(PDF version: http://link.reuters.com/quv86s)
By Kristina Cooke and Edith Honan
PITTSBURGH, Pennsylvania - March 5 (Reuters) - As Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum fought for his political life in 2006, his ally Senator Arlen Specter offered a word of advice: Just stop talking.
What Specter meant was that Santorum should stop talking about social issues, according to Adrienne Baker Green, a Specter aide who witnessed the exchange.
Santorum's outspoken style on issues such as abortion and women in the workplace, which had once made him a star among social conservatives, appeared to be alienating more moderate Pennsylvania voters who would decide his fate in November 2006.
Santorum responded: "I can't stop. Everyone is listening," says Baker Green. Specter says he can't recall the encounter; Santorum's campaign didn't respond to a request for comment.
Santorum lost the 2006 Senate election by 18 percentage points, partly due to a wave of anti-Republican sentiment that year, but also because of his own words, which Democrats used to paint him as too extreme for Pennsylvania voters.
The arc of Santorum's political career in Pennsylvania, where he first won over a Democratic district, then alienated voters, is beginning to look similar to his rise in the 2012 presidential race. With each advance, Santorum's support has been partially undermined by his own controversial remarks. Just days before the Michigan primary, Santorum said President John F. Kennedy's 1960 speech on the separation of church and state made him want to "throw up."
"I wish I had that particular line back," he later said.
Santorum often portrays himself as a champion of the blue-collar voter whose experience winning rough-and-tumble elections in Pennsylvania shows he can attract moderates and independents.
A look at his five races in Pennsylvania reveals a candidate who thrives in the role of underdog and fighter. A hard-working door-to-door campaigner, he energized his conservative and evangelical base and won over blue-collar voters by securing federal funds that brought construction jobs.
Santorum also benefited from weak Democratic opponents and national trends that dovetailed with his anti-tax and pro-life message.
Pennsylvanians who worked on those campaigns recall his off-the-cuff style as well as his love of question-and-answer sessions in which he would eagerly talk about a broad range of issues. His advisers say he often came up with the topics of his speeches on the way to the venue.
Republicans in the Keystone State also recall a man who wouldn't back down in an argument ; often coming across as brash, abrasive and unscripted.
"Every so often, Rick throws the pass you don't need to throw, to use a football analogy. And he threw a couple he didn't need to throw," says Alan Novak, a former Republican Party leader in Pennsylvania who is supporting former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney for the GOP nomination.
"I always call them unforced errors."
PENNSYLVANIA'S KEYSTONES
Political consultant James Carville famously described Pennsylvania as Philadelphia and Pittsburgh "with Alabama in between." Political operatives there count at least three, and as many as six, mini-states within the state of various political stripes. Pennsylvania has backed the Democratic candidate for president in every race since 1992, while voters tend to be more conservative in statewide races.
In 1990, Rick Santorum, then a 32-year-old attorney, set his sights on a U.S. congressional seat that had been held by Democrat Doug Walgren for 14 years.
Santorum's political experience up to that point consisted of working as chief of staff for a moderate, pro-choice state senator, Doyle Corman. Republican leaders and friends tried to persuade Santorum to run instead for a relatively safe Pennsylvania house seat in Harrisburg.
Santorum wouldn't hear of it. He told friends that Walgren was too liberal for the district and that a conservative could win.
Keith Schmidt, who has worked on all of Santorum's campaigns and is now an adviser on his presidential bid, says one of Santorum's best political weapons is his intuition. "He just saw an opportunity that I can safely say no one saw that year."
Santorum went all in. He quit his job and convinced his soon-to-be wife to quit hers and hit the campaign trail.
"We all told him he was crazy," said State Senator Jake Corman, who took over his father's seat after Doyle Corman retired from politics. But Santorum, he said, is fiercely competitive by nature, "from board games to public policy."
Ron Klink, a Pittsburgh television reporter who would later go into politics as a Democrat and would lose the 2000 Senate race to Santorum, remembers Santorum standing on a bridge leading into downtown Pittsburgh, waving his campaign sign at passing cars.
"We referred to him as the Goof on the Bridge," Klink says.
Schmidt says Santorum was involved in all aspects of campaigning. Santorum's friends and foes alike agree he is a natural retail campaigner. He wore out three pairs of shoes criss-crossing the congressional district, says Schmidt.
"He personally hit 20,000 doors. That's just so ridiculous," he adds. Santorum would often follow up with a hand-written note to voters he had met that day, Schmidt says.
Santorum had a simple message: The incumbent, Walgren, was out of touch with his district because he lived in the Washington area rather than in Pennsylvania. Santorum's slogan was "Leadership in Touch With You."
"There were no warning signs at all. We could not find him in polling at the beginning of September," Walgren says. "Our experience was he was able to leaflet very broadly, essentially knocking on doors, with young pro-life people. Pro-life was really gathering steam ... and I was clearly pro-choice."
Santorum ended up winning the district with just over 51 percent of the vote.
'THE BEST UNDERDOG'
His next victory -- winning re-election in 1992 -- owed a lot to Democratic Party's own troubles, Schmidt says. Two years later, with the district looking likely to turn Democratic in 1994, Schmidt says, Santorum turned his sights on a Senate seat.
Santorum was back in his element as the underdog. At town-hall meetings that year, he would tell voters that putting Santorum bumper stickers on their cars was worth as much as a $500 donation to his campaign.
Santorum packed his wife and young family into an RV and drove across the state to introduce himself to voters, remembers Becky Corman, the wife of his old boss, State Senator Doyle Corman, and Santorum's 1994 grassroots coordinator.
"I have youth on my side," Schmidt recalls Santorum telling his campaign staff. "You can schedule me long hours, I'll give six speeches a day. I want to meet people."
Santorum's Democratic opponent that year was Harris Wofford, a former president of Bryn Mawr College and a founder of the Peace Corps. Democratic strategists remember Wofford as a reluctant campaigner, uncomfortable with going on the offensive, even as Santorum hammered him for supporting gun control.
Republican voters, especially pro-life evangelicals who had not been active in previous races, hosted fundraisers in their homes, said Novak, the former Pennsylvania GOP leader. The crowds grew.
"He's the best underdog you ever saw," says Novak. "He seems to derive his energy from always having a hill to climb."
The Republican Revolution was sweeping the country. In Pennsylvania, turnout among conservatives surged. They made up 40 percent of voters in 1994, compared with 26 percent in 1992.
Santorum beat Wofford 49 to 47 percent, with the Christian Coalition and the gun lobby among his most enthusiastic supporters. Among moderates, Santorum trailed Wofford by 15 percentage points.
Six years later, Santorum faced Representative Ron Klink for the
Our Standards: The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.
