"There is a lot of mistrust in the community and so for someone from Hyde Park it's easy to generate it," Kindle went on. "The University of Chicago had a history of financing operations that were land grabs and he worked there. And there was that money coming in that was Jewish money, so it was an issue of cla.s.s struggle."

Carol Anne Harwell, who had been with Obama from the beginning, recalled that the campaign was deflating for him. "Barack took a lot of stuff," she said. "They talked about his mama; they talked about his speech; they said he wasn't a brother--it was really hard. They saw him as a carpetbagger from Hyde Park in a district that had the 'hood in it."

Those sentiments would often emerge on WVON, a local black radio station whose call letters once stood for "the Voice of the Negro" but were later changed to "the Voice of the Nation." "The WVON audience is not huge but it has people who are hubs of information within discrete communities," Will Burns said. Callers on Cliff Kelley's popular show on WVON slammed Obama, drawing a humiliating comparison between the heroic elder, Bobby Rush, and the ent.i.tled young man who wanted to unseat him. "There were no flyers or stuff stuck in doors, but there was a steady drumbeat," Burns said. "Part of this was Barack's comeuppance for what the nationalists felt he had done to Alice Palmer."

Rush's and Trotter's gra.s.sroots campaign workers kept up an effective whispering campaign. They pointed to campaign contributions They pointed to campaign contributions from prominent white supporters like Minow, Mikva, Schmidt, and the novelists Scott Turow and Sara Paretsky, saying that it reeked of an "Obama Project," a shadowy plan by moneyed whites to propel their favored, and obedient, black man up the political ladder. It hardly mattered that Obama's finance committee was made up of younger black businessmen or that he had the support of some important black aldermen--Toni Preckwinkle, Ted Thomas, and Terry Peterson. Rush's and Trotter's supporters dismissed such people as "buppies." from prominent white supporters like Minow, Mikva, Schmidt, and the novelists Scott Turow and Sara Paretsky, saying that it reeked of an "Obama Project," a shadowy plan by moneyed whites to propel their favored, and obedient, black man up the political ladder. It hardly mattered that Obama's finance committee was made up of younger black businessmen or that he had the support of some important black aldermen--Toni Preckwinkle, Ted Thomas, and Terry Peterson. Rush's and Trotter's supporters dismissed such people as "buppies."

Mike Strautmanis recalled, "I went to my grandmother and I told her I was working for Barack and we were going to take Bobby Rush's congressional seat. Barack was on the cover of the Sun-Times Sun-Times and I showed it to my grandmother. She looked up at me with this and I showed it to my grandmother. She looked up at me with this look look and she said, 'Why is he gonna take Bobby's job?' For a while, I was lost for anything to say. I thought, Oh, s.h.i.t. If I can't convince my grandmother to vote for Barack, we're in trouble." and she said, 'Why is he gonna take Bobby's job?' For a while, I was lost for anything to say. I thought, Oh, s.h.i.t. If I can't convince my grandmother to vote for Barack, we're in trouble."

By the New Year, Obama had a bad feeling about the campaign. He had raised almost as much money as Rush--including a ninety-five-hundred-dollar loan to himself--but there seemed no way he could win. The campaign could do little about Rush's strategy of exalting his own racial authenticity and, through surrogates, questioning Obama's. "Less than halfway into the campaign "Less than halfway into the campaign, I knew in my bones that I was going to lose," Obama recalled. "Each morning from that point forward I awoke with a vague sense of dread, realizing that I would have to spend the day smiling and shaking hands and pretending that everything was going according to plan."

With coverage of the race dominated by the murder of Huey Rush, Obama often seemed to lose focus and motivation. "Barack in that first race didn't show the commitment you need to win," Obama's media consultant, Chris Sautter, said. "He had never had to run in a compet.i.tive race before. He hadn't appreciated the grueling hours you have to put in. He didn't appreciate the scale of time needed for raising money or going door-to-door. And after Huey Rush's murder, he was just not enthusiastic about anything."

Obama didn't run negative ads or mail pieces. He mainly just kept talking about his experience as an organizer, his work as a lawyer on voting-rights cases, his experience in Springfield on welfare reform, gun control, ethics, racial profiling, and aid to poor children. Inevitably, he began his speeches Inevitably, he began his speeches with well-practiced self-deprecation: "The first thing people ask me is, 'How did you get that name, Obama?' although they don't always p.r.o.nounce it right. They say 'Alabama,' or 'Yo Mama.'" Then he would recount his multi-ethnic journey and detail his liberal credentials. He never lost his cool, and he radiated a feeling that, even if he lost, he was a new kind of African-American politician. with well-practiced self-deprecation: "The first thing people ask me is, 'How did you get that name, Obama?' although they don't always p.r.o.nounce it right. They say 'Alabama,' or 'Yo Mama.'" Then he would recount his multi-ethnic journey and detail his liberal credentials. He never lost his cool, and he radiated a feeling that, even if he lost, he was a new kind of African-American politician.

"He never gave you the sense he felt he was going to go down in flames," Burns said. "Maybe he felt we needed that or we might want to pack it up. He's funny. He's got a dry wit, a wicked sense of humor. There had been a shooting in one of the wards we were trying to win. I was in charge of a rally for gun control at a church. We had walked the flyer, we'd made phone calls, we really put a lot of time and energy into it. We had the meeting. And the cameras are there--and there were like ten people. The buses never showed up. It was a disaster. The one thing you don't want with Barack is to fail on a mission. Some politicians start screaming and throwing s.h.i.t. He tapped me on the shoulder after he spun it out as a press conference. He said to me, 'You know, Will, when I call a rally, normally you have people there. That's That's a rally.'" a rally.'"

In private, as the campaign floundered, Obama even talked with Ron Davis and Al Kindle about his ultimate ambition. "He has always wanted to be President--it's like a waking dream," Kindle said. "The first time it came up was the summer he was running for Congress. Ron would say, 'Don't tell anyone, but this boy wants to be President.' We laughed and Ron would say, 'He's loony!'"

Obama did get one break. On March 6th, the Tribune Tribune endorsed him: endorsed him: Eight years ago, the Tribune endorsed Rush with these words criticizing Hayes: "He's a politician who can't shake the old ideas of government interventionism even though it is so clear in his district that the old ideas have failed." The same now seems true of Rush. He touts experience and seniority, but his approach to problems has not produced many results. And maybe that would be good enough, if he did not have an outstanding opponent.Obama is smart and energetic. He was the first black president of the Harvard Law Review Harvard Law Review, and he is committed to his community. He has fresh ideas on governing and he understands that, as congressman for the 1st District, he would become a spokesman for African-American concerns nationally and an important voice in shaping urban politics in Chicago and the nation.

