【大紀元10月15日訊】美國2008年總統大選業已進入尾聲，選情的起伏跌蕩，錯宗複雜，今人歎為觀止.現在離最後衝刺僅剩25天，依過去的兩場候選人直接辯論及副總統辯論結果分析，歐巴馬似乎略勝一籌，而據全美民調顯示，自佩琳成為副總統候選人參選後，麥肯的民眾支持度一度曾超過歐巴馬三個百分點，但由於佩琳在接受主流媒體記者採訪時頻頻暴露出她過嫩，對政治、經濟、外交及布什主義一問三不知，加之她的某些言說中卻有不夠誠實之處，例如，在答記者問時她稱自已有與蘇俄交易的經驗，因為從阿拉斯加州的一個小鎮能直接看到俄國；記者親自到實地考查甚至租直升飛機錄相證實她從未到過該鎮，而且對岸俄國是個長達數百公里的不毛之地。加之次貸引發的金融危機，導致上月美國失業人數創自2003年以來最高紀錄，民眾對經濟的關注力遠大於國家安全等問題，此外對布什總統執政八年諸多不滿，日前布什總統的支持率一路下滑由早期的73%跌至如今的29%。上述諸多原因，導致共和黨的支持率持繼下降。如今歐巴馬幾乎在所有的州的民調支持率均高出麥肯三至十三個百分點，全國平均今日已高出十點.現僅剩下最後一場總統候選人直接辯論。按此發展勢頭若不出意外， 麥肯的白宮之路可望而不可及。
下引歐巴馬傳記，當然是支持歐巴馬的作家所撰，其結論大可不必作為定論，但由此可見歐巴馬絕不簡單。他的半黑半白人種因素既是缺點也是優點；缺點在於種族歧視因素客觀存在，儘管越來越多的白人特別是受過良好教育的西方民眾已很少種族偏見，迄今仍有較重種族歧視觀者，往往是未受過良好教育的低層民眾。而優點在於正因為他是首個贏得大黨提名總統候選人的黑人，極具爆炸性新聞價值和道義價值，從而贏得了眾多左派媒體和知名度很大的專欄作家及知識界人士不遺餘力的支持。左派往往為了顯示他們的公正正義，甚至有意偏向黑人以免被指責為不公正。然而，歐巴馬的勝出肯定不是僅僅因為他是個黑人，而是另有原因。因為同屬黑人的共和黨總統候選人，Alan Keyes，系憲法和政府學博士，文章了得，口才絕不在歐之下，且他曾出任美國駐聯合國大使，並參加了2000年和2008年共和黨總統候選人參戰，但選戰業績平平。那麼到底是何原因使得歐巴馬這匹真正的黑馬奔騰而出呢？除了歷史，文化大背景外至少可以歸結出如下幾點：
歐巴馬正直坦誠清廉的聲譽。他初任州參議員時便提出禁止議員受收任何院外遊說利益集團禮金的議案，得罪了不少議員，因為令他們失去了不少外快，但卻為他贏得了良好的清廉聲譽。他也很會做人，適時關心需要幫助的人雪中送炭為他贏得不少人心。
歐巴馬才智超群，高學歷高起點出線佔儘先機。他畢業於世界名校哈佛大學法學院，曾任「哈佛法學評論」的主席，這可不是可以混的頭銜，若沒有真功夫，決不可能當此要職。他還當過法學教授，但他今年方四十八——男人一朵花的黃金年齡，而美國法學教授可不是那麼好混，若不精通十八般武藝絕無任何可能，哪能像南郭那樣除了出庭律師，海事律師，人權律師、海事仲裁員、國際經貿仲裁員等耀眼頭銜，還身兼中國三所重點大學的兼職教授和研究員！不過吾得承認，我在英美大學連任學生的資格還不夠！足證中共掌控下的高校教育水準如何。
歐巴馬口才一流，擅長在大庭廣眾前作煽動性演說，聽眾越多他越來勁，是個真正的「人來瘋」。美國自1787年立憲以來的四十四位總統，絕大多數都是極善辯論口才出眾的演說家，美國各大學法學院每年都有演講比賽，因而演講高手如雲。因為美國歷史上四十四位總統25位系律師出身（其中兩位曾任法官）佔總數的52%，因而律師是進軍總統寶坐的最佳基地。從歐巴馬數十場演講明顯可見其演講風格獨特，自然得體，不時通過手勢目光與聽眾交流互動，時而抑揚頓挫，時而慷慨激昂，有時像行雲流水，有時似高天長風，因而令現場聽眾長時間處於如痴如狂的癲狂之境。
歐巴馬極善公關交際，處世細心體貼周到。據稱他大學一畢業即雄心勃勃，因而充分利用一切機會廣交朋友。例如他為了交友不惜每週定期與好賭的上層人物打牌小賭，專門學會高爾夫球，以便結識上層人物。誠實正直聲譽極佳的參議員（前總統肯尼迪之弟）最終力挺歐巴馬，為他擊敗希拉里克林頓立下了關鍵性的漢馬功勞，可見其與上層關鍵人物關係之鐵。
歐巴馬真、善、忍功夫了得，擁有化敵為友的上乘武功。他為人真誠實在慷慨大方，說話做事皆讓人信賴。伊利諾州有兩位早他幾個月任州議員的黑人，出於妒忌長期對歐巴馬持敵意態度，時常公然諷刺嘲弄他，說他是個「內白面黑的假黑人」，不是黑兄弟同類之類的。但歐從不與他們計較，只到五年後在一次衝突中歐巴馬發火差點揍那個黑人議員，但歐隨後卻仍然在投票表決時支持了該議員的議案，令其感動不已，最終成為力挺其競爭總統候選人得力的鐵哥們。中國民運長期以來四分五裂山頭林立各自為政，吾以為根源在於民運始終未樹立程序正義第一的價值觀，但各路領袖的心胸不夠寬廣，一被批評或為某些小事觸犯便動輒老死不相往來，甚至相互拆台，缺乏紳士騎士風度民主精神也是重要原因，真該好好向歐學習化敵為友的功夫。
