Keystone Speaker
Gov. Ed Rendell Is Volubly Pitching Hillary Clinton To Pennsylvania

By Libby Copeland
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, April 16, 2008

HERE, THERE, EVERYWHERE, Pa.

Ed Rendell, the charming and garrulous governor of Pennsylvania, is currently being described by Sen. Hillary Clinton in the context of manure.

"One of the things I love about Ed is he is an optimist," Clinton says, standing onstage in a college gymnasium near a banner that says "Hillary Is Erie sistable." Rendell has just finished hyping the crowd with his Emcee Eddie routine.

"He reminds me of the story about that little boy," Clinton tells the crowd. "A man walks by the barn, sees this little boy in this room filled with manure. And he's standing there and he's digging and he's digging and he's digging. And the man says, 'Son, what are you doin'? Up to your hips in manure with that little shovel?' The boy says, 'Well, with this much manure around, there's gotta be a pony and I'm gonna find it!' "

The audience finds this funny, as does Ed Rendell. Granted, the analogy -- an old favorite of Ronald Reagan's -- leaves some unresolved questions, like:

Is Clinton the missing pony? In which case, what does that portend about her presidential hopes, which hinge on Pennsylvania, a state that Rendell is exerting himself mightily to help her win? What if the pony isn't really there?

And who's the manure?

* * *

Here's the thing about Hillary Clinton and Pennsylvania's Tuesday primary, according to Rendell.

"It's Gettysburg," Rendell says. "If the North lost at Gettysburg, it was over."

This may amount to more honesty than most campaign surrogates feel it's their place to provide, but it is Ed Rendell's opinion and he's gonna give it. That's what he does. He's been many things -- a frenetic campaigner and a prodigious fundraiser, mayor of Philadelphia for two terms in the '90s, general chairman of the Democratic National Committee during the 2000 election, reelected to his second gubernatorial term in 2006 by a margin of 20 big fat points -- but most of all, he's an epic talker.

Back in February, Rendell, 64, kicked up trouble by saying some white voters in his state might not be comfortable voting for Barack Obama. During a recent day and a half of interviews, he calls the New York senator's chances of becoming the Democratic nominee "still a big if" and he brings up the fact that he's criticized other Clinton supporters. ("Look, I threw James [Carville] under the bus a couple Sundays ago but he deserved to be thrown under the bus," he says.)

Oh, for the most part the governor sticks with the talking points, but once in a while he's inclined to discuss --

"God, the debate format just sucks," Rendell says. He's in his car in Pittsburgh and he's on a tear about presidential debates and how they're filled with "gotcha questions." This leads to a tear about television in general, which leads to a tear about shows such as "Big Brother," and something he calls "Does Your Mama Know How to Dance?"

"God, what a country. See, I think if al-Qaeda could spend time over here, they wouldn't bother. I mean the physical destruction of the U.S. -- we're doing a great job on our own. I mean just taking the top shows on television today!"

The surrogate is a funny animal. Whether he is a politician or an actor or a something else, he's supposed to pause his other work and travel around, sublimating his fame to the purposes of another person. His job is to serve as a unrelenting cheerleader, to stay upbeat! upbeat ! even if he thinks his team just made an embarrassing blunder.

But the cold truth -- as Bill Clinton himself has proved -- is that a surrogate sometimes goes off the rails. In the case of Rendell, being off-message is a matter of course -- it is his primal state. He often qualifies his praise with criticism, as if he just can't help himself: "She does great in a town hall format," he says of Clinton. "She can't give a speech like Senator Obama -- no one can -- but she handles the town hall meetings as well as he does, if not better."

This style is also what makes the governor so persuasive. He's the authenticity surrogate, equal parts blunt critic and manure-shoveling optimist. So when he says Clinton bowls him over, that her intelligence and command of the issues is "stunning," that a speech she gave about never giving up nearly moved him to tears -- you can't help but feel he's giving the straight, um, poop.

Back in the car in Pittsburgh, Rendell has now moved on to criticizing cable news, which, he says, is massively in love with Obama and massively biased against the Clintons, and which he finds himself watching because it makes him mad and "helps me vent, yeah, it's like very cheap therapy."

