"I'm running for president," Richardson, 59, tells two women passing by, and their reaction is laughter. "Look at all the photographers!" he exclaims, waving at the small pack of press trailing him. "You don't believe me!"

Maybe it's his attire of black T-shirt and jeans or his inconspicuous security detail. A day later, in rural Elko, his staff pulls out all the stops for a crowd of about 150 people. There's a stage, a lectern a riser for TV cameras, and an anteroom made with those bright blue draperies that signify "major political appearance."

Richardson's support has climbed in Nevada, Iowa and New Hampshire, where early nominating contests can propel a presidential hopeful to front-runner. But he remains far behind Hillary Rodham Clinton, Barack Obama and John Edwards, who lead national and state polls for the Democratic nomination.

In Nevada, Richardson hopes he has special appeal. "I am a Western governor, I know about Western issues" such as water and federal land management, he says. And, like nearly a quarter of Nevadans, he is Hispanic — though he tells a local TV crew, "With a name like Richardson, it's hard to get people to believe that."

"I'm not predicting victory, I'm predicting a strong showing," states Richardson.

First he has to walk the farmer's market, which quickly becomes a run through the issues gantlet. Does he support gay marriage? asks Natasha DeLucia, a student working at a crafts booth with her girlfriend. Only civil unions, Richardson says. "Health care is eating us out of house and home," says Cheryl Huett, who owns a lemonade company. Richardson tells her he wants a refundable tax credit people can use to buy health insurance.

"Will you keep Bush's tax cuts?" asks Michelle Webb, a supermarket checker. No, Richardson says, "I'd replace them with a middle-class tax cut." So much for getting Webb's vote: A Republican, she says she's not happy with Richardson's record on taxes or immigration in New Mexico, and the Bush tax cuts "helped me out a lot." Bottom line, Webb says, "I wasn't bowled over."

On the campaign trail, Richardson's rumpled charm and love of shaking hands — he claims the world record for doing so — serve him well. Like his old boss Bill Clinton, he wrestles not only with an appetite for food but tendencies to run late and to run on. And on.

In an era of rigorous adherence to talking points, Richardson doesn't give the same speech twice. He covers Iraq, energy policy, a "hero's health card" for veterans, the need for more gym classes in schools, balancing the budget and more. He suggests an "Apollo-like program" to develop energy technology, and a "massive federal program" for arts education. The joke that ends one speech with a laugh — about his wife, Barbara, noting his gubernatorial approval rating is sky-high because he's been out-of-state campaigning — comes two-thirds of the way through another.

He covers a lot of territory, Richardson says, because "this country needs a lot of change in a lot of areas."

Immigration doesn't always get mentioned without prompting. Nor does he detail his tax policy or how to finance proposals such as college scholarships for all students. Tim Russert of NBC's Meet the Press criticized Richardson during an interview in May for first supporting and then opposing a congressional immigration bill and for first supporting and now opposing the war in Iraq.

"You've got to expect to be scrutinized in a job like this," Richardson says. "I fully admit that my thinking's evolving, that I haven't gotten my shtick down."

Voters respond to Richardson's diplomatic experience, gained as Clinton's ambassador to the United Nations and as an envoy sent to negotiate with hostile regimes.

"I see him as someone who would bring us together," says Las Vegas middle-school teacher Barbara Shapiro, who praised Richardson's "ability to negotiate, and not see the rest of the world as an enemy but as a partner."

On domestic policy, the Democratic candidates "aren't that far apart," says John Scire, a Reno political science professor. He says Richardson's international experience means "he's not going to do anything to hurt this country, like this blundering in Iraq."

Others who listen to Richardson come away frustrated.

"I wish he'd addressed what he'd do about the deficit and taxes," says Helen O'Brien, an accountant. "It's easy to say we'll shift over the money from the war."

"How's he going to pay for full health care?" asks her partner Eric Lamberts, a doctor.

The pair heard Richardson speak at a Reno house party but came away still looking for a candidate to support. "He didn't light the fire," Lambert says. "Although, he does have a whole lot of experience."