But former Utahn Shawn Alexander Colvin isn't looking at polls. He's looking at Web traffic, at far-flung supporters and at the end of the road: the White House.

Colvin, 36, is the deputy campaign manager and press secretary for presidential hopeful Mike Gravel, a former Alaska senator whose odd YouTube videos (www.youtube.com/

watch?v=0rZdAB4V j8)

and straight-up, nonsugarcoated statements about the Iraq war and other issues have made him a bit of a hero with voters unhappy with the top-tier candidates.

Political pundits don't give Gravel any shot of winning the Democratic nomination, let alone the presidency. He's not mentioned in most news-media polls, dominated by Sens. Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton.

But he was included in recent Democratic debates and his Web site is attracting thousands of interested voters - two things Colvin is charged with managing in the campaign.

"We're in this to win," Colvin says matter-of-factly. "We're not here to make a statement."

Only a few years ago, Colvin lived in a cave in India, meditating for hours on end. Before that he lived as a street musician in Berlin. And before that, he helped feed destitute children in Chihuahua, Mexico. All this from a kid reared in suburban Sandy.

On the stump

Fresh from an appearance on MSNBC, Gravel is whisked across the street to Washington's Union Station where he heads to the Amtrak ticket dispenser. The presidential candidate doesn't draw attention from anyone as he flips through one of his two bags.

Colvin, in a ponytail and a dark suit sans tie, is only steps behind his boss.

"He's actually a walking communications center," Gravel says of his deputy chief of staff, who is shouldering a black bag holding a laptop and other campaign materials.

"This, in many ways, is the campaign," Colvin says of the bag.

Gravel jokes that he's not sure why he hired Colvin - "I'm re-examining that every minute." But then notes that the former Utahn is crucial to his campaign. And, he adds, "He's got charm."

That may be true, but he is not your typical political consultant. This is his first national campaign, he has a degree from the University of Utah in film and acting and - no kidding - he once played a regular on "Baywatch."

But Colvin says he has real world experience, something you can't learn in a classroom. "Washington, in many ways, is the land of the lost," Colvin says, dismissing any presumed need for a deep political resume. "People experience - that I have a lot of."

A long, strange trip

Colvin began his journey to this campaign long ago, though he never planned it. After a short stint at Westminster College in Salt Lake City, Colvin left for Los Angeles, where he worked as a television production assistant.

"Then one day, I realized how much money the actors made," he said. He switched roles and ended up in a few television shows, including the one with skimpy bathing suits and Pamela Anderson.

After the uprising of the Zapatistas in Mexico in the early 1990s, Colvin decided to move to the area where his mother grew up and help those in need. He fed Indian children in Chiapas, one of the poorest areas of the country.

"It was a personal, spiritual experience," Colvin says.

While American tourists would drop in and spend 300 pesos on their bar tabs, Colvin was spending his money to buy more food to give away.

When Vicente Fox became the first president of Mexico elected from an opposition party in 80 years, Colvin witnessed firsthand the power of mobilizing people.

After a while, he hopped on a plane to Berlin and worked for six months as a street musician. Then, in another spontaneous move, Colvin bought a ticket to India to attend a large Hindu gathering. He stayed, living in a hole in a mountain that was about 40 feet deep. A lesson quickly learned: you must have a fire at the mouth of the cave.

"You need a fire because the monkeys will rob you blind," he says. "Somewhere in the jungle there's a guerrilla wearing my Nikes."

After four months or so, he returned to Utah, where he finished his degree in 1999. "I was on the decade plan," he says of school.

Back in Los Angeles, he got a job at a Mexican restaurant and started making a name for himself as an opponent to the North American Free Trade Act. He produced a radio program and launched a Web site.

It took off and he found himself running a few political races, including two congressional bids. That's when Gravel's people called him.

'We can win'

Gravel's national headquarters are on the second floor of a nondescript building in Arlington, Va. The sign at the door reads only "202." Inside, six people are working away at computers or on phones. A leafy plant in a corner has a paper quote attached, a reminder of Gravel's now famous statement during a debate that he felt like a potted plant.

Gravel's campaign raised only $15,000 in the first quarter of the year and had far less on hand at the end of the three-month period. It shows.

The leading contender, Clinton, took in $36 million in the first quarter. But Colvin dismisses concern that they aren't polling better or raising more cash.

"This isn't a billion-dollar campaign and shouldn't be," he says.

The campaign points to Internet polls showing much more traction with supporters and believes Gravel's messages will win over voters.

He was and is opposed to the war in Iraq; he wants to sack the income tax and have a national sales tax; and he wants universal health care.

"Our job is to introduce the candidate" to the public, he says. "If you don't vote for Mike Gravel, I hope it's not because you haven't met him."

Colvin says he's still a Utahn at heart. And unlike any other political consultant, if you ask what historical figures most inspire him, he includes former LDS Church President Brigham Young, Rosa Parks, Cesar Chavez and Mahatma Gandhi.

"The values I bring to this campaign are the values I learned in a community in Utah," Colvin says.

Despite his wanderings through Mexico, Germany, India and, now, the presidential campaign trail, "I'm still a Salt Lake City kid."

tburr@sltrib.com