Carolina, Washington . . ." Sharpton yells. And Dean waxes nostalgic about the "fun" he and Sharpton had on the campaign trail. He praises Sharpton for his convictions and his plain-spoken eloquence during the campaign.
"Al sure did energize the Democratic Convention when he went off-script," Dean says, referring to Sharpton's flouting of his party-sanctioned remarks and time limit in Boston last summer.
This is an easy applause line for a Sharpton audience, but also distills why so many wonder if Dean is a good fit for such a party-line job. What if Dean were chairman when Sharpton went off-script? "You deal with that when you deal with that," he says.
What if Dean disagreed with the Democrats' popularly elected leaders -- as he did two years ago, when his opposition to the Iraq war ran counter to Tom Daschle, Dick Gephardt and nearly every major Democratic presidential candidate?
"I don't think it's possible to stifle your opinions," Dean says after the Sharpton reception. But if he's elected chairman, Dean says, he plans to hold regular meetings with the party's congressional leadership to ensure that "everyone's on the same page."
Dean turns to shake a few more hands before heading off to a private meeting with a DNC member. He walks with a slight limp from the back problem. He wades into another crowd and poses for a photo, his smile evincing the joy of a man who is back in a comfortable habitat, campaigning for something. And also maybe a hint of pain.