歐巴馬工作認真細緻負責。曾主導20個法案通過，積極參與200餘件法案起草，雖然有129次投棄權票的紀錄。被共和黨作為因為他不懂應當投是/或不是，證明他缺乏判斷力的證據。美國國會參眾兩院議員及各級政府首腦皆系由選民定期直接選舉產生，他們皆常年累月負責調研起草立法案，沒有真功夫者根本不可能勝任。而中國人大代表百分之九十九以上係指定或虛假至極的選舉產生的黨棍黨奴或黨用文人或軍閥或用於點裝點門面的無知無識的工農平民或只會唱歌的戲子，他們絕大多數要麼不學無術，要麼沒有絲毫良知，因而一輩子也提不出一個議案，更不用說整個法案。而僅是隨時遵從中共旨意的舉手錶決機器，像皮圖章。中共真正的立法機構是人大常委會及國務院各具體行政單位，但他們皆必須按照中共的獨裁意志行事，才能穩當地分食中共特權犯罪利益集團之殘羹剩飯
此外，歐巴馬對普通民眾的福利比較關注，信奉民主黨理念，偏重自由主義主張政府加大干預調整社會經濟財富分配力度，維護社會正義公正，甚至被稱作「共產主義者」，因此很能贏得知識分子和底層民眾及熱血青年的支持。其實能贏得中老年納稅人支持的總統候選人才更可能具有良好的治國理政能力，因為年滿18雖然可以結婚生子，但絕大多數青年人對政治，經濟，社會，人生仍處於半無知，理性思維尚處於半封閉狀態，人真正成熟一般多在而立之年以後。這正是為何年青人多易上當受騙信奉馬列主義，迄今仍崇拜毛澤東鄧小平之流的生理、心理根源。
再者，克林頓總統、哥爾前副總統及希拉里分別在民主黨提名大會上的演講均高度讚揚支持歐巴馬，為他拉票起到了良好的作用。得到競爭勁敵發自內心的真誠熱情稱讚支持當屬不易，儘管希拉里內心未必真服，克林頓夫婦的紳士風度值得中國民運全體志士好好學習效仿。
南郭更認同共和黨的治國理念，更願意投誠實正直勇敢真正的老英雄麥肯一票，但我認為共和黨出師不利很可能輸掉 2008年總統大選。本來麥肯若選任才情經驗智商情商皆極出眾的羅尼或赫克比作為副總統搭檔可能更有希望；麥肯畢境年紀大了點。雖然形象可愛自然親切聰慧過人的美女州長佩琳確實迄今仍吸引著眾多白人特別是白人婦女支持，她對選戰的刺激作用也確實為共和黨立下了功勳，但她畢境確實太嫩了點，她的外交知識治國管理經驗政治智慧任阿拉斯加州州長應當有餘甚至出眾，她能獲得85%選票的支持率表明她確實有兩下子。若任美國總統則顯然差了些，因為麥肯若在任期內有個三長兩短，依美國憲法規定她將理所當然地成為正式總統，這是令許多理性的選民無法接受的，她確實尚未作好任總統的各方面準備，儘管她確實相當聰慧學得非常快。因為美國自911事件以來，國際重大爭端接二連三，阿富漢伊拉克兩地戰火未熄，戰爭耗費的銀子每月以數千萬美元計，這些都令納稅人心痛不已，畢境係為他人作嫁衣而自家債台高築，當然不願意繼續幫助他國承擔重債。伊戰本不應該發生，如何處理諸多令人頭痛不已的國際國內大事，整日勞心日拙，足以令一個負責任的總統在短短的四年內老十歲。布什總統和克林頓總統在任總統的八年期間前後看上去老了二十歲。而胡錦濤則整天油頭粉面光可鑑人，南郭如今生活在風景如詩如畫的真正的世外桃源，整日無所用心，尚且年僅五十業已白髮滿頭，胡、溫皆乃六十好幾且集黨政軍頭於一身，而中國令人頭痛的國事更是多如牛毛，其頭髮卻能烏黑賊亮，可能嗎？！要麼證明胡錦濤無所用心於國事，要麼證實胡氏弄虛作假虛偽至極。
凡此種種決定了2008年美國總統大選的一波三折好戲連台。無論誰上台，都會給美國帶來強勁的改革之風都是美國民主的勝利。
2008年10月12日第136個反中共專制暴政爭自由人權民主絕食爭權抗暴日於加拿大
附：
From Outsider To Politician
By Eli Saslow
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday， October 9， 2008; Page A01
He was a Democrat surrounded by Republicans. A Harvard intellectual chided by good old boys. A biracial progressive in an environment rife with racial tension. A sophisticated urbanite living in a town built on cornfields， 200 miles removed from his family in Chicago.
