Norris and Huckabee: In 08 They Dominate

When Mike Huckabee took the stage after winning the Republican Iowa caucuses, the cameras zoomed in so far that they cut his wife, Janet, out of the frame. But tough-guy actor Chuck Norris, bearded and grinning in his plaid shirt, was still in the picture over Huckabee's left shoulder. So was Norris's wife, former model Gena O'Kelley.

Cameras DO NOT ZOOM past Mr. Chuck Norris.

The 67-year-old retired martial arts champion and star of '80s action movies such as "Delta Force" and the '90s CBS television series "Walker, Texas Ranger" has reemerged in popular consciousness as one of the most visible figures in the 2008 presidential race. And Norris seems determined to roundhouse-kick America into supporting his fellow conservative Christian's candidacy.

To Norris, Huckabee is authentic. "Many of the candidates talk from the head on a prepared script, like I did as an actor," Norris said in an interview this week. "When I look at Huckabee, he's talking from the heart. That impresses me. He doesn't have a speech prepared."

While presidential candidates have long sought the glamour and fund-raising cachet of big-time celebrity supporters, the endorsers this year have become part of the branding of the candidates: Oprah Winfrey has given her aura of inclusiveness to Barack Obama, and John Mellencamp has lent his distinctive working-class patriotism to John Edwards.

And Norris, a retro icon of virility and heroic violence against Communists and terrorists, is giving a jolt of testosterone to a Republican who is widely perceived as likable and witty - but also weak on national security experience.

Norris was featured in Huckabee's first TV commercial and rode the campaign bus from stop to stop in Iowa and New Hampshire. Today, he will make a series of appearances with the candidate in South Carolina. This weekend, he is hosting a fund-raising webcast from his Texas ranch to help Huckabee buy TV ads to compete in next month's Super Tuesday.

Like many celebrities, Norris takes politics seriously and loves being part of the scene. But there is something even more hands-on about Norris's commitment to Huckabee. While Winfrey, Mellencamp, and other endorsers have spent short periods on the campaign trail, then returned to their day jobs, Norris has become something of an unofficial running mate for Huckabee, ever-present and indispensable.

"They seem to be taking this in some ways to the next level," said Bruce Buchanan, a political science professor at the University of Texas at Austin, adding that the Huckabee-Norris relationship is "like choosing a vice presidential candidate - kind of making up for your weakness."

As an actor, Norris plays stoic characters who let their guns and fists do the communicating. On the campaign trail, Norris comes off as talkative, even wonky, earnestly praising Huckabee's positions. He is especially taken with Huckabee's proposal to replace the income tax with a sales tax.

Huckabee, meanwhile, is the entertainer in their joint appearances, playing bass guitar with local bands, making his policy points through folksy stories, and keeping up a steady stream of self-deprecating humor. He jokingly promised a group of rowdy teens at one event in Henniker, N.H., that he would make Norris the secretary of defense, unleashing wild cheers, and he often says he knows most of the crowd really came to see Norris.

It is only half a joke: Norris says his humorous TV commercial with Huckabee, filmed back in the fall when Huckabee was still near the bottom of the polls, was downloaded more than 1.5 million times in 24 hours on YouTube. The attention may have helped fuel Huckabee's abrupt surge.

"My contribution, when we did that promo thing, it kind of lit a spark for Mike," Norris says. "But the thing is, that spark would have gone out if he hadn't had a message that people wanted to hear. But he had that message, and so the spark became a raging fire."

Norris, who also writes an online column in which he frequently expresses conservative Christian views, had never met the former Arkansas governor before writing a column in October endorsing Huckabee as a candidate who would "stand up for a Creator and against secularist beliefs."

After the column came out, the Huckabee campaign asked him to film the commercial. Norris later joined the candidate in Iowa and New Hampshire, when Huckabee was being barraged by attack ads from the better-funded Mitt Romney. As a surrogate, Norris has proved more than willing to play enforcer against Huckabee's rivals, especially the former Massachusetts governor.

"I don't like him," Norris said. "I just don't feel that Romney is speaking the truth. He speaks whatever he thinks people want to hear. . . . I have to commend Huckabee for not retaliating in a negative way. He could say, 'Look at Romney - he flip-flopped on abortion, he flip-flopped on gay marriage - what does he really stand for?' "

Norris has also called for public financing of campaigns because it is "really unfair" that Romney can dump millions into his campaign. He also thinks it is unfair that the press routinely mentions that Huckabee was a Baptist minister before becoming governor when they don't as often note that Romney was a "bishop in the Mormon church."

The Romney campaign did not respond to a request for comment on Norris's remarks.

This is not the first time Norris has lent his beard to a candidate who needed to macho up his image. In the 1988 presidential campaign, George H. W. Bush's campaign strategist, Lee Atwater, recruited Norris to travel with the vice president to help change his image. As Norris puts it, "The press was calling him a wimp."

Huckabee's image is also a little soft for a party that loves action heroes. He is known to many people as a formerly obese man who lost more than 100 pounds and now eats fruit and avoids sugary drinks. He is laid-back and never served in the military. And, more substantively, Huckabee's detractors note that he has little foreign policy experience.

