“What is your plan to fix this problem?” Mr. Faux asked, his voice breaking slightly.
If Mr. Romney was feeling the man’s pain, he was not inclined to say so. Instead, he gave the requisite thanks for the son’s service, and then jumped into a rat-a-tat-tat litany of his Iraq talking points: He hails the overthrow of Saddam Hussein. He acknowledges that the United States was “underprepared” for its aftermath. He attacks Senator Harry Reid, the Democratic leader, for saying the war was “lost.”
After eight minutes, Mr. Romney concluded, “Thanks, great question,” and moved on.
Mr. Faux sat with his arms folded. “Sort of a stock response,” he complained later in an interview.
By any measure, Mr. Romney, who is seeking the Republican presidential nomination, is a master pitchman and presenter, bred in politics (his father, George, was the governor of Michigan), enriched in business and battle-tested in the Republican pariah colony of Massachusetts. He is relentlessly upbeat (“I’m feeling incredibly optimistic about our future,” he says at campaign events.) His polished “presidential bearing” has been marveled upon, a package of great hair, sleek suits and dreamy smiles well matched to podiums and magazine covers.
But can he connect with voters? While he is climbing in the polls, some people who have seen him close up at recent events describe him as impressive but somewhat detached. He struggles at times to convey a sense that he is an accessible mortal — that he can be spontaneous, that he bears scars and can appreciate at gut-level the struggles of ordinary Americans.....
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