McCain Chokes Up in Campaign Finale

PHILADELPHIA —  Sen. John McCain played out the sad, slow, final act Sunday of his unlikely bid to be president of the United States.

Standing on a small stage in a hotel ballroom here hours after his speech at the alternative “shadow convention,” McCain said goodbye to the 240 or so delegates he won in this year’s primaries and caucuses. He urged them to join the vast number of other Republican convention delegates who this week will officially tab his rival, George W. Bush, as the party’s presidential nominee.

But McCain--in a rare display of emotion for a man who was a war prisoner in Vietnam and is known for his cocky attitude on Capitol Hill--choked up as he thanked them for their efforts.

“I am very, very grateful to the people in this room who spent their blood, sweat and tears on behalf of this campaign,” the senator from Arizona said. “I will always be grateful.”

His voice caught and he could not speak for a moment. He wiped at his eyes as his wife, Cindy, began to cry. Then he continued, “I will never be able--I will never be able to thank you.”

McCain had been trying to accentuate the positive as the convention neared. He stressed his backing for Bush as he arrived in Philadelphia on Saturday, once again aboard the bus he made famous during the primary campaign: the Straight Talk Express. He remains much in demand from Republican congressional candidates who would like to attract some of the independent voters McCain appealed to, and he is preparing for a prime-time speaking slot at the convention Tuesday.

But the supporters he spoke to Sunday were his core--those who were for him when he was just another politician in a crowded field, with no money or name recognition. They had endured the initial incredulity of fellow Republicans who assumed Bush had locked up the nomination before--an assumption McCain shattered when he powered past the Texas governor in the New Hampshire primary.

And they were not about to let McCain go without one more shared moment. Some cried during his brief remarks Sunday; one shouted, “We love you, John!”

McCain had suspended his campaign after losing a spate of primaries to Bush on March 7, then endorsed him at a strained meeting between the two a month later in Pittsburgh. It was clear then that the political wounds had not healed, as McCain told the assembled media that he was “taking his medicine.”

Closure seemed to escape him until Sunday.

“This is a time for celebration,” he said. “This is a time for happiness.”

Few seemed to share the feeling.