From Outsider To Politician

His arrival surprised the other senators at the table. Jacobs, Terry Link and Larry Walsh -- all white Democrats, all older than 50, all from rural parts of the state -- would become Obama's closest friends in Springfield, but they viewed his initial arrival as the intrusion of an outsider. Jacobs was a loudmouth from the Iowa border, a self-described "backroom dinosaur" famous for his love of gambling. Walsh was a farmer from Elmwood who sometimes snuck out of session for a hot toddy. Link was a forklift business owner who narrowly graduated from high school.

As the young black senator from Chicago -- an Ivy Leaguer, a law professor -- bought into the poker game for $100 and lit a cigarette, Jacobs wondered: "What could he have in common with us?"

"It wasn't the most obvious fit," Jacobs said. "You've got two fat guys, a medium-heavy guy and then Obama. On the surface, there's not a lot that we shared."

Obama folded frequently during the games, preferring to watch the action unfold until he could pounce with the occasional great hand. He filled the long gaps in between by seeking advice from his playing partners about balancing work and family, crafting legislation and aligning with Republicans. Even as Obama routinely took their money, the other players regarded him as naive but genuine. In various capacities, Link, Walsh and Jacobs all considered themselves Obama's mentors.

Obama was never a big drinker, but he faithfully brought along a six-pack of beer and downed a couple. He smoked and pitched in for midnight pizza. The poker game eventually migrated to Link's house and became the one social staple on Obama's schedule. The Committee Meeting, Obama called it -- and the appointment stood for eight years. His poker-mates sometimes teased him for becoming "one of the good ol' boys."

Fitting in, for Obama, had never been a natural process so much as a learned skill -- something that required adjustment and work. At Harvard, he befriended conservatives who eventually helped elect him president of the Law Review. As a young community organizer in Chicago, he emulated the speaking cadence of black pastors and joined Trinity United Church of Christ to help him connect with the city's South Side.

In Springfield, he decided he needed to play golf. Democrats who felt useless in the legislative minority sometimes left the session to play 18 holes in the early afternoon, and their on-course conversations ranged from meaningless trash talk to political dealmaking. Link invited Obama to play and watched the beginner hack his way around the course. Frustrated by his incompetence and worried he might not be invited again, Obama signed up for lessons. He almost beat Link the next year.

After his first year in Springfield, Obama took a golf trip to southern Illinois with his top adviser, Dan Shomon. Obama wanted to test how rural voters would respond to a black man, because he already had designs on a run for statewide office. Shomon coached him: Order regular mustard instead of Dijon; wear simple golf shirts instead of fancy button-downs. Obama returned from the trip convinced he could assimilate.

By the time Obama invited a young incoming senator to visit him in Chicago in the fall of 1997, he already felt like a veteran of Springfield politics, ready to dispense advice. Kimberly Lightford, then 29, visited his office a few months into her campaign for a Senate seat. She had never met Obama, but he already knew much about her. "He basically recounted all the details about my little state Senate race, so I didn't have to tell him anything," Lightford said. "He made me feel pretty important."

He asked Lightford if she had any campaign debt, and she wearily nodded. Obama was earning $49,000 a year as a state senator and routinely borrowed $20 from his poker buddies, but he reached into his desk and pulled out his checkbook. Before Lightford left his office, Obama handed her a $500 donation.

"It was amazing, because he also gave me some advice that I really appreciate to this day," Lightford said. "I was young and idealistic, and he told me: 'You know, when we all get elected we think we're going to go down there and change the world overnight, but that's not going to happen. It's a process. You're going to have to learn the game. You're going to have to make friends. You're going to have to navigate the place if you want to open roads and make things happen.' "

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