Even those senators who seemed like natural allies treated Obama with nothing but enmity. Rickey Hendon and Donne Trotter， fellow black Democrats from Chicago， dismissed him as cocky， elitist and， Trotter said， “a white man in blackface.” When those insults failed to rile him， the two bought a copy of Obama’s 1995 autobiography， “Dreams From My Father，” and used the book to concoct more. They teased him for smoking marijuana as a teenager and for being raised by his white， Kansas-born grandmother. Most frequently， they ridiculed Obama for his complex ethnicity. You figure out if you’re white or black yet， Barack， or still searching?
Obama ignored them. “Give it time，” he told friends， “and I’ll bring those guys around.”
Obama has built a biography on overcoming obstacles — on fusing unlikely bonds that help him to adapt and then advance. He knew from the moment he took the oath of office in Springfield that he wanted to move beyond the state Senate， so he set out to orchestrate his rise in trademark fashion: by emphasizing relationships over results; by transforming from an outsider into the ultimate insider.
Just as he had before — as an American child who moved to Indonesia， an Ivy League graduate who worked in housing projects on Chicago’s South Side and a black student who enrolled at Harvard Law School — Obama arrived in Springfield with limited knowledge of his environment and few friends to guide him. He left eight years later with the legislative accomplishments， political savvy and network of allies needed to win a seat in the United States Senate.
Obama declined to be interviewed for this article， but conversations with more than a dozen friends and colleagues portray his time in Springfield as a political baptism performed at warp speed， engineered by Obama’s vast self-confidence and ambition.
His legislative record in the state Senate showed promise， but it was fraught with 129 “Present” votes， watered-down bills and a dearth of significant accomplishments — shortcomings that hardly affected his success. With an eye toward the future， Obama decided to befriend everyone in Springfield who could help him get where he wanted to go. And that included the two men who mercilessly hazed him: Hendon and Trotter.
