Emerging through mirrored elevator doors onto the top floor of
the 100 Club, an elegant private club that overlooks the
brick-and-cobblestone streets of downtown Portsmouth, N.H., was a
cluster of important-looking people, mostly men. Amid the dark
suits, easily lost in the movements of broader-shouldered men, was
one youthful, thin male with the distinct appearance of an aide to
a powerful man. One might have thought he was the assistant to
whichever man accompanied the dazzling, dark brunette in the
flame-red dress, were one to have noticed him at all.
As the tightly packed group made its way down the short
hall to the main room, almost everyone’s attention was directed to
the thin man in the middle. Those who weren’t watching him were
watching the woman in the red dress, who walked beside him. In a
moment it was apparent that the most striking woman in the building
was with none of the taller, more imposing-looking men, but with
the unassuming, almost frail one whose off-the-rack navy suit hung
loosely from his frame, giving him something of the appearance of a
teenage boy going to his first semi-formal dance.
The clutch of suited men was whisked into a side room,
where the thin man and the woman in the red dress took a position
by the window. Soon other suited men and skirt-suited women flowed
in and gathered round, forming a haphazard queue facing the thin,
dark-skinned couple, whom anyone could now identify as the most-VIP
in the VIP reception.
Pedestrians who had passed this couple on the sidewalk
minutes earlier might have noted the wife, although that is no
guarantee in downtown Portsmouth, where attractive, well-dressed
women float by with distracting frequency. But few would have
noticed her husband strolling at her side. They might have given a
glance, at best, to the man who might one day be the most
recognizable, and powerful, person on the planet.
The event yesterday afternoon was a fund-raiser for John
Stephen, Republican candidate for governor of New Hampshire. In
attendance were 70 or so Republican donors, including several
multi-millionaires of statewide, if not regional, prominence. All
had come to see the man who didn’t even fill out his suit: Bobby
Jindal, governor of the state of Louisiana.
In that small room, late on a cloudy Thursday afternoon,
Bobby Jindal gave his first speech ever in New Hampshire, the state
that, 15 months from now, will hold the first presidential primary
in the 2012 election season.
In New Hampshire, retail politics is king. You cannot win
the first-in-the-nation primary if you are bad at winning over
small crowds of voters, if you haven’t the personality to make a
room full of people think, “I like that guy.” Granite State
political operatives size up candidates on how well they can work a
room, tell a story, make people smile. Before yesterday, the New
Hampshire scouting report on Bobby Jindal was that he was sharp as
a whip, but very wonky, and policy wonks tend to lack the social
skills needed to thrive in the primary. After yesterday, the
scouting report is very different.
What Bobby Jindal did at the 100 Club on Thursday
afternoon was to swiftly, deftly, and without the slightest hint of
insincerity or effort, make a few dozen important and seasoned New
Hampshire Republicans say to themselves, “I like that
guy.”
Jindal warmed up the crowd with jokes about being a
politician from a state famous for its corrupt politicians. But his
jokes weren’t barbed or insulting. Mitt Romney jokes a lot about
being a Republican from Massachusetts. The jokes work with
Republican crowds that aren’t from Massachusetts, but to some they
come across as insulting to his home state. They can be taken as
expressing the general thought: “Can you believe the fools I have
to put up with back home?” There is none of that in Jindal’s jests.
They are directed at politicians, not the people who elect them. So
they not only break the ice, but they instantly establish him as a
political outsider, a normal person thrust into a corrupt world by
the calling of public service.
From corrupt Louisiana pols, Jindal transitioned to the
spendthrift Obama administration and current Democratic Congress,
which he said were filled with people who refuse to balance their
budgets the way American families have to do because they think the
rules everyone else has to live by don’t apply to them.
With tales of federal bureaucratic incompetence during the
Gulf oil spill cleanup effort, Jindal managed to pull off the very
difficult trick of coming across as both reluctant hero and
common-sense everyman who doesn’t know much, but knows incompetence
when he sees it. He later told self-deprecating stories about his
interactions with returning National Guard soldiers. In these, the
soldiers and their wives always looked great, but he always came
across as clumsy and even unworthy of being in the presence of
these warriors.
When it came to the meat of the speech, Jindal tied the
need for frugality in Washington to the need for frugality in the
states and gave a five-point crash course in how Louisiana
straightened out its budget and laid the foundation for expanded
job growth. He didn’t just rattle off a list of his
accomplishments. On each point, he said “we,” not “I,” as if he
were just one part of an inter-branch government reform effort. And
he tied each point to New Hampshire, noting that John Stephen has
plans for similar reforms here.
He closed the sale by reminding the attendees that
donating to Stephen’s campaign was helpful, but not enough. If they
cared about their state, they wouldn’t just pat themselves on the
back for contributing and then go home to watch the race on TV.
They would vote. They would encourage their friends to vote. They
would ask everyone they know to vote, and vote for
Stephen.
Before Jindal arrived, the mood in the room was similar to
that of a charity cocktail party. It was mostly a lukewarm mix of
business and social pleasantries. By the time Jindal left, the room
was practically vibrating with energy. Every person I spoke with
after the event was impressed with the performance, and these are
people who have weathered many primaries and met many
presidents.
In the next few weeks, these people will meet other
Republicans at campaign events, and they will tell of the great
speech Bobby Jindal gave in Portsmouth. They will speak of how
funny he was. They will speak of how charming he was. They will
speak of how well he listened and how warm his eyes were. Many of
them will make sure they are in the room the next time Bobby Jindal
comes to New Hampshire to speak. And because of them, that crowd is
going to be bigger than the first. If Jindal can keep that trend
going, his future will be bright indeed.
