Land of Hard Knocks

"Hell, yes, he was hurt," Reid says.

Reid was sent home. His mother, Inez, thought he had broken his hand, but it went untreated -- the closest hospital was 40 miles away, and the Reids couldn't afford doctors anyway. Reid's father, Harry Sr., told the future senator to keep his fist clenched the next time.

The Direct Approach

Reid is prepping strenuously for his speeches and interviews, the show-horse chores that go with being the Democratic leader of the Senate. He is working closely with media consultant Jim Margolis. He even submitted to a speech-coaching session at his staff's urging. But it didn't go well -- all that nonsense about hand motions, projection points, "staying in the box." "Not for me," Reid says. Nor does he have a stomach for "all that goofy psychobabble" that certain consultants are peddling. "Something about the Democrats having to be a strong father instead of a weak father or whatever the hell that is," Reid says. "As soon as I hear that stuff come out of someone's mouth, that's the end of it for me."

Reid is not as bombastic as his words might convey. He makes an unlikely pugilist: Slender and soft-spoken, he could be your high school social studies teacher. He has a wry sense of humor that ranges from corny to biting. "So is this the sleazeball you told me about?" he asks his communications director upon meeting a reporter for the first time.

Reid is also prone to that treacherous political affliction, bluntness. Puttering around his Senate office last month, Reid turns on C-SPAN to find Sen. Lamar Alexander (R-Tenn.) delivering a speech on the floor about the energy bill. "Oh, shut up, Lamar," Reid says, snapping off the set.

He has notably called President Bush a "loser" and a "liar," Alan Greenspan "a political hack" and Clarence Thomas "an embarrassment."

"Rookie mistakes," says Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), speaking of Reid's "loser" and "liar" quips.

Yes on "loser," no on "liar," Reid says.

"Look, the president lied to me, twice," he says, referring to a conversation they had four years ago about a proposed nuclear waste site in Nevada and another, more recently, over judicial nominees. "So he lied to me. What else am I supposed to call him?"

And, by the way: "I'm glad I called Greenspan a political hack," Reid says. "Because that's what he is."

Reid called Bush "Mr. President" when they met at the White House on Tuesday to begin the "consultation process" over the Supreme Court vacancy. Bush had called Reid in Searchlight to tell him of O'Connor's decision to retire. He left Reid a voice mail, "a nice, gracious message," Reid says.

Reid's red-roofed home in Searchlight features picture windows looking onto small mountains and big sky. There is a mezuza, a Jewish ceremonial object, on the front entrance in deference to Landra's Jewish heritage. (She became a Mormon after she married Reid. Reid became a Mormon in college after being raised without a religion: There were no churches in Searchlight.) A large painting of Martin Luther King Jr. hangs in the front entrance. Above a toilet looms an autographed Grateful Dead poster, a gift from the band's drummer Mickey Hart. Reid also keeps a vintage Captain Fantastic pinball machine in a spare room. It's a rare and controversial edition, Reid says, and there have been suggestions of Nazi imagery incorporated into the design. Reid points out a small cartoon rendering of Hitler peeking out from the scoreboard.