But Norris - again getting tough on Huckabee's behalf - said most of the other candidates, despite giving "lip service" to taking a strong stand in the war on terrorism, don't have any real experience in foreign policy, either.

He notes, for instance, that "Rudy Giuliani was just mayor of New York, for crying out loud." The exception, he said, is John McCain, but he said the Arizona senator is too old and should be Huckabee's vice president so he can share his foreign policy experience. "No candidate can have all the right experience," Norris said. "What you do is you bring in the people who can help guide you in the right direction and make the right decisions."

Norris has let it be known he will do whatever is necessary to defend Huckabee. At one campaign stop in New Hampshire, a man began shouting at the former governor about why he was being advised by Richard Haass, the president of the Council on Foreign Relations, an organization that is a favorite target of conspiracy theorists.

At first Huckabee ignored the man, but as he continued to disrupt the event, Huckabee won the crowd back and regained control by joking: "Don't make me send Chuck back there."

Huckagee in 08: Going National

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. -- Mike Huckabee, written off as a long shot for much of the presidential campaign, emerged as one of the leaders of the Republican pack when he won the Iowa caucuses. But like the dog that finally caught the car, the Huckabee campaign is having to figure out how to deal with challenges it never prepared for.

The Iowa winner campaigned in South Carolina yesterday for the first Southern primary, this Saturday. He has gotten this far on his communication skills and appeal to evangelicals. Now he must broaden his support as his tiny organization evolves from a start-up to one competing at the highest level of U.S. politics.

The demands of logistics, policy, press and fund raising are swamping a campaign powered by an inner circle with little experience. Thin policy positions, an unorganized press operation and a lack of long-term planning have all posed problems.

The strains hampered Mr. Huckabee in Michigan on Tuesday, where he finished a distant third to Mitt Romney and John McCain. The former Arkansas governor and Baptist minister is counting on fellow Southern conservative Christians to give him a win in South Carolina. But after that comes a Feb. 5 vote in 21 states. Mr. Huckabee has no staff or offices in any of them except his headquarters in Little Rock.

"We're having to deal with things we never dealt with before," Mr. Huckabee says. "As you grow, your old shoes don't fit. The old shirts have to be replaced."

He is hardly the first candidate to burst on the scene with little notice. A few succeed, like Jimmy Carter; many others, like Howard Dean, crash and burn. The difference has much to do with outside factors, such as whether a candidate fills a particular void. Mr. Huckabee benefits from a splintered Republican field with no other candidate who appeals so strongly to social conservatives.

The compressed calendar is a big challenge, though. After Mr. Carter won Iowa in 1976, he had a month to prepare for New Hampshire. This year, New Hampshire came less than a week later. By barely a month after the Iowa caucuses, about half the GOP delegates will have been chosen.

At the heart of the Huckabee effort is Chip Saltsman, a veteran of Tennessee politics who uses snuff and favors black snakeskin boots. The 39-year-old signed on a year ago after Mr. Huckabee invited him to go duck hunting in one of Arkansas's premier locales. At the time, Mr. Huckabee hadn't raised a dime and didn't register in polls.

For a campaign manager, Mr. Saltsman tackles an unusual number of details. One morning in South Carolina, he personally handled calls and emails concerning the state's voter database, the script for volunteers' phone calls, and the way to thank volunteers from Iowa. He reviewed the prior day's disbursements, from $25,000 for direct mail to a $15.12 item at Wal-Mart. He took a call from a former congressman offering advice for that night's debate. "The problem is, we're not in charge of what the questions are," he told the caller.

For months, Mr. Saltsman focused almost entirely on Iowa. A calendar in his Little Rock office counted down to the Jan. 3 caucuses, and each morning he would rip off a sheet, crumple it and toss it at his assistant. Then Mr. Huckabee actually won Iowa. Since then his campaign has been struggling to adjust to his new status, and how it copes will have a lot to do with whether he has a real shot.

Its biggest new hire: Ed Rollins, manager of Ronald Reagan's 1984 landslide re-election, who has more presidential-campaign experience than the rest of the team combined. Mr. Rollins signed on last month as national chairman and often travels with Mr. Huckabee.

He speaks highly of Mr. Saltsman, but one concern he has is that "Chip still has his hands on everything." Mr. Rollins recalls advice he got from Richard Nixon upon going to work for Mr. Reagan: No campaign manager can do it all.

Yet Mr. Saltsman's campaign strategy has defied expectations. He got his candidate this far partly by watching every cent. When consultants told him he had to hire field directors across Iowa or he would lose, he replied, "I guess we're going to lose."

Skilled Storyteller

As Mr. Huckabee has shown, the candidate can matter more than the campaign. The key to his success has been himself -- a skilled storyteller and strong social conservative. The former preacher doesn't just represent the evangelical community, he comes from it, and these voters have flocked to him. Mitt Romney had an extensive organization in Iowa yet lost to Mr. Huckabee by nine points.