On Sunday, March 12th, Obama got a friendly reception in Beverly when he marched, along with three hundred thousand others, in the annual South Side Irish Parade. Over the years, the parade had become known as a drunken baccha.n.a.l and Obama was anxious about partic.i.p.ating. Sh.o.m.on convinced him to do it. "It's great," Sh.o.m.on said. "You have corned beef and cabbage with your family and then you march around the block and have a beer with your cousin Jimmy." Obama began the day Obama began the day at a Catholic Ma.s.s and a soda-bread-and-ca.s.serole brunch at the home of Jack and Maureen Kelly, and with neighborhood volunteers like John and Mich.e.l.le Presta, who ran a bookstore in the area. Obama marched on Western Avenue alongside the beer-drinking bagpipers and the teenaged kids with Mardi Gras beads and their green-dyed hair. A couple of nights later, he gamely fought to another draw with Rush and Trotter at a dull candidates' forum hosted by "Chicago Tonight," a program on WTTW. at a Catholic Ma.s.s and a soda-bread-and-ca.s.serole brunch at the home of Jack and Maureen Kelly, and with neighborhood volunteers like John and Mich.e.l.le Presta, who ran a bookstore in the area. Obama marched on Western Avenue alongside the beer-drinking bagpipers and the teenaged kids with Mardi Gras beads and their green-dyed hair. A couple of nights later, he gamely fought to another draw with Rush and Trotter at a dull candidates' forum hosted by "Chicago Tonight," a program on WTTW.

The Tribune Tribune endors.e.m.e.nt and the parade were boosts to the spirit, but Obama was not deluded. At the time, working-cla.s.s blacks, the heart of the Democratic electorate in the district, tended to read the endors.e.m.e.nt and the parade were boosts to the spirit, but Obama was not deluded. At the time, working-cla.s.s blacks, the heart of the Democratic electorate in the district, tended to read the Sun-Times Sun-Times. On March 16th On March 16th, the paper's editorial declared that Obama and Trotter had "failed to make their case" and endorsed Rush. Obama could not even win over the liberal alternative press. Ted Kleine's article Ted Kleine's article in the Chicago in the Chicago Reader Reader, ent.i.tled "Is Bobby Rush in Trouble?," appeared just before the primary on March 21st; it was balanced but contained some lethal moments. Rush was quoted as saying that Obama "went to Harvard and became an educated fool.... We're not impressed with these folks with these eastern elite degrees."

The piece described how Rush had been able to turn the generational tables on Obama. At a debate on WVON, moderated by Cliff Kelley, Rush talked about leading a protest march in 1995 after an off-duty police officer killed a homeless man. Obama jumped in Obama jumped in, saying, "It's not enough for us just to protest police misconduct without thinking systematically about how we're going to change practice." Rush found his opening, saying, "We have never been able to progress as a people based on relying solely on the legislative process, and I think that we would be in real critical shape when we start in any way diminishing the role of protest. Protest has got us where we are today."

"A week later," Kleine reported, "Rush was still rankled by Obama's suggestion that the black community's protest days are past. 'Barack is a person who read about the civil rights protests and thinks he knows all about it,' he said. 'I helped make that history, by blood, sweat, and tears.'" The exchange made Obama look callow and ungrateful.

Kleine interviewed the candidates at length and concluded that Obama spoke in "a stentorian baritone that sounds like a TV newscaster's." He also allowed Trotter to hold forth with a series of remarks that deepened the impression that Obama was insufficiently black. "Barack is viewed in part to be the white man in blackface in our community," Trotter told Kleine. "You just have to look at his supporters. Who pushed him to get where he is so fast? It's these individuals in Hyde Park, who don't always have the best interests of the community in mind."

The article depicted Obama as being on the defensive during the campaign, fending off attacks that, to Obama, were not only offensive but reflected a tragic suspicion of higher education among some voters. Obama told the Reader Reader that when his opponents ripped him for going to Harvard Law School or teaching law at the University of Chicago, they were sending a signal to black children that "if you're well educated, somehow you're not keeping it real." He insisted that his kind of background allowed him to live in more than one world--an essential quality for a modern politician. that when his opponents ripped him for going to Harvard Law School or teaching law at the University of Chicago, they were sending a signal to black children that "if you're well educated, somehow you're not keeping it real." He insisted that his kind of background allowed him to live in more than one world--an essential quality for a modern politician.

"My experience being able to walk into a public-housing development and turn around and walk into a corporate boardroom and communicate effectively in either venue means that I'm more likely to be able to build the kinds of coalitions and craft the sort of message that appeals to a broad range of people, and that's how you get things accomplished in Congress," he said. "We have more in common with the Latino community, the white community, than we have differences, and you have to work with them, just from a practical political perspective.... It may give us a psychic satisfaction to curse out people outside our community and blame them for our plight. But the truth is, if you want to be able to get things accomplished politically, you've got to work with them."

Obama's campaign raised over six hundred thousand dollars and spent some of it on a series of three radio spots that cast Obama as the new wave, an earnest idealist tough enough to work effectively in Congress. One of the spots, written by Chris Sautter and his brother, Craig, was called "Blackout": MAN'S VOICE: Oh, man Oh, man, there go the lights again.WOMAN'S VOICE: Another blackout!MAN'S VOICE: I'm tired of this. When's somebody going to do something?WOMAN'S VOICE: Obama.MAN'S VOICE: Say what?WOMAN'S VOICE: State Senator Barack Obama. He's fighting for reforms that would force Con Ed to refund customers who lose power.VOICEOVER: Barack Obama, Democratic candidate for Congress. As a community organizer, Obama fought to make sure that residents in Roseland and Altgeld Gardens received their fair share of services. Barack Obama. As a lawyer, Obama fought for civil rights and headed up Project Vote, registering over a hundred thousand minority voters. Barack Obama. Elected to the Illinois Senate, Barack Obama pushed to make health insurance available to everyone, regardless of income, and brought millions of dollars into our community for juvenile crime prevention.MAN'S VOICE: Here come the lights. Con Ed must have heard from that Senator Bama.WOMAN'S VOICE: That's Obama Obama, Barack Obama. And they'll be hearing a lot more from him.VOICEOVER: Barack Obama, Democrat for Congress. New leadership that works for us.

The play on Obama's name and the down-home "Say what?" had little effect. Neither did his rare appearances alongside his opponents. In debates sponsored by the Urban League and the League of Women Voters, Obama failed to draw a real distinction between himself and Bobby Rush. Obama's volunteers were encouraged by his ability to fence with Rush, but even to some allies, he seemed aloof to the point of arrogance. Obama "was kind of snotty," Toni Preckwinkle said. "His head was up in the air, he acted like he was too good to be there."

If there were any doubts where this primary was headed, they were shelved when Bill Clinton came to town just before the balloting to campaign for Bobby Rush.

