The Man Who Made McCain

There were moments when John McCain had no idea if his friend even knew he was there. For eight long years, at least once a month, McCain would drive to the veterans' hospital in Washington, D.C., to sit for hours at the bedside of his political mentor, Morris Udall. The legendary liberal Democrat had been first admitted in 1990 suffering from the effects of Parkinson's. By the end, the debilitating disease had taken away Udall's ability to speak and to recognize visitors.

But McCain still went, bringing newspaper clippings about subjects that Udall loved most, like the environment and Native American issues. For hours, McCain would sit alone in that quiet hospital room and read aloud to his friend, convinced that Udall could still hear him. "I was a real jerk when I was first in Congress," McCain told Udall's daughter, Anne, after one of his visits. "I didn't know anything, and I thought I knew everything." Udall, he told her, had taught him the importance of consensus and compromise.

Now Barack Obama has claimed those principles as his own, promising to overcome the rancor of traditional politics and change the way Washington works. The young senator from Illinois makes a good case, and he symbolizes change in ways that no other candidate can. But McCain has a long record of bipartisanship and doesn't need to cede ground on the issue—thanks in part to Mo Udall and the remarkable relationship the two Arizonans forged across party lines those many years ago.

By his own account, McCain began his political career as a hothead—"an emotional partisan," he wrote in "Worth the Fighting For." Udall by then was a larger-than-life character from conservative Arizona who was considered the liberal conscience of Congress. The 6-foot-5 former professional basketball player (who had lost an eye in a childhood accident) was known for his ability to use humor to disarm his opponents. In 1976, he ran for the Democratic presidential nomination and failed, but the campaign elevated his stature.

In 1983, during McCain's first months in Congress, Udall suggested that they work together on issues of common interest. He invited McCain to joint press conferences back home, an unusual move for lawmakers of opposing parties. "He'd be in the middle of answering a question, and he would turn to me and say, 'I'd like to hear what John thinks,' or 'Congressman McCain and I are working on this'," McCain recalled to reporters earlier this year. "But we weren't. I didn't know a copper mine from a cotton farm. I was nobody." Udall was sharing some of his prestige. "It was an incredibly generous gesture on his part," McCain says.

In his book, McCain writes about a moment much later when he saw Udall, overcome with Parkinson's, fall and hit his head in his House office. In late 1990, Udall tumbled again, this time breaking his shoulder and several ribs. He resigned from Congress in 1991 and was hospitalized almost full time after that.