The Edwards Affair

You know the most disillusioning thing about John Edwards? It's not the affair--although the Oprah teaser, complete with creepy music befitting a documentary on serial killers, makes quite an impression. (I like the intro footage of Oprah going into the Edwards household to interview Elizabeth, and catching a startled backward glance from John, who looks like a perp in a cop-show bust when Oprah asks if she can talk to him later.)

The worst thing about Edwards is not that he slept with Rielle Hunter, or that he lied about it, or that he cheated on a great woman who not only dedicated her whole life to him, went through the loss of a child with him, and made the world think he was a much deeper and more decent person than he turned out to be. (Not to mention, of course, that she is dying of cancer. How can Oprah NOT do this show?) No, the worst thing about Edwards is a total ratings loser. People magazine is going nowhere with this one. The worst thing about him is that he pulled the plug on College For Everyone--his big charitable effort to pay tuition, fees, and books at a public college for one year if students in a rural, North Carolina town "worked at least ten hours a week, took college prep classes, and stayed out of trouble," as the Charlotte News & Observer put it in an obit for the program:

"No longer running for president, Edwards recently informed Greene County officials that he would end the program, which cost a total of $600,000 for the first two years and helped 190 students go to such colleges as East Carolina University, Lenoir Community College and N.C. State. . . . 'The program was a huge success,' said Pamela Hampton-Garland, director of the program. 'The numbers soared. The interest from students and parents and the community rose. It seemed the whole notion of college access changed.'"

Next Student student loan blog reports:

"When the program was initiated in June of 2005, the percentage of graduating seniors who applied to at least one college was at 74 percent. With the help of Edwards’ program, this spring, 94 percent of the program’s final graduating class applied to at least one college."

College for Everyone was supposed to be a model for the nation--a key piece of Edwards's grand plan to "end poverty within one generation."

What happened?

As soon as the National Enquirer effectively put an end to Edwards's political career with the love child story, Edwards put an end to College For Everyone.

Like the anti-poverty foundation Edwards set up in between Presidential runs, College For Everyone seems to have lasted as long as was expedient for its founder's political career. Worse, Edwards is under investigation for possibly using campaign funds to pay hush money to his mistress. He certainly managed to find at least one big donor willing to pay her living expenses. But somehow he can't come up with the fundraising muscle to keep his "life's work" going.

That's a huge bummer for the students who were primed to take advantage of the program. (The class of 2009 will be the last to get the tuition aid.) Because, after all, Edwards was right in all those "Two Americas" speeches: access to college and membership in the middle class is becoming increasingly elusive for a larger and larger number of young people in America.

Unaffordable college loans are a major, underreported crisis.

There was a time when hearing Edwards remind his political rivals about the issue of poverty was bracing. Now all that rhetoric rings hollow.

The Oprah show and book tour will revive controversy among Democrats about the Edwards' decision, as a couple, to continue their bid for the White House after Elizabeth Edwards's cancer recurred. The candidate ought to leave the campaign trail and spend more time with his wife, some people said.

That was a personal decision, though.

I liked Elizabeth Edwards a lot when I interviewed her in 2007. I gave her credit when she explained that fighting for a cause was a lot better than sitting at home and thinking about her cancer. She seemed like a very genuine and sincere person--and it did her husband a world of good. Now it turns out she was campaigning for him--and giving him a big boost with voters who thought her presence made him seem like a decent guy--even though she knew about the bombshell affair news lurking in the closet. In her moving book, Saving Graces, Elizabeth talks about how she dealt with a series of devastating blows: her son's death, her cancer, and the crazy circus of the Edwards/Kerry campaign, culminating in heartbreaking loss.

Her new book, Resilience, deals with more bad news: The cancer reemerging, the affair revelation that left her screaming and throwing up, and, of course, the decision, despite all of that, to keep on pushing with the next Presidential run.

She will get a share of blame for going along with that, despite her assertion that she asked her husband to suspend her campaign for the good of the family.

We can all be grateful we aren't living through "Clinton Impeachment: The Sequel" instead of the Obama Administration.

But beyond the decision to run and all the personal betrayal that emerges with this new round of Edwards rubbernecking, the most telling thing is John Edwards's abandonment of what could have been a lasting contribution to the people he was supposed to represent. By pulling the plug on the charitable work--especially when it was making a real difference in the lives of hundreds of working class high school kids--he gives credence to the folks who always thought he was a slick self-promoter. "Narcissistic" is the word he used to describe himself in that awful TV interview he did in the wake of the affair revelations. It's a self-diagnosis he has yet to recover from. His supporters, his constituency, and his family, deserve better.