“In recent days, there is a sense of movement and a sense of spirit,” said Mr. Lewis, a Georgia Democrat who endorsed Mrs. Clinton last fall.  “Something is happening in America, and people are prepared and ready to make that great leap.”

Mr. Lewis, who carries great influence among other members of Congress, disclosed his decision in an interview in which he said that as a superdelegate, he could not go against the wishes of the voters of his district, who overwhelmingly supported Mr. Obama.

Rep. Lewis' support of Hillary at the outset of the campaign almost convinced Obama not to enter the race last year, so powerful was the weight his endorsement carried in the black community, and the Democratic Party.  His switch now amounts to a vote of no-confidence in the NY Senator's ability to obtain the nomination, or if obtained, win the general election. 

It also, of course, reflects the fear of the many African-American leaders whose black constituents ignored their representative's Clinton endorsements, and enthusiastically supported the first viable African-American presidential candidate in droves.

On a personal note: I had the chance to meet Rep. Lewis last year.  My dad and I were in D.C. to take a tour of the capitol and, more importantly, allow for a short meeting with Louisville's freshman congressman John Yarmuth.  In the Congressional cafeteria, I spotted Lewis, and in my pathetically dorky way, got starstruck. 

I pointed him out to my dad, who instantly pulled us over to Lewis' table.  The Georgia congressman looked deep in both thought and cheeseburger, and had that Morgan Freeman vibe going on, like "I'm so brilliant you really don't want to fuck with me". 

Regardless, my dad shoved his outstretched hand towards the table and said "Congressman!"  He was so familiar about it, I suddenly wondered if they were secret old buddies or something.  And then John Lewis jumped up and grabbed my dad's hand, and then his other hand, and then both of mine, and said "Thank you!  Thank you so much!"  And I blubbered a few embarassing platitudes ("Thank you for everything you are!"), and we went on our way. 

I realized later that my dad had taught me a lesson: politicians, no matter how "legendary" they might be, are always on the clock.  By necessity, they are always available for a meet and greet.  Even in mid-cheeseburger.