But organization counts, too, and will more so as the campaign goes national. After Iowa, the demands grew. On all but a few issues, Mr. Huckabee's policy positions were sketchy. His campaign lacked key people, including a national finance chairman and a national security adviser.

"We've moved away from our comfort zones," Mr. Saltsman told his staff at a late-night staff meeting last week in Myrtle Beach, in a room off the hotel bar. "We're adding people faster than we know who they are."

It was barely 24 hours after the New Hampshire polls closed, but Michigan was less than a week away. The campaign was focused on South Carolina and had almost no infrastructure in Michigan. Polls showed Mr. Huckabee had a shot there, so Mr. Saltsman decided to make an effort.

He sent Shane Henry, a 28-year-old Arkansas lawyer who had helped get Mr. Huckabee on state ballots. Mr. Henry, whose father-in-law is close to Mr. Huckabee, sold some property in September, making enough to forgo a paycheck for a while. He signed on as a volunteer, and calls the timing of his windfall "a God thing."

He was hardly the ideal organizer. Asked what Mr. Henry knew about Michigan, Mr. Saltsman says he knew where it was. Mr. Henry, asked about his experience in organizing events, says, "I was student-body president at my university."

Just 36 hours before Mr. Huckabee landed in Michigan, the campaign had yet to put out his schedule for the trip. Mr. Saltsman huddled in his Myrtle Beach hotel room for a midnight conference call with Mr. Henry, Sarah Huckabee -- the candidate's 25-year-old daughter and national field director -- and Mr. Huckabee's daughter-in-law, Lauren Huckabee.

As they went over the Michigan plans, Mr. Saltsman was prepared for the worst. At the staff meeting earlier that night, Sarah Huckabee had reported that the entire Michigan team had threatened to quit because they were so frustrated at the task ahead.

Mr. Saltsman was frustrated, too. His eyes were clenched shut as he listened to Mr. Henry describe the spot they were in. They wanted to announce new endorsements but didn't know who was actually planning to back Mr. Huckabee. They planned a big rally in Birch Run, Mich., but didn't know who would introduce him.

Mr. Saltsman lodged a pinch of snuff in his cheek, leaned back and tried to take the team through the schedule, event by event. He offered a suggestion made earlier by Mr. Rollins: How about stopping at the Gerald R. Ford Library and Museum? The Michigan team said there wasn't likely to be a crowd there. "We're not looking for a crowd, we're looking for a media event," Mr. Saltsman explained, exasperated.

The team couldn't decide whether it was worthwhile to stop at a basketball game for home-schoolers, who are often evangelical Christians. It would add two hours to what was already a 14-hour day. Mr. Saltsman said he would think about it.

Mike Huckabee meets with supporters in Columbia, S.C.

As the call concluded, Sarah Huckabee, exhausted, mouthed to Mr. Saltsman that he needed to tell Mr. Henry and his team that they were doing a good job. Mr. Saltsman rolled his eyes. "They are working hard and really trying," Ms. Huckabee wrote on a slip of paper.

Before hanging up, Mr. Saltsman offered a pep talk. "I know this has been kind of a crazy couple of days, and I appreciate everyone running hard and doing the best you can," he said. "We are ready for whatever happens in Michigan. Then we'll come to South Carolina and play a home game."

The results were mixed. The rally in Birch Run worked: More than 1,000 pumped-up people jammed an expo center to hear Mr. Huckabee give a passionate stump speech and play his bass guitar.

Home-Schoolers' Game

The campaign decided to go to the home-schooler basketball game -- because the local media were already reporting that he was coming. The game offered an enthusiastic crowd, including a woman who insisted Mr. Huckabee take a ring of hers, saying it was all she had to give. By the next day, he was talking about her on the stump. Yet Saturday morning, a lengthy visit to the Ford museum failed to attract any local media, as it was never put onto his public schedule.

The biggest event on the schedule was a speech to the Detroit Economic Club. Advisers worked for days writing it, but in the end Mr. Huckabee rejected most of the draft and came up with his own talk, consisting largely of themes he had honed on the trail. He declared that it was the nation's duty to come to the aid of the economically troubled state. When local reporters pressed him for specifics, he had few.

One aide acknowledged that policy papers on some major areas "don't exist." Mr. Rollins last week expanded the policy shop from three to four -- compared with eight for the Romney campaign.

Mr. Saltsman is trying to figure out what the priorities should be. He worries about spending money too fast, knowing how some campaigns have burned through millions early and wound up nearly broke, a peril Sen. McCain faced last summer. Most of the Huckabee money, Mr. Saltsman believes, needs to be saved for TV ads. Only strategic hires are allowed.

Another challenge is integrating new people into the fold. "The hard part," Mr. Huckabee says, is "we've always had a very intimate staff and a tightly knit group who've really been through some trials, and [new people] suddenly come on board and they don't even know who people are. I mean I'll go and I'll shake hands with someone and [they'll] say, 'I work for you.' Oh, OK, I didn't know that...it's a little embarrassing."