A Fighting Chance

And then there was Dan. Dan Geldon still had the same iron will as that seven-year-old kid who gave up meat, and he never wavered in any battle. This would be our fourth fight together: first COP, then Dodd–Frank, then the consumer agency, and now a Senate campaign. Only now he wasn’t on his own anymore. Somehow, during this wild ride, Dan had found time to fall in love. He was engaged to be married, and he and his fiancée, Heather Geldhof, were settled in Washington. But the campaign would be in Massachusetts, so Dan—and Heather—agreed to pick up and come back to Boston.

The team came over to my house to help prepare for the debate. A couple of my former students played other candidates, and friends filled additional roles. But Dan boiled the session down to one lesson: Don’t screw up. Not exactly confidence-inspiring advice, but I knew why he was offering it. Pundits were saying that I was the front-runner for the Democratic nomination. That was great news, except it also meant that I wasn’t going to get a few trial runs below the radar. People would be watching to see if a first-timer could pull this off, and there might be no second chances if I messed up.

I’d been a high school debater, but with six people onstage and questions about any topic at all—and only one minute allowed for each answer—I felt like I was trying to learn how to walk backward on the moon.

The debate was held in an auditorium that could seat about a thousand people, and it was a full house. When we arrived that night, a big, noisy crowd stood outside, waving signs and cheering for their candidates. I shook hands with nearly everyone—including people holding signs for the other candidates. If felt like a big party.

The stage was big and brightly lit—so bright that the only people I could see clearly were the other candidates. A seated panel of students began asking us questions, and they covered stuff I’d expected (“Do you support Planned Parenthood?” Yes!) and stuff I didn’t expect (“What superhero would you be?” Um … Wonder Woman! Who wouldn’t want a Lasso of Truth?). There were also questions that might have made news if anyone had given the wrong answer (“Have you driven drunk?” No.).

And then another question, this time from a young man in a dark jacket. The student began by pointing out that to help pay for his law school education, Scott Brown had posed for Cosmo. (In fact, he’d been chosen “America’s Sexiest Man” in June 1982, and a photo of him had run as the magazine’s nude centerfold.) Then the student asked us: “How did you pay for your education?”

When it was my turn to answer, I joked: “Well, I kept my clothes on.” I then hit what I thought was the real point:

I borrowed money.… I went to a public university at a time when they were well supported and tuition was cheap and I had a part-time job, so the combination got me through.



I was glad for the chance to talk about student loans. Costs were soaring out of control, and families were being asked to shoulder an ever-growing share of that burden. A lot of people were overwhelmed by their student debt loads, and I wanted Washington to step up and do more to help people who were trying to get an education. I wished I’d had more time to talk about this—a minute wasn’t nearly long enough.

Two days later, Senator Brown called in to a local radio show. The host asked him about my remark, and that’s when the conversation took a surprising turn:



HOST: Have you officially responded to Elizabeth Warren’s comment about how she didn’t take her clothes off?

BROWN: (laughing) Thank God.

HOST: (laughing) That’s what I said! I said, “Look, can you blame a good-looking guy for wanting to, you know…?”

BROWN: You know what, listen, bottom line is, you know, I didn’t go to Harvard.

Really? That was the bottom line? This seemed like stupid locker room stuff to me—but a lot of women were getting tired of stupid locker room stuff. As one of my friends said, “Enough! Women get hit like this all the time, and when we complain, the guys say, ‘Geez, can’t you take a joke?’ Well, no more.” The National Organization for Women called for Brown to apologize to the women of Massachusetts and step out of the race.

Some in the media declared Brown’s crack the “first major gaffe” of the campaign. As it turned out, it wouldn’t take me long to join him in the ranks of the big-time gaffe makers.

Gaffes, Gaffes, Gaffes …

On a sunny morning in early October, I headed to Quincy to start the day with breakfast at McKay’s, an old-school city diner with a counter and a dozen or so tables. The state senator, John Keenan, introduced me to many of the customers, and I had the chance to feed pancakes to a toddler while I talked with his grandparents.