If I Were Barack Obama: Part I

In the spring of 2003 a partner from the law firm of Mayer Brown Rowe & Maw invited me to a breakfast with a State Senator from the southside of Chicago who was running for the United States Senate. The candidate’s name was Barack Obama.

I knew of Barack through my work in the entrepreneurial community which required collaboration with elected officials and the public sector. In 2003 Barack’s name was already well regarded, and many insiders thought his reach would someday extend beyond Illinois.

But to win the 2004 Senatorial race Barack would have to defeat the city of Chicago machine in the form of Illinois’ Comptroller, Dan Hynes, and a former pharmaceutical exec with millions to throw at the race in Blair Hull. And that was just the primary.

For a State Senator who was 0-for-1 in federal elections, having previously lost a U.S. Congressional race, this was a heck of a place to throw his hat back in the ring.

But when I walked into the offices at Mayer Brown on that chilly, Chicago morning the particulars of the Senatorial race were unknown to me. On that day I knew of Barack as a democratic candidate in a city overflowing with democratic candidates. To his absolute credit, sixty minutes later I walked out of Mayer Brown’s offices determined to help his campaign.

I wasn’t alone.

Barack is Clintonesque (the y-chromosome Clinton) is his magnetism. His tone is authoritative yet inviting. His message crisp and believable. And most importantly, you feel as if you are a part of his machinations; you feel like joining his campaign.

This is a key point because a successful campaign requires a finely-tuned assembly line to support the rigors of the campaign trail. Dissimilar to manufacturing, the marvel of the political assembly line isn’t the reduced time that’s required to churn out a replicated product; it’s the shared sense of purpose which exists amongst the workers (volunteers) who make the line go.

When the political assembly line is at its best, volunteers and workers use absolutist terms of essentialness. If love is blind, campaign workers are often deaf -- hearing no evil in relation to the cause and the candidate.

In 2003 and 2004 Barack Obama organized a network of volunteers that would have made Henry Ford proud. A statewide band of brothers (and sisters) came to his side, manning the production line. On March 1st, 2004, I did my part.

Earlier that winter I convinced a handful of friends to help me host a fundraiser for Obama in downtown Chicago; March 1st was our designated night with our candidate. The night of the fundraiser 175 attendees crammed into the back of Brehon’s Pub to listen to the eloquent State Senator speak from atop a makeshift crate. His message was similar to the one that a national audience would hear four months later at the DNC convention in Boston.

He spoke to his background and upbringing, a skinny kid from the southside of Chicago committed to a way forward. He spoke of an America which was too often divided into red states and blue states. Despite the political divisions, he foresaw limitless possibility. He wreaked of hope.

Listening to Barack I could sense that he was winning over the crowd. It’s hard not to be impressed in his presence. Most leftist listeners will want to come inside the tent.

When all was said and done, I was glad to have organized the assemblage. I was proud to have played a part.

Two weeks later Barack won the Senatorial primary in a landslide victory that turned more than a few heads. Dan Hynes and the Chicago machine earned 23% of the statewide vote; the multimillionaire Blair Hull garnered 11%; and the son of a Kenyan and a Kansan who became a civil rights attorney on the southside of Chicago won a staggering 54% of the vote.

The skinny kid's meteoric ascent had officially begun.

Fast forward three years and the Senator is now a bona fide rock star. In 2006 he announced that he was seeking the nation’s highest office. I’m guessing his rationale for doing so was very similar to another political prodigy in our country’s history:

Phil Graham (publisher & co-owner of the Washington Post speaking to Senator John F. Kennedy): "You are good. You are going to be President someday. But right now you're too young."

Kennedy: "Well, Phil, I'm running and this is why. First, I think I'm as qualified as anyone in the field with the exception of Lyndon Johnson. Second, if I don't run whoever wins will be there for eight years and will influence who his successor will be. And third, if I don't run I'll have to stay in the Senate for at least eight more years. As a potential candidate in the Senate, I'll have to vote politically and then I'll end up a mediocre Senator and a lousy candidate."

It’s hard to argue with that line of logic.

But unfortunately Barack’s Presidential bid has flattened out a bit in 2007. His experience has come into constant question and his polling numbers have been losing ground to the Billary locomotive.

In truth, I’m not shocked. Before the 2004 Senatorial primary I watched Gery Chico, formerly the President of the Chicago Public Schools, give Barack a solid thumping in a debate. A heated back and forth exchange doesn’t play to his strengths; it's more Hillary's bailiwick.

Barack is at his best in either a small setting, where his magnetism can take hold, or on a grand stage, where his oratory skills and natural presence are on display. With all the town meetings and personal appearances being made in Iowa, the caucuses should prove to be a good fit, but that remains to be seen.

Regardless, if I were Barack I wouldn’t wait around to see. I would do something a little radical, ensuring that I got more than five seconds of air time on the news cycles. I would play to my strengths and make the stage as big as possible, even if it meant bringing the people to him.

Barack could create a week long stage-tour, giving speeches to large crowds around the country (I would advocate for depoliticized pulpits). He could call it: “A Week with America.” He could set everything else aside and tell every voter and every press outlet that after this week, every American will have enough information to decide on his candidacy. I would opt for themed, succinct speeches: short enough that every American could watch his daily address with their coffee on YouTube.

I would go to New York and marvel at the bustling, international city which screams: "open for business, 24 hours a day." I would laud the city's enterprises and its unyielding entrepreneurial spirit. A city which is really a congregation of a thousand neighborhoods, whose residents live on in tribute to their fallen brethren, refusing to be deterred by the rubble, committed to rebuilding again.

I would go to a city in the southeast, home to a large percentage of our country’s servicemen, and speak to national defense. I would lay out a plan for protecting America in a world of terrorism and nuclear capability. I would hammer home a message to mothers across our nation: this election isn't merely about the Presidency, it's also about being Commander in Chief. I would reiterate that he is prepared to protect and defend -- under every imaginable circumstance -- that he will keep our children safe.

I would come to Chicago and talk about faith, family, and sense of purpose – purpose being life’s ultimate denominator and home being where it begins. I would speak to his days as a political organizer and then a State Senator, working time and time again with both sides of the aisle. I would use the Chicago stage and speak to the politics of Washington, interweaving his message on the red and blue states, with sights on a more perfect union. I would commit to reestablishing relations with allies around the world while simultaneously supporting humanitarian efforts, starting with Darfur.

I would head west and make a stopover in Dubuque, or some city along the Mississippi, to talk about the importance of agriculture and America’s role as farmer to the world. I would outwardly emphasize support for unionized labor, reiterating that we can and must do better in wages & healthcare. I would refer to the heartland and the middle class as the backbone of our nation, reminding voters that his candidacy is aimed directly at them.

I would go to California and commend the rampant spread of innovation. I would praise our nation's technological advancements and speak to life-altering breakthroughs in medicine, which will improve our duration and quality of life. I would endorse our role as the leader of a global economy, and simultaneously address how we can keep jobs at home.

And I would pick a less predictable stopover in Anytown, USA. I would go there to remind people that our nation isn’t "one size fits all." That we must create laws and governmental solutions which meet the needs and the diversity of our people. I would remind the audience that our government’s foremost responsibility is to look out for every one of its citizens, regardless of race and creed. Regardless or their state's electoral college votes.

But before any of those stops I would go to New Orleans, where the levees broke. Where the people have been slighted by their government. Where the proposition of America seems less rosy. Where the audacity of hope is audacious indeed.

Next Week, I’ll layout what Barack could say.