(continued)

It's no coincidence that Mike Gravel has chosen this moment to re-emerge onto the political scene. He made his name during the Vietnam War era as a maverick willing to use all the parliamentary tools available to him as a U.S. senator to do battle against Richard Nixon and an unpopular war. His five-month filibuster in the early '70s led to the end of the military draft. (That, in turn, helped end the war.) He says the only time since his 1980 electoral defeat that he missed being in the Senate was when the body gave Bush the power to invade Iraq in October 2002. "I wish like hell I'd been there," he tells Radar. "I'd have filibustered that thing till hell froze over." So why didn't any sitting senators try that? "When you filibuster, you piss everyone off," he says. "But, truthfully, none of them showed any guts at all."

"There's always someone like you," Alter remarks. "Last time it was Sharpton"In a larger sense though, the quagmire in Iraq is just more evidence that the U.S. is being run into the ground by its corporate elite, argues Gravel, most notably those in the military-industrial complex. Given that these forces already own Congress, the only hope, he believes, is a sweeping change to the Constitution to allow America's 300 million citizens to effectively become their own legislature. No more lobbyists. No more clubby Washington insiders—just an information-age population that governs itself and passes its own laws. "My plan would bring the people in as a check on power that could not be voided," he says.

His presidential candidacy, in fact, began as a quixotic attempt to bring attention to this radical plan, which he calls the National Initiative for Democracy, but the reception from the South Carolina debate has convinced him that he truly stands a chance to win. That confidence now pervades everything he does. He will tell hard truths and thumb his nose at wimpy political orthodoxies, believing these things will carry him to a stunning victory.

Beaming after the Columbia event, Gravel walks with Alter to a nearby Cuban restaurant for a late lunch. On the way they encounter a gray-haired gentleman in owlish glasses. Alter greets him very respectfully. "This is Tom Edsall," he says. Edsall was a senior political writer for the Washington Post for 25 years. He retired from the paper in 2006 and now writes for the New Republic and teaches at Columbia Graduate School of Journalism.

Gravel smiles broadly and says, "Hey, can you straighten out David Broder?" Broder, an influential columnist at the Post and the unofficial godfather of the D.C. press corps, has been a target of much criticism from liberal blogs for seeming to provide political cover for Bush on Iraq, even with a majority of Americans now opposing the war. "He doesn't believe in the power of the people!" Gravel says. Edsall blinks and looks perplexed. "David Broder is the voice of the people," he replies matter-of-factly. Gravel starts to smile, assuming Edsall is making an absurdist joke. But Edsall is not joking. The two men look at each other in awkward silence over a great gulf of unshared beliefs, then Gravel chuckles and walks ahead into the restaurant.

Over a lunch of chips and salsa ("no jalapeños") and a Bud Light draft, the candidate discusses his recent media blitz. Alter, wearing a sharp blazer over an open collared shirt, is sitting across from him eating a grilled chicken salad.

"All I know is that if I can get up to double digits, it's Katie bar the door!" He claps his hands together and smiles a Chosen One smile. He's already counting the media, including Alter, as part of his team. "It's people like you who take an interest—and all I gotta do is keep plugging along," he says happily. "Everyone does their thing! I just happen to be the cutting edge of the sword."

Alter knits his brow. He seems to want to avoid any misunderstandings. After all, if Gravel's enough of a candidate to get attention from the major media, then he needs to see what his role is and exactly how to play it. In a careful but purposeful tone, speaking explicitly "as a media guy," the pundit explains that as long as Gravel can "surprise people" with "one liners," the press will pay attention. If, however, he starts to "sound like a broken record," or allows his rhetoric to get "old" as Dennis Kucinich's has, then he's done for in the media sphere. "There's always someone like you," he remarks. "Last time it was Sharpton."

Gravel takes a swig of beer. He doesn't look pleased with the analysis. He says that what he displayed in the debate was merely the "tip of the iceberg."