Sen. John F. Kerry’s run for the presidency began amidst two pitchers of root beer and some pepperoni pizza.

Two years ago, most Americans knew nothing about the cerebral senator from Massachusetts. They didn’t know about universal health care or his service in Vietnam. The campaign to change all that started in a pizzeria on the outskirts of Des Moines, Iowa. And I was there holding a slice.

The caucus is all Iowa’s got. Every four years, this lesser-known Midwestern state becomes the center of the 24-hour news cycle. As the first stop of the campaign trail, Iowa plays a major role in determining the next president of the United States. Candidates shake the hand of every resident and build extensive campaigns that may make or break their chances of reaching the White House.

Kerry’s campaign began its Midwest journey with an informal pizza party for anyone with enough political awareness to discover its whereabouts. A friend who worked at the state capital tipped me off about the meeting.

Prominent state democrats and some of the first people to be classified as “sources inside the campaign” spoke about Kerry’s presidential aspirations. They told of his strengths, his weaknesses and his viability as a candidate. Free from spin or the beady eyes of public opinion, they talked straight about the man who, in the coming months, would have his image skewed beyond imagination.

They said he was passionate about social issues and the environment — key concerns of young people. They said he could appeal to veterans with his decorated Vietnam experience. And they said he could be competitive with President George W. Bush, who at the time, was enormously popular.

Looking back, they were absolutely right.

Afterwards, the 20 or so politically-astute Iowans threw questions at the speakers, bombarding them with cynicism. Most attended for more than the free pizza and made their presence felt. He may be on the right side of issues, but he was no Bill Clinton. When it came to winning the hearts of voters, most felt he lacked the personal appeal essential to victory.

Sadly, they were right, too.

Kerry proved strong initially in the primaries, and emerged as the most serious democratic contender. Then came the “Dean-iacs.” Kerry fell by the wayside when former Vermont Gov. Howard Dean jumped to the head of the candidate pack. Dean had the vision, the grassroots campaign and, most importantly, unprecedented funding via the Internet.

But Dean’s passion, the same emotions that took him to the top, proved his demise. After numerous public slip-ups and controversial remarks, Dean collapsed and the dependable, more electable Kerry reassumed his position as the front-runner.

Kerry won Iowa, and Dean screamed away any chance at making a comeback. It looked like we may have been too cynical that day at the pizzeria.

Two years later, I waited hours in Copley Square to get through metal detectors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the next president of the United States. I had met him already, twice actually, but it was still a thrill to wait knowing the potential next leader of the free world was mere feet away.

The crowd at the final Kerry rally didn’t discuss the issues like we had done in the campaign’s infancy. The thoughtful debate about Kerry’s stances was replaced by political cheerleaders, chanting anti-Bush rhetoric. The important issues were no longer important. It had become a screaming match over war records and voter fraud.

But that didn’t matter. Kerry would make a better president and I knew if he won, I would have had a hand in the victory.

Poll numbers flashed across the giant screens putting Kerry ahead, then behind. Within reach, and finally, on the losing end of the battle. My emotions, two years in the making, were mixed.

Not many people have the chance to see first hand the beginning and end of a presidential campaign. I was lucky.

It’s just too bad he lost.

– Chris Sigmund is a freshman journalism major and a member of The News Staff.