John Edwards 2008: What’s not to like

September 27, 2007

Son of a mill supervisor

Filed under: 2008 Primary, Bio, Debates, Finances — is @ 2:51 pm
A few moments later, it was former senator John Edwards’ turn to be touchy about money. “Your campaign has hit some obstacles with revelations about $400 haircuts, $500,000 for working for a hedge fund, $800,000 from Rupert Murdoch,” Russert said to Edwards. “Do you wish you hadn’t taken money in all those cases or hadn’t made that kind of expenditure for a haircut?”

Edwards should have been grateful; at least Russert hadn’t mentioned that 28,000 square-foot house. Instead, Edwards put on his best Hey!-I’m-the-guy-who-talks-about-two-Americas-how-dare-you-ask-me-that-question look and launched straight into the campaign biography he has repeated in so many stump speeches. “Well, first of all, I think if you look at my entire life, I am proud of what I’ve spent my life doing,” he told Russert. “I’m not perfect. There’s not a single person on this stage who’s perfect, but I came from a family — I was born into nothing. I was brought home to a two-room house in a mill village. I have spent my entire life fighting for the kind of people that I grew up with. They worked in the mill with my father. And I don’t apologize for the fact that I have worked hard and built a life which I hope will make life easier for my children. I’m proud of that. I’m not ashamed of that. And I am proud of having stood up for the people that I grew up with. It’s what I have done my entire life. I did it for 20 years as lawyer. It’s what I’ve done every minute that I’ve been in public life. It is the reason that I’ve been going around the country helping organize workers into unions. It is the reason we started a College for Everyone program for low-income kids. It is the reason Elizabeth and I started an after-school program for kids who otherwise would have no chance to go to an after-school program, having access to technology. I’m proud of what I’ve done with my life, and I do not apologize for it. And I do not apologize for it.”

No mention of hedge funds or haircuts or Murdoch.

By the way, Edwards’s line, “I was brought home to a two-room house in a mill village” was carefully crafted, a reflection of his years of experience as a personal injury lawyer. Yes, after he was born he was brought home to a small house. But within a year his family moved to a better house as his father, a mill worker, began a rise that eventually made him a supervisor.

National Review 9/27/07
http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=NGZhMTYxZWViMWRmZDAwZDk0OGI5ZTM4ZDFhMzhlOTM=

June 18, 2007

Honesty disarming… and false

Filed under: 2004 Kerry-Edwards, 2008 Primary, Bio, EE, Voting History — is @ 7:07 pm
Asked about the haircut by the Iowa press afterward, Edwards, hand on hip, eyes squinting in the sun, says, “My whole life has been spent standing up for people who have no voice, and I’ll do that as long as I’m alive. It’s a ridiculous amount of money for a haircut. I’m actually embarrassed by it.”The honesty is disarming, especially since the Beverly Hills stylist Joseph Torrenueva has already said that Edwards is a “longtime client”—it’s no accident that he got a $400 haircut; he just got busted. But whatever: Edwards has transformed embarrassing news into a punch line and a moment of plainspoken humanity. For now, the message has won.

snip

But in the South, Edwards’s good looks and polished oratory can sometimes obscure what’s credible about him. And as Edwards himself observes in Four Trials, his 2004 book about fighting courtroom battles for children and families with personal injury, juries “rarely miss a trick, and probably never when it really is a trick. They take in every movement, fact, word, hesitation, and glance.” Add to that $400 haircuts—not to mention the palatial house that he and his wife recently finished building outside Chapel Hill. With Edwards polling third among Democrats in South Carolina, where he was actually born (he moved to North Carolina when he was 12), he needs to prove he’s got more than just a genuine accent—that, in fact, the heartfelt message and the perfect messenger are one and the same.

History hasn’t always borne out Edwards’s Dixie confidence. It’s been hotly debated whether he would have won reelection to the Senate had he run again in 2004, given the pervasive resentment in North Carolina that he used his seat as a way station for national ambitions. While Edwards did well in the South Carolina Democratic primary in 2004, the Kerry–Edwards ticket not only didn’t win a single Southern state, it didn’t win Edwards’s home state, his home county, or his hometown of Robbins. Edwards says people vote for a president, not a vice president, and he and Kerry have been at each other’s throats over the finer points of that debate since they ceded the election to Bush. Edwards has openly blamed Kerry for not fighting back hard enough against the Swift Boat attacks, while Kerry’s people have accused Edwards of failing to deliver Southern votes (though Kerry ignored the South until he chose Edwards as his running mate).