Clinton's popularity on the South Side had only intensified during his impeachment saga. Rush had stood close to Clinton on the White House lawn after the House vote on impeachment. Clinton had not forgotten. He taped a thirty-second radio commercial He taped a thirty-second radio commercial for Rush that played constantly on WVON and other important stations. "Illinois and America need Bobby Rush in Congress," Clinton said, and even referred to the killing of Huey Rush to make the ad more emotionally resonant. "Bobby Rush has been an active leader in the effort to keep guns away from kids and criminals long before his own family was the victim of senseless gun violence." for Rush that played constantly on WVON and other important stations. "Illinois and America need Bobby Rush in Congress," Clinton said, and even referred to the killing of Huey Rush to make the ad more emotionally resonant. "Bobby Rush has been an active leader in the effort to keep guns away from kids and criminals long before his own family was the victim of senseless gun violence."

The commercial ran on March 13th and Clinton campaigned for Rush in Chicago that day, dominating local television news. "Until then, for us to win, you had to find Bobby with a live boy or a dead girl," Will Burns said. "When Clinton came into the picture, it was game over."

On March 21st, Bobby Rush won sixty-one per cent of the vote. Obama got thirty percent, Trotter seven per cent, and a retired police officer from Calumet Heights, George Roby, won one per cent. The only area that Obama won was the Nineteenth Ward, with its Irish-Catholic teachers, firefighters, and police officers. He also scored well in the small part of the district that extended into southern suburbs like Evergreen Park and Alsip.

The next morning, Obama went around to the houses in the district that displayed blue "Obama for Congress" signs and knocked on doors, thanking his supporters.

In November, Rush beat the Republicans' sacrificial candidate, Raymond Wardingley, by seventy points. The last Republican to win the congressional seat in the First District had been a son of slaves, Oscar De Priest.

Nine years after beating Obama, Rush recalled the experience with an almost unseemly relish. "Barack was not a good debater," he recalled. "He was too academic. He'd lose the crowd. And I knew something about political theater, after all. The message was simple: Where did this guy come from? Who is he? What's he ever done? ... My whole effort was to make sure that people knew that Barack Obama was being used as a tool of the white liberals. Now, these people later on also helped launch him as a candidate to the U.S. Senate and as President. You cannot deny Obama's brilliance, his disciplined approach. He is a very political guy, very calculating."

The night of his defeat, Obama, speaking to his supporters at the Ramada in Hyde Park, said, "I confess to you, winning is better than losing."

It was not clear that Obama would ever run for office again. Steve Neal, in a column in the Sun-Times Sun-Times, said that Obama would surely be heard from again--maybe he would run for Illinois Attorney General or State Treasurer--but for Obama himself even the prospect of getting Mich.e.l.le's support for another campaign was forbidding. "I've got to make a.s.sessments "I've got to make a.s.sessments about where we go from here," he told his supporters. "We need a new style of politics to deal with the issues that are important to the people. What's not clear to me is whether I should do that as an elected official or by influencing government in ways that actually improve people's lives." about where we go from here," he told his supporters. "We need a new style of politics to deal with the issues that are important to the people. What's not clear to me is whether I should do that as an elected official or by influencing government in ways that actually improve people's lives."

Long after the loss, Obama recalled the sting of it: "It's impossible not to feel at some level as if you have been personally repudiated by the entire community, that you don't quite have what it takes, and that everywhere you go the word 'loser' is flashing through people's minds."

Obama is not given to rages or to depression, but the loss to Bobby Rush was decisive in every way. Years later, Obama told me, "I was completely mortified and humiliated, and felt terrible. The biggest problem in politics is the fear of loss. It's a very public thing, which most people don't have to go through. Obviously, the flip side of publicity and hype is that when you fall, folks are right there, snapping away." Not only had he lost by a margin of more than two-to-one, he had been repeatedly insulted as "not black enough," as dull, professorial, effete. Was he stuck in Springfield? If Bobby Rush couldn't come close to beating Richard Daley, how could he? to rages or to depression, but the loss to Bobby Rush was decisive in every way. Years later, Obama told me, "I was completely mortified and humiliated, and felt terrible. The biggest problem in politics is the fear of loss. It's a very public thing, which most people don't have to go through. Obviously, the flip side of publicity and hype is that when you fall, folks are right there, snapping away." Not only had he lost by a margin of more than two-to-one, he had been repeatedly insulted as "not black enough," as dull, professorial, effete. Was he stuck in Springfield? If Bobby Rush couldn't come close to beating Richard Daley, how could he? In addition to the professional anxieties In addition to the professional anxieties, there were financial ones: thanks to the campaign, Obama was sixty thousand dollars in debt.

"He was very dejected that it might all be over," Abner Mikva said, "and he was thinking how else could he use his talents." Obama began to wonder Obama began to wonder if he, and his family, wouldn't be better off if he didn't have to deal with the "meaner" aspects of political life: "the begging for money, the long drives home after the banquet had run two hours longer than scheduled, the bad food and stale air and clipped phone conversations with a wife who had stuck by me so far but was pretty fed up with raising our children alone and was beginning to question my priorities." if he, and his family, wouldn't be better off if he didn't have to deal with the "meaner" aspects of political life: "the begging for money, the long drives home after the banquet had run two hours longer than scheduled, the bad food and stale air and clipped phone conversations with a wife who had stuck by me so far but was pretty fed up with raising our children alone and was beginning to question my priorities."

Mich.e.l.le Obama also had things to say post-Bobby Rush. She had been against the run in the first place and now she was wondering when her husband would settle down and figure out a practical way of reconciling his family's financial needs and the urge to contribute to the community. She did not see it in electoral politics. The family was hardly poor--their annual income was now more than two hundred thousand dollars--but the fact that they could be living immeasurably better was not lost on either of them. As graduates of Harvard Law School, both Obamas had serious earning potential, and Mich.e.l.le had talked about spending all her time with the family if her husband would only tend to business. "My hope was that "My hope was that, O.K., enough of this," she said, "now let's explore these other avenues for having impact and making a little money so that we could start saving for our future and building up the college fund for our girls."

