Fred Thompson is just like you

The newest Republican presidential contender tells Iowans he's a regular guy with no real ambition who happens to be seeking the most powerful job in the world.

By Michael Scherer

Read more: Republican Party, George W. Bush, Rudy Giuliani, Ronald Reagan, John McCain, Politics, News, Mike Huckabee, Fred Thompson, Michael Scherer, 2008 election, Mitt Romney

Photo: AP/David Lienemann

Fred Thompson talks to the audience at an event in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on Sept. 8.

Sept. 10, 2007 | MASON CITY, Iowa -- The ol' Southern lawyer Freddie Dalton Thompson stands before two stuffed chickens and a fake white picket fence, where a plastic grapevine pretends to grow at the end of a phony Main Street. He's here to tell a crowd of a couple hundred that he is the real thing, a small-town boy who never had much ambition, who never grew up wanting to be president, who still doesn't know where he stands on many issues -- but ain't America a wonderful country.

"My story is just another American story," says the former senator, his baritone Tennessee drawl rounding the edges of his words. "Growing up in a town that wasn't quite this big. My folks came in off the farm. Didn't get a chance to go to high school or any further education. Had to go to work. Became the most wonderful parents anybody could have. Because they really saw in me a little more than I saw in myself sometimes."

Thompson goes on like this for about 20 minutes, keeping the crowd's interest, even though they are squeezed in like matchsticks at one end of Music Man Square, an indoor museum built to celebrate the musical of the same name. "I've seen America from every vantage point. I've seen it from the factory floor on the graveyard shift," he says. "I've been able to dine in foreign capitals with foreign leaders all over the world."

His speech patterns are hypnotic and calming. He paces back and forth, looking at shoes as often as faces. Nothing is forced, emotional or too complex. He explains his decision to abandon a lucrative acting career for the world's most difficult job, presidential candidate, as if he woke up one morning and decided to put down the whiskey bottle for his family. "I could sit back and read somebody else's script and maybe clip coupons once in a while," he says. "Or I could step up."

He chose the latter, however hesitantly, leading to his Republican campaign announcement on "The Tonight Show" last Wednesday, followed by a chartered bus tour of Iowa's browning cornfields -- three days, six events, about as many folksy aphorisms as there are catfish in a Mississippi mud pond. The crowds weren't as big as they might have been, and the press generally panned his performances on the stump for being rambling and subdued. Fresh memories also remained from the comedy of campaign errors that preceded his announcement, as he cycled through a cavalcade of campaign managers and press secretaries, dismissing the latest one just days before the announcement.

But anybody who mistakes this nascent campaign for a fluke or a flight of fancy just doesn't understand America as well as Freddie Thompson does. Set Thompson up against the current Republican field and you'll get the idea. There is Willard Mitt Romney, a cyborg-like ex-governor, who is tough to take at face value, if only because he keeps changing his mind so he can say the right thing. There is Rudolph William Louis Giuliani, an odd and commanding New Yorker with a strange accent and a pro-choice record, who doesn't actually spend much time campaigning. There is John Sidney McCain III, a war hero with no money and an immigration problem, who everyone seems to think is yesterday's news. And there is Michael Dale Huckabee, a funny former governor and Baptist preacher, who is still struggling to convince people he can stare down bin Laden.

Add Thompson's 6-foot, 5-inch frame to the mix, and his advantage is clear. He is new to the game, and unlike all these politicians who try so hard, he is just like you. He even says so on the stump. "Let's get right to the chase," he told a crowd in Sioux City on Friday. "The main question that you have a right to know from me is why I'm running for president. And the answer is pretty simple. I'm just like you are."

If this sounds hokey, that's beside the point. If it sounds hypocritical, coming from a rich former lobbyist and actor who lives in one of the nation's toniest towns, McLean, Va., the crowds in Iowa didn't seem to notice. In fact, they ate it up. Presidential campaigns are often spoken of as contests of ideas, but more often they play out as contests of charisma. Voters don't choose the song as much as they choose the singer. No one would have listened to "Baby One More Time" if Britney Spears didn't look like Britney Spears. Even Thompson's rivals have to admit that the guy sure knows how to play his own part, large, lumbering, world-weary and cigar smoking. Never mind the issues.

"It really doesn't matter what issue is at hand as long as he has the fundamentals and the principles to make the right decision," one Republican voter, a maintenance man named Chris Enos, told me after Thompson spoke in Cedar Rapids on Saturday. "He's everybody's dad. He's everybody's grandpa. He just is a likable person."

Video: On the road with Fred Thompson

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