Charlotte

John Wolfe, the Democratic gadfly and long-shot presidential candidate, is walking by himself down a busy street downtown, clutching a cardboard box full of pamphlets with a bacon sandwich perched on top. He’s wearing a green plaid dress shirt, with the purple dry cleaning tag still attached through the bottom buttonhole. Wolfe’s face is unshaven, and his hair is unkempt. He tells me he has just made it into town.

“I’m staying about 50 miles away with some friends,” Wolfe says, as we chat on the corner of Trade and Tryon Streets, beneath the shadows of towering skyscrapers. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to at length.”