Barack Obama, working-class hero?

Still, if Obama is going to break free of the demographic trap Clinton hopes to set for him here, Casey isn't a bad way to start. A pro-life Irish Catholic from Scranton, Casey appeals to exactly the same type of voters who loved his father, the late ex-Gov. Bob Casey Sr.: socially conservative, economically populist, working-class white ethnics. In most states, they're called Reagan Democrats. Here, as one Obama aide emphasized, "they're called Casey Democrats." The endorsement came out of the blue late last week, as Casey had said he'd remain neutral until after the primary. The campaign managed to keep it secret for a few days, until hours before Casey joined Obama to kick off the bus tour. Casey doesn't bring the kind of street-level organization that Gov. Ed Rendell, a Clinton backer, has, so no one expects voters to suddenly fall in line just because Casey says to do so. But Obama strategists think he might persuade people who haven't paid much attention to the race to take a look at their guy. Just as important, the campaign insists he will signal to other superdelegates that Obama could appeal to Casey Democrats after all, no matter what happens in the primary. Casey is as cautious as first-term senators get; if Obama was as weak here as Clinton says he is, the endorsement might not have happened now.

The Obama campaign's theory -- that the more you see him, the more you like him -- has seemed to hold true in earlier states. "I think that in and of itself, just his presence, will mean a lot," said Rick Gray, the mayor of Lancaster, Pa., in Amish country, where Obama's tour will stop Monday. Gray is on Obama's statewide steering committee (like Harris, the Steelers legend). "The agenda he's laid out for the next few days takes him right through the heart of Pennsylvania, and right where all the people are." At Altoona's Original Texas Hot Dogs, where the most expensive item on the menu -- a fish sandwich, in case you're curious -- costs $2.15, Obama seemed to stir the couple of dozen people who were sitting and eating when he walked in Saturday for an "off-the-record," campaign jargon for an unannounced, but still carefully planned, stop. "I haven't quite made up my mind, but after this, I think he's pretty down to earth," said Bob Burchfield, 71, a retired utility worker from nearby Clearfield County. On Friday, Obama swung by the Edgar Thompson Works in Braddock, the oldest working steel plant in the country, and seemed to have a shot at the workers' votes. "I think he's standing with us," said Bill Filus, the legislative director of United Steelworkers Local 1219M. He was still undecided, but open to Obama, depending on his trade policy. Filus didn't like NAFTA, so he didn't like Bill or Hillary Clinton much, but he did like both Caseys. "We've heard a lot of rhetoric over the years ... I want action, I want to see commitment."

Even so, Pennsylvania is an enormous state, with more than 4 million registered Democrats. If literally every person Obama personally meets between now and April 22 votes for him, it still won't make much difference in the final result. The bus tour is a sort of ersatz retail politics, designed more to get Obama on local TV as a regular guy (eating hot dogs, drinking beer, bowling) than to persuade people through one-on-one conversations as in Iowa or New Hampshire.

In the end, though, that's OK with Obama's aides. He may be behind in Pennsylvania, as Casey never failed to remind crowds over the weekend, declaring that the state, like Obama in the state, is an underdog. So what? He's still ahead in the polls that his Chicago HQ argues should count most -- the delegate tally. Winning Pennsylvania, in spite of Rendell, in spite of the years both Clintons have spent campaigning here, might knock Hillary out of the race. But with Clinton running out of room to make up ground, just keeping it close could set Obama up for another spare down the line.

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