Gore Is Trying to Shed
His Vice Presidential Persona
By JEANNE CUMMINGS
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL


MANCHESTER, N.H. -- About a dozen Teamsters are shivering on their picket
line outside the Overnite Transportation plant when an 18-vehicle motorcade
barrels out of the evening darkness. Amid flashing police lights, Al Gore
emerges from the exhaust fumes carrying two trays of cups and doughnuts. "I
brought you some coffee," the candidate shouts over the roar of the engines.

"Can I get a picture of you," Mr. Gore asks the strikers, whose union's
backing is one of the last of two labor endorsements he covets. Tucking
himself among the Teamsters, he helpfully suggests: "Hold those signs up!"

After months of struggling with an oversized campaign, Mr. Gore has
transformed his political operation into one that better reflects the
candidate's style: lean, aggressive, driven and thorough. But no matter how
many big-name advisers he manages to shed, Mr. Gore's quest to present
himself to voters as just another presidential candidate is constantly
butting up against the trappings of being the sitting vice president, like
the bustling motorcade that startled the picketers.

Heading Into the Last Lap

And, as the campaign begins the last lap before the first critical votes in
Iowa and New Hampshire, Mr. Gore's hard-fought Democratic race with former
New Jersey Sen. Bradley could turn on his ability to free his candidacy from
the very office and title that once were considered formidable advantages.

Mr. Gore is well aware of the hurdles he faces, and he has chipped away at
as much security and vice presidential paraphernalia as possible.

His motorcade usually has only a dozen vehicles, and the Secret Service no
longer holds up traffic at every highway ramp to clear his path.(Now, the
agents just use their big Explorers or Suburbans to muscle drivers onto the
shoulder of the road when they fail to get out of the way.) His staff no
longer sticks the White House seal on his speaking podium, and sometimes he
is introduced simply as "Al Gore," with nary a word about the vice
presidency.

Campaign Portrait: Al Gore

ON THE ISSUES

Proposes health-care expansion to cover every American child by 2005,
primarily using tax breaks and widened eligibility for the federal
Children's Health Insurance Program.

Proposes spending $115 billion over the next 10 years for education
improvements, including making preschool available to every child,
increasing teacher pay in low-income communities and reducing class sizes.

Would establish $1 billion fund to foster livable communities through
redevelopment of older buildings and construction of new facilities such as
parks. Calls for investments in mass transit and light rail to reduce
traffic congestion and improve air quality.
ON AL GORE

If you had to rely upon a single person as your foremost economic policy
adviser, who would it be?

Bob Rubin.

What is your favorite television program?

Futurama.

How do you use the Internet and how often? Have you ever bought anything
over the Internet? What?

Everyday and for everything. I've purchased books and Christmas gifts
online.

If you weren't in politics, what field would you like to be in right now?

Mr. Gore also is testing a campaign message that tries to borrow the best
from both his worlds, as second-in-command and as a candidate. It goes
something like this: He's proud of what the Clinton administration has
accomplished, but believes more change is needed. As president, he will
continue what is good -- say, the administration's economic policy -- and
try to bring deeper change in areas that still need improvement, such as
access to health care. In a recent interview, he said that "my primary
identification now is [not as vice president, but] as Al Gore the candidate
who is asking the American people for the responsibility of the presidency."

A Touch of Confusion

That may be what he believes, but it raises some confusion on the campaign
trail. A typical day begins and ends in darkness, and every moment in
between is accounted for in the four-by-six inch schedule, modeled after the
one used on presidential trips.

That little, powder-blue schedule is the first of many small reminders
throughout the day that Mr. Gore isn't just any candidate asking for a new
job. Take, for instance, his appearance before a business breakfast meeting
in Bedford, N.H., called "Politics and Eggs." The yellow-and-white clapboard
building is packed with about 150 guests, who, despite the freezing morning
temperatures, aren't wearing coats. In fact, not a single person is wearing
so much as a scarf. Why? The Secret Service wouldn't let them wear or carry
them into the building.

As is now his habit, Mr. Gore skips the use of the official podium and picks
a position in the center of the room to offer unrehearsed remarks. His
subject on this day is the economy and his candidacy. And so he starts with
a joke about his five-month-old grandson and moves seamlessly to an attack
on Democratic rival Bill Bradley's health care "scheme" and GOP front-runner
Texas Gov. George W. Bush's "reckless" tax-cut plan.

Subtlety has never been a tool much employed by Mr. Gore on the campaign
trail, but the direct approach has its advantages. Mr. Gore is not afraid to
ask for money or support, the two most important ingredients in a successful
presidential campaign.

Making an Appeal

"My hidden agenda isn't very hidden," he says, in closing, to the breakfast
crowd. If there's a Democrat in the audience, he wants his vote in the
primary. "If you are a Republican, well, we'll talk later. I want you to
vote for me in the general election, if I become the nominee." He makes the
same kind of appeal to veterans, labor leaders, environmentalists and even a
group of high school seniors who are gathered at the next stop to discuss
school violence.

At each event, Mr. Gore keeps his remarks to a minimum, which allows maximum
time for audience questions. It is during this period that his aides hope
their candidate's strengths -- experience and knowledge -- are on best
display. With the high school kids, he rattles off statistics about teen
smoking and then, without missing a beat, brings equal authority to a
discussion on military pay.

The vice president is also becoming more adept at working stories from his
own life into these question-and-answer periods. With the teens, he
reminisces about the first home he and his wife, Tipper, had in a Danville,
Ala., trailer park, when he was a young Army recruit. And he fondly recalls
a running argument he used to have with his father over the cause of the
common cold.

Mr. Gore's efforts to paint himself as a regular guy come at a time when
most other candidates are desperately trying just to look presidential. But
life on the road has taught Mr. Gore the pitfalls that come with his lofty
status in the race.

Premium on Personal Meetings

In Iowa and New Hampshire voters put a premium on such retail politicking as
handshakes and personal meetings. But both of those campaign staples become
far more complicated when a media pack, several beefy Secret Service agents
and a motorcade of dark, menacing sports-utility vehicles is hovering
nearby.

In addition, the Gore campaign's government-issued visual image undercuts
the vice president's attempts to convince voters that he has an agenda that
is more than just a continuation of the Clinton administration policies. For
instance, the vice president's promise to bring "revolutionary" change to
education seems incongruous when coming from a guy who just arrived on Air
Force Two.

Still, sometimes the perks of high office, such as a top-notch
communications system, come in handy on the campaign trail. In the Gore
motorcade here, the internal radio crackles out the news that the vice
president wants to find out whether the attendees at a coming veterans event
are wearing their American Legion hats.

The report comes back from the "site person" at the event that a majority is
without headgear. And, so, when candidate Gore breezes into the William H.
Jutras Post #43 in Manchester, he can feel confident no veteran or voter is
offended because he's not wearing any either.
--
Everything on this earth has a purpose, and every disease an herb to
cure it, and every person a mission. This is the Indian theory of
existence. --Mourning Dove, 1888-1936

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