Scoping out the volunteers
By JOEL STEIN AND ROMESH RATNESAR
Sure, you could decide whom to vote for by listening to the candidates speak and reading their position papers, but wouldn't it be easier if there were armies of political-science majors who did all the sorting and thinking for you?
There are. They're the college-age campaign volunteers in New Hampshire, and if you simply decide which group of them you like best — voila, there's your candidate.
As a service guide, we have figured out the volunteers' lifestyles, as defined by where they shop (Banana Republic or Salvation Army?), what they read (Noam Chomsky or the New Republic?) and what music they listen to (edgy rapper 50 Cent or sensitive Britpoppers Coldplay?).
Each campaign conforms to crude stereotypes. The biggest campaign corps belongs to Howard Dean, whose volunteers are overwhelmingly white and mostly female.
They wear old clothes, exude a crunchy vibe and spend a lot of time on the dating website Friendster.com. They're basically the rich kids on campus who pretend they have no money (the Dean campaign parking lot is full of SUVs and Saabs). It's their insularity — plus the Saabs — that make them universally hated among the other volunteers.
Wesley Clark's volunteers are predominately male and haven't showered in days, and many look like they're still working through their Y2K provisions. The Clark campaign also boasts the only volunteer dog, an underfed beagle named Truman.
The future lobbyists are at John Kerry's headquarters, where things hum along like a '90s Internet start-up run by well-dressed New Republic readers.
The sweet-natured, churchgoing college interns at the Richard Gephardt campaign are far outnumbered by the brawny volunteer ironworkers.
Joe Lieberman's nerdy, beleaguered staff, which is the best-liked in town, works out of the most squalid office.
Dennis Kucinich's volunteers — smart misfits who live in a co-op and make decisions by consensus — oddly get along best with the John Edwards folks, who are preppy, racially diverse, good-looking Southern jocks.
Before she dropped out last week, Carol Moseley Braun had exactly one campaign volunteer, McLane Heckman, 15, who used his allowance to print bumper stickers and laminate signs at Kinko's. Heckman has been contacted about joining the Kerry campaign. "I haven't been wowed yet," he says. "But once I make my decision, I'm going to milk it for all its worth."
Copyright © 2004 Time Inc.
