NEW HAMPSHIRE PRIMARY

With the hash, political seasoning

Regulars at the Red Arrow Diner in New Hampshire never know when the blue-plate special might come with a visit from a presidential candidate.

BY LESLEY CLARK AND BETH REINHARD

lclark@MiamiHerald.com

MANCHESTER, N.H. -- Stop for breakfast at the Red Arrow Diner, just five booths and 16 stools at the counter, homemade Twinkies by the register, and you get the impression that everyone in this state is keeping tabs on the presidential race.

From the waitresses who sling hash and baked beans at the diner 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and can recount a parade of presidential hopefuls, to the locals who happily push aside their scrambled eggs and bacon to expound on their political views.

Particularly on New Hampshire's right to host the nation's first presidential primary.

''You're darn tootin','' said 80-year-old Jeannette St. Laurent, noting that the state was one of the original 13 colonies and the first to assert its independence from England. ``Look at how old we are. Why would you doubt us?''

Open since 1922, the Red Arrow Diner is an official city landmark celebrated in a ditty that plays from speakers outside the restaurant: I love love love love love to go to that red red Red Arrow. . . . It's the only good place to go in town, where they never close on down.

''It's like Cheers -- everybody knows your name,'' said 52-year-old waitress Penny Koski, who joked that she bought a Jeep to get to work in snowstorms.

Barbara Corman, 52, struck up a conversation with the man sitting next to her at the counter about Republican Mitt Romney's record as governor of Massachusetts. (The man wasn't much of a fan.)

''You can ask anybody about politics, everybody always has an opinion,'' said another waitress, Andrea Robert, 27. 'There's barely any people who are like, `I just don't know.' ''

Corman is leaning toward Hillary Clinton, whose New Hampshire headquarters are just two blocks away. The Democratic front-runner stopped by the diner recently, but a disappointed Koski wasn't working that day.

''I was mad because I wanted to talk to her,'' she said.

She may get another chance. Before the breakfast crowd has thinned, word of yet another candidate drop-in comes through the double doors.

''I'm checking to see if it's OK if he swings by around 3:30 for a cup of coffee,'' said Andrew Smith, wearing a John Edwards campaign jacket.

The waitresses nod, then go back to pouring coffee.