Mich.e.l.le Obama had long been displeased with the life of a political wife. "She didn't understand Springfield," Dan Sh.o.m.on said. "She worried that he was wasting his time. He could have been making so much money and here he was mired in mediocrity." Barack was always on the move, campaigning, traveling, working in Springfield, teaching, or practicing law, but Mich.e.l.le did not hesitate to make it clear that she expected her husband to do his share at home when he was there. "I found myself subjected "I found myself subjected to endless negotiations about every detail of managing the house, long lists of things that I needed to do or had forgotten to do, and a generally sour att.i.tude," Obama wrote later in his second book, to endless negotiations about every detail of managing the house, long lists of things that I needed to do or had forgotten to do, and a generally sour att.i.tude," Obama wrote later in his second book, The Audacity of Hope The Audacity of Hope. Dan Sh.o.m.on told a reporter Dan Sh.o.m.on told a reporter for for Chicago Chicago magazine that Mich.e.l.le said to her husband, "'O.K., Barack, you're going to do grocery shopping two times a week. You're to pick up Malia. You're going to do blah, blah, blah, and you're responsible for blah, blah, blah.' So he had his a.s.signments, and he never questioned her, never b.i.t.c.hed about it. He said that Mich.e.l.le knows what she's doing--I trust her child rearing and the family rearing." (Sasha, the Obamas' second child, was born in 2001.) magazine that Mich.e.l.le said to her husband, "'O.K., Barack, you're going to do grocery shopping two times a week. You're to pick up Malia. You're going to do blah, blah, blah, and you're responsible for blah, blah, blah.' So he had his a.s.signments, and he never questioned her, never b.i.t.c.hed about it. He said that Mich.e.l.le knows what she's doing--I trust her child rearing and the family rearing." (Sasha, the Obamas' second child, was born in 2001.) Obama certainly could have gone back to the University of Chicago or his law firm. Another option that he considered was leaving the State Senate and becoming the head of the Joyce Foundation, which was built on a great timber fortune and doled out around fifty million dollars a year to community projects in the city.

"It was a sweet job--around a million a year, two country-club memberships, and I thought, Here it is, finally the day that all our hard work would pay off," said Dan Sh.o.m.on, who imagined working as Obama's chief aide at the foundation. "Barack could have given out money to all kinds of good, progressive groups. He went into the interview, though, and his hands were shaking for fear that he would get the job. He knew that if he got it, that was it--he would be out of the game, out of politics."

Obama sparkled in the interview, but, ultimately, both he and the board of directors knew that his heart wasn't in it. "For G.o.d's sake, Barack "For G.o.d's sake, Barack," one of the board members, Richard Donahue, said, "this is a great job. But you don't want it." Relieved, Obama promptly walked away from the foundation world.

"That was the one thing Mich.e.l.le didn't quite understand yet," Sh.o.m.on said. "As much as he complained about Springfield, Barack had the addiction. And the narcotic was politics. He wanted to be an elected official. No matter what, politics completed him as a person, and he wasn't finished with it. Even when Barack was morose, when he was down and out after the race with Bobby, I never thought he would chuck politics. He had to pick up the pieces. But, ultimately, if it hadn't been for that race, there would be no Barack Obama. That was boot camp. That's what got him ready to do what he had to do."

Chapter Nine.

The Wilderness Campaign A month after losing to Bobby Rush, Obama bought a cheap plane ticket and flew to Los Angeles for the Democratic National Convention, where the Party would put forward the ticket of Al Gore and Joe Lieberman. Obama was not a delegate. He had not gained much favor in the Illinois Democratic Party by trying to unseat Rush. He didn't even have a floor credential, but his friends urged him to go and make some contacts. Later, Obama realized that they were trying to get him back on the horse and have some fun. to Bobby Rush, Obama bought a cheap plane ticket and flew to Los Angeles for the Democratic National Convention, where the Party would put forward the ticket of Al Gore and Joe Lieberman. Obama was not a delegate. He had not gained much favor in the Illinois Democratic Party by trying to unseat Rush. He didn't even have a floor credential, but his friends urged him to go and make some contacts. Later, Obama realized that they were trying to get him back on the horse and have some fun.

When Obama arrived at the airport in Los Angeles, he went to the Hertz counter to rent a car only to have his American Express card declined. He finally managed to convince a supervisor that he was good for the money. That may have been his most successful act of persuasion in months. For a couple of days, he watched speeches gazing up at a JumboTron at the Staples Center while thousands of Democrats, many of them in funny hats and all in sure possession of floor pa.s.ses, streamed by him. He made his way into the skyboxes, but he could not get to the floor. He didn't stay long in Los Angeles. in Los Angeles, he went to the Hertz counter to rent a car only to have his American Express card declined. He finally managed to convince a supervisor that he was good for the money. That may have been his most successful act of persuasion in months. For a couple of days, he watched speeches gazing up at a JumboTron at the Staples Center while thousands of Democrats, many of them in funny hats and all in sure possession of floor pa.s.ses, streamed by him. He made his way into the skyboxes, but he could not get to the floor. He didn't stay long in Los Angeles.

Back in Springfield, Obama endured a round of "we-told-you-so"s at his Wednesday poker game. He became even closer to Emil Jones, who told him what had been so clear from the start of the campaign. The First Congressional District was not the right political arena for him. "It was a predominantly African-American district where you had to campaign solely on those issues," Jones said, recalling his conversations with Obama. "And Barack did not campaign that way, so as a result he lost. Which was good."

With time Obama and his small circle of political advisers and operatives began to see the value in having lost to Rush. Obama came to understand his defeat as a political education. He could not match the local appeal of Rush, who, while hardly the n.o.blest exemplar of the civil-rights generation, boasted a historical credibility that Obama, as a man in his late thirties, could not. Rather, Obama, as a member of what he later called the Joshua generation, had a broader, more modern kind of appeal; and, because he had greater access to the elite inst.i.tutions of American life, to Columbia and Harvard, to the liberals and the downtown business establishment, he had a familiar kind of education, an acceptable set of positions, a capacity to attract const.i.tuencies that Rush never would.

"Bobby did us a favor by running the campaign the way he did--it helped define Obama," Al Kindle said. "If Obama had tried to be 'more black' or be more like Rush to beat him, and if he'd been successful, he would have been forever pigeonholed. We already knew that he wasn't a traditional black politician. The race gave him exposure. He was not Harold Washington. He wasn't Bobby Rush. He was a different leader that the community had to grow toward, white and black. There was no model for it yet. The model was the flip side of what Harold couldn't be because the city back then was too divided racially. At this point in history, the city was less overtly racist and we didn't have the same lightning-rod politicians like Eddie Vrdolyak who organized on the basis of race. Obama became the next generation."

It was hard to imagine, in 2000 and 2001, when and how Obama's political second chance would emerge--if ever. Many in the African-American community were searching for the next generation of progressive leaders; the men and women of Rush's generation did not have the capacity to challenge Richard Daley. The situation in the Senate was not especially promising: Richard Durbin was the popular Democratic successor to Paul Simon, and Peter Fitzgerald, a wealthy young Republican, had toppled Carol Moseley Braun after a single term that had been plagued by accusations of ethical misdemeanors. When Fitzgerald's term was up in 2004, Braun could easily run again. Despite bungling her campaign finances and gaining a reputation in some quarters for low-grade corruption, she had far greater name recognition than Obama.

After the loss to Rush, Obama and Dan Sh.o.m.on started traveling around the state again in earnest. According to Sh.o.m.on, between 1997 and 2004, they put in nearly forty thousand miles stopping in at dinners, country fairs, Elks-club meetings, political rallies--any conceivable event that could get him better known in the state.

