Some video from the marathon here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f14cPG3Harg
The Edwards bus trip: Behind the music
Noon, Mile 0, Ames
It all started out so well. Everyone was well-rested and well-fed. The candidate, the campaign workers and the media had stayed in luxury hotels the night
before. The campaign bus was in full working order. The laptops, digital cameras, cell phones and Blackberrys were charged and ready to go. It was an ideal
beginning.
But John Edwards' 36-hour nonstop campaign marathon through Iowa Tuesday and Wednesday would soon encounter a conspiracy of calamities that would leave
campaign staffers stressed, journalists grumbling, and everyone longing for a hotel room and a good sleep.
The ambitious journey of more than 900 miles and 16 events was designed to bolster Edwards' campaign leading into the eve of the Iowa caucuses, galvanizing
supporters and swaying undecideds.
In that respect, the opening hours were flawless. Edwards addressed a packed ballroom here at Iowa State University, kicking off the "Marathon for the
Middle Class" and pressing his message of populist rebellion.
3:12 p.m., Mile 69, Fort Dodge
The next stop is the Friendship Haven retirement home, with a slower-moving but no-less-enthusiastic crowd.
By now, both candidate and press corps are settled into their respective buses. Campaign strategist Joe Trippi has boarded the press bus and is regaling
reporters with his candidate impressions.
In the luxury coach, the "Main Street Express," Edwards is making calls to radio shows and undecided voters. Elizabeth Edwards and Mari Culver, wife
of the Iowa governor, are playing charades in the living-room-like seating area. The television is on, turned as always to the sporting events Edwards loves. A
bed is made for the later hours.
7:30 p.m., Mile 168, Des Moines
Edwards arrives at a union hall packed with boisterous steelworkers. They surge toward him in a chaotic display of devotion. The photographers are salivating
at the scene. Edwards clamors on top of a metal chair to address the crowd, evoking Sally Field in the classic organizing film "Norma Rae."
"We're in the middle of a 36-hour marathon. … I've never had so much fun in my life," Edwards bellows. "We're going to change
America!"
Edwards fights his way to the exit as Local 164 bursts into chants of "Go! John! Go!" with a lone man hollering "To the White House!" on
the upbeat.
10:28 p.m., Mile 300, Council Bluffs
After the first long leg of the trip, signs of trouble appear. A rebellion is brewing among the press corps. There are no outlets on the bus. And slowly, their
varied and essential electrical gadgets are powering off. "No one is going to write about this if we can't find any power strips," gripes one.
On the "Main Street Express," the atmosphere is merrier. Elizabeth Edwards has gathered senior staff and supporters for a sing-along of "In the
Good Ship Lollypop."
But all is not well below. The bus has an electrical glitch. And Edwards' entourage is forced to abandon it at a gas station and load into vans. Gone is
the big TV, the microwave, the comfortable seating and most of all, the bed.
At the next scheduled stop, an Edwards' campaign office in Council Bluffs, the crowd has no idea of the candidate's desperate transportation situation.
Edwards pulls up in a van, wades into the packed office and delivers a rousing speech.
Outside, though, more difficulties ensue as a passing drunk heckles a beefy steelworker. The two begin to argue and suddenly a scuffle breaks out. TV cameras
divert their attention from Edwards' oratory to the melee outside. Sensing a deteriorating situation, the campaign volunteers break into chants of "We
love Elizabeth! We love John! We want to see them on the White House lawn!" until the drunk wanders off.
At Hour 11, the marathon is looking grim.
12:13 a.m. Mile 355, Atlantic
On the press bus, the power shortage is grave, and reporters are testily querying campaign workers about when they will next see an outlet. Meanwhile, Edwards
has found a new bus, but it lacks the amenities and signage of the earlier one.
With everyone tired and strained, it seems like a good time for some home-cooking. In Atlantic, Denise O'Brien, a strawberry and apple farmer, has opened
her home up for the next stop on the Edwards' tour. She has fixed black-eyed pea soup and cornbread. "I'm hoping the senator will have some."
Her quaint old farmhouse is full of supporters, including one elderly woman who saw Franklin Roosevelt speak in 1936.
Forty minutes later, Edwards emerges with soup and cornbread in hand.
2:23 a.m. Mile 428, Creston.
Marketing executive Jan Knock hosts several dozen night-owl caucus-goers in her home.
"We got a lot of calls from people saying this time must be a typo," she laughs.
The Edwards thank the group. "The fact that all of you are here in the middle of the night is inspirational to us," Elizabeth Edwards says.
John Edwards sleeps little over the ensuing hours. "I was just sitting, staring out the window, trying to sleep."
The next two days will likely make or break his presidential bid. Edwards has banked nearly all his resources on the outcome in Iowa. This is the final,
pivotal push, the first line of his biography in the making.
5:24 am. Mile 532, Centerville
This hour before dawn, as the campaign stops at the home of another supporter, is perhaps the darkest yet.
Despite the supportive crowd, Edwards' staff is incensed. They've read news accounts of the journey thus far and feel the press has overplayed the bus
breakdown. With the whole trip staged in large part to garner favorable coverage, the vehicle troubles were unforeseen and disappointing.