Is there any more transparent politician in America today? What else do you want to know about Ed Rendell? That he's not a morning person? That he ate a burger and fries last night, which he tried to offset with a salad? That he's well aware that "you don't want me for vice president," you want someone who'll "toe the party line"? That he's a slob, "a born-again slob"?

Someday they're going to invent a spray to make ties stain-proof, Rendell volunteers one afternoon. It will be "the day after I die."

Praise-Then-Qualify

Rendell knows this state, having been in politics for 30 years, going back to when he became district attorney in Philadelphia in 1977. He knows where the Clintons should appear, he knows who they should appear with, he knows when, he knows why.

He knows everything. Some councilwoman calls to vent about a Clinton event she's trying to help shape. He listens awhile and says, "Done. I will call you with the date." Some mayor tries to cozy up to Clinton and Obama at the same time; Rendell calls another mayor and says, "I need you to call him and tell him I heard what he did."

"Let's be crystal clear," says Clinton campaign chairman Terry McAuliffe, talking about Rendell. "He is running the state of Pennsylvania for us."

Here's the state of Pennsylvania: Clinton's lead has shrunk from 12 points to six in recent weeks and, according to a recent poll, is now holding steady at six. Many people believe that Clinton must win the state to remain a contender, and Rendell has even suggested she needs to win by a certain margin -- though that margin tends to vary depending on the day.

Rendell has plenty of opinions about what the campaign could do differently. He nags campaign adviser Howard Wolfson to put Clinton on "Charlie Rose." (All those Philadelphia progressives would love her!) For a while, he was nagging the campaign about this political analogy he says Clinton kept using, about the best way to boil a frog. He was worried she'd upset the animal-rights people.

"The frog is gooone," he notes with satisfaction.

Rendell describes himself as hardly an "important cog in the campaign," and not always successful with his advice, but the campaign listens, he says. He does his classic praise-then-qualify routine.

"They're very smart," he says, "and I don't mean to pat them on the back 'cause the campaign has certainly made mistakes, but this campaign listens to locals a lot better than . . . any presidential campaign I've been associated with."

Mistakes? Ah, glad you asked. The main criticism is one Rendell has already aired, about the campaign "having no contingency strategy" in case the Democratic fight continued past Super Tuesday. The rest are not so much criticisms as Rendellisms, the governor voicing his observations as they occur to him, like bubbles rising to the surface of a lake.

"They're a little obsessed about getting into three media markets a day," he says. Also, the staff tends to caucus a lot. Also, Bill Clinton is "now basically totally on positive message" (praise), which is "what I think he should've done from the beginning" (qualifier).

The motorcade arrives at the event, which is billed as "Solutions for the Pennsylvania Economy," and is taking place at King's College gymnasium. Rendell and Sen. Clinton go in, and there's the mandatory backstage schmoozing, and then Rendell does his Emcee Eddie routine.

"Hello Wilkes-Barre! I can't hear you!"

In many ways, Rendell's campaign style is the opposite of Clinton's. Where he is playful and impulsive and eager to please, she exudes a quiet discipline. Where he is transparent, she is thoughtful and policy-oriented. But today, either because Rendell's energy is infectious or because she is in friendly territory, close to her dad's home town of Scranton, Clinton seems relaxed and utterly in her element. She takes questions, she banters, she starts polling audience members about their college loan rates. She tells people to think of the race as a series of job interviews, at which point someone shouts, "You got the job!"

After the town hall, the senator and the governor disappear -- Clinton to do an interview, and Rendell because he is being buttonholed by a local mayor who wants several million in state money for a redevelopment project. "It's the only danger I have of going out around the state," Rendell says after he slides back into the car. "At all these rallies I usually get hit up for at least one thing, sometimes more."

The car idles and the minutes tick by and Rendell exudes restlessness while he waits for Clinton to finish her interview. He seems to need to be in constant movement, or if not movement, action, or if not action, conversation. Back when Rendell was mayor and helped revive a half-dead city by dint of his outsize personality, reporters used to write about how the mayor was always jiggling his knee.

Now, he calls a campaign operative to double-check the date of an upcoming Clinton fundraiser, and he talks awhile about his disinterest in getting a BlackBerry and about the fact that he still doesn't do e-mail . . .

