Even in N.C., he's loyal to Clinton

RALEIGH - Richard Sullivan is Hillary Rodham Clinton's man in North Carolina.

That makes him odd man out in Tar Heel Democratic political circles, where most of the party fundraisers, elected officials and operatives support the presidential bid of John Edwards, former senator and favorite son.

But Sullivan, 43, a Raleigh public affairs consultant, rose in national politics in the 1990s as a lieutenant in the Clinton organization. And he is sticking with his friends.

Although Sullivan says he is "a big fan of Senator Edwards," his longstanding friendship with Bill and Hillary prompted him to back the New York senator's presidential bid.

"I'm a big believer in relationships, loyalty and friendship," said Sullivan, who has worked for the Clintons off and on for 12 years.

Sullivan, or "Sully" as he is known to his friends, may be able to fly out of Raleigh-Durham International unnoticed because of his low profile in North Carolina. But he is a fixture among the high rollers of Wall Street, K Street and Hollywood.

"He's wired," said Jay Dunn, who is Sen. John Kerry's chief fundraiser. "You can go to any major finance city -- New York or Miami or California -- Richard is known in all the circles and is widely respected."

By his own estimate, Sullivan has raised a half-billion dollars for Democratic presidential candidates, the party or Democratic causes since he entered the political game in 1988.

As a member of Clinton's finance committee, Sullivan estimates that he is responsible for bringing in between $450,000 and $500,000 of the $26 million that Clinton recently reported she raised during the first three months of this year.

A good mixer

Sullivan is soft-spoken and speaks hesitatingly, carefully weighing his words. With his Southern preppy look, he can easily mix in corporate board rooms. His friends call him "a Boy Scout," which is probably not the image that most people would associate with a big-time political fundraiser.

"He has a winning way about him," said former House Democratic leader Dick Gephardt. "People like him right off the bat. He engenders trust. He works in a way that is pleasing to people. He has integrity. He's not loud and aggressive. He's understated."

Sullivan seems to be one of those people who is drawn to politics for the love of the game, rather than because of ideology. He describes himself as a moderate Democrat who doesn't like new taxes.

"I enjoy the competitive part of it," Sullivan says. "I enjoy the networking, the relationship building. It certainly helps you in business over the long haul."

He is comfortable in the world of big-time fundraising. Money raised, he says, is also a way of gauging whether a candidate has broad backing.

"It's clearly a measure of a person's talents," Sullivan said, "that people are willing to give money to support you as a political leader."

The son of a South Carolina legislator, Sullivan was weaned on Democratic politics. He grew up in Columbia, where he worked his way through college on the state Senate staff. He attended the University of South Carolina, which has turned out an uncommon number of political operatives, including the late Lee Atwater -- who helped elect Ronald Reagan and the senior George Bush -- and Bill Carrick, a Democratic strategist for former House Democratic leader Dick Gephardt.

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New York Observer: Who is Huma Abedin?

Last June, under an oppressive sun, at a rally to save the Niagara military base at the University of Buffalo, all of New York’s top politicians—George Pataki, Chuck Schumer, Hillary Clinton—poured sweat.

Yet there was exactly one member of the wilting delegation who managed, somehow, to stay cool: Hillary Clinton’s mysterious, glamorous and eerily unflappable aide de camp, Huma Abedin.

“It was like 110 degrees outside,” recalled the source, a political aide who asked to remain anonymous. “We were all just pouring down with sweat. But I have this distinct memory of Huma traipsing in in this blue pantsuit—it was like this wool pantsuit—not a bead of sweat on her brow, not a hair out of place, with everything perfectly organized in her Yves Saint Laurent handbag.”

That sort of fantastical, supernaturally tinged tale is not unusual. Indeed, in the insular world of New York and D.C. politics, Huma Abedin has become a sort of mythical figure.

On a day-to-day basis, Ms. Abedin is responsible for guiding the Senator from one chaotic event to the next and ensuring that the many hundreds of situations that arise at each—the photo ops, the handshakes, the speeches—go smoothly. The job of “body person”—industry-speak for the catchall role of an omnipresent traveling assistant—is a notoriously grueling one, requiring unfaltering level-headedness and a zeal for multitasking. These folks are constantly on the move, juggling 20 different chores, and they consequently often appear slightly disheveled (or even sweaty).

By most quantifiable measures, Ms. Abedin has the most challenging of those gigs. In the last 10 days, she has accompanied Mrs. Clinton to more than 20 events, involving nine plane flights and several trains. At each stop, they were mobbed.

“I think she has special powers,” said public-radio broadcaster Katia Dunn, who recently crossed paths with Ms. Abedin and Mrs. Clinton at a café on Capitol Hill.

Ms. Dunn explained that she had heard about the “cult of Huma,” but had never met her. “All of a sudden, I turn around and there was this woman I now know to be Huma. And it wasn’t just that she was gorgeous—she did just sort of have this presence. She stopped me in my tracks for a second.

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New York Observer: Hillary Clinton Goes Back In Time to America's Roots

The Smallville Campaign:
Hillary Goes Back in Time

By Niall Stanage

Until I saw her on the stump these past few days, I’d never have believed that Hillary Clinton could attract voters by appealing to their sense of yearning for the 1950’s.

It seems, on the face of it, an absurd idea. The only thing that Mrs. Clinton’s most zealous fans and shrillest critics agree upon is that her Presidential candidacy represents a decisive and potentially transformative break with tradition. To her fans, she’s a courageous trailblazer; to her critics, she’s a radical feminist in disguise.

But the language that she uses on the campaign trail—beyond the rote answers to the policy and process questions she gets at each campaign stop—is that of a sentimental nostalgist.

As the Senator made a quick swing through Iowa on Sunday and Monday, the frequency with which she invoked a lost American golden age was striking. Her comments went far beyond the de rigueur Democratic lamentations about the current administration and its effects upon the nation.

Often sounding startlingly conservative—in the literal, traditionalist sense of the word—Mrs. Clinton harked back repeatedly to her youth, citing the era of Eisenhower and Kennedy as a shining example of how government and citizens can work together for the greater good.


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