Tom and Katherine Lincoln stood outside church, momentarily unsure where they were supposed to be. They had just left Ash Wednesday mass, ashes still smudged on their foreheads, and the car that was supposed to meet them hadn’t arrived yet.
“Fortunately, our adoring fans have decided to leave us alone right now,” Katherine quipped. “Normally, we’d be mobbed with supporters, you know.”
Those supporters are would-be voters for Tom Lincoln’s independent Presidential campaign. Many friends and political observers who know the couple were both surprised by the announcement of his candidacy and curious about his wife’s take on it.
Ever the political spouse, after she made the joke, Katherine quickly spun the comment for better public consumption: “Of course, two weeks after he announced, I doubt Rudy Giuliani had a crowd around him after mass.”
Some friends have suggested that her tongue has gotten sharper since her husband left the Senate in 2002.
The Lincolns spent more than 30 years in Washington after Tom’s first election to Congress in 1970. During that time their four children had grown, some born during Lincoln’s stint in Congress. After returning to their native Minnesota after the state did not reelect him in 2002, they appeared to be settling in. He joined some corporate boards and was appointed to some teaching positions. She took on charity roles. And they took vacations and, some say, got to know each other better.
Then Tom announced his candidacy in January, and the situation changed. Different people say different things about Katherine’s reaction to the decision—or her advance knowledge of it.
“Let me stress that Tom and I talked about this candidacy long before he announced, and I’m completely on board,” Katherine said in a brief conversation outside the church on Ash Wednesday.
And about those people who question her full commitment? “You know, I have a certain way with words that doesn’t always sound like what I mean,” she explained. “Sometimes my sense of humor doesn’t translate very well. I think some people mistake my sarcasm for seriousness.”
Tom Lincoln insists that Katherine had a veto over his candidacy. “If she had said no,” he said, “you wouldn’t be bothering to talk to us today.”
Some associates suggest that Katherine was pleased with their life away from Washington politics. The idea that the couple would return to the campaign trail in their 70s was a blow, these acquaintances argue. “And the idea that it’s a single issue campaign and an issue that creates such divisiveness and that it’s simply a losing proposition—all these things have upset her,” said a friend who asked not to be named. The friend was referring to Tom Lincoln’s prolife liberal positioning.
When presented with this assessment, Katherine sighed. She’s clearly frustrated, but it’s unclear whether it’s with inaccurate readings of her feelings or fending off comments that touch too close to the truth. “All I can say is that I’m here. I’m on Tom’s side and on his campaign.” On the other hand, she added, “But we’re also being realistic. I won’t be everywhere on the campaign trail. I have my own commitments—and I have grandchildren! But I’m always available if it seems that I would be an asset at any event.”
She further expressed some frustration with the unnamed friend’s description of the nature of the campaign. “This isn’t a single issue campaign,” she argued. “It might be based on a theme of respect—respect for life, respect for the living, and the better human relations that would result—but it’s not about one issue. It’s about a continuum and consistency.”
With that impassioned defense, the Lincolns’ car showed up, and they drove away, leaving this reporter with the impression of a woman who supports her husband’s philosophy but unclear whether she wants him to be the one carrying the banner.