* * *
It was a daunting task， since Obama’s first impression on his colleagues in Springfield was so disastrous. He had won his seat by challenging the validity of opponents’ petition signatures， a tactical move that knocked a popular black incumbent named Alice Palmer off the ballot and allowed Obama to run unopposed. During his first week at the state Capitol， he scheduled a meeting with Senate Minority Leader Emil Jones (D) to request a heavy workload and coveted committee assignments. Then Obama invited a few other senators out for beers and indicated， Trotter said， “that he had higher places he wanted to be.”
His eagerness vexed fellow Democrats， many of whom either wrote him off or privately encouraged him to slow down. Rather than heed their advice， Obama spoke regularly to the news media about his distaste for the laziness and political gamesmanship of “old politics” in Springfield.
For one of his first major projects as a senator， he sponsored an ethics bill that made it illegal for senators to receive gifts from lobbyists. The successful effort reinforced Obama’s public image as a do-good reformer but annoyed some colleagues.
Obama had enjoyed giving interviews to reporters during his tenure as the first black president of the Harvard Law Review， classmates remembered， and legislative sessions provided a forum in which he liked to deliver impassioned arguments in front of his colleagues and the media. He had a mastery of constitutional law and a talent for elegant speaking， assets that served him well as a University of Chicago law professor， where students would listen to his lectures， rapt. But in Springfield， his speeches sometimes played out to a soundtrack of groans or the background chatter of indifference. Colleagues sometimes walked around the room while Obama spoke， and he often sat down discouraged.
Once， at a revenue committee meeting， Obama delayed the proceedings to raise a series of astute questions about committee bylaws. He spoke only a few sentences before a senior colleague interrupted him.
“Hey， enough already，” said Denny Jacobs， a Democrat. “Learn on your own damn time， will you? Some of us want to finish this up and get the hell out of here.”
“Barack had this misconception that you could change votes with thoughtful questions and good debate，” said Jacobs， who has since retired from politics to become a lobbyist. “That was a little idealistic， if you ask me. It’s not necessarily about smarts and logic down there. Votes are made with a lot of horse trading， compromise， coercion， working with the other side. Those are things that Barack can do — can do very well， actually. But it took him a little while to figure it out.”
Said Hendon: “Sure， he was smart. But he didn’t understand the basics of politics yet. He wasn’t a good politician.”
Stuck in the legislative minority， Obama had nothing but time to stew over his slow start. Republicans set the schedule， and they left Democrats in the dark about what time each day’s session would begin and end. Obama lived at the Renaissance Inn， on the edge of downtown， where the long vistas of farmland from a room on the top floor reinforced the distance between his new life and his family. He watched ESPN. He played basketball each morning at the YMCA. He talked to his wife， Michelle， for almost an hour each night.
After weekends at home in Chicago， Obama sometimes considered leaving late for the legislative session to spend an extra day at home， some of his friends said. He would miss nothing but a few meaningless votes， he reasoned， and he could accomplish more by meeting with constituents in his Hyde Park neighborhood. Friends persuaded him to return to Springfield only when they reminded him of the political ramifications: A lot of missed votes， advisers said， might permanently scar his résumé. He needed to succeed downstate in order to build a record.
“There were times when the politics of Springfield troubled him， but he’s not somebody who throws up his hands，” said Abner Mikva， a former congressman who mentored Obama in Chicago politics. “He realized he needed to do some things their way， not always his way. He changed his approach. He knows how to adapt and succeed.”
Midway through Obama’s first term， Jacobs realized that he would be a quick learner. One day Jacobs stopped the new senator in a hallway of the Capitol and pointed out a decorative poster on the wall. It showed how a bill becomes a law in Illinois， and it depicted a chart of steady progress as legislation moved efficiently from one house to the next. Each step was illustrated with bold， black lines. Obama laughed at the simplification.
The chart， he and Jacobs agreed， might be more useful as toilet paper in the men’s restroom.
* * *
Obama needed allies to make headway in a place like this， so he set out to find some. A group of Springfield political aides and lobbyists invited him to join their poker game， a low-stakes gathering attended by three other senators. On a weeknight in April 1996， Obama met the other players in a private room at a local country club. Big-screen TVs showed a Chicago Bulls game， and cigar smoke clouded the air.
