Strickland was in the room again on Thursday, tasked with introducing the former president. Five years older than Clinton, the governor of the state until the Tea Party wave took him out in 2010, he talks like a politician one or two generations removed—his quavering voice, on tape, sounds like a recording of someone schlepping war bonds for the boys fighting up the boot against Mussolini. He quoted the scripture not once but twice—he has a master’s from divinity school—to condemn Mitt Romney. “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he!” said Strickland. “And in that [47 percent] video, we saw something of Mitt Romney’s heart! And it was not a pretty picture!”
This sounded like raw, underdog, populist politics. When Clinton arrived, he cut the volume by at least 20 decibels. “I have lost my voice in the service of my president,” he said, croaking the words out. But Clinton doesn’t lose his voice like other people. As he talked, the croak disappeared. Ten minutes into the speech, it was gone. With no real skeptics in the audiences, Clinton would be, alternately Barack Obama’s Ambassador of Nostalgia and Secretary of Explaining Why Things Aren’t So Bad.
He did this, at first, by putting on a pair of enormous glasses and reading from the newspaper. “Here’s a headline from USA Today,” he said. “GM’s profit tops expectations. Another headline, which says Chrysler sales at five-year high. And then, there’s this from USA Today—when disaster strikes, voters put competence over ideology.”
Big cheers. Everybody intuited that “competence” meant their neighbors thinking harder about an Obama vote. He wasn’t their favorite president, but he’d tried hard enough. And Clinton could explain, at great length, what had worked. “Last week,” he said, “there was a big headline in the USA Today that said health care costs were the big reason that millions of middle class people did not get a pay raise in the last decade, because employers had to spend their profits on health insurance premiums. A lot of you had that experience, didn’t you?”
Sure, finding a job and, generally, being alive had been easier when Clinton was president. But all of those wonderful, wonky things that Clinton had wanted to do, that he’d promised in 1993—Obama had done them! They were just tough to explain. Medicare reform, for example. “Barack Obama did not weaken Medicare.” Explaining this meant walking the audience through health care reimbursement pricing.
“They start out at 114 percent of Medicare’s price, and drop something like to 112 percent. They guarantee 12 percent revenue. How many businesses in Chillicothe would love to get a guaranteed 12 percent revenue? If grocery stores got that, they’d be richer than Wal-Mart.”
Clinton kept talking, with no stab at anything like an applause line. The Democrats reacted like they were hearing applause lines anyway. I was sitting not far from a woman with a green shirt and the text “I’M IRISH! Do I Get a Free Drink?” who whooped at most of the wonky numbers and filmed what she could on an iPhone. The possible disaster, said Clinton, was an Obama loss that both undid the gains and let Romney take credit for the incipient recovery. Would Democrats really put up with the backlash and never get the credit?
This went on for 45 minutes. It wasn’t clear what it would do for Obama. The only “news” Clinton made all day Thursday was a verbal flub at an earlier stop, accidentally saying he was in “Pennsylvania.” For whatever reason, the press and tracker corps that follows these campaign events leads with the flubs. Post-convention, Clinton can’t get a national audience to pay attention to all of this. With no notes, he says it anyway.
“There is no limit to what we can achieve, and I want Barack Obama to lead the way!” said Clinton. “We need you.”
He turned and walked off the stage, into the rope line. The guy with the copy of Clinton’s bio made sure to find a place there.