snip

By apologizing for voting in 2003 to allow President Bush to invade Iraq, Edwards has made candor his presiding virtue, positing himself as the antidote to the prevarications of the Bush era (while giving himself a stick with which to wallop Clinton, who hasn’t quite budged on her vote). He’s also become much more stridently protectionist on trade, courting the labor vote by hiring campaign manager David Bonior, a former congressional majority whip and longtime union advocate who worked with Dick Gep-hardt on the congressman’s 2004 presidential run. (Labor might help Edwards in key primary states, like Nevada and Bonior’s home state of Michigan.) Edwards confessed to Bonior that his 2000 Senate vote supporting free trade with China was, like his war vote, a “mistake.” (more…)

February 2, 2004

Senator’s hometown, pink house in spotlight

Filed under: 2004 Primary, Bio, Character — none @ 5:25 pm
SENECA, S.C. — Not since a local girl made it into the pages of Playboy magazine has this small conservative town in northwest South Carolina been the focus of so much national attention.

Snip: Though Mr. Edwards routinely mentions the modest three-room rental as his first home, his family didn’t live there very long. Soon after he was born, the Edwardses moved into a larger house they built on the other side of town.

“I don’t guess he spent his first birthday there,” said Mrs. Thomas, whose husband, Broadus, has lived in the house next door since 1939.

The house the Edwardses moved into does not appear in campaign ads, and residents of the middle-class Seneca neighborhood aren’t even sure exactly which house it is.

pinkhouse.jpg
stock photo

“Apparently, I was born in the right wing and he was born in the left wing of the hospital,” Mr. Graham said.

He chuckled over Mr. Edwards’ claims to poverty, noting that he himself lived in a trailer home as a child.


http://www.washingtontimes.com/national/20040202-122413-9949r.htm

January 29, 2004

Gigantic boon to the banking lobby

John Edwards has the best smile, the best hair and the most effective populist discourse of all the Democrats who want to be president. His endlessly repeated “Two Americas” stump speech — flaying the haves for fleecing the have-nots — has been carefully honed over months on the campaign trail. It won him second place in Iowa. But it takes more than one speech to give a contender real staying power — as the cash-strapped Edwards discovered when, by an eyelash, he lost the third-place ticket out of New Hampshire to a treasury-rich general with a weightier résumé.

But what’s under the hair and behind the smile? He was born Johnny Reid Edwards in a small mill town, but abandoned this moniker as too Snopes-y when he began the legal career that made him super-rich. He constantly says he’s the “son of a mill worker,” and to hear him tell it, he pulled himself up from poverty so crushing it evokes images of shoeless Li’l Abner. His “Two Americas” rally-pleaser gets much of its power from this poor-boy autobiography, but in making this tale his central campaign theme, Edwards gave his family history a cosmetic make-over, like the one he gave his name.

“The Edwardses were solidly middle class” when Johnny was growing up, according to a four-part profile of the North Carolina senator in his home state’s most prestigious daily, the Raleigh News and Observer. It’s true that for a few years as a young man Edwards’ father worked on the floor of a Roger Milliken textile mill. But Edwards père (a lifelong Republican, like his reactionary boss) quickly climbed upward, becoming a monitor of worker productivity as a “time-study” man — which any labor organizer in the South will tell you is a polite term for a stoolie who spies on the proletarian mill hands to get them to speed up production for the same low wages. Daddy Edwards’ grassing got him promoted to supervisor, then to plant manager — and he finally resigned to start his own business as a consultant to the textile industry. As a Boston Globe profile of Edwards put it last year, the senator never “notes that his father was part of management . . . ‘John was more middle class than most of us,’” says Bill Garner, a high school friend and college roommate.

Edwards’ legislative record — what little there is of it — is hardly populist. In fact, Edwards is a classic, corporate-friendly, centrist New Democrat. In his five years as a freshman senator, Edwards on his own produced little legislation, much less than some other first-termers — although he was assigned by Tom Daschle to represent the Democrats in negotiations over a patients’ bill of rights, and so can boast he was a co-sponsor of the final, but aborted, bill.

However, there’s one highly significant chapter in his Senate career omitted from Edwards’ campaign Web site. Edwards, who comes from a state where banking is big business, played a critical role in brokering legislation to allow banks to sell mutual funds and insurance, and to engage in other speculative ventures. This law, worth hundreds of billions to the banks, blasted a gigantic hole in the Glass-Steagal banking law’s firewall of protections designed to prevent the kinds of bank collapses that marked the Great Depression of the ’30s — meaning that it put the money of Joe Six-Pack depositors at risk. Such a gigantic boon to the banking lobby can hardly be classed as a populist victory.

LA Weekly 1/29/04
http://www.laweekly.com/news/news/a-populist-make-over/2034/

January 12, 2004

“The war ended before he was called up”

Filed under: Bio, Character, Lies, Military Service — is @ 2:01 pm

Raised a strict Baptist, John showed little sign in college that he would become a politician. He skipped most anti-Vietnam protests, and missed being drafted because he drew a high lottery number and the war ended before he was called up.

