The Smoothie Stop-By: When a President Tries to Be a Regular Joe

It was a quiet day in Emmaus, Pa. The only sound on Main Street was the idling engine of the sleek black truck that some call a rolling doomsday communications control center, which was parked outside the bike shop. The men with guns dressed all in black were perched on the roof using binoculars to scan the area for terrorists or other bad guys.

The president had come to this picturesque town of 11,000 to chat with a few local business owners, order a smoothie, visit the local firehouse and, if it so happened that his visit produced a few pictures useful for his re-election campaign, all the better. Did he mention the new statistics on start-up businesses? No worries, he would be happy to repeat them.

An election year has arrived, and it is time for President Biden to get out of the White House and hit the road for votes. He is not the only one looking for Norman Rockwell images in small-town shops and diners these days — check out the traveling circus in Iowa over the weekend, heading to New Hampshire after that. But he is the only one who comes with a mile-long motorcade of police cars, Secret Service vehicles, ambulances and enough sophisticated military hardware to launch a nuclear war from the stool at the coffee shop.

Retail campaigning is not easy when you’re the commander in chief. The counterassault team does not really lend an air of authentic spontaneity to the whole venture. The venues he visits are chosen in advance, the route he takes is chosen in advance, the people he meets are chosen in advance. If it’s possible, a significant chunk of the town is roped off. Nothing says “hey, friend” like a metal-detecting wand and a bomb-sniffing dog.

But artificial and surreal as it may be, allies have been agitating for Mr. Biden to get on the hustings, away from the Beltway and the Situation Room. He has, after all, spent a lifetime working rooms, shaking hands, slapping arms, squeezing shoulders, kissing babies. His Uncle Joe connection with everyday people, allies argue, is perhaps his biggest political superpower.