When Hillary Clinton first expressed interest in running for the US Senate from New York, the pundits were universal in their conviction that the First Lady, not known for her cuddliness, would not be able to connect with New York voters.
She was a tough woman, no doubt, but she would too self-serious, too aloof, too First Ladyish perhaps, to cut it in the Big City.
The Senate race is a long way from over, and the upheavals so far, the departure of Mayor Rudy Giuliani as a candidate and the entrance of baby-faced Congressman Rick Lazio, have been typical of the raucous world of New York politics. But when it comes to Mrs Clinton, the pundits are already eating their words.
The campaign is now in full swing. Both Mr Lazio and Mrs Clinton are fiercely trading charge and counter-charge. Anyone who thought Mrs Clinton would be too restrained and polite to scrap in politics was wrong.
This week she chastised Mr Lazio for missing a critical vote in Congress which would have established an oil reserve in New York that could be used to limit increases in heating oil prices throughout the north-eastern US. Mr Lazio had supported the legislation, but when the vote came last week, he was in New York campaigning. Congress defeated the measure by 193 to 195.
"It's a shame," said Mrs Clinton. "That's the kind of vote that could literally save New Yorkers millions and millions of dollars. If he had been there, it might have made all the difference."
Mr Lazio's spokesman said the congressman regretted missing the vote but insisted his voice would not have altered the outcome.
For his part, Mr Lazio is working hard trying to make up for his late entry into the race. He is attending dinners, meeting voters, zipping around the state in a bus modelled after the Straight Talk Express, the popular campaign bus used by former presidential candidate John McCain.
But reporters complain that there is no comparison between Mr McCain and Mr Lazio. There are no informal chats, no impromptu late-night discussions of policy. Mr Lazio is simply not as comfortable a candidate.
But who would have guessed Mrs Clinton would show such comfort herself in her new role?
The differences in campaign style were highlighted dramatically on June 10th in Albany, New York. The occasion was the Legislative Correspondents Association's annual politicans' roast, a frolicking event that is usually hilarious, but calls for politicians to be unusually thick-skinned.
Mrs Clinton took the stage carrying a carpet-bag (she has often been called a "carpet-bagger" because she has not lived in New York until recently). She then proceeded to roast herself, making fun of her Secret Service protection, her failure to tip a waitress once upstate, her "ambition", and her dress.
Time magazine recently ran a photo montage showing Mrs Clinton wearing the same suit to several events in the same month. In reference to the jibe, she pulled a black trouser suit out of her carpet-bag. "This is yesterday's suit," she said. Then she pulled an identical suit out of the bag.
"This is tomorrow's suit," she deadpanned.
Then the author of the best-selling book on child-raising, It Takes A Village, pulled a copy of her newly retitled book, It Takes A Suburb, a reference to the political wisdom that Mrs Clinton must win New York City and the major suburbs.
She then proceeded to address an editor of the New York Post newspaper and New York Governor George Pataki's press secretary, two people who despite ideological agreements are known to loathe each other. Mrs Clinton told them to "stand up and hug in the spirit of the evening". They sullenly refused, of course, to much laughter.
Finally, Mrs Clinton sat at a table with the Governor as radio reporter Karen DeWitt performed a skit. Playing Mrs Clinton, Ms DeWitt sang, to the tune of Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You:
"I'm too crass to be true
Even said I was a Jew
I'll do whatever it takes
Cause my self-worth is at stake."
Mrs Clinton laughed, bobbed her head to the music, and turned to her table to declare: "Very lively!"
At the same dinner Mr Lazio, by contrast, looked stiff and uncomfortable in a tuxedo, saying he felt like he was "going to the prom". The confession unfortunately highlighted the fact that Mr Lazio indeed looked like an 18-year-old at a prom. He participated in one brief skit, but left at the intermission.
The Hillary-Rick campaign is going to be as much fun as promised.