"In the car, it was just the two of us and we talked about everything, from his marriage to golf to life to women to politics," Sh.o.m.on said. "A lot of it was me listening to his ideas about politics and strategy, and then I thought about how those ideas would fit into reality and how to advance him politically."

Obama quizzed Sh.o.m.on about every political player in the state. He no longer thought about running for mayor: attorney general, governor, U.S. senator---those were the offices on the horizon of his ambition now. In the meantime, he was teaching and legislating, and he even brought in some legal work to his old firm. Obama's friend the African-American entrepreneur Robert Blackwell, Jr., thought there was money to be made in Ping-Pong, what he called "the No. 1 partic.i.p.ation sport in the world." For fourteen months For fourteen months, Blackwell paid Obama's firm a monthly fee of eight thousand dollars to work on contracts. (The deal became a matter of controversy when Obama, in his capacity as Blackwell's state senator, wrote a letter recommending that Blackwell's Ping-Pong firm, Killerspin, receive a tourism grant to help sponsor international tournaments in Chicago.) It was not clear, at first, where all this traveling and exposure would lead, but one thing was clear--that Mich.e.l.le Obama was concerned about what it meant for their future. When Barack called in from the road When Barack called in from the road to report how well a speech had gone, she would, Sh.o.m.on recalled, reply something on the order of, "Malia is sick, so that's what I'm concerned about." to report how well a speech had gone, she would, Sh.o.m.on recalled, reply something on the order of, "Malia is sick, so that's what I'm concerned about."

Obama was not deterred. Mich.e.l.le's practiced dyspepsia was also part of the style of their relationship. She understood his ego and his self-involvement; this was her way of keeping it in check. Although politics was a strain on their relationship, it was never fatal. It is a mistake to make of her in those days, as some accounts have, a cartoonish nag; Mich.e.l.le Obama was also proud of her husband and shared his desire to do good.

"I don't think Barack ever worried that their marriage was going to end," Sh.o.m.on said. "He was worried about his future, if he was electable, if he was going to be stuck in the minority, if Mich.e.l.le was going to be mad at him for this or that. But I never sensed his marriage was really really in trouble." in trouble."

"Without Mich.e.l.le, there is no Barack," Al Kindle said. "He needed her as an image, and, of course, he really loved her. If she hadn't agreed to a political life, he wouldn't have run. A divorce would have killed him. After the congressional race, she wanted to know, 'Where are we going?' She needed him to make a decision. He decided, 'I am going to run one more time.' He was ready to leave the state legislature and he was looking for the next thing. He was evaluating his options. Some of what she was doing was forcing him to figure out what he wanted."

On September 19, 2001, the Hyde Park Herald Herald published a gallery of reactions to the catastrophic terrorist attacks the week before at the World Trade Center in New York, and at the Pentagon. The two Illinois senators, Peter Fitzgerald and Richard Durbin; the House member for Hyde Park, Bobby Rush; the aldermen Toni Preckwinkle and Leslie Hairston; and the state representative Barbara Flynn Currie all provided fairly predictable messages of sympathy and vigilance. In 2001, Obama was still too insignificant a politician to be called on for comment in the national media, but in the published a gallery of reactions to the catastrophic terrorist attacks the week before at the World Trade Center in New York, and at the Pentagon. The two Illinois senators, Peter Fitzgerald and Richard Durbin; the House member for Hyde Park, Bobby Rush; the aldermen Toni Preckwinkle and Leslie Hairston; and the state representative Barbara Flynn Currie all provided fairly predictable messages of sympathy and vigilance. In 2001, Obama was still too insignificant a politician to be called on for comment in the national media, but in the Herald Herald he provided a reaction to the events that is worth quoting in full for its attempt to explore the political meanings of the attacks: he provided a reaction to the events that is worth quoting in full for its attempt to explore the political meanings of the attacks: Even as I hope for some measure of peace and comfort to the bereaved families, I must also hope that we as a nation draw some measure of wisdom from this tragedy. Certain immediate lessons are clear, and we must act upon those lessons decisively. We need to step up security at our airports. We must reexamine the effectiveness of our intelligence networks. And we must be resolute in identifying the perpetrators of these heinous acts and dismantling their organizations of destruction.We must also engage, however, in the more difficult task of understanding the sources of such madness. The essence of this tragedy, it seems to me, derives from a fundamental absence of empathy on the part of the attackers: an inability to imagine, or connect with, the humanity and suffering of others. Such a failure of empathy, such numbness to the pain of a child or the desperation of a parent, is not innate; nor, history tells us, is it unique to a particular culture, religion, or ethnicity. It may find expression in a particular brand of violence, and may be channeled by particular demagogues or fanatics. Most often, though, it grows out of a climate of poverty and ignorance, helplessness and despair.We will have to make sure, despite our rage, that any U.S. military action takes into account the lives of innocent civilians abroad. We will have to be unwavering in opposing bigotry or discrimination directed against neighbors and friends of Middle Eastern descent. Finally, we will have to devote far more attention to the monumental task of raising the hopes and prospects of embittered children across the globe--children not just in the Middle East, but also in Africa, Asia, Latin America, Eastern Europe, and within our own sh.o.r.es.

Years later, in the wake of the invasion of Iraq, of many more incidents of terrorism, of warrantless wiretaps and prisoner abuse, of profiling and intensified security, Obama's comments might seem commonplace. But in the days and weeks after 9/11, any attempt to understand "the sources of such madness," to understand how a young man comes to be a terrorist--how he might be shaped by economic and political despair and the demagoguery of fanatical leaders--was viewed by many with tremendous suspicion, as if an attempt at understanding const.i.tuted a lack of outrage at the terrorists or grief for the thousands of victims. And, in a reaction of just three paragraphs, to raise the question of civilian deaths in any U.S. military action was not at all a common sentiment at the time.

After the Al Qaeda attacks, Obama discovered that his name, never a great advantage in his political races, was, post 9/11, a kind of gruesome punchline. He had scheduled a meeting that month with Eric Adelstein, a media consultant for Democratic political candidates, to talk discreetly about the possibility of running for statewide office--possibly Illinois attorney general or U.S. senator. He had just been crushed by Bobby Rush and was deep in debt. Now his name rhymed with that of the most notorious terrorist alive. "Suddenly Adelstein's interest "Suddenly Adelstein's interest in the meeting had diminished!" Obama told the in the meeting had diminished!" Obama told the Tribune Tribune reporter David Mendell. "We talked about it and he said that the name thing was really going to be a problem for me now." reporter David Mendell. "We talked about it and he said that the name thing was really going to be a problem for me now."