”John was very conservative,” said his college roommate, Bill Garner, a textile company executive. ”I had long hair and a beard and was into the antiwar marches and stuff, but John never participated in that.”

New York Times 1/12/04
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9807E6DD1530F931A25752C0A9629C8B63&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=print

September 7, 2003

Son of a mill manager

Filed under: Bio, Finances, Voting History — is @ 6:15 pm
Edwards’ accent is upcountry Carolina. His ancestors came from Georgia and the hills of South Carolina. Like thousands of other Southerners in the early 20th century, they were sharecroppers who left the farms to work in the textile mills, where there at least was a steady paycheck.

His maternal grandparents worked in a cotton mill in Utica, a mill village on the outskirts of Seneca, about 10 miles from Clemson University. His father’s people were more upwardly mobile. Edwards’ grandfather ran a small furniture store and served on the town council of nearby Walhalla.

Edwards’ parents, Wallace Edwards and Bobbie Wade, were both working in the mill when they met at a square dance at a nearby state park. They married in 1952 and settled into a three-room rental in Utica Mill Village.

Edwards’ first home may be the perfect campaign prop in his quest for the presidency — the modern equivalent of the log cabin. Earlier this summer, Edwards and his parents stood outside the mill village house and took questions from reporters.

“We didn’t know any better than this was good,” said Wallace Edwards. “We had the basics, food and clothes.”

Their first child, Johnny, was born in 1953, his father taking out a $50 bank loan to pay the hospital bill. Six months later, Bobbie was back at work folding sheets on the night shift at J.P. Stevens. Wallace, who worked the day shift, took care of their son in the evenings.

They lived briefly in a public housing project, but things soon got better for the young family.

Wallace spent most of his career with Milliken & Co., a huge textile operation based in Spartanburg. He was transferred from town to town in the textile belt as he got increasingly better jobs in the industrial engineering department. He took his family to Union, S.C., Rutherfordton, N.C., Clemson, S.C., back to Seneca, and then to Thompson, Ga.

John Edwards says his South Carolina neighborhoods were pretty rough. When he was about 8, his father and an older cousin, Tim Addis, taught him how to battle bullies.

“You wait until they get close to you and then you hit them as hard as you can right in the nose,” Edwards said, laughing. “And they were right; it worked. You punch somebody in the nose, and they will back off, every single time.”

By the time Wallace Edwards brought the family to Robbins in 1965, he was a department head and soon would become production manager of the local Milliken plant.

snip

The Edwardses were solidly middle class. For most of the time in Robbins, they lived on leafy Frye Street. Their neighbors included an insurance agent, a teacher, a lawyer and a truck driver. An optometrist now lives in the house where Edwards spent the longest period of his childhood.

His father eventually left Milliken, frustrated that he could not advance further in the company because he had not attended college. He set up his own consulting firm advising textile companies.

His mother held a series of jobs, including starting a small roadside antiques store where she bought furniture, refinished it and sold it to help put her son through college. She worked for the county board of elections. She took her last job, as a rural letter carrier in West End, to provide her family with health insurance.

-snip

Edwards’ college days were a time of great turmoil and social unrest. At NCSU, students organized antiwar marches and held “Dump Nixon” signs. The country was bitterly divided over the Watergate scandal.

But Edwards — focused on his studies, sports and girlfriends — seems to have floated above the political and cultural wars. Many young men at NCSU sported long hair and beards. But pictures of Edwards show him cleanshaven at NCSU and sporting a neat mustache and longish hair at Carolina. Edwards never served in the armed forces; the draft was abolished in 1973, when he was still in college.

Edwards acknowledges that he tried marijuana “not frequently [but] more than once” while in Raleigh and Chapel Hill. He said he had not used marijuana since leaving school.

His parents were lifelong Republicans, in part because of the corporate culture of the company headed by Roger Milliken, a major GOP donor who encouraged his executives and managers to become Republicans.

“John and I used to debate the Nixon-McGovern election,” said Garner, his NCSU roommate. “I kind of went in the direction of protesting the war. John was more firmly seated in supporting our government. Part of that was the influence of his father.”

Garner remembers that Edwards was undecided about whether to vote in 1972 for President Richard Nixon or whether to vote for the Democratic challenger, Sen. George McGovern.

Edwards says he does not remember how he voted. But he says he might have first registered as an independent. He says he thinks he changed his registration to Democrat by 1976.

snip

It was Johnny Reid Edwards, however, who changed his name, although not legally. In law school, he started referring to himself as John. He believed that sounded better for his new career.

Charlotte Observer 9/7/03
http://www.newsobserver.com/politics/politicians/edwards/eyeonedwards/story/1401790p-7371865c.html

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