Bowling for votes in Wisconsin

Skowronski is a Clinton supporter -- "I just listen to her all the time and I think she'd make a good president" -- which has led to more high-volume discussions across the bar.

"Politics, you can get to arguing about that," she said. "We got one guy, he'd vote for Hitler if he was on the Republican ticket. I told him this place was gonna be Hillary Clinton headquarters, and he got so mad he slammed the door."

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It was a Friday evening, during Lent, so the cars were backed up at the drive-through window of the American Serb Hall, which claims the largest fish fry in America.

"Fifteen hundred dinners a night," boasted manager Bob Milkovich, who sports an Eastern European accent and a Serbian Eagle ring that bulges from his finger like a gold-plated knuckle. "On Good Friday, we served 480 pounds of fish and 55 gallons of tartar sauce."

Serb Hall is also Milwaukee's classic political venue. In "Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72," Hunter S. Thompson caught George Wallace's act here.

"They say if you want to become the president, you have to go to Serb Hall," Milkovich said. "This is kind of a blue-collar, Democratic Midwest kind of facility. Going back to Eisenhower, the only president who hasn't been here is George W. I tried. Reagan was here in '84. Humphrey. George H.W. Bush, the old man, was in the bowling alley and he fell down. It was on presidential bloopers."

McCain would be speaking in the Hall of Presidents, which was decorated with oil paintings of every visitor, and fragrant with sizzling cod. Outside the hall, a group of College Republicans were clutching calendars devoted to their political pinup. They'd road-tripped down from the University of Wisconsin -- Whitewater, not Madison, although the Obamamania is just as bad, said Ashley Carrington. It's the latest campus fad, like phone-booth stuffing in the '50s, draft-card burning in the '60s, hacky sack in the '80s, and Facebook last year.

"I try to talk to people about McCain, but a lot of them are closed-minded," said Carrington, who likes McCain because "I have quite a few friends and family over in Iraq, and I don't think it's fair to them to leave. I think we owe it to the people over there not to blow up their country and leave."

McCain slipped into the fish fry while the Republicans were reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, facing a flag at the far end of the hall. When they turned around, there on the dais was the 5-foot-7 McCain, half-hidden by a pair of state legislators.

After former Wisconsin Gov. Tommy Thompson ripped into Republicans who think McCain isn't conservative enough -- "John McCain is pro-life!" -- the candidate told a fish joke.

"I notice we're having fried fish tonight, and it's wonderful, and it's a great Serbian custom. I'd like to ask you if you know the difference between a lawyer and a catfish? One is a scum-sucking bottom dweller, and the other is a fish."

Most of the Republicans I talked to at Serb Hall named national security as the most important issue in this year's election. So McCain attacked the House of Representatives for failing to renew the Protect America Act, which gives the government authority to monitor foreign calls without a warrant.

"In case you didn't notice, the House of Representatives decided to close down and leave town when we had not reauthorized this nation's ability to monitor communications of the people who are dedicated to destroying everything we stand for and believe in," McCain said.

The crowd groaned and booed.

The last Republican to carry Wisconsin was Ronald Reagan, whose picture hung behind McCain, glowing under the stage lamps. McCain promised to be the next, promised to take the fight to the Democrats in every state, and on every issue.

"My friends, they want to raise taxes. I want to lower taxes. They want the government to take over the healthcare system in America --"

"No!" the diners cried. "No!"

"-- I want American families to decide. We're going to talk about national security -- whether you want to set a date for withdrawal and surrender in Iraq, or whether you're going to support this great general and all the young men and women who are succeeding."

McCain left to a standing ovation, but he didn't shake hands, or sign autographs. Republicans aren't smitten with McCainia, said Beau Moore, a circuit-board salesman from Brookfield, but that's because they're less gushy than Democrats.

"I would like to think that Republicans are more grounded, practical, pragmatic," Moore said. "Democrats, especially those followers of Obama, are fanciful, non-realistic swallowers of vague, vacuous platitudes. They're just trite statements that mean absolutely nothing."

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"We told Bill that Hillary will not win Wisconsin unless she comes to Kenosha," declared Brian Miller, the local Democratic party chairman.

Miller was standing on the floor of the Brat Stop, a restaurant that serves six styles of bratwurst, and even has its own cheese shop, with display cases full of pecan cheddar, pepper jack and cheese curds -- cubes so fresh they squeak when rubbed together. The Brat Stop sits on Highway 50, known locally as the 50-yard-line, because it divides Bears fans and Packer fans. It ought to be Hillary country. A blue-collar town, Kenosha has lost the Snap-On tool factory, the Chrysler factory and the Jockey underwear factory. It now survives as a commuter suburb for Chicagoans seeking cheap housing.

Ron Frederick, president of the Kenosha AFL-CIO Central Labor Council, worked 32 years as a crane operator at the American Brass foundry.

"You know what it is now?" he said, indignantly. "A grocery store."

The Brat Stop was packed to its balconies. Heavyset men and women in quilted XL jackets held signs reading "Madam President" and "Hillary's the One." A woman dressed as the Statue of Liberty -- complete with silver face paint -- clung to a pillar.

When Clinton walked into the restaurant, preceded by her Secret Service detail, the room was ecstatic. These people had known her for 15 years, they'd missed her in the White House for seven years, and everyone wanted a handshake, or an autograph.

Clinton is a FIB from way back, but a lot of Kenoshans grew up in Illinois, or work there, so no one minded.

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