The next morning, as we drove west toward a meeting on the banks of an isolated reservoir called Fontana Lake, radio news reports from Nashville noted that Gore was going to make his announcement at noon. I began to feel like the one kid in class who wasn’t invited to a birthday party. When we got to the lake, we were met by half a dozen officials from local communities and the Tennessee Valley Authority. The locals complained about the TVA’s policy of drawing water out of the river to generate hydroelectricity. They thought it discouraged tourism and fishing and the economic benefits that come with visitors. I watched closely to see if the senator was bored or distracted, but if he was, he didn’t show it. He left the lakeside assuring his hosts that he would look into the problem, and they were pleased.

Lunch was scheduled at a local school where the kids were on vacation, but we would meet with teachers and administrators. On the way there, we were shocked to hear that Gore had picked not Dick Gephardt, but Joe Lieberman, a senator from Connecticut with little national reputation and even less charisma than Gore. (We had heard rumors about Lieberman but had dismissed them as ridiculous.) In that moment, considering Lieberman’s and Edwards’s strengths, I believed that Gore had been afraid that if he picked Edwards, his running mate might outshine him. The senator insisted he never really expected to be picked and that he wasn’t very disappointed. He repeated what he had said the night before about all he had seen in life and how he had learned to roll with the punches. I kept thinking about how the whole country was focused on Gore and Lieberman.

It was a punch to the gut. At that point, we all felt that Gore would win and any future hopes of a presidential run for Senator Edwards were a long way off. It was confusing working in politics at times like this; you want what’s best for your team, but you want what’s best for yourself, too.

At the school, we were met by the principal and given the usual tour. Somewhere along the way, Gore and Lieberman called and I took the senator into an empty room to congratulate them and agree that he would contribute to the campaign in any way he could. When he came back, it seemed as if C senothing had happened. He sat down with a small group of educators and listened carefully to their concerns about the funding and technology needs of rural schools. No trace of disappointment showed on his face, and he was completely attentive. Looking back on that day ten years later, I can say he was never more presidential.

(Eventually, the senator told me what had happened with the Gore pick. According to Edwards, he had been anointed on the Saturday prior to the announcement, but the choice did not go over well among Democratic Party insiders and with various pundits. The next day, the Gore family met behind closed doors, and when the session ended Lieberman was in.)

Realistically, the nomination for vice president was too much to expect for a guy who had run for office only once and had served a grand total of nineteen months in the Senate. Knowing this, I found it easier to focus on the chores Cheri and I had to finish at our new house and enjoy what the summer had to offer. We went to a Jimmy Buffett concert at an outdoor venue called Walnut Creek and attended a good friend’s wedding at a country club down in Charlotte. Cheri wasn’t feeling quite like herself, but I figured she was just a little run-​down. Besides, we managed to have a great time at both events.

I was free to relax because the boss was in great demand out of state. In the middle of the month, he attended the Democratic National Convention at the massive Staples Center arena in Los Angeles. He had a minor speaking role: five minutes and not in prime time. But he also got to visit state delegations, where he met dozens of people who could help him in the future, and he socialized with the glittery Hollywood wing of the party, which was out in force. No matter what you might think of the Democrats at any given moment, you cannot deny that it is by far the entertainment industry’s favorite party. Cher, John Travolta, Martin Sheen, Christie Brinkley, and many others turned out for the Democrats. Before he even left Los Angeles, the national media were describing John Edwards as a rising star and “the future” of the Democratic Party.

I heard all about the Hollywood scene when the senator finally returned and we resumed our routine, crisscrossing the state to meet constituents and officials. The senator was practically giddy with excitement about the convention and wide-​eyed over the people he had met and the things he had learned. Always eager to tweak his technique, he was especially proud of learning how to address a vast but distracted audience like the crowd at the Staples Center. The party’s media consultants had coached him on how to stop for applause lines and pretend that he had looked into the crowd and caught someone’s eye. This bit of acting is essential for anyone who wants to look good while addressing weary delegates in midafternoon, and John Edwards was delighted to report that he had mastered it.

Others agreed with the senator’s self-​assessment. A little more than a week after the convention, Senator Edwards was the subject of a column in The Wall Street Journal by the paper’s Capitol Hill veteran Al Hunt. The piece cited glowing assessments by big-​name Democrats, but the comment that C costuck out came from Alex Castellanos, a Republican consultant who had tried to help Lauch Faircloth fend off the Edwards challenge in 1998: “Edwards is the Robert Redford of politics, a ‘natural.’ ” Of course, Castellanos was actually referring to the character Roy Hobbs, whom Redford played in a movie called The Natural, but his point was clear. John Edwards looked, walked, talked, and acted like a great leader, and he made it look effortless. And in a thirty-​second sound bite age, these traits could be more valuable to a politician than decades of experience in public service.

I agreed with Castellanos, but I also knew the senator was sensitive about his natural gifts. He wanted people to remember that he came from a very small town and was raised in a lower-​middle-​class household where he got lots of love-his mom thought he could do no wrong-but no luxuries. “I’ve worked hard all my life,” he would say. “This isn’t easy.”

As the senator and I went back on the road, he continued to hone his political skills. He was at his best when he encountered resistance in a crowd, like the time we went to an American Legion hall in a small town and someone asked why he opposed a constitutional amendment that would ban flag burning. The room was full of war veterans who had risked their lives and seen their friends die in defense of the flag, and they felt deeply insulted by the thought of anyone desecrating it. The senator opposed the amendment because he considered it a free-​speech issue and he believed the Constitution was so sacred that amendments should be rarely enacted. Somehow in that hall he managed to listen respectfully, offer a differing point of view, and reach an understanding with a group that met him with real hostility.

The legion appearance left the senator feeling energized and engaged. He had a much more easygoing experience at a gathering called the Fatherhood Summit. At this meeting, he spoke a bit about the importance of fathers, and because I had spent so much time in his home, I knew he spoke sincerely. I had seen how he related to his children, making them feel nurtured, protected, and secure. Whenever he was home, he watched movies with the kids and took charge of bedtime, making sure stories were read, pillows were fluffed, and blankets were tucked in. And on many occasions when Mrs. Edwards had reached her limit with the kids, he would take over and restore harmony almost instantly.