KUCINICH'S OWN CRUSADE

FAIRFIELD, Iowa -- The smell of incense and cinnamon hangs in the air
during a reception for Dennis J. Kucinich at a country mansion outside this
"meditation community," a town of 9,500 and the home base of Maharishi
Mahesh Yogi's Natural Law Party.

Star-spangled "Elect Dennis J. Kucinich, Democrat, President" stickers are
displayed everywhere, from the backsides of the young folks to the
shoulders of the older.

"The energy is palpable, and if we hold on to that space, think of all the
possibilities that raise up to all of us," Mr. Kucinich says at a 30-minute
stump in the living room of Fred Gratzon, the wealthy founder of the Great
Midwestern Ice Cream Company.

While the presidential front-runners blitz for votes in many of this
state's towns and cities heading into Monday's influential caucus, Mr.
Kucinich tills for supporters in an opulent house bordered by a cornfield.

The Ohio congressman traverses the state in a humbling maroon Ford Windstar
minivan, dwarfed both physically and symbolically by the luxurious tour
buses used by his bigwig Democratic rivals Rep. Richard A. Gephardt of
Missouri and Sen. John Kerry of Massachusetts.

"Oh, he'll never win the Democratic nomination," says one elderly woman to
her friend as she slips off her shoes to enter the Fairfield event,
mandatory behavior among the crystals-and-hugs New Age set. "But I have to
vote for him to follow my heart."

Mr. Kucinich, 57, is a one-man outpost against even his own party, a faux
Gandhi-like purveyor of peace, medicinal pot and alternative medicine.

Close up on the campaign trail, the 5-foot-6-inch, 135-pound candidate is
not nearly as comic-book humorous as he appears on television. He has an
ease and grace that befits the one-time Cleveland mayor's considerable
political experience.

But his platform -- including the Department of Peace, government-paid
college education for all, and Washington, D.C., as the 51st state --
primarily draws the adoration of the disenfranchised, which bodes poorly
for advancing his political status.

If he were to become president, he says his Cabinet would include an
attorney general "who is a civil rights activist with deep knowledge of the
law and some experience in taking on Wall Street" and a vice president who
is "much more progressive than I am."

While front-runner Howard Dean cavorts with the support of Hollywood
establishment Democrats such as Martin Sheen and Rob Reiner, and Mr. Kerry
is feted through fund-raisers headlined by baby-boomer guitar strummer
James Taylor, Mr. Kucinich is honored by outlaw country legend Willie
Nelson and folk singer Michelle Shocked.

His earthy vibe and iconoclast stature lures many third-party adherents as
well as those nonvoters who just want a break from the tired chatter of
Washington, which sounds to them like the squawky adult-speak in a Charlie
Brown cartoon.

"He's not [Ralph] Nader, which is good, although a vote for him is a vote
for change in the system," says Ralph Hutchison, a 24-year-old volunteer
who was shipped into Iowa from Cleveland to do some door-knocking.

Mr. Dean's young followers tend to wear Burberry and J. Crew attire. Mr.
Kucinich carries an earnest, earthy gaggle of kids who, like Mr. Hutchison,
don Army jackets and jeans and frayed sneakers.

But the man who likely won't be president insists he is not solely the
alternative choice.

"I'm a mainstream kind of guy, too," says Mr. Kucinich, even though a
Reuters/MSNBC/Zogby poll released yesterday shows him barely breathing in
Iowa, with 2 percent of the vote, a step ahead of the 1 percent from
never-rans Carol Moseley Braun and the Rev. Al Sharpton.

Mr. Dean currently leads the Iowa contest with 24 percent of the vote,
three points ahead of both Mr. Kerry and Mr. Gephardt in second place at 21
percent in the Zogby poll.

Nationally, things look even more dismal. In a CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll,
he trails even Mr. Sharpton and Mrs. Moseley Braun, with 1 percent to their
3 percent and 4 percent, respectively. Mr. Dean is leading the pack with 26
percent, followed by retired army Gen. Wesley Clark's 20 percent.

But Mr. Kucinich refuses to entertain a third-party candidacy, instead
saying that "the reason I can win this election is that I am the only
Democrat who can attract voters from the Green Party, Natural Law Party,
libertarians, blue-collar Reagan Democrats. ... I can bring them back in
droves."

He notes that he has won 21 of the 28 elections he has been in, including
runoffs and primaries. Even today, he is enormously popular with his
hometown constituents; Mr. Kucinich captured his third term in Congress by
capturing his Cleveland-area district in 2002 with 74 percent of the vote.

A former copy boy for the Cleveland Plain Dealer newspaper, Mr. Kucinich
first was elected to the Cleveland City Council at 23 in 1970, became mayor
in 1977 and survived a recall effort by 236 votes after critics said he led
the city into bankruptcy. Mr. Kucinich became a state representative in
1994, then moved on to U.S. Congress in 1996.

"I would say no one who gets elected president should do so without being a
city councilman," he says. "And anyone who gets elected to city council
thinks they want to be president."

Mr. Kucinich, a twice-divorced father of one 22-year-old daughter and the
oldest of seven children, who spent part of his childhood living in a car,
has come quite a way, as he removes his own shoes and enters the ice-cream
magnate's home in Fairfield.

Former Natural Law presidential candidate John Hagelin, an Iowa resident,
introduces Mr. Kucinich with breathless reverence, calling him "a great
leader of the country" and a "candidate for all of those who are awake."

The next day, in the minivan en route to a rally in Marshalltown, Mr.
Kucinich nibbles on a chocolate-chip cookie.

"It's vegan," he says, distractedly.

Of course it is. Nine years ago, Mr. Kucinich changed his eating habits and
eschewed meat and dairy products. "I am in the best health of my life," he
says proudly.

When he injured his shoulder some time ago, the one-time third-string
high-school quarterback went to a doctor who healed him in an
unconventional way: through alternative medicine.

"This is medicine that works, and it's 5,000 years old," he says. "My
shoulder was healed with Chinese medicine. My doctor ground up some herbs
in a powder, mixed it with Vaseline and some tea and made a poultice."

His support of alternative medicine has garnered Mr. Kucinich an "A+" from
the Granite Staters for Medicinal Marijuana, an arm of the pro-pot
Marijuana Policy Project, for stating in May that he supports medical use
of the weed "without reservation."

A lover of show tunes and classical music, Mr. Kucinich devours books of
all kinds, making generous notations. As he puts it, "I have an ongoing
discussion with my books."

He is indeed erudite and that, along with a rather genuinely warm
disposition, has some punch in front of a small room. But lacking the
marquee draw of his competition, Mr. Kucinich could pull only three dozen
people to a back room at the County Kitchen restaurant in Ottumwa, Iowa,
last weekend.

"Does anyone want to say a few words before I start?" he asks when entering
the back room reserved for his appearance. He has no takers and launches
into his peace rap.

"Iraq has all the earmarks of another Vietnam," he warns to nods of
agreement. Later, he tells them that "we should be building bridges in
Ottumwa rather than blowing them up in Iraq."

Later, he defines what he considers the ideal political structure, likening
it, somewhat symbolically, to a tent circus.

"There are a number of groups who have come to me to talk about supporting
my candidacy," he says. "And I am looking to build a big tent. And inside
that tent we will have three, four, five rings. There will be plenty of
room for everybody in this tent."