As he waited for his next political opportunity, Obama was determined to be a more engaged legislator in Springfield. He had come a long way. When he first arrived in the State Senate, he struck his colleagues as stiff, academic, arrogant. Over time, he became friendlier, more collegial. He did not radiate, as he once had, a sense of superiority. Obama had studied Bill Clinton on television. He had even watched Rod Blagojevich, a mediocre intellect, but a gifted one-on-one campaigner. "Barack wasn't Mr. Personality when he first got to the State Senate," Dan Sh.o.m.on said. "He learned the Mr. Personality aspect of politics, the charm, only later. He even learned to get around the camera at public events, that you weren't there if you weren't in the picture. He learned ways to bring people toward him." for his next political opportunity, Obama was determined to be a more engaged legislator in Springfield. He had come a long way. When he first arrived in the State Senate, he struck his colleagues as stiff, academic, arrogant. Over time, he became friendlier, more collegial. He did not radiate, as he once had, a sense of superiority. Obama had studied Bill Clinton on television. He had even watched Rod Blagojevich, a mediocre intellect, but a gifted one-on-one campaigner. "Barack wasn't Mr. Personality when he first got to the State Senate," Dan Sh.o.m.on said. "He learned the Mr. Personality aspect of politics, the charm, only later. He even learned to get around the camera at public events, that you weren't there if you weren't in the picture. He learned ways to bring people toward him."

At the same time, Obama became a more effective advocate for serious issues. He was hardly on the left wing of his party, but he spoke out consistently for a moratorium on executions and against racial profiling. Like most Democrats in the legislature, he was especially wary of the conservative-era impulse to slash both social spending and income taxes--a far more concrete specter in the states, where budgets must be balanced. George Ryan, a moderate Republican who was elected governor in 1999, came to office with a glimmer of hope for the Democrats, and Obama was pleased that, in 2000, Ryan put a moratorium on capital punishment. He hoped that this signaled a more progressive trend in Illinois state politics, but in February, 2002, the state faced a budget crisis--a shortfall of more than seven hundred million dollars--and Ryan prepared to cut back on crucial state welfare programs. Writing in the Writing in the Herald Herald, Obama said that the state now faced one of the "paradoxes" of a recession. "The worst thing state government can do during a recession is cut spending," he wrote.

And yet one incident during the Democratic attempt to hang on to as many social-service programs as possible showed that Obama's problems with some of his African-American colleagues were not over. On June 11th, Rickey Hendon made a heartfelt speech on the Senate floor urging that funding for a child-welfare facility in his West Side district be preserved. Hendon had been especially angered by two terrible incidents over the years--the cases of the Keystone 19 and the Huron 12--when children on the West Side were found living in the most desperate conditions. There was no way that Hendon could succeed in his appeal--the Republican majority voted against him--but what surprised him was that Obama voted against him, too. Incensed, Hendon, who sat up front with the minority leadership, headed back to what was known as Liberal Row, where Obama sat with three other Democrats: Terry Link, Lisa Madigan, the daughter of the speaker of the Illinois House, and Carol Ronen, who was particularly active on gay issues.

"Rickey was very upset--screaming and hollering," Terry Link recalled.

Obama tried to calm Hendon down, saying something about keeping spending under control.

"He explained to me that we had to show fiscal responsibility during tough budget times," Hendon recalled. "Before I could ask him about the poor children, I found myself walking back to my seat in a daze. I sat down, like in a daydream, or nightmare, kind of blur, and continued to vote no on cut after cut along with all the Democrats, including Liberal Row. Finally I heard the bill number called for a cut on the South Side in Senator Obama's district. Barack rose to give an emotional speech condemning this particular cut. He asked for compa.s.sion and understanding. Now, this facility they wanted to close was very similar to the one he just voted to close on the West Side. His fiscally prudent vote took place only about ten minutes earlier and now he wants compa.s.sion!" that we had to show fiscal responsibility during tough budget times," Hendon recalled. "Before I could ask him about the poor children, I found myself walking back to my seat in a daze. I sat down, like in a daydream, or nightmare, kind of blur, and continued to vote no on cut after cut along with all the Democrats, including Liberal Row. Finally I heard the bill number called for a cut on the South Side in Senator Obama's district. Barack rose to give an emotional speech condemning this particular cut. He asked for compa.s.sion and understanding. Now, this facility they wanted to close was very similar to the one he just voted to close on the West Side. His fiscally prudent vote took place only about ten minutes earlier and now he wants compa.s.sion!"

Hendon got up to speak and called out Obama on the floor of the Senate: HENDON: I just want to say to the last speaker, you got a lot of nerve to talk about being responsible and then you voted for closing the [Department of Children and Family Services] office on the West Side, when you wouldn't have voted to close it on the South Side. So I apologize to my Republican friends about my--bipartisanship comments, 'cause clearly there's some Democrats on this side of the aisle that don't care about the West Side either, especially the last speaker.PRESIDING OFFICER (SENATOR WATSON): Senator Obama, do you wish to speak? Senator Obama.OBAMA: Thank you, Mr. President. I understand Senator Hendon's anger at--actually--the--I was not aware that I had voted No on that last piece of legislation. I would have the record record that I intended to vote Yes. On the other hand, I would appreciate that next time my dear colleague, Senator Hendon, ask me about a vote before he names me on the floor.

After Obama attempted, in vain, to have his vote changed, he angrily walked toward Hendon's seat on Leaders Row. As Hendon recalls it As Hendon recalls it, Obama "stuck his jagged, strained face into my s.p.a.ce" and told him, "You embarra.s.sed me on the Senate floor and if you ever do it again I will kick your a.s.s!"

"What?"

"You heard me," Obama said, "and if you come back here by the telephones, where the press can't see it, I will kick your a.s.s right now!"

The two men walked off the floor of the Senate to a small antechamber in the back. In Hendon's self-dramatizing version of the incident In Hendon's self-dramatizing version of the incident, the confrontation got physical and came just short of a real fight with Emil Jones dispatching Donne Trotter to break things up before they descended to the level of the World Wide Wrestling Federation. Terry Link and Denny Jacobs say that Hendon has hyped the incident--that Obama never cursed at Hendon and that no blows were exchanged--but no one denies it was an emotional schoolyard confrontation that could have gotten out of hand.

In Black Enough/White Enough Black Enough/White Enough: The Obama Dilemma The Obama Dilemma, an often bitter book, Hendon writes that the incident proved that Obama was "bipartisan enough and white enough to be President of the United States." It also proved, in his dubious a.n.a.lysis, that Obama was sufficiently tough to occupy the Oval Office. "If we were attacked by terrorists, would he pull the trigger?" he wrote. "There's no doubt that he would." When asked what would have happened if Trotter and others hadn't separated the two men, he said, "I don't think anybody walking the face of the earth can whup me! It probably would have been the end of my career if I'd lost because of the neighborhood I represent. That's the kind of fight it would have been. Thank G.o.d cooler heads prevailed. I couldn't go back to the West Side getting beat up by a guy from Harvard. Or from the South Side. I would have been through." Such, on occasion, was the level of debate in Springfield, Illinois. And Barack Obama was eager to leave it behind.

