THE thousands of Atlantans at Bernie Sanders’s rally at Morehouse College on February 16th heard some top-notch oratory. Danny Glover, the senator’s impressive point man in the historically black universities he is touring—of which Morehouse is among the most venerable—fired up the young, largely black crowd. Killer Mike, a charismatic rapper and Morehouse alumnus, declared that Mr Sanders’s social platform closely matched Martin Luther King’s. “We ain’t nobody’s firewall!” thundered Nina Turner, a politician from Ohio, referring to the notion that black southern voters will shore up Hillary Clinton’s queasy bid for the Democratic nomination. It was heart-soaring stuff.

Then Mr Sanders spoke. He loped to the podium, incongruously rickety in this lithe company, and in his croaky New York whine rattled off his idealistic policies, some reasonable, most unachievable. He revelled in his strong showing so far, a Trump-style touch he has adopted, along with critiques of the media and the corruption of campaign finance. He railed against racism in the criminal-justice system; he earned a roaring ovation for noting that America could afford to rebuild Iraq’s infrastructure but not Flint, Michigan’s.

The crotchety routine seemed to work—as it must, and quickly, if Mr Sanders is to win over the black voters who will be decisive in the string of imminent southern primaries, beginning with South Carolina’s on February 27th. Two young women studying at Clark Atlanta University, adjacent to Morehouse, said they were switching to Mr Sanders from Mrs Clinton; she, one said, was “a people-pleaser”, whereas he was “more adamant” in his convictions. A trickle of black politicians are also flipping. Vincent Fort, a prominent Georgian state senator, this week came out for Mr Sanders, citing his concern for inequality and social mobility. Given Barack Obama’s victory, Mr Fort says he is “not going to listen to anybody who says ‘can’t’ or ‘won’t’ or ‘shouldn’t’.”