His arrival surprised the other senators at the table. Jacobs， Terry Link and Larry Walsh — all white Democrats， all older than 50， all from rural parts of the state — would become Obama’s closest friends in Springfield， but they viewed his initial arrival as the intrusion of an outsider. Jacobs was a loudmouth from the Iowa border， a self-described “backroom dinosaur” famous for his love of gambling. Walsh was a farmer from Elmwood who sometimes snuck out of session for a hot toddy. Link was a forklift business owner who narrowly graduated from high school.
As the young black senator from Chicago — an Ivy Leaguer， a law professor — bought into the poker game for $100 and lit a cigarette， Jacobs wondered: “What could he have in common with us?”
“It wasn’t the most obvious fit，” Jacobs said. “You’ve got two fat guys， a medium-heavy guy and then Obama. On the surface， there’s not a lot that we shared.”
Obama folded frequently during the games， preferring to watch the action unfold until he could pounce with the occasional great hand. He filled the long gaps in between by seeking advice from his playing partners about balancing work and family， crafting legislation and aligning with Republicans. Even as Obama routinely took their money， the other players regarded him as naive but genuine. In various capacities， Link， Walsh and Jacobs all considered themselves Obama’s mentors.
Obama was never a big drinker， but he faithfully brought along a six-pack of beer and downed a couple. He smoked and pitched in for midnight pizza. The poker game eventually migrated to Link’s house and became the one social staple on Obama’s schedule. The Committee Meeting， Obama called it — and the appointment stood for eight years. His poker-mates sometimes teased him for becoming “one of the good ol’ boys.”
Fitting in， for Obama， had never been a natural process so much as a learned skill — something that required adjustment and work. At Harvard， he befriended conservatives who eventually helped elect him president of the Law Review. As a young community organizer in Chicago， he emulated the speaking cadence of black pastors and joined Trinity United Church of Christ to help him connect with the city’s South Side.
In Springfield， he decided he needed to play golf. Democrats who felt useless in the legislative minority sometimes left the session to play 18 holes in the early afternoon， and their on-course conversations ranged from meaningless trash talk to political dealmaking. Link invited Obama to play and watched the beginner hack his way around the course. Frustrated by his incompetence and worried he might not be invited again， Obama signed up for lessons. He almost beat Link the next year.
After his first year in Springfield， Obama took a golf trip to southern Illinois with his top adviser， Dan Shomon. Obama wanted to test how rural voters would respond to a black man， because he already had designs on a run for statewide office. Shomon coached him: Order regular mustard instead of Dijon; wear simple golf shirts instead of fancy button-downs. Obama returned from the trip convinced he could assimilate.
By the time Obama invited a young incoming senator to visit him in Chicago in the fall of 1997， he already felt like a veteran of Springfield politics， ready to dispense advice. Kimberly Lightford， then 29， visited his office a few months into her campaign for a Senate seat. She had never met Obama， but he already knew much about her. “He basically recounted all the details about my little state Senate race， so I didn’t have to tell him anything，” Lightford said. “He made me feel pretty important.”
He asked Lightford if she had any campaign debt， and she wearily nodded. Obama was earning $49，000 a year as a state senator and routinely borrowed $20 from his poker buddies， but he reached into his desk and pulled out his checkbook. Before Lightford left his office， Obama handed her a $500 donation.
“It was amazing， because he also gave me some advice that I really appreciate to this day，” Lightford said. “I was young and idealistic， and he told me: ‘You know， when we all get elected we think we’re going to go down there and change the world overnight， but that’s not going to happen. It’s a process. You’re going to have to learn the game. You’re going to have to make friends. You’re going to have to navigate the place if you want to open roads and make things happen.’ “
For Obama， only one road in Springfield remained blocked. Hendon and Trotter， two leaders in the black caucus， had both been in the state Senate for three years before Obama’s arrival. They represented two of Chicago’s destitute neighborhoods， and they repeatedly accused the newcomer of failing to understand the issues of the inner city. He cared more about his career than his constituents， they said. Hendon once told a newspaper that Obama was so ambitious he would like to run for “president of the world.”
Hendon in particular regarded Obama as a foreigner to black Chicago. A lifelong resident of a blighted neighborhood on the city’s West Side， Hendon had marched with the Black Panthers and seen his block damaged by the 1968 race riots. He married at 17 and became a grandfather in his mid-30s. He laughed when he imagined Obama as a child in Hawaii， exploring blackness by reading about racial persecution in magazines， watching Julius Erving play basketball or listening to gospel music.