That same month, in June, 2002, Obama was campaigning for Milorad (Rod) Blagojevich, then a two-term congressman, who was the Democratic candidate for governor. The son of a Serbian-born steelworker from the Northwest Side, Blagojevich had been an indifferent law student at Pepperdine ("I barely knew where the law library was") and got his political start through his father-in-law, an alderman named Richard Mell. In 2002, Blagojevich was one of eighty-one Democrats in the House of Representatives who voted to authorize the use of force in Iraq. In the gubernatorial primary, Blagojevich had defeated the former state attorney general, Roland Burris, and the Chicago schools head, Paul Vallas. Obama had supported Burris in the primary but turned his support to Blagojevich in the general election. was") and got his political start through his father-in-law, an alderman named Richard Mell. In 2002, Blagojevich was one of eighty-one Democrats in the House of Representatives who voted to authorize the use of force in Iraq. In the gubernatorial primary, Blagojevich had defeated the former state attorney general, Roland Burris, and the Chicago schools head, Paul Vallas. Obama had supported Burris in the primary but turned his support to Blagojevich in the general election. Rahm Emanuel, who was then Rahm Emanuel, who was then a member of the House, told Ryan Lizza of a member of the House, told Ryan Lizza of The New Yorker The New Yorker that he and Obama "partic.i.p.ated in a small group that met weekly when Rod was running for governor.... We basically laid out the general election, Barack and I and these two." ( that he and Obama "partic.i.p.ated in a small group that met weekly when Rod was running for governor.... We basically laid out the general election, Barack and I and these two." (Blagojevich's campaign adviser, David Wilhelm, refined Emanuel's remarks later, telling Jake Tapper of ABC that Obama was a member of an advisory council, not one of the princ.i.p.al strategists.) Years later, when Blagojevich was facing federal corruption charges, Obama was circ.u.mspect about his relations with him, but during the campaign he proved a loyal party man. Appearing in June, 2002 Appearing in June, 2002, on Jeff Berkowitz's local cable show ("Berkowitz is my name, politics is our game"), Obama said, "Right now, my main focus is to make sure that we elect Rod Blagojevich as Governor."

BERKOWITZ: You working hard for Rod?OBAMA: You betcha.BERKOWITZ: Hot Rod?OBAMA: That's exactly right. You know, I think having a Democratic governor will make a big difference. I think that I am working hard to get a Democratic senate and Emil Jones president, replacing Pate Philip, and once all that clears out in November, then I think we'll be able to make some good decisions about the [U.S.] Senate race.

In effect, Obama was closing his eyes and thinking of the Democratic Party. "He and Blagojevich had no relationship at all," Pete Giangreco, a direct-mail consultant who was working then for Blagojevich, said. "They came from two different planets politically. Barack was Hyde Park and the University of Chicago. Rod was an admitted C-student who had a not even thinly veiled contempt for intellectuals. He hated anyone from the North Sh.o.r.e or Hyde Park and he wore his contempt as a badge of honor. And there was some racial politics mixed up in there, too. They were not allies."

In 2001, Richard Durbin, the state's senior senator, hosted a group of Democratic Party activists and politicians. For the occasion, Dan Sh.o.m.on printed up b.u.t.tons reading "Obama: Statewide in 2002." But what statewide office did he and Obama have in mind? Lisa Madigan, Obama's friend on Liberal Row, was a likely candidate for attorney general. Peter Fitzgerald's seat in the U.S. Senate was the only attractive possibility. Fitzgerald had got into battles with his own party in both Washington and Springfield, but so far he showed no sign of stepping aside and the fact of the family's enormous banking fortune meant that he was perfectly capable of financing another race.

With the 2002 elections just over a month away, Obama confided to Abner Mikva that he was thinking about taking a run at Fitzgerald's U.S. Senate seat in 2004. Mikva told him, "You have to talk to the Jackson boys first." Jesse, Jr., who had won a seat in the House, in 1995, was also thinking about the Senate, Mikva said. Obama said he knew: "I'm working on that." At a lunch at 312, an Italian restaurant on LaSalle, Obama told Jackson that if Jackson was running he would not. Not to worry, Jackson replied; he was staying in the House. just over a month away, Obama confided to Abner Mikva that he was thinking about taking a run at Fitzgerald's U.S. Senate seat in 2004. Mikva told him, "You have to talk to the Jackson boys first." Jesse, Jr., who had won a seat in the House, in 1995, was also thinking about the Senate, Mikva said. Obama said he knew: "I'm working on that." At a lunch at 312, an Italian restaurant on LaSalle, Obama told Jackson that if Jackson was running he would not. Not to worry, Jackson replied; he was staying in the House.

By the late summer of 2002, the Bush Administration was intensifying its public rhetoric about an invasion of Iraq. On September 12th On September 12th, Bush went to the General a.s.sembly of the United Nations and declared, "If Iraq's regime defies us again, the world must move deliberately, decisively to hold Iraq to account. We will work with the U.N. Security Council for the necessary resolutions. But the purposes of the United States should not be doubted." Within a month, he would have the support of Congress to use force in Iraq.

On September 21st, Bettylu Saltzman, Obama's wealthy friend and patron on the near North Side, was having dinner with her husband and two other couples at a Vietnamese restaurant downtown called Pasteur. Saltzman, by then, had eight grandchildren and had not been to an antiwar rally of any kind since Vietnam, but as the group discussed their despair at the Administration's obvious desire to send troops to Iraq, Saltzman said, "We've got to do something!" Early the next morning, she called an old friend who might know how to put together a rally: Marilyn Katz, a raspy-voiced, chain-smoking raconteur, who had been a leader of S.D.S. in her youth and now ran a communications firm that regularly won contracts with Mayor Daley. Part of Richard Daley's Machiavellian skill had been to modernize the Chicago political structure, removing its mailed fist but retaining its toleration of corruption in the name of making things work. Daley's loss to Harold Washington in 1983 had taught him that he could not govern in opposition to the African-American community; he had to bring African-Americans into the process. By making City Hall more inclusive, by doing business with people his father could not tolerate--African-Americans, Hispanics, Lakefront liberals, old leftists like Marilyn Katz and Bill Ayers, and independent Democrats--he built a far broader coalition. In 1989, just weeks after winning his first of six mayoral elections, Daley became the first Chicago mayor to march in the city's annual Gay Pride parade. In Richard M. Daley's Chicago, a city of strange bedfellows, it was only natural that a wealthy liberal like Bettylu Saltzman would find an ally in an ex-radical like Marilyn Katz.

"Marilyn is a very good organizer, I am not," Saltzman said. "So I woke her up."

"Thank G.o.d you called," Katz said, and the two talked about how to proceed.

