Race A Central Issue For Clinton, Obama In Georgia

ATLANTA--Georgia has long held a special place for the Clinton clan. In 1992 it was the first state where Bill Clinton clinched a primary victory. But when the polls open here on Super Tuesday, Hillary Clinton may find it difficult to repeat her husband's performance because of the growing popularity of one man: Barack Obama.

Georgia has an open primary and holds the sixth-largest number of delegates (103 for the Democrats) on February 5--and both front-runners are fighting hard for them. They've visited the state multiple times, campaigning and fundraising.

Yet the fiercest contest among Democrats in Georgia is for blacks, who represent nearly half of Democratic primary voters. Though Obama has tried not to make his candidacy about race, blacks have been a pivotal factor in his surge across the South, particularly in his victory in South Carolina. The demographic is expected to help him across Georgia as well, political analysts say.

Obama has won strong support from black leaders--including endorsements from civil rights icon Rev. Joseph Lowery, Rep. Sanford Bishop Jr., and Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin--but at least as many have thrown their hats in the Clinton camp. Among Clinton's backers are civil rights leaders, including Rep. John Lewis and former Atlanta Mayor and Rep. Andrew Young, as well as younger leaders like Atlanta City Council member Kwanza Hall.

Both Clinton and Obama have offices across the state, and their campaign stops have targeted the black community. Obama, for instance, spoke at a Sunday service before Martin Luther King Day at King's former church, Ebenezer. Bill Clinton gave a speech there the next day. Chelsea Clinton, stumping for her mother, visited Atlanta last week too to meet with students at Spelman, a black women's college.

"It points out how important the issue of race is and how important within the Democratic coalition African-Americans are," says Adam Stone, a political science professor at Georgia Perimeter College in Dunwoody.

Obama Country

The South Carolina results had hardly been announced, but debate was already raging inside the Beautiful Restaurant, a church-run soul food eatery in Atlanta. One regular, an older black man, thought the almost exclusively black clientele's preference for Obama was misguided. White people wouldn't vote for a black man so they should all support Clinton, he told them. "They ran him on out of there," Linzy Scott, a retired 73-year-old doctor, explained of the Obama naysayer.

This was Obama territory, and over a late-afternoon lunch, a crowd of black men and a few women, most upward of 60, talked about their support for Obama. For them, Obama represented a confluence of change and hope, a symbol for black youth as much as a bridge across the political divide in America. That he is black was a draw, but that alone, they said, was not the reason they supported him. "It's irrelevant whether this man is black, white, green, red, or whatever," Scott said. "It is irrelevant now with the war we've got going, with the economy we've got going, with the dropping of the dollar. If there is somebody that can get you out of a mess, it's somebody who's gotten out of a mess himself."

Steve Campbell, a 60-year-old former salesman wearing an Obama pin, countered the argument that Obama doesn't have enough experience. "Experience has gotten us where we are today," he said. He is worried about the economy, healthcare, education, and the country's image abroad--something he experienced firsthand during international travel in 2003 and 2004.

Something needs to be done and done differently, they thought. And that is why Richard Jenkins, a 57-year-old probation officer for Fulton County, said he was siding with Obama. "Because he hasn't been there, he's able to see things in a different light," Jenkins said.

Joe Taylor, a 68-year-old small-business man, put it simply: "I think we need a totl change."

Of course, not everyone was so quick to put aside the question of race. Atlanta native Harole McGuire, 76, summed up his support for Obama in two words. "He's black," he said, adding, "[Even] if he don't have a policy, I'm going to vote for him. He's my man."

Few places in Georgia seem to represent Barack Obama's message of unity and change more than Harvest Cathedral Church in Macon. Founded nearly three decades ago as the first--and still the most--multiracial church in the 100,000-person city, Harvest Cathedral draws a cross section of the electorate. It is half black and half white, with a smattering of multiracial couples as well as families from Japan, the Philippines. and countries in Africa. It is home to people across the political spectrum, from black Democratic single mothers to Bible Belt conservatives.