Edwards is bleary-eyed, his speech brief. "We're sort of running on adrenaline right now."
Outside, the temperature has sunken to 1 degree. On the press bus, cell phones and Blackberrys are dark.
6:47 a.m., Mile 574, Ottumwa
Dawn. Edwards greets early risers at a small campaign office. "We're going to keep going," he says. "We're going to keep the pedal down
to the floor."
An older woman approaches him: "No other candidate has inspired me since I met Bobby Kennedy," she tells him. At a later event, an elderly man tells
him the same.
There are power strips here and the media happily charges equipment while Edwards takes a shower at the local Super 8 motel. The mood is looking up.
8:25 a.m., Mile 600, Fairfield
This town is bizarre.
One 62-year-old woman waiting for Edwards to speak at a coffee shop relates that she believes in UFOs. "I think I've been abducted, specifically in
the summer of 1975. I have 25 hours that are missing."
Another woman, Dori Ahern, who describes her occupation as "perpetual student," mentions that "studies show that when people meditate in large
groups, it has an effect on the environment."
Fairfield, it turns out, is home to the Maharishi University of Management, a mecca for transcendental meditation.
Before the unusual crowd, Edwards has regained his energy, taking questions again, speaking at length and cracking jokes.
Later, Edwards turns up unannounced on the press bus bearing coffee. The reporters are so surprised and tired they can't think of a single substantive
question to ask. Instead the group jokes about its shared fatigue. Edwards has been relying on Sprite to stay up. (He doesn't drink coffee.) What about Red
Bull, the energy drink? "That stuff's nasty!"
9:44 a.m. Mile 623, Mt. Pleasant
At yet another event, Edwards is completely revived. He has traded his standard bus for a luxury model, the third bus of the trip.
And he's getting cheeky.
"I'm doing great. The press is worn out. That's probably not a smart thing to add," he quips.
11:20 a.m. Mile 661, Fort Madison
With just over twelve hours to go, the relentless charge to the finish begins. The effects of the all-nighter are beginning to show on the media. A campaign
staffer has to remind reporters that there is both a Fort Madison and a Fort Dodge in Iowa and they have not returned to the same place twice.
Some journalists, sensing the drama dissipating, peel off. Three photographers called a cab in Ottumwa and high-tailed it back to Des Moines, their hard-drives
full of images from the union hall and the farmhouse, the best imagery retail politics can offer, they say.
12:55 p.m. Mile 679, Burlington.
Edwards drops by another campaign office.
3:42 p.m. Mile 756, Iowa City
Edwards talks at a coffee shop. His voice begins to crack. "This 36-hour marathon…is beginning to take a toll on my voice."
5:14 p.m. Mile 789, Cedar Rapids
Deadlines are approaching. Power is still in scarce supply. And six journalists cram on top of each other in a Chevy Cobalt for the long haul back to Des
Moines, leaving Edwards behind. At Mile 874, Edwards was scheduled to stop in at a coffee house in Grinnell, then on to Mile 933, the final stop, for a concert
with John Mellencamp. Then back to the hotel, where a bed was waiting.
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Edwards winning endurance contest with press
By TONY LEYS
REGISTER STAFF WRITER
Fairfield, Ia. - John Edwards' 36-hour, 16-stop march through Iowa has left his press corps bedraggled, but the
candidate is looking as sharp and peppy as ever.
The "Marathon for the Middle Class" started Tuesday morning and continued on through the night. The campaign caravan is ping-ponging all over the
state, covering hundreds of miles and stopping in cities, small towns and even private homes. He's been drawing audiences ranging from a few dozen in the
wee hours to several hundred at the bigger daytime events.
The tour is scheduled to conclude this evening with a John Mellencamp concert in West Des Moines.
At one point today, Edwards and his older daughter, Cate, brought trays of coffee onto the press bus, where two dozen
journalists were trying to work or sleep.
Edwards razzed reporters and jokingly questioned their toughness.
"We're gonna make it. We're gonna make it. Well, let me rephrase that. I'm gonna make it," he said. He pointed at ABC network reporter
Raelyn Johnson, who's been covering him non-stop for months. "I doubt if she's gonna make it," he said, guffawing."There's bags
under your eyes," he told her.
"I didn't have them before I started with your campaign," she shot back.
"Oh, it's all my fault, huh?" he said, laughing some more.
Edwards, 54, is twice as old as some of the journalists. He said he'd taken about an hour's worth of catnaps during the night. He said he felt
energized even though he doesn't drink coffee, and he insisted that he had not restarted a former Diet Coke habit.
A reporter offered an alternative: "We've got some Red Bull back here."
"Red Bull? That stuff's nasty," the candidate replied.
The only hint of fatigue Edwards has shown today has been a slight hoarseness in his voice as the endless string of speeches wears on.
He's scheduled to hit the trail again Thursday morning, trying to land a few more supporters in the final hours before the caucuses.
Earlier this week, when his campaign announced the marathon plan, Edwards was asked who would crack first, him or the reporters. "Oh, you're gonna
crack," he said, grinning.
It's starting to look like he was right.