Obama had spent four years organizing residents in the housing projects of Roseland， on Chicago’s South Side， but Hendon considered that little more than a surface introduction. “That’s a small start，” he said. “But to a lot of people from my area， Roseland almost seems nice.”
Said Trotter: “There was a sense for many people in Springfield that Barack wasn’t black enough. He was just . . . different. It’s like being poor when it’s 80 degrees and sunny， and you have plenty to eat. Or like being poor when it’s 10 degrees and you’re just trying to survive. He didn’t understand it the same way we did.”
Obama tried to dismiss them as jealous — of his education， his intellect and his budding relationship with Jones， the black Senate minority leader. Obama nominated Lightford as chair of the black caucus， a tactic that helped mitigate Hendon and Trotter’s role in his political future. Still， he sometimes left caucus meetings early or called Lightford beforehand to ask if he could skip altogether. “There were a lot of days when he called and said， ‘Sorry Kim， but I just don’t feel like taking it today，’ ” Lightford said.
Obama’s poker buddies encouraged him to stand up to Hendon and Trotter， but he refused. Not his style， he said. And why sink to their level? When Hendon ridiculed Obama， his standard comeback was a dismissive shrug and a wave of his hand. Ah， Rickey， you’ve always got something to say.”I never would have called him a fighter，” Hendon said. “He used the silk gloves， and I used the iron fists.”
The tension between the two men peaked on June 11， 2002， after Hendon made an impassioned speech on the Senate floor urging his colleagues to preserve funding for a child welfare facility in his district. It was， Hendon remembers， “basically the most emotional speech of my life， and I was pulling out all the stops.” Every Republican still voted against him. Every Democrat voted with him — except Obama and three other members who made up a faction known in Springfield as “liberal row.”
Incensed by those four votes， Hendon walked across the floor and confronted Obama， who explained by saying “something about fiscal responsibility，” Hendon recalls. A few minutes later， after Hendon’s proposal had lost， Obama stood up and asked to have his previous vote changed to a “Yes” for the record， saying he had misunderstood the legislation. His request was declined， and Hendon stood to criticize Obama for political maneuvering.
Infuriated that Hendon had embarrassed him publicly on the Senate floor， Obama walked over to his rival’s seat， witnesses said.
“He leaned over， put his arm on my shoulder real nice and then threatened to kick my ass，” Hendon said.
The two men walked out of the chamber into a back room and shoved each other a few times before colleagues broke them apart， Hendon and other witnesses said. Obama and Hendon never talked about the incident with each other again， but they reached an awkward understanding. Hendon stopped teasing Obama; Obama started voting with Hendon more regularly. Hendon now supports Obama for president.
Some of the legislators on the floor that day believed Obama had finally snapped after more than five years of tolerating Hendon’s provocations. But Obama’s allies， the poker buddies and other friends who knew him best， wondered if his actions resulted from a deeper calculation. Had he actually reacted， so uncharacteristically， out of pure emotion? Or was his scuffle with Hendon a final， brilliant tactic in coalition-building?
“He finally met Rickey on his level， and that got him some respect，” Lightford said. “That’s what Barack needed to do， and it worked. They didn’t tease him so much after that. It was like they finally realized that Barack was more than some soft punk to push around. He could play tough to get his way.”
* * *
He could also play smart， and Obama used his relationships with new allies to build his résumé. Shortly after Democrats overtook the Senate in the 2002 elections， Obama approached Jones， the new Senate president， and asked for his assistance.
Obama blamed his loss in a 2000 election for Congress on his perceived lack of political experience， he told friends， and Jones could assist him in filling that gap. He scheduled a meeting with Jones in his office and asked the majority leader to help make him a U.S. senator. Jones， who had grown so close to Obama that he considered him a godson， immediately agreed.
During Obama’s final two years in Springfield， Jones gave him coveted committee assignments and several high-profile bills to sponsor， other senators said. Jones sometimes scheduled legislative sessions around Obama’s Senate campaign events.
“The big thing the president did was to step in and give Barack a lot of bills where there may have been a bunch of work done on them，” Trotter said. “We’d been in the minority for a long time， so a lot of bills had just been sitting there， mostly done but not yet passed. President Jones gave a lot of those to Obama to shepherd through. He might not have to do a lot of work in some of those situations， but he could get a lot of credit.”