And then there is a rare moment of silence, during which the governor of Pennsylvania can think of nothing more to say.

The Rendell Rules

Mark Aronchick, a Clinton campaign state co-chairman who's known Rendell since college and has advised him on and off for decades, recalls a moment in the '90s when he had to meet the private jet of some big wheel who was considering doing business in Philadelphia. The big wheel was meeting the mayor for the first time and was worried because he'd arrived late for their dinner. Aronchick told him not to be concerned. He offered the four rules of dealing with Ed Rendell:

1) "As late as you are, he'll be later."

2) "However many people there are between the door and the table, add at least a minute or two per person."

3) "The chances are higher rather than lower that he's on a two-day cycle with his suits. Or maybe three. So don't expect [him] all pressed and walking out of GQ or anything."

4) "Order what he's ordering or else he's gonna be spearing half of your stuff."

And so it was. The big wheel loved him.

Little wonder Rendell and Bill Clinton get along so well, with their chattiness, their charm, their perpetual tardiness. They met in the winter of 1992, Rendell recalls, during his first term as mayor and shortly before the Arkansas governor had effectively secured his party's nomination.

The mayor endorsed the candidate soon after, and he and his wife, Midge -- who would later be appointed a federal appeals judge by Bill Clinton -- met Hillary Clinton during the course of that campaign. One of Rendell's favorite pictures is of Hillary and Midge campaigning, two successful attorneys, both blond, both dressed in red. Little wonder Hillary and Eddie got along -- the parallels are hard to miss.

"Hillary loves characters, she always has," McAuliffe says. "She likes people who just speak their mind."

Rendell says he and Hillary kid around sometimes, and when he's asked for examples, they all involve Bill. There was the time recently when he asked Hillary, "Is it okay if we work Bill from 9 to 9 and give him six stops and end up in Elk County?" and she laughed and said, "You can work him as hard as you want." And there was the time when he asked if he could take Bill to Jo Jo's in Pittsburgh, where they make massive omelets and put the home fries inside , and she said, sure, but only if he got one made with egg whites.

When Rendell speaks of Hillary, it is with far more seriousness and something approaching reverence. He calls her the "best-prepared Democratic presidential contender" he's met since he started meeting candidates in 1980. He calls her a "such a good policy wonk," which is praise -- he respects attention to detail.

He comes back again and again to Clinton's discipline, to the thoroughness of her policies, the breadth of her knowledge. He praises her determination to stay in even as people like Obama-backer Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.) call for her to get out of the race.

What frustrates Rendell is his sense that modern politics is "more about personality and leadership qualities than it is about what you know and what your plans are" -- although he has arguably been the beneficiary of this in his career. He blames the media for this focus; he says reporters are captivated by Obama because he's "new and fresh" and "speaks in wonderfully soaring visionary tones."

Hours after introducing Clinton in Wilkes-Barre, Rendell introduces her at Mercyhurst College in Erie. This is the rally when she likens Rendell to a boy in manure, and she also talks about her grandfather a little. The crowd of 3,000 is enthusiastic; there's even an old lady dancing. When Rendell gets back in the car afterward, he's pumped. He praises Clinton for giving "more of the human stuff and a little less of the policy," and he pronounces the crowd "un-effin-believable for Erie!"

"I'd love to take Pat Leahy and all those jerks to these rallies!" Rendell says. "These people don't want it over! And they don't want Hillary to quit! They want to fight it out, and they want her to carry their hopes as far it'll take! And they're all gonna be for Obama if he's the candidate in the fall. There's not gonna be a problem getting 99.5 percent of these people to vote Democratic but -- They. Want. This. To. Go. On.

" . . . Meanwhile, you did notice that the frog is gone."

A reporter asks Rendell if he ever gets pressure from the Clinton campaign to stay on message.

"I dutifully call in on Saturday nights, I call in to either Howard or Howard's assistant and I get, dutifully get, my instructions," he says, grinning. "Sometimes I go off message a little bit but -- but I think on balance they're pleased with what I've done. Anyway," he adds, "I'm not sure they have much choice."