But after a rocky first event in Ames, that story line faded away. His morning press conference seemed less of a farce and more of a prediction. At the town halls in Mason City and Cedar Falls, he loosened up and delivered enthusiastic stump speeches to rooms that, despite Rudy Giuliani's widening lead in early polls, were packed with hundreds of receptive party activists. There were a few catcalls about McCain's stance on immigration, but the mostly elderly crowd applauded his pledges to cut back spending and govern in the spirit of Ronald Reagan.
When he climbed back on the bus, McCain really began to hit his stride, powered by a considerable appetite for Fritos and chocolate candies. "Anything you want to talk about," he offered to his interrogators. "One of the fundamental principles of the bus is that there is no such thing as a dumb question," he added later. So, of course, the scribblers launched into a series of questions that most presidential candidates would frown upon, and he ducked and weaved with a sort of glee. Had he ever dressed in drag? "No ... At the Naval Academy, it was frowned on." What about the morality of homosexuality? "I just don't think it's the purview of public policy." And what if one of your children was gay? "That really is a family matter." What about the vice president's lesbian daughter having a child? "No opinion."
On a dozen other issues, however, he did weigh in, providing insights seldom offered by other candidates. What about his temper? "I was mad in South Carolina," he said of his 2000 campaign, when Bush unleashed a torrent of negative attacks. "It hurt me and it showed. People don't like angry candidates." So how could he now stand on a stage with Bush or leaders of the Christian right who had campaigned against him? "My life has been one of reconciliation. Reverend Falwell came to my office and said, 'I want to put our differences behind us.'" What did he think of Sen. Ted Kennedy, a boogeyman for many in his party? "Frankly I've enjoyed working with him because his word is good." Has Bush failed to address global warming? "I just think it's a failure of the entire administration." Would he sign Grover Norquist's no-new-taxes pledge? "I don't think I am required to sign any pledge of Mr. Norquist's."
Then came what seemed, at first, like a softball question. What has Bush done right? "Tax cuts. The effort to make tax cuts permanent." He faltered. "I know there are many others. I'm just drawing a blank." A moment later he recovered, listing off HIV drug funding in Africa, No Child Left Behind and something about national parks. As for his praise for Bush's tax cuts, he didn't immediately acknowledge the irony. He voted against them in 2001, but now says they must be continued because he opposes tax increases. What about the war in Iraq? "The mishandling of this war staggers the imagination."
The last time McCain ran for president he started with a van in New Hampshire, not a rock star's bus in Iowa. McCain was a long shot in 2000, with no real money and a jury-rigged campaign. Now he is a front-runner, with an organization that more resembles Wal-Mart in its size and scope. He is also seven years older, entering his eighth decade, and the times have changed around him. His conservative voting record remains unchanged, with constant support for pro-life positions. At the same time, he remains a self-marketed maverick in Congress, butting heads with the White House on campaign finance reform, global warming, pork barrel spending and a bill that bans torture. He voted in favor of stem-cell research and against a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage, saying the issue should be left to the states. But on the issue that matters most, the Iraq war, he is on the wrong side of the popular polls.
Back in 2000, when he was riding high, he used to tell town hall audiences, "I will never be driven by a poll in conduct of American security policy. I promise you that." Now that statement has been put to a test. He has become the most vocal national supporter of the so-called surge in Iraq. As the campaign continues, the war's critics will blame him, as much as Bush, for every new body bag that comes home, for every news cycle that suggests again that the war is lost. McCain knows it. Weaver knows it. "We pray like all Americans that the Petraeus strategy works. But if it doesn't, there will be a political price to pay," said Weaver, the campaign's top strategist, referring to the general now in charge of Iraq. "I don't worry about it. There's nothing I can do."
On the trail, McCain claims repeatedly that the Iraq war can be won. To hear him tell it, his support of the surge is a matter of integrity, unconnected to the fact that polls show that around 70 percent of Republicans primary voters still feel invading Iraq was the right decision. It is a campaign theme he will no doubt take into the general election, if he wins the nomination, telling every crowd he meets that he is willing to lose the White House if it means winning the war. "The irony of ironies," he said on the bus. "I was the biggest complainer about how it was being conducted at the time. But life is not fair." When he spoke to the packed crowds in Ames, Mason City and Cedar Falls, Iraq was the first issue he brought up. "We have to begin our conversation with the war in Iraq," he said, a line that other Republican candidates are not likely to copy. "I am convinced that if we lose this conflict and leave, they will follow us home."
Next page: "There is no way that he can hold up under a year's worth of questions like this"