Obama fulfilled his end of the deal by adapting the cool demeanor of a power broker. Gone was the verbose young senator who liked to hear himself talk on the chamber’s floor. Toward the end of his time in Springfield， Obama became one of the quietest senators， colleagues said. He spoke only on big-ticket issues and delivered his thoughts with cadence and brevity. When he stood， the room now fell silent.
Listening， Obama decided， was usually more persuasive than lecturing. He offered to hear Republicans’ ideas before they proposed them on the floor， acting as an early barometer of Democratic response. Even though his record leaned more liberal than most senators’， Obama voted with Republicans during his eight years in the Senate more frequently than all but a few other Democrats. Occasionally， he offered to speak on behalf of legislation proposed by Republicans.
One longtime conservative， Republican state Sen. Kirk Dillard， cut a commercial for Obama’s presidential campaign last year， saying， “Obama worked on some of the deepest issues we had， and he was successful in a bipartisan way.”
In an interview during his Senate years， Obama listed his idols as Mahatma Gandhi， Abraham Lincoln and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.， prompting one colleague to joke， “Bold choices， huh?” Similarly， as a legislator， Obama molded his ideas until few reasonable people could disagree， becoming an expert at building consensus. His aspirations for universal health care resulted in a more modest expansion of Illinois’s current system. He took control of a once-controversial bill requiring police to videotape interrogations and tinkered with it until it passed without a single dissenting vote.
“He realized sometimes that you can’t get the whole hog， so you take the ham sandwich，” said Jacobs， one of Obama’s poker buddies. “For somebody who people criticize for being an idealist， I’ve seen Barack get realistic pretty fast. He understands that it’s better to accomplish what you can， take your lumps and move on.”
Jones helped Obama become the chief sponsor of a racial profiling bill that colleagues in the black caucus had developed. Hendon， who said he had worked on the legislation for a few months， proposed that police officers be punished and even fired for targeting minorities. In his early arguments for the bill， Hendon told first-person stories about the humiliation of being pulled over with his wife in the car and forced to stand in the rain. The bill did not gain significant support.
Then Obama took charge of the legislation and met with conservative Democrats and some Republicans. Taking their suggestions， he amended the bill so that it required police departments to keep track of whom officers pulled over. Those officers who showed patterns of racial profiling would receive warnings and counseling. On the Senate floor， Obama argued that the legislation was an essentially an insurance issue meant to help Illinois ward off lawsuits. Some police organizations supported his version of the bill， and it passed with ease.
During his two years in the majority， Obama worked his name onto 200 bills that became laws. He served as the primary sponsor on more than 20 successful measures. “I remember more than a few days，” Trotter said， “when almost everything we voted on had his name on it.”
By the time Obama readied for his 2004 campaign for U.S. Senate， he could run on a record of proof as much as promise. He had built a résumé that showed a prolific legislator， and a reformer who stayed true to liberal principles.
There remained only one problem with Obama’s résumé， a rare hole the politician himself had never foreseen， friends said. Obama voted “Present” 129 times in the state Senate， all during his six years in the minority. His political opponents have used those votes as proof of cowardice. By refusing to vote “Yes” or “No，” they argue， Obama avoided casting votes on controversial issues in order to protect his record.
But Obama placed more than half of his “Present” votes along with other Democrats in organized protest of Republican legislation， voting records showed. Allies said many of his other “Present” votes reflected his tendency toward analysis and precision: He voted “Present” whenever he liked a bill but felt uncomfortable with its wording， they said.
“Nobody ever thought the ‘Present’ votes would become an issue，” Lightford said. “Obviously， he never thought so， or he probably would have voted ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ “
Obama won the Democratic primary for U.S. Senate and delivered a speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention that turned him into an overnight celebrity， and he returned to Springfield with swagger， colleagues said. In conversations with allies — at the poker game or on the golf course — he spoke excitedly about Washington， his next destination.
Sure， he looked forward to a chance to effect significant legislative change， he said. But he also told friends that he relished the challenges at “the next level.” There， he would find new secrets to unlock， new coalitions to build and new games to play.
Again， Obama felt confident he could win acceptance.
“You could tell he couldn’t wait to move on to Washington，” Lightford said. “He wore it well. It was kind of like: ‘Yeah， I can do Springfield with my eyes closed. What’s next?’ “
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