Two days later, the two women convened a meeting of about a dozen people at Saltzman's penthouse apartment, including a number of veteran left-wing activists, Michael Klonsky and Carl Davidson, and Rhona Hoffman, who ran a well-known art gallery. "We all took a.s.signments," Saltzman said. Robert Howard, a local attorney, got permission to use Federal Plaza on South Dearborn at midday on October 2nd. Marilyn Katz and Davidson, another S.D.S. veteran, knew that with a well-aimed e-mail spray they could get a core of left-wing groups to come to Federal Plaza. Then they tried to a.s.semble a list of speakers, which included Jesse Jackson, Sr., and various clergy and local politicians. Saltzman called John Mearsheimer, a political scientist at the University of Chicago, but he already had a speaking engagement in Wisconsin. Later in the week, she called Barack Obama at home. Mich.e.l.le answered and said she would give him the message.

"I finally spoke to him on Monday for a Tuesday rally," she recalled. "Few knew who he was. The only people who really knew him were in Hyde Park, people who were his friends and a.s.sociates."

Saltzman called on Obama simply because she had a sense that he had a future. "I didn't know him as well as Valerie Jarrett and Marty Nesbitt did. I am a North Sider. I'm white. It's a different group of people. I don't really know what he had in place. I just had this instinct about him."

Before agreeing to speak at the rally, Obama called a few trusted friends to discuss the political ramifications. He had already commissioned a benchmark poll to explore a Senate run and was fairly sure he was going to do it. For a Hyde Park politician, the risk of speaking was mild--at the university both the left and many on the right opposed an invasion of Iraq--but the issue got more complicated the farther away you went from Chicago. "Nationally, the conventional wisdom was to support the war," Will Burns said. "The war hadn't started yet, there was lots of triumphalism, lots of talk about mushroom clouds. If you are running for Senate, there's the chance of looking 'soft on terror.' This was just a year after 9/11."

Pete Giangreco, who had agreed to advise Obama and do his direct-mail campaign for a potential Senate campaign, got a call from Obama to discuss the invitation to speak. "The war was pretty popular then," Giangreco said. "Opposing it wouldn't be a problem in the primary, but it could be a really big problem in a general election. All kinds of people might have a problem with being 'soft': Reagan Democrats, downscale ethnic folks in Chicago, and people downstate who didn't live in college towns. Talking from a targeting standpoint, I said we already had a challenge with these folks. His name, Barack Obama, was different different and not very helpful, and, while Roland Burris and Carol Moseley Braun had won statewide races, it's always a challenge for an African-American. So I said, 'You might be able to capture the folks on the left who are against this war, and against and not very helpful, and, while Roland Burris and Carol Moseley Braun had won statewide races, it's always a challenge for an African-American. So I said, 'You might be able to capture the folks on the left who are against this war, and against any any war, frankly, but there were all the others to take into account.' He just took it all in. He finally said, 'Well, my instinct is to do this.' And my reaction was 'If this is what you really believe, you'll score huge points for courage and saying what you think.'" war, frankly, but there were all the others to take into account.' He just took it all in. He finally said, 'Well, my instinct is to do this.' And my reaction was 'If this is what you really believe, you'll score huge points for courage and saying what you think.'"

"Politically, the reason why Barack's political advisers were saying it was a good idea for him to speak was because the coalition he needed to get elected was blacks and liberals, and he wasn't going to get liberals if he was supporting Bush in the war," Chris Sautter, Obama's media consultant in the 2000 congressional race, said. As Obama talked it through further with Giangreco, Sh.o.m.on, and David Axelrod, he concluded that he could devise a rhetorical construction that would express his opposition to an invasion of Iraq without making him seem disqualifyingly weak on terror.

In defiance of the weather report, on October 2nd, the sun was shining. People milled around the speaker's platform holding up antiwar signs. Estimates of the crowd ranged from the Tribune's Tribune's "about 1,000" to the Chicago "about 1,000" to the Chicago Defender's Defender's "nearly 3,000." The organizers thought it was somewhere in the middle. Some of the trappings of the demonstration were comically reminiscent of earlier times. While the old John Lennon tune "Give Peace a Chance" played on the public-address system, Obama leaned over to Saltzman and said, "Can't they play something else?" "nearly 3,000." The organizers thought it was somewhere in the middle. Some of the trappings of the demonstration were comically reminiscent of earlier times. While the old John Lennon tune "Give Peace a Chance" played on the public-address system, Obama leaned over to Saltzman and said, "Can't they play something else?"

The Tribune Tribune reporter at the rally reporter at the rally, Bill Glauber, described the crowd as a combination of college students, veterans of the anti-Vietnam War movement, and "a few second-generation activists following in the wake of parents radicalized by Vietnam." Bill Ayers was there; so were most of the board members from the Woods Foundation and students from Northwestern and other colleges in the area. Remarking on the calm atmosphere at the rally, Glauber said that it "wasn't a replay of the Days of Rage--it was more like a gentle call to arms for a nascent peace movement desperate to head off a new Gulf War."

The demonstration lasted less than an hour. Marilyn Katz read a statement from Senator Durbin, who had come out in opposition to the war: "When the Senate votes this week on President Bush's resolution to wage war against Iraq with preemptive force, I will vote no. I do not believe the Bush Administration has answered one simple question: Why now?"

By 2002 in Chicago, Jesse Jackson, Sr., was viewed, even by longtime allies, black and white, with mixed feelings. People paid tribute to his work in the civil-rights movement and to his historic Presidential campaigns in 1984 and 1988, but they were also weary of his penchant for self-centeredness. Obama's relationship with Jackson was never entirely warm, despite the fact that Mich.e.l.le Obama had grown up as a close friend of the family. The point of conflict, even early on, was simple: Jackson tended to treat young black politicians in Chicago with wariness, at best, and Obama, while he respected Jackson, also saw him as vain and out of date. Nevertheless, Jackson remained a reliable speaker against the Bush Administration, and he performed well that day.

"This is a rally to stop a war from occurring," Jackson said, and then he asked the crowd to look at the sky and count to ten. Looking down again, Jackson said, "I just diverted your attention away from the rally. That's what George Bush is doing. The sky is not falling and we're not threatened by Saddam Hussein." Jackson accused the Administration of trying to divert public attention, above all, from its economic failures. from occurring," Jackson said, and then he asked the crowd to look at the sky and count to ten. Looking down again, Jackson said, "I just diverted your attention away from the rally. That's what George Bush is doing. The sky is not falling and we're not threatened by Saddam Hussein." Jackson accused the Administration of trying to divert public attention, above all, from its economic failures.

In addition to Jackson and Obama, the speakers included the Reverend Paul Rutgers, the executive director of the Council of Religious Leaders of Metropolitan Chicago, and a former state senator, Jesus Garcia.

Obama's speech, which ran just a few minutes, was an exquisitely calibrated rhetorical performance, signaling both his opposition to war with Iraq and a willingness to use force when necessary. It was a speech intended as much to a.s.su