Hadassah Lieberman

Growing up in a small New England town, Hadassah Freilich sat attentively each Sabbath in the front pew listening as her father, the rabbi, intoned from the pulpit. The blond little girl in a hat and white gloves became accustomed from age 4 to being studied by strangers. While she was not explicitly raised to play a supporting role--she has, after all, provided for her family, even smoked cigars in a corporate boardroom--her life has often led in that direction.

The rain starts to fall just as the gold SUV carrying Sen. Joe Lieberman rolls up to the curb at Ingersoll Avenue and 26th Street. But not to worry -- an aide is at the ready with an open umbrella. The supporters are dry and stationed inside and all is going according to plan this recent Sunday as the Connecticut Democrat arrives to open his presidential campaign headquarters here. If only he weren't so many months late.

Those signs that cheering delegates wave don't just happen; they're distributed according to a tight schedule. Arriving in trash bags from the convention hall basement, they are quickly distributed by delegation whips. "Hadassah" placards were there just in time for Hadassah Lieberman's speech. Then they were quickly replaced by "Lieberman" signs for her husband's appearance. The catchiest signs go home in scavengers' hands. * Compiled by JOHN TYRRELL / Los Angeles Times

The two men vying for the vice presidency have each confessed the same suspicion: the possibility that their wives may be more popular than they are. Joseph I. Lieberman and Dick Cheney may have developed the idea from the way crowds react: cheers, shouts, signs that read only "Hadassah" or "Lynne."

As a purely financial creature, Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman may be the least noteworthy of the four men at the top of the Democratic and Republican national tickets. The Connecticut lawmaker hasn't owned a piece of a major league baseball team like George W. Bush, held tobacco and mining interests like Al Gore or cashed in millions of dollars of corporate stock options like Dick Cheney.

The two men vying for the vice presidency have each confessed the same suspicion: the possibility that their wives may be more popular than they are. Joseph I. Lieberman and Dick Cheney may have developed the idea from the way crowds react: cheers, shouts, signs that read only "Hadassah" or "Lynne."

The rain starts to fall just as the gold SUV carrying Sen. Joe Lieberman rolls up to the curb at Ingersoll Avenue and 26th Street. But not to worry -- an aide is at the ready with an open umbrella. The supporters are dry and stationed inside and all is going according to plan this recent Sunday as the Connecticut Democrat arrives to open his presidential campaign headquarters here. If only he weren't so many months late.

Joe Lieberman's troubled presidential campaign at least is getting homier. Hoping to telegraph his commitment to this state's first-in-the-nation primary on Jan. 27 -- and to provide a roof for the large family entourage that stumps for him here -- the Democratic senator from Connecticut plans to move into an apartment not far from his Elm Street campaign headquarters. The two-bedroom, one-bath apartment is located in a low-rise, red-brick complex in downtown Manchester.

Making their debut as running mates, Al Gore and Joseph I. Lieberman vowed Tuesday to expand America's prosperity, renew its "moral center" and lead the way toward a more tolerant society. At a spirited midday rally in downtown Nashville, the vice president formally introduced the two-term Connecticut senator--and the first Jew ever chosen for a major party ticket--as a close personal friend and political soul mate who shares his values and vision.

Singer Joan Jett and comedian Janeane Garofalo joined Howard Dean on Sunday evening for a high-spirited campaign rally, but the big draw of the day was another woman who's less well-known: his wife. Judith Steinberg Dean, an internist who runs her own practice in Shelbourne, Vt., spoke for fewer than five minutes at two rallies during a surprise visit to Iowa.

As a purely financial creature, Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman may be the least noteworthy of the four men at the top of the Democratic and Republican national tickets. The Connecticut lawmaker hasn't owned a piece of a major league baseball team like George W. Bush, held tobacco and mining interests like Al Gore or cashed in millions of dollars of corporate stock options like Dick Cheney.

Those signs that cheering delegates wave don't just happen; they're distributed according to a tight schedule. Arriving in trash bags from the convention hall basement, they are quickly distributed by delegation whips. "Hadassah" placards were there just in time for Hadassah Lieberman's speech. Then they were quickly replaced by "Lieberman" signs for her husband's appearance. The catchiest signs go home in scavengers' hands. * Compiled by JOHN TYRRELL / Los Angeles Times

Growing up in a small New England town, Hadassah Freilich sat attentively each Sabbath in the front pew listening as her father, the rabbi, intoned from the pulpit. The blond little girl in a hat and white gloves became accustomed from age 4 to being studied by strangers. While she was not explicitly raised to play a supporting role--she has, after all, provided for her family, even smoked cigars in a corporate boardroom--her life has often led in that direction.

In a less affluent time and a less affluent place, it would be huge news: Henry and Susan Samueli, the Broadcom billionaires, give $1 million to University Synagogue in Irvine for its new temple. But the gift arrived quietly last fall during the High Holy Days and stayed a semi-secret, not spreading much beyond the synagogue's congregation.

It is axiomatic in the publishing industry that books on contemporary politics don't sell. Other than the occasional presidential autobiography -- such as Ulysses S. Grant's "Personal Memoirs," which appeared in 1885 and earned a stunning $500,000, or Richard Nixon's memoir "RN," which became a brief bestseller in 1978 -- the genre is a lackluster one. But in the supercharged atmosphere of this year's bitter election campaign, with American soldiers fighting...