Republican presidential candidate Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., smiles while being introduced Thursday during his Road

WATERLOO, IOWA ? At the beginning of his long journey to the Republican nomination, John McCain sometimes spoke of his old friend Bob Dole, the 1996 Republican candidate for president.

McCain spent months traveling with Dole that year, keeping the candidate company, entertaining the press and observing how a presidential campaign operation works.

Or didn’t work, in Dole’s case.

The worst thing about Dole’s candidacy, McCain used to say, was that he cut himself off from the press, isolating himself from reporters who liked him and wanted to hear what he had to say.

“I would not enjoy, in any way, the seclusion and keeping the media away,” McCain said earlier this year. “It just wouldn’t be any fun. And it’s got to be fun.”

To be sure, Dole had other problems. His sentences ran on at length. He spoke the language of the Senate, referring to “mark-ups” and “conference committees.” He often concluded a thought by saying, “whatever.” Most of all, he was an under-funded underdog facing a popular president.

“Where is the outrage?” Dole would ask his audiences in bewilderment about then-President Bill Clinton. In frustration, he launched a slash-and-burn campaign against The New York Times and the “liberal media.” And in exasperation, he would lecture his crowds, saying: “This is very serious business.”

McCain has made many changes in his long quest for the presidency. And as he nears the finish line, he shares more than a few similarities with his old friend.

Both are war heroes, known best for their political biography. Both returned to the Senate in the midst of campaigning, foundering for a time as a result. And both watched their opponent draw record crowds while theirs were comparatively lackluster.

Some Dole supporters, concerned the candidate’s staff was over-handling him, coined the phrase, “Let Dole be Dole.” McCain’s brother Joe recently sent a letter to campaign aides demanding that they “let John McCain be John McCain.”

In the 2000 primaries, McCain rambled across New Hampshire on a bus that choked, rattled and coughed. He held court in a U-shaped seat in the back, sitting among reporters and giving sometimes imprudently candid views on a range of issues.

It was an extraordinary departure from the usual buttoned-up campaigns that limited interaction between the press and the candidate. And it helped propel him to a smashing victory over George W. Bush in New Hampshire. It also embossed his reputation as a straight-talking maverick.

McCain did initially try to recreate those glory days this time around. McCain traveled by bus for much of the past two years, regaling the reporters who joined him with stories and jokes as well as more serious talk. “Can’t we have some quiet time?” one reporter jokingly complained as McCain was about to launch into yet another verbal marathon.

As he left New Hampshire last January, a winner once more, McCain stood aboard a large jet typically used to ferry sports teams around the country. He promised he would find a way to keep the conversations going.

Indeed, he has spent time every day giving interviews to local reporters in battleground states, and occasionally to national outlets. But McCain clearly is no longer the candidate with the novel approach.

A curtain, tightly drawn, separates him from reporters. His speeches are written for him – no longer extemporaneous – and he uses a teleprompter to stay on message.

Mark Salter, McCain’s senior adviser, explained the decision to terminate the freewheeling conversations. “You want a serious conversation with the candidate, and we’re always prepared to do that,” Salter said. “It got a little unserious.”

Though he is far more disciplined than Dole ever was, McCain can sound equally angry at the “national media,” which he says has “written him off.” And there is a certain similarity in the acid tone McCain adopts in his disdain for his rival and frustration with the circumstances that have kept him down in the polls.

Still, Salter rejected the comparison: “I don’t think we’re in the hole Dole was in.”

One difference is that McCain has a history of last-minute victories. In 1996, Dole, recognizing he’d lost his race, spent his last days trying to help Republican congressional candidates win theirs.

McCain, on the other hand, still believes he can pull it out. His philosophy, he tells associates, is to take one day at a time. He embellishes John F. Kennedy’s observation that success has a thousand fathers and defeat belongs to one poor jerk. With just days left in the campaign, McCain insists he will feel good about his effort even if he doesn’t win.

After Dole’s defeat, the Kansan showed a grace and humor that prompted some to wonder where those qualities had been during the campaign. More than one network anchor has asked McCain a similar question in recent days.

McCain has a ready answer, saying people about to lose their homes don’t want to hear jokes on the campaign trail.

“I’m a pretty good stand-up comic, but times are too serious for stand-up comedy,” McCain told CBS’ “Early Show” co-anchor Harry Smith. “This is serious business. And there are real issues here, and there’s real problems out there.”