The crusty conscience of the Democrats gets back in the saddle again

Dennis Kucinich may be the next President of the United States of America.

Wipe that smirk off your face. The representative of Ohio's 10th Congressional district boasts decades of public service, thoughtful policy proposals, and a deep commitment to his principles. (Not that any of those are requirements for the White House. Right, Mr. President?) Yet nobody seems to take Kucinich's candidacy very seriously—unlike those of, say, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama.

Maybe it's because, at five feet seven inches and 140 pounds, he looks more like a jockey than a head of state. Or maybe it's because his politics, a mix of '60s-style pacifism and Depression-era populism, are out of step with the centrist values that helped the Democrats recapture Congress last November. Or maybe it's because he's a born-again vegan who calls bowling a pillar of civilization and breaks into basso profundo without warning during his stump speech. We interviewed Rep. Kucinich in hopes of finding out why he believes what so few others do: that he really could go all the way in '08.

What's on your campaign itinerary today, Congressman?
Dennis Kucinich: Well, I'm in Washington doing my job as a member of Congress, and I'll be attending the State of the Union address tonight and looking forward to what the president has to say.

I wanted to ask about the speech you gave recently to the RainbowPUSH Coalition, at an event in midtown Manhattan hosted by Reverend Jesse Jackson, in which you broke into song. What was the idea of that?
The song that I was singing has to do with the plight of a miner who was loading 16 tons and talking about his fate. And that no matter how hard he worked, he couldn't get ahead. And that he owed his soul to the company store. There's still a feeling across America that many people, no matter how hard they work, they just can't get ahead. That people keep getting deeper and deeper in debt, and in fact Americans are maxed out on their credit cards, their homes are in jeopardy, and their lack of health care has created enormous financial waves. So that song, which is from many years ago, really typifies a plight of so many people.

What I'm really curious about is that after singing it you picked up the speech patterns of a black minister. Were you reflecting the energy of your audience?
The song is one that's very popular in the south and I do a lot of speaking in churches, so that's kind of where I come from.

"We lived in 21 different places by the time I was 17, including a couple cars. And people understand that experience"Barack Obama was supposed to be the scheduled speaker that day. And when he couldn't make it you stepped up and filled in. Were you worried at all that doing that would send a signal that you're a second-tier candidate?
Huh? [dead silence]

Well, you were a substitute speaker for someone who at this point is polling higher than you in national polls.
What does that mean? That doesn't mean anything. The fact of the matter is that I was invited to be there, I was glad to be there, and my presence there was very appreciated. I got a standing ovation and people there were glad to hear the view that I had, which really talked about returning to the American city.

I share a cultural experience with a lot of people who were there. I grew up in an inner-city family, the oldest of seven. My parents never owned a home, and we lived in 21 different places by the time I was 17, including a couple cars. And people understand that experience in striving to have conditions where housing is better, health care is better, and the job opportunities are there. So, for me, it was more of a homecoming—I don't take second seat to anybody!