So it might come as little surprise that Obama, who is multiracial himself, would choose this spot to spread his message after his victory in South Carolina. The church's pastor, Steve Sawyer, had never heard from Obama before the campaign called him last week, asking if Obama could worship there on Sunday. "Initially I was just sort of shocked," Sawyer wrote in an E-mail to church leaders. "My personal political philosophy is different from his." But, he continued, it was hard to turn down someone who could possibly be the next "leader of the free world."

That Sunday, the 1.100-seat sanctuary, with bare walls except for two rows of international flags along the back, was full in expectation of Obama's visit. Some like Jocelyn Kelley, a 24-year-old black college student at Fort Valley State University, had come especially for Obama, arriving hours early for the 11 a.m. service. (Kelley summed up her support: "To be perfectly honest, because he's black and I'm black.") Most of the crowd was regular churchgoers.

Obama had no trouble capturing them with his message. "I have to remind people that change doesn't happen from the top down," he said. "It happens from the bottom up."

Yet the talk wasn't focused on change alone. Obama began his talk with a parable from the New Testament--the tale of the Good Samaritan--and how it illustrated his sense of justice. He also explained, to a round of applause, how despite his lack of a religious upbringing, he had come to Christianity and seen that "that my sins could be redeemed if I placed my trust in him." Obama's language was laced with biblical phrases, and while he vowed to "apply the values of our faith to the problems of our society," he made clear that this meant a separation between religion and state.

It was a message that resonated with people across the political spectrum. Both Kali Bogdan, 40, and her mother, Fran, are white and Republican and have been members of the Harvest church for years. Though Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney are at the top of their list for president, they said were impressed by Obama's message of racial unity (it hit close to home because Kali is adopting a black foster child) and "the fact that God is in his life."

Vennetta Edwards, a black 40-year-old single mother of two, was also moved by his expression of faith. But Obama's discussion of healthcare struck a chord as well. A nurse, Edwards said she forgoes health coverage because she can afford to insure only her children. "He sounds like someone I would vote for," she said.

The Clinton Camp

Kwanza Hall wasn't an obvious Clinton supporter. But his endorsement was important not simply because it came from a black elected official: Hall represents a younger generation of leaders and didn't have direct ties to Bill Clinton's administration, which many of Hillary's endorsers do. The campaign for Hall's endorsement began with wooing the city council member for downtown Atlanta late last year. Then Bill Clinton came to speak. Hall asked a question about Hillary's urban planning policy, and the next thing heknew, he had a policy brief in his in box. Hillary meant business, which was exactly Hall's style.

Coming to elected office, Hall realized how much of a learning curve was involved in any job. "I want it to change immediately," and only someone who knows the ins and outs of Washington would be able to deliver.

It was a message Clinton supporters repeated again and again and why volunteers at the Clinton campaign were hard at work, phone banking and canvassing voters.

Early Monday, four volunteers and staffers staked out of the corner of Monroe and Piedmont streets with campaign signs. If the diversity of those honking in support was any indication, Hillary, too, was drawing support across racial and generational divides.

Among the supporters braving the cold morning was Susan Westergard, a retired circulation official for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. She'd never been much of a political activist but was drawn to the excitement of this race. She liked Clinton's passion and her experience. And while she liked Obama's idealism, she said, "I don't think he is practical."

Across the street, another volunteer, Clinton Smith, was holding a Hillary sign and cup of coffee that wasn't quite warm enough to keep his hands toasty. "I should have brought gloves," he said. Smith, 52, is a federal mediator. Though he'd always voted, Smith said he'd never helped with a campaign before. But because "Bush was so bad" he felt the need to get involved. Since he is a black man, he said, "my heart is for Obama, but my brain is for Hillary." It wasn't an easy decision, but Clinton's experience made the difference for him. The country, he believes, needs someone ready to hit the ground running. "She's ready," he said. But he doesn't want that to end Obama's efforts. "I'm hoping she picks him as a vice president," he said.

By Emma Schwartz