Cindy McCain's personal hell began long before The New York Times reported a rumor last week that her husband may have once had an improper relationship with a female lobbyist.

She has been a senator's wife for a long time now, and she knows that public speculation about her marriage is the parlor game of choice at many a catered meal. She also knows that predatory women are as common on the Hill as the click-click-click of kitten heels in marbled hallways. She knows that most people in Washington — especially in Washington — gleefully assume the worst in every whisper, every anonymous quote about her, her husband and her marriage.

She knows all of this, and she knows it comes with the territory. That doesn't mean any of this is easy for Cindy McCain.

We don't know yet whether there is more to come in the story about John McCain and his reported ties to lobbyist Vicki Iseman. But you can bet there are plenty of partisan Democrats and disgruntled Republicans, not to mention all the windbags in talk-radio land, who are rubbing their hands together and hoping that where there's smoke, there's a five-alarm fire. This is so much more fun to talk about than trying to dissect health care proposals or strategies to end the war.

The Times quoted anonymous advisers to McCain who said they confronted him in 1999 because they were concerned about his relationship with Iseman. McCain denied the meeting ever took place. A former top aide to McCain, John Weaver, told the Times that he warned Iseman to stay away from the senator. McCain said he didn't know anything about that, either.

Almost immediately, all eyes turned to Cindy McCain. She has been a steadfast presence in her husband's campaign, and there's been plenty of speculation as to why. Notions of love or devotion ring hollow to those who dismiss her as a much younger wife meant to telegraph his vigor. He needs her, the pundits say, as if that isn't true about most marriages.

Her sleek sophistication is a constant target, even if how she looks has nothing to do with what she says.

Last week, she took an apparent swipe at Michelle Obama by declaring that she has "always been proud of America," prompting this anonymous post on the popular liberal blog Daily Kos:

"I really don't care if McCain's trophy wife is proud of her country. She is just another GOP Stepford Wife as vacant as the previous ones. Whoopie for anorexic-looking Cindy McCain in her red $5000 Yves St. Laurent power suit, with her triple string of cultured pearls, her bleached blond hair and her shiny new face-lift."

The writer called himself "Mr Populist," which means he's not only clueless but hellbent on giving the rest of us liberals a bad name.

Even pop culture seems to be working against John McCain, whose did-he-or-didn't-he melodrama is unfolding even as Sue Miller's latest novel climbs the best-seller lists. It's the tale of a chronic adulterer and his long-suffering spouse for whom the book is titled: "The Senator's Wife." Always, it seems, the operating assumption is: He did.

Or: He will. During my own husband's 2006 race for the U.S. Senate, numerous women pulled me aside to ask whether I planned to move to Washington. When I explained that I would continue to spend much of my time in Cleveland, their typical response was to warn me about the prowling women of Washington. Apparently, they thought my only appeal was my proximity.

Last Thursday, Cindy McCain was counting on her proximity as she stood by her husband at a news conference in Toledo, Ohio, and declared her allegiance:

"My children and I not only trust my husband but know that he would never do anything to not only disappoint our family but disappoint the people of America," she said. "He's a man of great character."

As a wife, she holds a lot of power right now, but her influence runs only one way. Without saying a word, she could derail her husband's campaign single-handedly by abandoning him on the trail. If the wife doesn't believe you, nobody does.

When the wife does believe you, nobody cares.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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